#HE MUST BE NICE AND JUICY WHEN I BITE HIM

[mochidoodle]

in my head this is what happened during TYL training arc 🦔 💜

[leighsartworks216]

You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

[peachesofteal]

I’ll be honest, I’m looking forward to the darker scenarios 👀

Darling unable to get away, having to stay because she knows she can’t survive on her own, let alone with a little baby that’s entirely dependent on her.

Simon, possessive and controlling to keep Darling with them, their family together. He’s already gone too far with messing with the BC, so I’m betting he’s willing to go further at this point.

Johnny, helpless to it all, but trying to keep the peace, keep Darling healthy so she can deliver a healthy baby safely. What else can he do without losing both Simon and his pregnant Darling?

I’m specifically imagining after Darling confronts them, trying to run out the front door, but Simon physically stops her, will not let her leave until she listens to him, agrees this is for the best, that she belongs to and with them.

Sorry for the long ask, just have so many thoughts on this AU and am looking forward to seeing where you take it 😵‍💫

There are so many juicy little bits to the baby trap au here, but let's talk about Johnny for a sec:

I like to imagine Johnny not being helpless, but definitely second to Simon in all of this. It was his idea, his dream, and he did agree. It was a decision they made together, but I think now he's really trying to tow the line in order to keep everyone together. It's a strain for sure, but he did this to himself, he's not innocent. He knows it. He likes it. The guys, both of them, love how you've always depended on them and this is no different in baby trap.

18+ MDNI / baby trap au / dark and twisty themes / reader is a prisoner so please read with caution

His fingers reach for yours involuntarily, the muscles in his face working against the wince that is pulling at his lips when you snatch your hand away like he's burned you. "Please, darling, will you at least-"

"No." You hiss, pushing the plate away from where you sit. Your arms cross in front of your chest, and you do that thing again, the thing you've been doing recently that's driving him mad, where you close your eyes and pretend he doesn't exist.

"I know ye must be hungry, love." He moves the plate back, palm cupping your knee softly. You don't jerk away, but it's more because you're still acting like he's not there, instead of shying away as you're prone to do.

He sighs.

"Well, I guess I can eat this then. Or we can dump it." He takes your fork and spears a piece of pancake, mopping it around in the syrup that you like so much, before lifting it to his lips. "Be such a shame, to waste it all, but Si won't be home for another hour yet, and I ate before ye woke up." He's not lying, it would be. He made you pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Sourdough toast, your favorite, and a peanut butter smoothie. There's also orange juice, and chocolate almond milk, another thing you've been craving non stop.

You crack an eyelid. Just a little, enough to survey the meal again. He knows, knows, that you're hungry. You hardly touched your dinner, and then suffered a breakdown, where you locked yourself in the bathroom and cried for hours until Simon had enough and picked the lock after you had started sobbing out loud about how you wanted to die.

It had taken hours to settle you, Simon with a hand steady on your nape, Johnny with his arms around you as you cried yourself to sleep in the guest bed.

He chews his bite, thoughtfully, albeit a little loudly, before clearing his throat. "It's a nice day today. Want to go for a walk? We could go to the park, or walk down to the cafe you like." Both of your eyes blink open now, narrowed, but still staring at breakfast, and he puts the fork on the rim of the plate with a clink, motioning to the pancakes. "They're a bit fluffy." He comments, and you scowl. He holds his snicker as you reach for it, pulling everything in front of you, stabbing into a large bite and lifting it into your mouth. "Good girl." He whispers, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. "Take another bite." He urges in a soft voice, but you shake your head.

"My stomach hurts." you whisper to your knees, and he swallows the lump in his throat. It's been so hard on you, the pregnancy, the changes in everything, everything that's happened after you found that stupid piece of foil. You had always struggled with eating, your own emotions sabotaging you, twisting you up into knots, but now it was even worse. And you needed to eat, now more than ever. For yourself, and the baby. The doctor had assured them that your appetite fluctuations were okay for now, but they needed to keep a close eye on it.

"What about some of the eggs?" He nods to the glass to your left, the tall one with the smoothie in it. "Or some of that?" Your nose wrinkles.

"I don't want it."

"You love peanut butter smoothies, they're your favorite."

"I want mango." You huff. Mango? Since when? You rub your belly thoughtfully and look at him with big, sad eyes. "I'm really craving mango. Can I have a mango smoothie? With vanilla ice cream in it? Please?" There's a glimmer of something, in your eyes, something sad, and longing... but familiar, and he swallows against the worry that rises in his gut. It's going to be okay. You're going to be alright. They're taking care of you. They won't let anything happen to you.

He shoots Simon a quick text, telling him to pick up fresh mango and vanilla ice cream on his way home, and then he glances back at you.

"Si will bring the ingredients home, okay?" You nod, still palming your belly, fingers tapping across your skin. You groan a little when you get to your feet, body sore from the less than luxurious guest bed that you've been insistent on sleeping in, and walk away to sink into the couch. "What're ye doing?" You burrow yourself into the cushions pulling the blankets up over your chin and closing your eyes, back to pretending that he doesn't exist, except to give your answer.

"Waiting for my smoothie. You'll bring it to me?" You peek over the mound of pillows, eyes still wide and sad, but there's something else there, something he can't name, and he nods automatically.

"Of course, darling."

[vividwritinglove]

next door II - a Pierre Gasly series

YOU ARE AMAZING! I am living for your feedback and I reward you with another part of this series!

pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

warnings: just some sexual tension

word count: 1.5k

————————————————————————

The breakfast turned into a brunch. There was so much to talk about and Pierre seemed to be really interested in you. And since he was so talkative about his life before, you decided to tell him more about your interests or your family and friends.

"I need to give you a compliment for the interior of this apartment. When I moved in, it didn’t look like this after only a couple of weeks. It actually took me months!"

"Well it’s my job.." you answered quietly not to sound pretentious.

"You're an interior designer?!"

You just nodded and took a bite from a big and juicy strawberry. Pierre got a little distracted how your full lips wrapped around that sweet berry. It amazed him, how you made the most normal thing, like eating fruits, look so sensual. He was not able to take his eyes off your lips and imagined how they would feel on his.

"You good?" you asked, a little worried, since there was no reply from Pierre, and he seemed a little lost. He was lost, lost in you. He shook his head a little and ran his fingers over his mouth, "Yeah, yeah. I was just lost in thoughts. Sorry!".

He brought up your job again and wanted to know everything about it and the projects you already had done.

He even asked you to help him find a lamp for over his dining area – since he moved in, he hadn’t found the right fixture and was using a plain bulb instead.

You couldn’t help yourself and had to smile throughout Pierre’s vision of the perfect lamp. His storytelling and gestures impressed you, and you soaked in every little detail.

He would’ve never thought of having a conversation about light fixtures with his extremely attractive neighbor.

To be honest, he had other things in mind when he first saw you. That first shy look you gave him, when he was stepping into the elevator – it was manifested in his head. And since then, there wasn’t a day he was not thinking about you at least once.

Every time he met you, you gave him this beautiful and stunning smile, that made his heart skip a beat.

Talking to you felt so easy. You were a woman that knew what she wanted and probably knew how to get it. You’re independent. That made him even more attracted to you, because it felt like a hunt. He was not used to chase after women, usually they threw themselves at him. This was new and refreshing.

The two of you were interrupted by Pierre’s phone ringing, "Sorry, I have to take this."

He didn’t stand up from the table. It felt strange to you, how open he already was around you.

"Hey Pyry!" he answered the phone, smiling at you. You instantly smiled back.

"I am at y/n's." That sounded awkwardly natural.

"Wait!" now he stood up, walked straight to your apartment door and opened it.

Slightly confused, you watched him and also stood up, as soon as another man entered your apartment. He was taller than Pierre and also more muscular. It turned out to be his performance coach. They greeted each other with a hug.

"And you must be the famous y/n!"

"Famous?" you laughed and looked back to Pierre, who gave his coach a hit with his backhand against the chest.

Pyry didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the protest of the younger athlete, "He talks about you all the time since you moved in!”.

Pierre sighed, closed his eyes and pinched his bridge of the nose with his thumb and index finger. He was clearly annoyed by him.

"I am just here to pick this lazy ass up for training!"

"Feel free to do so!" you smiled at him friendly.

"It was nice meeting you. Until next time!"

And with that, he was already out the door. Pierre and you looked after him.

"I am sorry to leave like that. I completely forgot about the training.." Pierre apologized and scratched the back of his head, "What are your plans for tonight?

"Nothing planned until yet."

"Oh Good. Maybe we can go to this nice little restaurant..”

"Hurry up, Casanova!" you heard Pyry pushing from behind.

"Is he always like that?" you asked and chuckled a little.

"Most of the time."

You two shared another smile.

"Come on, Pierre! This will bring you some extra push-ups!" his coach seemed to get more impatient by any second.

"Alright. Alright. Pick me up at 7!” you agreed, so that Pierre wasn’t embarrassed by his coach in front of you anymore.

Pierre smiled at you thankfully and hurried out of your apartment.

The moment your apartment door closed, you regretted that decision. What have you done? The last thing on your mind was to go out with a man.

Pierre was nice and really handsome, without a doubt, but dating was currently not on your agenda.

Slowly you started to clear up the table and did some household tasks over the afternoon. You considered whether and how you could cancel that "whatever you want to call it" with Pierre later. You don’t have his phone number, and he wouldn’t be home until the evening. Canceling short notice was not your style and also you don't want to mess up with him either. After all, you will always run into each other, when he will be in Milan and what should he think since you got along so well this morning. Even though you are desperately trying to look for a good reason to cancel, there isn’t one. It just wouldn’t make sense!

Now you’re standing in your walking closet in front of a big mirror – freshly showered, hair dried and make up already done – trying to figure out what to wear. Nothing too sexy or revealing, for sure. You definitely didn’t want to send wrong signals and it was still winter.

Due to the coldness, you chose a long body-con dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck and some knee-high boots.

You just put up your hair in a high ponytail as you heard someone knocking on your door.

Before you opened the door, you grabbed your purse, coat, and scarf.

And there he was greeting you with a cute smile, showing off his tooth space again. You couldn’t deny that you had a thing for it.

"Very on time!” You greeted him and walked with him towards the elevator. He was wearing a coat as well, under that a shirt that was partially unbuttoned. Revealing his chest hair and the gold necklace again, which had a cross attached to it. You couldn’t explain it to yourself, but this was an extreme turn on for you.

The elevator ride was long, at least it felt to you that way. Pierre was standing closer as usual to you and he radiated so much heat. His cologne was strong, but the smell was seductive. You pulled on your turtleneck to get some air, and a small sigh left your mouth.

This action was not unnoticed by Pierre. He was having this effect on you again and he loved it! A triumphant smile caresses his lips.

You always looked good – you knew how to dress – but tonight he liked your style even more. It gave him major Milano vibes, classy and sexy. He was not able to take his eyes off you and your body. Even though you tried not to look seductive, this dress hugs your body like a second skin.

The only way to break this almost bearable tension between the two of you, was for you to put on your coat. Pierre instantly helped you – his manners and awareness impressed you. Something you wouldn’t expect from a guy in his mid-twenties.

But Pierre didn’t want this tension to come to an end. He stayed in his role.

"How was training?” you asked, to get a conversation going.

"Good." he simply answers, but his voice sounded raspy and in combination with his French accent, it made a shiver ran down your spine, "Also a little exhausting."

You directly had a sweaty Pierre in mind, and it made you press your legs together.

Why was he able to drive you that crazy? And since when did you feel intimidated by a man you barely even knew. This was insane. You are confident and proud, and it was more than time to show him that.

You met his gaze and hold the stare he had on you this whole elevator ride. The eye contact didn’t make you nervous, it made you calm. His ocean eyes had a calming effect on you. Pierre liked your new gained confidence and he wanted to go further. He leaned into you and you felt his breath on your Cupid’s bow. In the same moment, the elevator doors sprang open and it made you two move apart from each other.

Part III

[geeky-politics-46]

NSFW Alpahabet

Bucky Barnes

Charector as depicted in my mini-series "Friends, Just Friends".

Includes both during & after the alternate Part 2 - “The Confession”.

As usual, ignore spelling & grammar errors. I will fix them as I find them.

Back to "Friends, Just Friends" masterlist

Smut/Explicit content - 18+ only!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Bucky becomes the sweetest little puppy after sex. He is always happy to clean both of you up & get you anything you need. He wants to be sure you enjoyed it & that he wasn't too rough with you, that he didn't hurt you. He can get very vulnerable right after sex & you quickly discover that those are the times he needs the most praise. So you let him do things he feels like he needs to do for you, while you assure him that he is perfect & tell him how much you love him. His favorite praise to hear after sex is how happy he makes you, both in & out of the bedroom. Once you coax him back into the bed, once he is satisfied you are taken care of, you always snuggle close to him. You put your head on his chest & his vibranium arm around your shoulder, placing a few kisses on the line where his flesh meets the metal & a few more on his metal fingertips. Even though you know he thinks he should take care of you after sex, you are very aware it is really him who needs to be taken care of a little. It's because you never say anything, you never belittle him or rub it in his face, that he happily lets you do it. Mentally noting to himself that despite everything bad that has happened to him, it's that broken road that led him to you. 

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Bucky is crazy about your hips. Specifically the spot right where your hips dipped back in right where your joint was. It was the spot that constantly kept you from wearing pencil skirts or tight dresses. You didn't like the way them fabric wouldn't lay flat & left a break in your otherwise nicely rounded hips. So instead of looking like you had these juicy round full hips, you thought it looked like you had two mini lumps of fat on the outside of each leg. The same reason you disliked that spot was the very reason he loved it. He fit there. His palm perfectly fit right into that dip. It made him feel like you were two pieces of a puzzle, meant to effortlessly fit together. When he would spiral into his own thoughts, into the memories of his past, when he thought he didn't deserve you that dip made him think that somewhere, someway, somehow he must have done something to deserve you. How could he fit so perfectly against your body if you weren't meant to be together? That was his sign he was made for you, & you for him.

You loved his lips. Specifically you loved how his emotions all seemed to show up there. When he was pouty or upset he would push his bottom lip out like a said puppy. When he was feeling ornery or flirty his lips would curl upward, usually on his right, into a lopsided Cheshire cat smirk. When he was excited, aggravated, or turned on he would lick or bite at his bottom lip inevitably leaving it a little flushed & slightly more full than usual. Last was an emotion that seemed to be just for you. The best you could describe it as was bliss or adoration. His jaw would slowly relax & his mouth would fall open a little bit like he had been rendered suddenly unable to speak.  He also seemed to have the hardest time keeping his tongue in his mouth. It was always poking out or circling over his full lips. It makes it very hard to concentrate when you are very aware of what he can do with that tongue.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He is over the moon with all the debauched things he can do you with his cum & how much you enjoy it. In the 40s the rare occasion a girl agreed to give a blowjob she was always adamant you not cum in her mouth & the idea of swallowing was something you only dreamed of. So now he loves cumming in your mouth & on your face. When you let him cum on your tits, then start to play by swirling his cum all over your breasts & tease your nipples with it he nearly cums again at the sight. His favorite is when you beg for him to cum inside you. Until you he had never cum in anyone without a condom, but with you, fucking you bareback & then filling you up he swears he is in heaven. Then he leans back & watch's his cum slowly leak from your pussy, still gaping from where his cock stretched out your hole. Sometimes he loves to fuck it back into you with his fingers, sometimes he smears it around so your pussy is covered in his sticky white spend. He loves the idea of breeding you too. Occasionally if you get frisky in public he'll put your panties back on & make you walk around knowing your pussy is dripping him all day & wondering if people can smell his cum on you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As jealous as Bucky can get, his biggest fantasy is throwing you on the table during a mission briefing or on the bar in the middle of one of Stark's parties, & having everyone watch him fuck you. He wants everyone to see the pleasure he pulls from you, hear you beg for his cock & for his cum. He wants them to want you but to know that they can't have you. That only he can have you. He wants to show off his perfect girl, both sides of you. How sweet & beautiful you are around everyone else, & the needy slutty little girl you are just for him.

You friendship with Stephen only adds fuel to the fire. He knows Strange wants you, that you guys had a thing, but Bucky wants to show him exactly what he can't have now. He wants to rail you face down ass up in front of Strange. His metal hand in your hair & your cheek pressed into the table turned to face the sorcerer, so you are looking at Stephen when you beg Bucky to fill you with his cum. Bucky's flesh hand shifting between smacking your ass & holding both your wrists to your low back. He wants Strange to watch him absolutely ruin you. He wants him to hear how wet your pretty little pussy is for him, & see how deliciously his fat cock stretches you with each thrust. Bucky relentlessly pounding into you as he asks you who your pussy belongs to. You're chanting his name as you fall apart in front of your friend & former lover. Cumming hard inside you as he growls "mine" through gritted teeth. Bucky only letting you up once he's filled your pussy so much you're dripping his cum for days. A reminder that your pussy is his.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

All the brainwashing kinda fucked him over there. He knows he's had sex, with a few different girls in the 40s, but he really doesn't remember an exact number or anything. He knows that pre-marital sex wasn't exactly encouraged then so by today's standards his number was probably towards the low end, but he wasn't a virgin. Since he got his mind back his experience was pretty much just his hand, the internet, & his imagination. Not because he didn't want to, but he was afraid if it was just some random chick he would end up losing control & hurting her or at the very least scaring her to death. He didn't want his first sexual experience in decades to end with him hating himself even more. When he met you & started getting closer you somehow managed to put those worries at ease, you soothed him without even trying. You made him feel like himself. He would never be the Bucky from the 40's again, he was a stranger now, but he was starting to like the Bucky he was now. God he wanted you so bad. So he tried to research & jog his memory about what to do & how to make you feel good. They say it's like riding a bike, that you never really forget. He knows that he knows what to do, but now that he has a virtual instruction manual he wants to learn how to work all the bells & whistles. Luckily he has you to learn with.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Bucky prefers positions where he can make eye contact with you, like missionary or cowgirl. He craves that human connection he has with you. He spent so long being afraid of or unallowed to look eye to eye with someone. At Hydra he would be punished if he looked his handlers in the eyes. As the Winter Soldier no one dared make eye contact, & if they did he could feel the icy shiver he sent down their spine. So now to see you look into his eyes with love & lust makes the moment even more special & makes him feel whole. That's not to say he doesn't enjoy taking you from behind too. Ultimately if you want to try a new position he is pretty much always game. He wants to give you the most pleasure he can possibly give. His personal favorite position though will always be him on top of you with you on your back & your legs jammed back by your head. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Somethings get started goofy but once everything gets going the humor tends to disappear. Bucky is still learning how to really express & deal with his emotions, so once it's just the two of you he focuses on the feelings of love & passion. That's not to say some wild sex hasn't started because Bucky chased you around the tower until he caught you & carried you to the bedroom.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's experimented a little since joining the modern world. He's tried bare, after noticing that seems to be the most popular in porn, & that was just too tedious. So he has settled on just trimmed. As far as your grooming is concerned he couldn't care less. While there was something oddly erotic about seeing you completely bare, everyone was natural in the 40's so seeing everything so on display made his head spin a little, but he has no problem with a bush. It was normal & it was your body. Frankly he's just happy to be there & will gladly love whatever you offer him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

This varies depending on lots of things. Did he have a good day or a bad one? How long has it been since you last had sex? Has one of you been gone on a mission? Was one of you about to leave on a mission? Sex always had a little more intimacy than some of your other relationships because of Bucky's history. It took an amount of trust in each other that was missing from a lot of other relationships. So it wasn't rare that things leaned a bit more on the romantic side. He liked surprising you with the sweet & cheesy little things like candles lit everywhere & of course bringing you flowers. If one of you had been away things could definitely get wild & if he was having a really bad day he liked getting a little rough. Neither of which you minded, but you loved that you got to see the romantic teddy bear side of him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He didn't jerk off a lot before he started having feelings for you. It was like that part of his brain just hadn't quite rebooted yet. Sure he would get morning wood, but touching himself was more functionary than to feel good. Once he started fantasizing about you though he had a hard time keeping his hands off of himself. At first he felt kinda bad about it, even after the two of you started having sex. You were his girl, he shouldn't be objectifying you like that. It was different if you were having sex, this just felt like him using you for his own pleasure. Somehow this came up one night while you were in bed & it was weirdly endearing that he thought it wasn't right if it was just to get himself off & wasn't about you. This is how you discover you have a thing for watching Bucky jerk off. You love the idea that he thinks of you when he strokes himself. Talking him through each slide of his hand. Telling how turned on you are watching him play with his hard cock just for you. Soon you start playing with yourself too & mutual masturbation quickly becomes a regular part of your sex life. Which is a damn good thing since missions often take one of you away from the other & phone/video call sex is the only thing you can do sometimes. It wasn't as good as touching each other, but you both enjoyed watching your partner get off even if you couldn't be the one getting them off.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Bucky 100% has a creampie or breeding kink. It's less about the knocking you up part per say, although the thought of you pregnant does drive him nuts. You take such good care of him just as your boyfriend, he has no doubt you'll be an incredible wife & mother. He wants that to be with him & he wants it to be with his kids. The idea that drives him feral beyond all belief is that he gets to fuck you bareback & cum inside you. The first time you told him to fuck you raw & cum in you he swore his heart nearly stopped, he couldn't believe you had just said those words. He had never done that before. That was something that you didn't do in the 40's unless you & the Mrs. were ready to be in the family way. So the fact that he gets to cum in you & fill you up whenever he wants is one of his favorite things about the 21st century. Not just that but the fact that you seem to enjoy it so much, the fact that you really want him to cum inside you, fills his chest with a weird sense of pride. It says you love him so much you want that extra little bit of him. Then he gets to see his cum leak out of you & he swears he's never seen a more erotic sight. He would happily wear a condom if you asked him to, if you needed a break from the pill or for some reason didn't have another form of protection, but he does a little dance in his head everytime he gets to fuck you raw. He has never felt anything so good. He could die right there & be happy about it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bucky feels safest in his bedroom in his own bed. As he is relearning himself it's initially the only place he can really let his guard down. After a while he starts to feel the same way about your room & your bed too. He definitely wants to be more adventurous & you have discussed all the places he wants to have his way with you once he feels comfortable enough. There's lots of places around the tower & the Sanctum: the living room couch, the kitchen counter, the table in the meeting room, a dark hallway where anyone could walk by, even in the back of the quinjet. Then there are some public places where he wants to play even if he can't go all the way & fuck you there. He talks a lot about about taking you out to a fancy restaurant, maybe for your anniversary, & fingering you under the table. He wants you to give him head in an alley near the club when he is forced to go on one of the team outings. He wants to fuck you in the back seat of a car somewhere. He's got a whole list, it's just a matter of him getting comfortable enough to start working on that list.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When you first start having sex a good stiff breeze could get Bucky going. He just can't believe he gets to do those things with & to you. He can't remember if sex was always this good or if it's just this incredible with you. He likes to think it's the second. He also loves when you do little things that make him forget he's different. Like when you snuggle into his left shoulder when you're sitting on the couch together. Or when you hold his hand & kiss him for no reason in public. One of the fastest ways to get him going is by running your fingers through & playing with his hair. He practically starts purring. He also has a soft spot for lingerie & when you dress up for him. Specifically lots of lace & sheer fabric, garter belts & stockings of course. Things that just like you are the perfect mix of sweet & naughty.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything involving real pain or evoking the idea or memory of torture. The last place he wants to have a flashback is in bed naked with you. While he might enjoy a little bit of tying up & sensory play, anything bordering on hardcore BDSM is a hard no for both safety & sanity reasons. That being said he will never get tired of how your ass jiggles when he spanks you. He also really wants you to blindfold him again, but that's about as out of control as he can be for now.

Also Alpine is not allowed to be in the room while you are having sex. It makes him nervous.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

I feel like it's fairly obvious with this man, but he spends so much time between your legs you're convinced he must be able to breath through his ears. He is genuinely obsessed with the vast array of noises he can pull from you with just his mouth & fingers. He could literally cum just by making you cum, & it is always his goal to make you cum so hard you think you got hit by the train he fell off of. Of course he would never say no to you sucking him off either, but he also knows guys have it a bit easier in the pleasure department so knowing he can get you to cum like that is a bit of extra pride for him. In the 40's oral sex wasn't something that was just a given, so the first time you started to give him a blow job for no reason he nearly had a stroke. That same night when you told him to cum in your mouth he literally thought he might drop over dead by the time you got done with him. He is also always game to 69 if you are both determined to go down on each other & neither of you want to wait your turn.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It can go either way, but there really isn't much of an inbetween. Somedays he would pound you so hard the drywall behind his headboard would be cracked by the time you were done. Walking after those encounters was always an interesting experience & stairs became your mortal enemy. Lots of ass slapping & filthy noises taking over the room. His voice would get low & gravely as his cock was slamming into you over & over. For a guy from the 1940s Bucky had quite a mouth on him when he fucked you hard & fast. "Such a good little slut, letting me ruin this pretty little pussy. You look so good with your pussy all stretched tight & stuffed with my fat cock." & some variation of "whose pussy is this? Who does this needy little juicy pussy belong to? That's right babydoll, it's my pussy. My little fuck hole to pound & fill whenever I want. Tell me who owns this slutty pussy baby." Then there were times he either felt needy or just wanted to make it last as long as possible. Those times his thrusts were slow & deep, almost tortureously slow. He would stop every now & then once his cock bottomed out inside you & kiss you passionately until you were practically begging him to move again.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He will take the quickie, but he wants an IOU for a nice long round later so it can really be done right once you are in a comfy, safe, private space. He wants to spend hours playing with your body like it's his personal toy. So a quickie will do, especially if he is really horny or you are out somewhere & he starts feeling possessive or jealous, but you can guarantee he is not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

With everything he has been through Bucky isn't the riskiest guy when it comes to sex. Before you got together he would flirt with people, that was just kind of his personality, but he definitely wasn't the type to go home with a stranger for a one night stand. He was still a man from the 40's & hook up culture was very much not the 40's way of dating. So when he asked you out & you started dating you figured out pretty quick he might need to take things a little slower. You suggested the 3 date rule, which by Tinder standards seemed a little antiquated now, but had always been what worked best for you. Letting him know that if he felt like it was too much or he wanted to stop you wouldn't be upset & that you don't have to have sex to spend the night. 

Once your relationship had been established you really didn't try anything very risky for a bit, & that was totally fine. Then Bucky brought up the idea of wanting you to tell him more about the kind of things he might have missed. It wasn't long before you started working on a list of things he was interested in trying with the understanding that you would start slow & ease into the riskier, more intense or kinkier stuff. You still weren't anywhere near whips & chains but that was fine with you. You were just glad he was willing to try new things & take some risks, & you were very glad it was with you. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Super soldier...  need I say more? Physical stamina is out of the park & his refractory period is pretty non-existent. Multiple rounds are basically always a given. Where his stamina is trickier is mentally. At first between anxiety & just emotional overload his body well out performed his mind. Maybe 2 rounds before he was mentally done. The first round was usually a little rushed & got out all the jitters & lingering emotion of the day. The second round was longer he really got to enjoy it with a clear mind. He got to focus on enjoying you & your body, making each other feel good. Once he gets more comfortable being physically intimate & vulnerable with someone like that you are gonna need a white flag, because you will be tapping out long before he does.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys are still something he is trying to completely figure out, there are just so many kinds & sizes it can get a bit overwhelming. He knows you have a couple vibrators, a dildo or two, & some other basic things. You've played around with your vibrator together, & he specifically had you send him pics & video fucking yourself with a dildo when he was gone on a long mission. Toys aren't something he thinks need to be involved everytime you have sex, but he will happily embrace anything that helps him make you cum like crazy. He's looked a couple times at different toys online, trying to figure out what you would like & what would be fun to play with together, & his endeavours have always ended with him overwhelmed & horny. So he decided that he wanted to go toy shopping with you so you could help & guide him. Would the part of him that still thought it was the 40's be mortified? Absolutely, but the thought of playing with whatever you got as soon as you got home would easily win over the embarrassment.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bucky is a huge tease, sometimes intentionally & sometimes unintentionally. He just sometimes gets all touchy feely & doesn't realize what it does to you. When he teases you on purpose it's usually somewhere you can't immediately get your hands on him. Some of his favorites are winking suggestively at you when no one else is watching, eye fucking you across the room at one of Stark's parties or something, & lord have mercy he knows how you fall apart when he bites his lip or licks his lips. The man is a massive flirt. He also loves hugging you from behind & whispering naughty things in your ear, pulling your hips back firm against his crotch & grinding into you. He has also discovered that he loves having the ability to take & send photos & videos with his phone. If he's away on a mission you better believe he's asking for nude pics of you or looking back at some of them you've taken together. He has more than a couple videos of him fucking you & it's not uncommon you get a photo of his hard cock or a video of him stroking his cock saying how much he misses you. You just really really hope he doesn't accidentally post or send anything naughty to someone else by mistake, he is still a 106 year old learning to use new technology after all.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

The more time goes on the more comfortable Bucky is making noise. It starts as just little moans & groans or growls if he's feeling particularly possessive. Before long though he starts experimenting with dirty talk, something you love & had been easing him into since the first time you had sex. That first night he discovered he loved hearing you spew the filthiest things to him, hearing you beg him to fuck you harder & good his cock felt. The first time he got up the nerve to call you a little slut you made the most incredible sound that he swore was gonna make him cum right there. Now his mouth is almost filthier than yours & he tells you that if you aren't screaming his name everytime he fucks you then he isn't doing his job right. Not every time is loud now, but let's just say you've fielded enough complaints that your rooms have since been soundproofed.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Morning sex with Bucky is always a bit softer & sweeter. It usually starts with cuddling or snuggling until neither of you can ignore his impressive morning wood any longer. One of you starts rocking your hips into the other or you start to grind your ass back into him as he spoons you. Then hands start to wander & soft moans fill the room. Lots of nuzzling & kissing & smiling. Also, if he has had a decent night of sleep, morning sex is pretty much every morning.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Again, super soldier... Need I say more? His cock is nice & thick, beyond average, a little beyond average length. He's big enough to stretch you completely but not hurt you. The serum effected him differently than Steve. It didn't increase his height much but it thickened his muscle mass everywhere including his cock. He was incredibly thick & when hard, his veins protruded on his shaft. Due to being touch starved & after having his sexual & romantic feelings suppressed by Hydra for so many years, he also got hard at a drop of a hat. Even at the moment inopportune times a lick of your lips, the slightest moan, or even just bending over with your cleavage on display would have him stiff & aching.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

You are gonna have to peel him off of the ceiling once you crack the seal & get him going. He's got 70-80 years of pent up just awakened sexual frustration, a world of new naughty things to try, & the sexiest girl to try them with. He has trouble keeping his hands to himself during down time. Even around the rest of the team he's constantly pulling you into his lap & nuzzling into your neck. The last movie night came to an abrupt end about half way through the film when he couldn't stop himself from starting to rut up against you despite a very freaked out Scott trying not to jump out of his skin at the other end of the couch. He's also scarred Wong for life when he walked into the Sanctum's kitchen to find you leaning against the counter with Bucky on his knees & his head under your night shirt. You had never seen him run as fast as he did when he ran away from the kitchen. Bucky on the other hand didn't even notice anyone came in. He was too busy "enjoying his breakfast".

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bucky isn't so good with sleep. Between general insomnia & then the nightmares you are almost always asleep first. Although when your insomnia acts up he does find it nice to just be close to you. Having you share one of his ailments puts him a bit more at ease with it. It can't be too bad a thing if his perfect dream girl suffers from it too.

Back to main masterlist

——————————

Series Taglist: @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @lil-sweater-slut @princesspogue @dragonalpha54 @verycollectivecreator @blondekel77 @telepathicheartss @arrozsocarrat @yourmajesty13 @general-latino

[belicioustummy]

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A KINK FIC. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18.

The P.hantom of the P.aradise finally gets something to eat.

The Phantom of the Paradise was about to strike again. While the Juicy Fruits, the band he so detested was out on stage butchering his music, he stole into their dressing room. He had promised Swan that he wouldn’t sabotage them anymore, but then Swan had promised him those greasy creeps were old news- and there they were singing backup anyway. Besides, he wasn’t intending to do anything lethal at this point, just scare them out of doing the real performance after they finished with the rehearsal. He just needed to find a good place to hide until they came back.

And then, he spotted the platter that had been set on the table. It was large, covered with neatly arranged rows of assorted fruit, cheese, and crackers. The Phantom realized with a start that he’d been so busy rewriting his cantata, he’d barely noticed that he hadn’t eaten in… how long? It felt like a few days, but that couldn’t be right. All the drugs must really be getting to him. No, on second thought, pills were all he could remember having. The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. He was the composer, and Swan couldn’t even bother to give him a meal while his little pet projects got snacks and treats whenever they pleased? Well, not this time. 

He only hesitated for a moment before snatching up a cracker and biting down. It was crisp and salty, and he immediately wanted another. So he took more, and then some cheese. He wasn’t sure if the cheese was all that good or if he was just that hungry, but either way he didn’t have any desire to stop eating. The crackers were a bit dry, though, so he took a few grapes. They were ripe and red, and had a slightly tart sweetness. From there he sampled the strawberries, the orange slices, and the pineapple. It was all extremely easy to eat, with no overly soft bits spoiling the texture at all. Even the cantaloupe, which he ordinarily didn’t care for, tasted just right. The hollow feeling in his stomach was subsiding. He took a little more of everything- the strawberries tasted nice with cheese, he noted. Maybe a few more crackers could be good…

He heard a commotion outside and darted behind the door, just in case. Two voices were having some sort of argument. 

“- you realize this makes us both look bad. Swan ain’t gonna like this.” He recognized that voice- Swan’s jerk of a talent scout.

“So what? I’m here now, aren’t I?” That was someone he didn’t know- another man, who had a bit of a lisp. Definitely not one of the Juicy Fruits, so maybe he was part of the crew. “Look, the sooner you get off my case…”

At that point, the two of them had walked out of the Phantom’s earshot. It seemed as though nobody would be coming back any time soon. He looked back at the platter. To his surprise, he’d eaten about half of it before the interruption. Part of him just wanted to leave the rest. He’d had enough for now. Then again, he did want revenge, and having the Juicy Fruits come back to no food at all would certainly add insult to injury. Besides, who knew when he’d get a chance to eat again?

He’d expected to slow down a bit, since he wasn’t quite as hungry now. But almost as soon as he’d resumed, he wasn’t eating it so much as devouring it. Maybe it was the same sort of frenzy he went into when composing. He didn’t have any time to think that vague idea through, though. The only part of his mind that wasn’t focused on the meal at the moment was working to keep the excess fruit juice from falling onto his costume. After all, he only had one, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

It didn’t take long for his mind to wander as he ate. The Phantom was very dimly aware that the amount of food he’d polished off had been a snack intended for two people, and he was nearing enough for three. When he’d been W.inslow L.each, the composer, he probably wouldn’t have taken more than a handful however hungry he’d been. Of course, back then he would have been free to get something else to tide himself over. Although he’d still been obsessive over his music then, he hadn’t been shackled to it, writing on a time limit just for the one person who could still do it justice…

His stomach groaned, and the Phantom was brought back to reality. The platter was empty. He put his hand below the voice box on his chest. The food had filled his belly enough to bulge out noticeably from underneath his ribs. Though the Phantom was tall, he was also thin as a rail- he had been even before the accident, which being in prison for half a year hadn’t exactly helped. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten so much, and it showed. 

Well, he thought, it was no good confronting those sad excuses for musicians now. Not when his stomach felt like it might burst the seams of his leather suit at any moment. Realistically, his clothes were only a little tighter around the middle, but it wasn’t exactly a stretchy material. In any case, his need to tend to the uncomfortable fullness outweighed the need to scare them off at the moment.

Stuffed and achy, the Phantom lay on the floor of his room. As he rubbed his tummy, he couldn’t help but think that although it hurt, it would have felt worse to go hungry. Probably would have been worse for him in the long run, too, he reasoned. Anyway, what was done was done. The band, and more importantly, Swan, wouldn’t discover the missing food for a good while. And even though Swan would absolutely know where it had disappeared to, he couldn’t very well do anything about it. It was his own fault, forgetting to feed a glorified prisoner. Now he was paying the price, and after the Phantom’s stomach settled, he would be full and happy. Even imagining Swan’s infuriating calm voice telling him if he’d been hungry, he ought to have said something couldn’t get in the way of his satisfaction. It was a small, petty victory, but it was one he didn’t regret.

He shut his eyes, smiling for the first time in months. The cantata would definitely be better written after a good meal.

[sylvies-chen]

I wrote this at 1 am a few nights ago. Is it finished? Not really. But I’m too lazy to write an entire fic around one simple line I wanted Tim Bradford to say so… fuck it. Here’s a Chenford blurb!

••••••••

It’s not often Tim Bradford is shoving people into private rooms, least of all a walk-in closet. It’s not often he nudges anyone anywhere. When it comes to people he cares about, he makes a very specific rule of keeping his hands off. His paralyzing fear of becoming his father is to thank for the extra attention he puts twoards making sure of that. But now, as his mind has been racing for days, it builds up to this moment, right here and right now, where he’s frantic enough to be herding Lucy into what is arguablty the precinct’s nicest and most spacious walk-in supply closet (which the Smitty’s of the precinct have ranked as number one).

Because, as always, Lucy Chen is the exception to all of his rules.

“Wha—” she tries to protest but is too confused to do anything but oblige, and when she gets in the closet she spins on her heel. “What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“See generally, a normal person would say that first! Before shoving someone in a closet!” She chastises him, clearly bewildered (and with good reason). Her hands move up to poke him in the chest with pinched fingers. “In fact, a normal person wouldn’t even need to be herding anyone anywhere like a sheep, because they would ask nicely!”

The growl in her tone is justified, and is just biting enough to make him put his spiralling brain aside for one moment and assuage his guilt. “I’m sorry,” he offers sincerely. “I just- I didn’t know where else to go. This is important.”

She looks him over for a second. Tim can’t imagine the sight she must be seeing. He’s agitated enough to be bouncing his leg, fidgeting with his hands, pacing back and forth in sweeping, angry strides. And when she sees that he’s serious, something in her switches. Her vague irritatuon fades into something more akin to concern and curiosity. “Ok,” she begins hesitantly. “Ok, then we can talk. What’s this about anyway?”

“That mission,” he mutters, almost as if talking to himself (which he partially is). “Ohhhh, that mission. That undercover op that ruined my life.”

“Yeesh,” she exclaims casually. “I know the op had its ups and downs but it was pretty successful in the end. It wasn’t smooth but I think ‘life-ruining’ is a pretty dramatic ajective.”

“Dramatic doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he argues. “I mean, something changed. I couldn’t tell when at first and everything was so muddled but… The mission was it. That was the turning point. It had to have been.”

“What are you talking about? You’re starting to worry me here, Tim.”

“It ruined everything,” he repeats. “It fried my brain, it made things awkward between us, my relationship with Ashley.”

“Things with us a— Wait, what?” She asks suddenly. “Did you just say your relationship with Ashley?”

His eyes go wide. Shit. He forgot to tell her about that part. “… Yes.”

“You guys broke up?” Lucy’s shock lingers for a second, and before he can answer she blinks it away and asks another question. “When did this happen?”

“Last week,” he admits.

“Wh— Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because of that stupid undercover mission,” he huffs loudly and with a growl. “This keeps happening.”

He feels something simmering in him: agitation, nervousness, god knows what. It seethes in his veins and bubbles in his voice.

“The flirting with Nova, Dim and Juicy being a couple.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Twice now. Twice that we’ve had these weird alter egos or doppelgängers or— or whatever they’re called— that have been… involved. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I-I don’t know,” she struggles to answer. (Tim wonders if she’s trying to figure out what he wants to hear.) “Not- not really. I mean c’mon, Tim, we can’t read too much into that.”

“Why not? We should be reading more into it,” he refutes, and even though he’s spiralling into an unstoppable panic and agitation, even though he knows he’s practically screaming now, flailing his arms, that he probably has the eyes of a wild man, he can’t stop it. He’s a train and Lucy Chen is derailing him completely. In all the worst, best ways.

“Oh my god, Tim, it’s alright,” Lucy insists, laughing in that exasperated I-hate-how-ridiculous-you’re-being kind of way. She teeters on the edge of being upset with him though. He can see her trying to mask something wounded in her eyes. “This stuff only has meaning if you give it meaning. If the idea of being with me— or of any people like us being together— is that disgusting, then just ignore it.”

Oh. So that’s what she’s offended by.

It’s confusing and overwhelming, the way he wants to reach out to her, grab her cheeks in his hands, and say baby, no, you are in no way disgusting. You could never be repulsive. His fantasy of doing this is evidence to the opposite.

Instead, this energy of his that’s ramping up to something keeps going. He shakes his head. “You don’t get it.”

She rolls her eyes, getting frustrated herself. Her energy finally matches his, until she shouts, “Get what?”

“Every version of me loves every version of you.”

The words rush out like water rapids against his tongue: rough, fast, clumsy, and above all else inevitable.

He tells himself that in an attempt to console himself. It was unavoidable. They had to have it out. He had to end his agony once and for all. It’s no use though, because she’s standing there, stunned and confused and trying to unpack all the layers what he’s just said, and looking at him like that, and jesus. He is an idiot.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he sighs in surrender.

“Like, just the others or—”

“Every. Version.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, he thinks awkwardly. His hands shove their way into his pockets and time stands still and even though it’s about seven weeks away from Christmas, he begins to sweat.

“I…” she begins to say, and is practically piercing holes through his pupils trying to search for something in them, some sign that this is real, that he’s not getting revenge for her prank those some odd years ago, that she isn’t dreaming up what he meant when he said that…

He gives her a small nod, as if to confirm it all, and something in her clicks.

Her lips part. He doesn’t know what that means— if she’s about to reject him, if she’s going to ask what the hell he meant or even reciprocate something, if she’s leaning in to… to…

But he doesn’t get to find out. Smitty finds them in his usual comically bad timing, and they’re forced to snap out of this alternate dimension they create when it’s just the two of them.

“Oh. Hey there, Serge,” Smitty greets Tim and Lucy in the supply, thought he’s playing Candy Crush on his phone and doesn’t seem to remark the strange nature of finding two cops in an enclosed space meant for mops. (For once, Tim actually thanks Smitty for his stupidity.) “Grey wants to see you in his office.”

Tim opens his mouth to protest. He swears he could scream at Smitty right now, shove him back and slam the door and tell him something private and important— so fucking important— is happening right now.

But all that comes out is a simple “Okay.”

He gives Lucy one last look. Her eyes are practically out of her head, which seems to be turning backcand forth between Tim and Smitty. In shock, in awe, or in relief, he doesn’t know. But he tries to say, as much as anyone can say anything with just their eyes, don’t go anywhere yet, this is just getting good.

With that, dashes out of the supply closet and runs off to Grey’s office, praying to god that when he comes back, she’ll be there. Waiting. It’s a risk, and god knows he doesn’t likes those, but it’s Lucy.

And so he prays.

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly Roundup: Prompts

FSN

Shirou wakes up late for school (That's all).

Kirei Kotomine is having a good and nice afternoon.

smut, claudia pegging kotomine, older (f/sn) version

FHA

kotomine and caren are finally in chaldea together, and they manage to bond as parent and child over their shared enjoyment of watching people suffer

FATE/APOCRYPHA

Hello! For the Anon who asked for queer requests: I've always liked to consider Achilles more genderfluid than he lets on, since his culture would have shamed him a lot for it but he seemed fairly relaxed about hiding out as a woman on Skyros. If this strikes a fancy in anyone, by all means!

FGO

unsanitary, Castoria piss kink. She needs to mark her territory on anyone she fucks, that includes biting, scratching... and peeing on them. Preferably I'd like some level of "oh fuck why tf am I wanting this" but feel free to just go wild with the og prompt. I'm ok with artfills too btw if you guys want to give me a blushing stuttering Castoria struggling to articulate "hey not to be weird for a sec but can I pee on you" that's fine by me too!

(Fanservant prompt) Alter Ego Zhao Sisters with the nine-headed pheasant and the jade pipa as their third ascensions. Basically the Zhao Sisters from Han Dynasty are mixed with Daji's "younger sisters" from Fengshen Yanyi: Hu Ximei, the nine-headed pheasant (Jiutou Zhiji Jing) is mixed with Zhao Feiyan, the older Zhao Sister while Wang Guiren, the jade pipa (Pipa Jing) is mixed with Zhao Hede, the younger Zhao Sister.

Shiki Tohno(from Archers timeline) gets summoned to Chaldea and on the same day he meets with his Gf(Archetype Earth 1st and 2nd ascension) and his friend(EMIYA) but for some reason on his first day he was walking funny and on his second he was walking funny again and didn’t want to sit on chairs

For the anon that submitted a request for queer headcanons, I headcanon Oryou as transfem non-binary, though she doesn't use the labels or even understands what those labels are. She is just Oryou, after all. However, she bristles when people refer to her old identity/dead name (hinted slightly in GG6, but unconfirmed, to be Hiruko, the abandoned son of Izanagi and Izanami from Japanese mythology). For a scenario, perhaps someone from the Japanese pantheon is summoned to Chaldea (if there is not someone already there) and recognizes Oryou as Hiruko.

Prompt (I can't believe I send this): A Naked and Afraid parody where Saitou Hajime and Nagakura Shinpachi (the younger one aja his 2nd and 3rd ascension) found themselves naked and stuck on an island with no clothes and weapons because they can't remember anything on last night until they found a letter say: "Two survivalists who meet for the first time naked and are given the task of surviving a stay in the wilderness for 21 days. Each survivalist is allowed to bring one helpful item, such as a machete or a fire starter. After they meet in the assigned location, the partners must build a shelter and find water and food." Can they survived on this island in 21 days? (A very juicy Saitou Hajime x Nagakura Shinpachi prompt).

Mash has an insane amount of rizz and accidentally makes her own harem

I just want some gudacas man

CROSSOVER

That "Rin Tohsaka summoned the literally devil himself" fanfic/prompt give me this idea: Rin Tohsaka summoned Adam (This Adam who is basically the one who still lived in the Garden of Eden before the whole Forbidden Fruit happened) from Hazbin Hotel

ANY

Your servants wake up one day as the opposite gender.

I'd love aromantic master representation, or perhaps a servant realizing that they're aromantic after being summoned to Chaldea. (Does not have to just be Ritsuka btw!)

[moonlightpirate]

That Unwanted Animal

Okay anon and @tastyfiddle here it is! Jaskier is red riding hood off to visit his grandmother who is sick in bed! Geralt is the hunter who warns him about a dangerous wolf in the woods. Can Jaskier avoid the wolf? If not can Geralt save him? Ao3 link here masterlist for other fics featuring jaskier and Joey here

"Now Jaskier, your grandmother is stuck in her cottage in the woods and is very sick. I need you to take these food items to her please." Jaskiers mother said.

"Why do I gotta do it mom? The woods are a scary place! Can't dad do it?" Jaskier groaned.

"You're going in the daylight you will be fine. Just make sure to wear your red cape and….?".

"Don't stray from the path I know." Jaskier sighed in defeat. 

"Good boy. Now off you go your grandmother is probably starving.". 

She tied the cape around his neck and handed him a basket of food before gently pushing him out the door and planting a kiss on his cheek. It was late afternoon when Jaskier reached the edge of the wood and the path to his grandmother's house. He shuddered as he heard a wolf cry. 

"Sure it's daylight, I'll be safe….. or not. Why must grandma live deep in the woods?" Jaskier sighed as he slowly made his way into the woods. 

He hadn't gotten far when a tall strong looking handsome man with hair white as snow crossed his path.

"Have you seen a wolf sir?" The man asked.

"Hello, uh no I haven't yet. Is there one here?" Jaskier stuttered.

"Well it is the woods they usually are filled with wolves. But yes this particular one has been avoiding me for some time now.So be careful with wherever it is you're going.". 

"Well um I'm going to my grandmother's house in the woods and if there is a scary wolf creature out there it would be nice to have a very strong hunter nearby!". 

"Yes, I'm sure it would be beneficial." The man said, turning away. 

Jaskier looked at the path he was supposed to be following and then looked back up at the strange man who was walking away from the path deep into the woods. The urge to follow him was strong; he seemed like he would be a safe man to follow. He sighed and continued on the path. As he walked he would occasionally sneak a few bites of food from the basket his mother had made up for his grandmother. 

"Hello handsome. What brings you so deep into these woods?" A rough male voice said. 

Jaskier looked around nervously, "who is there?". 

A tall man with short dark hair sauntered out from the woods, "Names Valdo Marx. Pleasure to meet you.". 

Jaskier gasped as he noticed the wolf's ears and the long tail. 

"You're ……you're …..you're a wolf!" Jaskier stammered backing up against a nearby tree.

Valdo let out a low growl, "It's fine I'm not dangerous I promise handsome. So what brings you into these woods?". 

"I'm really not supposed to talk to strangers so I'm just going to be on my way." Jaskier said slowly backing away from the wolf and putting his hood over his head.

"It's such a beautiful day though why waste it. Is that a lute I see on your back? Do you sing? I'm something of a singer myself. Let me hear something of yours.". 

"Normally I would but I really need to go see my grandmother because she is very ill. So maybe another time.".

"Oh the poor woman! How about you pick some flowers? I'm sure she would love them! I will guess she's in that house deep in the woods?" Valdo smirked. 

"She does like flowers, perhaps I should." Jaskier said, wandering off the path and beginning to gather flowers. 

"Excellent.", Valdo whispered to himself as he turned and strutted off into the woods, "first those crisp old bones and then something juicy and meaty. I'll be eating well today!".

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

Geralt had been hunting this Valdo Marx wolf for weeks now. The old lady had complained about him harassing her and had hired him to kill the wolf. If she was the sick grandmother that man told him about earlier then he knew she probably wasn't safe. He slowly made his way towards her house making sure to be aware in case the wolf were to attack him. As he got closer to the cottage he noticed the door was open and could hear shouting. Quickly Geralt ran towards the cottage. The wolf had the woman and the man he met in the woods earlier backed against the wall.

"Oi wolf get away from them." Geralt shouted.

Valdo turned around with a blood thirsty look on his face and a grin that would send a shiver down any normal person's spine. Geralt grinned right back at him.

"Guess I'll be eating real good tonight. Once I'm done with you I'll finish off the old lady and that wimp." Valdo sneered.

Geralt looked up at them behind Valdo, "Get her out of here." He yelled at the strange man. 

"Oh I don't think so. You're all mine." Valdo chuckled.

Jaskier put a hand on his grandma and knew the hunter was right he needed to get his grandmother out of here and fast. But he wasn't sure how serious this Valdo was about them not leaving. He waited and watched until the hunter had distracted the wolf again before he and his grandmother made their way through the kitchen towards the other exit. 

"What's the rush?" Valdo growled, rushing in on all fours and blocking the door, "I told you that you aren't leaving."  

"And I told you that you aren't hurting anyone here." Geralt shouted storming in. 

Without a second thought Jaskier pulled his grandma under the table. He cowered afraid to even try to watch the battle happening. Out of nowhere a clawed hand reached under the table and dragged him out. Valdo was smiling down at him. Before Jaskier could even scream the hunter grabbed the wolf and stabbed him. Valdo went limp as the hunter removed the sword from his body. Jaskier helped his grandmother out from under the table before standing up and facing the hunter. 

"Oh thank you! You have saved me!" Jaskier exclaimed. 

"Thank you Geralt I knew you could get him. Anyway you can get rid of the body as well?" Grandmother said 

Geralt cocked an eyebrow and held out his hand. After receiving his payment he made his way out of the cottage with the body of Valdo Marx on his shoulder. 

"Oh wow grandma that was insane! How are you feeling?! I set food in the living room for you! Who was that man?". 

"Jaskier, I appreciate the food and everything you have done today. Tell your mother I'm feeling better and she doesn't need to send more food. Now go chase after that hunter he needs some comoany. His name is Geralt."  

"Thank you grandmother!" Jaskier gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek before he ran out the door and immediately began searching for the man. He reached the edge of the woods with no sign of him and sighed, "Oh I wish I could truly thank you sir. Perhaps a ballad of your heroic acts today will be thanks enough.".

Jaskier spent the rest of the walk home strumming on his lute trying to come up with a song fitting for his savior. 

[sinfulnesxx]

Continuation of this.

Eli had always admired his father's huge, muscular body, especially his hairy tits, the sinful way the fabric of his jeans used to stick to his father's ass to the point where many times the fabric would rip and watching the fabric of his tank tops stretch to the point where sometimes the nipple would slip out of the side. Eli knew that maybe that wasn't right, but he wanted his father, he wanted to fuck his tits, eat his ass, fuck his hole till it filled him deep with cum.

And it's as if his father knew it, since he always went around wearing those cleavages, which only caused his father's tits to look even more lush, juicy and worse or better yet, when he bent over some surface, the boy was mesmerized. Eli that day put his sheets in the wash, since, again, he had stained them from so many times he masturbated fantasizing about his own father, however, he got a nice surprise when he saw a piece of lingerie there that his father had forgotten about.

Specifically, a little red lacy thong, it must have fallen off, as it was unwashed, smelling of his father's sweat and musk. So the horny boy left washing the sheets and went to his room, where he undressed and put his father's thong on his face, starting to jerk off while smiling, fuck… They smelled so good, how come he had never noticed when his father was wearing that? So lost was he in his fantasies, he only came out of that trance when he heard his father's voice. He didn't listen when he opened the door and stepped into his room.

— Oh shit. Dad, I… — However, the reaction Eli got was anything but what he expected from his father. Instead of a scolding or awkward questions, his father settled between his thighs and put his big fat throbbing cock between those plump fat tits, the very image was hot enough to make Eli cum. However, he didn't, he mustered all his willpower to hold back. — Fuck…— That felt so good, one of his greatest fantasies was coming true, his father was jerking him off between his soft tits, which were being splattered with the exaggerated amount that was spurting from the young werewolf's tip.

— FUCK! Dad! — Eli's toes clenched tightly when his father did that, watching as strands of saliva now connected his father's chin to his glans. At the question, Eli nodded with a huge smile. — Oh, it definitely feels amazing. Your tits feel so soft, massaging my cock… — The boy's face was already flushed, gasping and letting out soft moans as his eyes rested on his father's darkened lustful eyes, new moans escaped his lips as his father flexed his fat tits, if his father kept massaging his cock like that, the boy didn't know how much he could resist.

— Do you know? — He asked in surprise, but then remembered that they are both werewolves and both have super hearing after all. — Of course you know, but fuck yeah. This is so much better than in my fantasies. You're always tempting me by wearing those cleavages that barely contain your tits. How do you expect me not to jerk off thinking about them? I want to suck them, bite them, bathe them with my cum — He confessed smiling.

@flexhub

[strongfuck]

I could just be a little high but I feel like Rhys couldn't handle spicy food. I think he'd take a bite of something with jalapeno, or, AT MOST, a serrano and just. Chug water. He gives off 'white boy at a Thai restaurant asking for full spice to impress his date then actively die in his chair'

i feel like most of the folks who write with me are probably aware of it, but i do have this headcanon that rhys came from the most backwater planet ever (think old west-ish vibes in terms of aesthetic but with the medical knowledge and overall technological literacy of pre-renaissance era or something, i haven't thought about it that deeply yet). the food there was totally bland-- animals were hardy to survive harsh climates and close to no plant life/surface water sources and tasted like shit. plants/root crops tasted like shit. there was probably some method of making literal dirt cakes because there was so little to eat. there was no such thing as salt

so when he goes to college on one of the edens and has his first meal of burger and fries, he is absolutely losing it. WHAT is this flavour. WHAT is this juicy meat. WHY do the vegetables actually... taste good?? and he's this idiot at age eighteen nearly crying at his seat, but it's fine because vaughn is there and vaughn grew up with him and he's losing his mind too (albeit more verbally, "RHYS WHAT IS IN MY MOUTH, OH MY GOD")

and this starts rhys' whole deal with food. like he'll try anything. he'll probably find anything delicious too; the conditions he grew up in make it so he'll eat anything relatively safe to eat without much complaint, but even the vaguest flavouring already drives him wild.

CUE YVETTE, who i imagine has a very strong flavour profile for food, adds a little spice for kick. and the first time rhys the intern shares lunch with her, a fellow intern, he's taken aback-- what the HELL is this on my tongue!? and she raises a brow and is like "its some chili, i think it makes the chicken taste twice as good" "what's a chicken?" "what's a-- where the hell are you from"

and so, an overachiever in literally everything he does, rhys asks yvette about spicy food and actively seeks it out with her. she's doing fine, but he's here like tearing up and burning his mouth because he is Not Used to It. BUT HE WILL BE. HE MUST BE. there are so many other FLAVOURS and spiciness wasn't even a concept he was familiar with until recently! yvette hands him some tissues to wipe his eyes and is like, "we can order a milder flavour of wings" and rhys is like "nah, i'm good, i'm fine"

all this rambling just boils down to me being: yeah that was definitely rhys in his early days of tasting spicy stuff. he has died So Much because of his caveman brain and adventurous nature. but he's totally fine with it now lmao, man eats those dynamite sticks (the jalapeño + ground meat deep fried rolls) like absolutely nothing. the spice is a nice tickle

[dirty-urie]

Experience

Chapter 2

4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of anxiety, kissing, references to masturbation

“Hey!” Brendon greets you, spreading a blanket on the ground. 

“Hi, B!” you chirp, matching his enthusiasm. “I’ll admit, when you asked me to lunch yesterday, I was not expecting a picnic.”

He sits down out on the blanket and you kick off your sandals to lounge next to him. “Well I figured we should talk in a neutral area, so there’s no pressure or expectations on either of us, but I also didn’t want to talk about sex in a crowded public place, so I settled on a picnic,” he explains, pulling food out of his basket.

“Oh, that’s smart!” You say, moving to rest your head in his lap. He plays with your hair absently while he unpacks the rest of the meal. “Plus I think this is romantic.”

“Oh yeah, brushing bugs off of each other while we eat. So romantic,” Brendon says sarcastically.

“We’re like monkeys showing affection! It’s sweet!” you counter. “Except I won’t eat any bugs off of you.”

Brendon stares at you for a few seconds in silence.

“What?” You demand. “You don’t like monkeys?”

“Not romantically, no,” he laughs. 

“Oh shush. I’m new at this! I don’t know how to flirt!” You defend yourself.

“That’s becoming increasingly obvious,” he teases and you pout.

“If you’re going to be mean, I’m leaving,” you say, sitting up and grabbing your shoes. 

“Wait, y/n, don’t go!” He says, pulling you into his arms before you can stand up to march away. You happily surrender into his embrace. “I’m not worthy of you and I know it, so I’m overcompensating by being a bully. I’m sorry,” he murmurs to you. 

“Good, that’s the correct response,” you respond. 

Brendon beams at you. “I’m glad. Now, all this bullying is making me hungry, so let’s eat,” he says, passing you a paper plate with food on it.

“Oh thank you, B,” you say, biting into a strawberry. 

You eat in awkward silence for a few minutes before you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “…so, you wanted to talk,” you prompt quietly.

Brendon nods. “I do. Just so we’re both clear on boundaries and expectations. I’m not trying to interrogate you on juicy details about your sex life,” he promises.

“More like lack thereof,” you mumble.

Brendon looks affronted. “Just because you haven’t slept with another person doesn’t mean you don’t have any sex life,” he says. Your face must betray your utter confusion because he laughs. “I’m talking about masturbating,” he clarifies and your eyes widen.

“Oh, I don’t really- uh, I’ve never,” you stammer 

Now it’s Brendon’s turn to look shocked. “You’ve never masturbated?!” He exclaims loudly before he realizes that he’s in public and he claps a hand over his mouth. He looks around to make sure no one heard him. You both giggle. 

You feel your cheeks heat. “No, I have once or twice, but I’ve never,” you put your forehead in your hand, “oh god, this is so embarrassing. I’ve never been able to come, so I just work myself up to get frustrated.”

“Oh, you poor soul!” Brendon says, shaking his head. “What a sad life.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s more to life than orgasms, Brendon.”

“Easy to say when you’ve never had one!”

You ignore him, plucking a grape off your plate. “Okay, I’ve volunteered enough embarrassing information. Now you have to work for it.”

He leans forward. “I’m intrigued.”

You hold up your grape. “If you catch a grape in your mouth, you can ask me anything and I’ll answer to the best of my abilities. If you miss the grape, I get to ask you something. Deal?”

“Hell yeah. Throw that motherfucker,” he agrees, opening his mouth.

You throw the grape, an easy underhand toss, and he catches it between his teeth. He throws his hands up in victory. 

“Nice job,” you praise. “You get one question.”

He pauses to think. “Alright, why have you stayed single this long? You’re a delight, so I know it’s not because no one’s interested.”

You pause to think. “I’ve been focused on other things, I guess. Mainly my career,” you shrug.

Now it’s Brendon’s turn to look confused. “You’re a songwriter,” he says.

“Yeah. So?”

“So, all songs are about sex,” he points out. “Your lack of orgasms has probably held you back in your career.”

“Not every song is about sex,” you laugh and Brendon makes a face that says he disagrees. “But it’s not just that. I also just haven’t really trusted any men enough to date, much less sleep with. And then one day, I woke up and realized I was a 26-year-old virgin and I figured it was too late for me, so I adopted a cat and resigned myself to being a spinster. And I’ve been mostly happy with that decision honestly.”

Brendon holds his hand up. “Up top! Hell yeah! No men! Animal friends!”

You high-five him, laughing. “You realize you are a man, right?” you point out. “I mean, I guess I haven’t actually seen your dick yet, but I’m reasonably confident.”

“Uh yeah, so I know firsthand how scummy we are, and I apologize for interfering with your plans for celibacy,” he says playfully before his face and tone shift. “But seriously, y/n, I really respect that. The vast majority of men are shitty and disrespectful and violent, and don’t deserve you or your body.”

“Are you any different?” 

The question hangs in the air for a few seconds before his face cracks into a grin. “Nope, no free questions. I didn’t miss a grape.”

You throw a grape behind you, so he has no chance of catching it. “Are you any different?” you repeat, maintaining seriousness.

Brendon’s smile disappears as he matches your reverence. “I’d like to think so, but It feels disingenuous to strictly say yes; I still have things to work on. But I don’t think saying ‘I try’ is good enough either.” He pauses, frustrated. “I feel like everything I’ll say will sound like cheap woke buzzwords,” he laughs. “Okay here’s what I’ll say: I’m easily better than 90% of men, which is a low bar, and I benefit from that low bar. So I’m trying to go above and beyond, and I work hard to be someone my partners can trust. And that’s work I have to do. Obviously, I want you to communicate with me, but the onus is never on you to make me a better person or partner,” he tells you. “And that’s all I can put into words, so I hope my actions can show you that I’m good enough for you, y/n. That I’m someone you can trust, and rely on, and,” he pauses again, this time more sure of himself, “love eventually, I hope.” You don’t realize you’re crying until he’s dabbing tears from your face with a napkin. “I’m sorry, darling.”

You shake your head. “Don’t apologize, you were being sweet. Nobody’s been that sweet to me before. It caught me off guard.”

“I’m trying to show you I can treat you well, and you’re already crying. This is a bad sign,” Brendon jokes nervously.

You eat a piece of chocolate to calm yourself, shaking your head. “No, these are happy tears. A very good sign.”

“Good,“ he kisses your temple. “Now hit me again. I have more questions. And I demand a fair throw this time.”

You throw your last grape and he barely catches it. “Ooo good catch. A close one.”

“Thank you. Anything to impress a lady.”

“Oh, I’m definitely impressed. Now, what’s your question?”

“As far as touching, what are you comfortable with right now? And this can change at any time, so no pressure.”

You pause to think. “Ironically enough, I do really like touching. You may have noticed that I’m very physically affectionate,” you start and Brendon reaches out to give your hand a brief squeeze. “Especially hugging, cuddling, and kissing. With the right person, that makes me feel so safe and loved. But I’m honestly not that comfortable beyond that with more intimate touching. I’ve liked making out with you, but I don’t think I’m that comfortable with the whole… arousal aspect yet.”

“Like… my dick?” Brendon asks and you both giggle.

“That’s a part of it, yes.”

“Sorry, love, I’m,” he pauses to rub his face awkwardly, “easily excitable to say the least. And usually kind of shameless, as my fans can attest to,” he chuckles. “But I’ll hide my erections as best as possible from now on if that would help?” He offers.

You cringe at the word but nod. “It would if you don’t mind. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice seeing and feeling how I affect you, but…” you trail off, unable to find the right words.

“…but I’m sure that can be intimidating,” he finishes, still smiling good-naturedly. “Not to give myself too much credit.”

“No, intimidating is a good word. It’s one thing to know you’re turned on by me, it’s another to be confronted with it,” you say and he nods in understanding. “but it’s not just your dick. I also feel weird,” you take a breath, ”feeling turned on around you,” you admit.

Brendon’s face immediately changes. “Ooo I turn you on?” He teases happily. 

You blush, burying your face in your hands. “Well, yeah. You’re very handsome. And you’re a very good kisser,” you mumble.

“And I have a nice ass.”

“A very nice ass!” You agree. 

“So why don’t you like to feel turned on around me?”

You shrug, reluctantly unburying yourself from your hands. “I feel like my horny brain would make decisions that my rational brain wouldn’t,” you explain.

“Oh I’ve been there,” Brendon mutters, mostly to himself.

You laugh. “There’s a brain up there besides your horny one?”

Brendon’s jaw drops open. “Well, now who’s being a bully?”

“That wasn’t bullying! That was a legitimate question!” You defend yourself, and you both dissolve into giggles again.

“Mhm, sure. Well don’t worry, I’ll make sure you won’t do anything you’d regret, you’re safe with me. I promise.”

You crawl over the picnic blanket to lean against him and pull his arms around yourself. “I believe that.”

•••

“Oh my god, the sun is setting,” you notice, startled.

Brendon looks just as surprised as you. He checks his watch. “It’s almost eight. We’ve been here for hours.”

“I don’t have great time perception,” you admit.

“Me neither, but time flies when I’m with you,” Brendon says and it’s corny but you both smile at each other. 

“Same,” you agree. “And I have social anxiety, so social interactions exhaust me, and you should be flattered by multiple hours in my presence,” you say, only half-joking.

“Oh well, then I’m very flattered! Thank you for your time, darling.” He leans forward to kiss your cheek.

“You’re very welcome,” you say before checking your phone anxiously. “B, I’m so sorry, but I have to get back home to feed my cat. We both get anxious when I don’t feed him and get in bed by 9. We’re very rigid,” you apologize, embarrassed.

“No, worries, sweet girl. Go get your evening routine done. I get it. I’m sure my pups miss me too,” Brendon says.

You kiss his forehead. “You’re the best.”

“I meant what I said earlier, babe, you’re safe with me. Our relationship shouldn’t get in the way of your happiness and comfort.”

•••

“You’re safe with me. I promise,” he murmurs against your neck. You whine for him to go deeper and he does, slowing down to rock into you carefully. You wrap your legs around him, urging him as deep as he can go.

Your phone alarm wakes you from your dream, and you groan, annoyed. You’re drenched in sweat and you feel slickness coating your thighs. Your whole body is craving Brendon. You pick up your phone to silence the alarm, and in a moment of desperation, you call him.

He picks up on the fifth ring, just as you’re about to hang up and take a cold shower. “Hey, babe,” he says, voice scratchy.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You glance at the time: 7:03 am. He could have easily been asleep.

“No, don’t worry. I just fell asleep, I was barely unconscious,” he reassures through a yawn. “What do you need?”

He just fell asleep? Oh duh, rockstar schedule. You bite your lip, cringing. “Um. Do you want to have sex with me?”

Brendon makes a choking noise. “No, er, uh, what? No. Now? No. You’re not comfortable with that. I’m not comfortable with that. Now?”

“No!” you exclaim and he sighs in relief. “Just… eventually. I want to work up to it. Granted, slowly. And I wanted to know if we were on the same page,” you say, bringing your hand over your face.

“Oh. Of course,” Brendon tells you sleepily. “Can I ask what prompted this?”

“I had a dream about you,” you state.

“A sex dream?”

You contemplate for a second whether to tell him the truth or not. “Yeah,” you confirm. “A sex dream. And now I’m needy and frustrated and I want you. Not even to try to get off, just to kiss my forehead and hold me and make me feel better.”

Brendon makes a comforting sound. “I’m sorry, honey. Do you want to spend the night tonight?” He invites. He must sense your hesitation because he adds, “You can tell me if that’s moving too fast.”

“But we’re not sleeping together though,” you point out, confused.

He laughs. “You’re new at this, so you may not know this, but there’s no law that says we have to be sleeping together to sleep together,” Brendon says. “You said you like cuddling. We could snuggle up and wake up in each other’s arms. That sounds perfect to me.” 

“Oh duh, I guess you’re right!” You say excitedly, realizing this for the first time. “Actually, can you stay over here tonight instead? Turnip’s been cranky that I’m leaving all the time.”

“Am I still asleep or did you just say turnip?”

“Turnip is my cat,” you giggle, and right on cue, Turnip meows grumpily on top of your chest. “He’s upset that he’s no longer the only man in my life,” you explain, scratching Turnip under his chin. 

“Oh well, then I have to come over to win over Turnip!” Brendon exclaims. Turnip meows again and you swear he sounds skeptical, even though you know he probably just wants you to feed him. 

“Okay, come over any time after 7. I’ll make dinner.”

“Sounds good!”

•••

“You have to be nice to Brendon,” you tell Turnip when you hear the doorbell ring. Turnip just stares at you blankly and stalks off to mope. 

You open the door for Brendon and greet him with a side hug. You breathe in his scent. “It’s so good to see you. Sorry for waking you up with my hormones this morning,” you laugh.

“No, don’t worry about it. Talking to you is delightful, even early in the morning.”

“7 am is not early,” you argue. 

“Early for me,” he mutters as you release him from your hug.

You ruffle his hair affectionately. “We’ll sleep in tomorrow, buddy, I promise. Speaking of sleeping, you can put your bag in my room if you’d like,” you say, leading him to your bedroom.

“Is that Turnip!” He asks excitedly, seeing your cat lying on your bed.

“It is! He’s lying on what’ll be your side of the bed. Probably claiming his turf,” you let Brendon know. 

Brendon moves to his side of the bed to put his duffel bag down. Strangely enough, Turnip stands up and rubs back and forth against Brendon.

“He likes you,” you say, taken aback.

“You sound so surprised! Don’t you like me?”

“I like you a lot, but Turnip doesn’t usually like anyone except me! Especially not men.”

“Your cat’s a misandrist?!”

You nod. “I’ve taught him well.”

“Can I pet him?”

Normally you’re apprehensive about letting strangers touch your Turnip because it stresses him out, but he’s happily rubbing his face against Brendon’s hand and purring loudly. Plus you love that Brendon asked first. “Go ahead,” you allow and you swear you’ve never seen Turnip so happy as when Brendon finally runs his hand across his back.

“Brendon, fair warning, now that I know Turnip likes you, you’re absolutely stuck with me. I hope you’re prepared to marry me,” you joke.

“Yay! I passed the test!”

“Turnip is not a test! He’s a precious baby! He just happens to approve of you.”

Turnip paws at Brendon’s thighs. “Either your cat is trying to feel me up, or he wants to sit on my lap,” Brendon laughs. “Can I sit on your bed?” He asks.

“You should probably be asking Turnip that,” you say. “It’s really his bed. I’m just allowed to sleep in it. But yes, go for it.”

Brendon toes off his shoes and sits on your bed. Turnip immediately sits in his lap and you mouth, “traitor” to the cat while Brendon isn’t looking. Turnip just sits there looking smug and happy. 

You jump into the bed with Brendon and Turnip, and he puts an arm around you. He strokes the side of your arm as he pets Turnip and you both make content noises.

“Full disclosure: I don’t love cooking, so I ordered food instead,” you tell him, leaning against his chest. “I had full intentions of cooking for you but then I ran out of energy.”

“More time to snuggle. That’s fantastic,” Brendon exclaims.

“I feel bad. I’m not that entertaining tonight. I’m kind of exhausted.”

“I want to be someone that doesn’t use up any mental energy. If you need to eat takeout and watch TV while I keep you company, that sounds fantastic.” He puts an arm around you and you cuddle against him happily.

“God, how did I luck into someone so perfect?” You ask in awe.

Brendon laughs. “You’re the perfect one. You just make me want to be on my best behavior.”

•••

“Hey, B, I have an awkward question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you mind if I take my bra off?

“Of course not. Your bra is for your comfort, not mine. If you feel better without it, by all means.”

“…would you mind if I take my jeans off too then?” You ask hopefully.

He kisses your cheek. “Whatever you want is totally okay with me, precious girl. Strip completely and I won’t mind.”

You sigh in relief when you wiggle out of your too-tight jeans and unclasp your bra. “Thank you, B.”

You’re just left in a t-shirt and underwear, and somehow you don’t feel exposed at all. You really could be naked in front of him and he’d look at you with the same mix of fondness and respect that he is now. That’s not to say that he’s not attracted to you, but you could see the desire in his eyes when you were fully clothed too. He doesn’t need to objectify you to like your body.

“No need to thank me. I want you comfy, darling.”

You settle back into position with your head on his lap and he resumes scratching your scalp. 

“Should we make out?“ you ask, and Turnip sprints out of your room. He’s kind of a prude.

“Yes!” Brendon says excitedly. “Wait, no. Only if you want.”

You giggle. “Is this you respecting my boundaries or trying to come off as cool and aloof?”

“The former, but if my hard-to-getness makes you want me more, that’s a fun bonus.”

You sit up, snuggling against him. “Nooo, I love your enthusiasm.” 

He kisses your temple. “Good.”

You move to kiss his lips, but he says, “Wait,” and covers his lap with a pillow first.

You’re about to ask why before you realize, and your cheeks flush dark red. “Oh. Are you already…” you glance down, trailing off.

He strokes your cheek, soothingly. “No, love. This is just in case. I don’t want to stress you out, but I can’t exactly control my body all the time,” he answers, blushing too. “I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, baby. Don’t apologize. Your body is working as it should, and that’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. I love that I turn you on. I just don’t necessarily want to be directly confronted with it at this point,” you laugh. 

“And that’s totally fine. Hence the chastity pillow.” And you both giggle.

“Bodies are weird,” you say.

“Bodies are weird,” he agrees. “Do you still want to affectionately mash our food holes together or should we just go to sleep?”

You crawl into his lap and wrap your legs around his torso. “Kissing please. As long as you never refer to it like that again.”

“Deal,” he laughs, leaning forward. 

You lean forward too, meeting his lips. Your tongue moves around the entrance to his mouth, and he parts his lips slightly for your tongue to slide over his. You grasp his hair. He makes a whining sound and you stop. 

“No, keep going,” he pants. ”I love having my hair pulled. It’s kind of a weakness of mine,” he admits, smiling, and you tangle your hands in his hair again. 

“Wanna make you feel good, B,” you say, kissing up the side of his neck.

He moans. “You’re doing a really good job right now, pretty girl. My neck is really sensitive; your lips against it are incredible.”

You lick behind his ear and he shivers. “I have an idea,” you whisper, relishing the sight of the goosebumps popping up on his skin.

He makes an intrigued noise. 

“I wanna massage you. That way I can make you feel good, learn all of your erogenous zones, and get a chance to touch all over you,” you say. “Not right now, but maybe tomorrow night? If you’re free?”

“Fuck. Yes. Please,” he agrees. “Can I massage you too?”

“Absolutely,” you answer breathlessly before you kiss him again greedily 

•••

“I’ve had sex that didn’t last as long as that,” Brendon jokes after you finally collapse together in sweaty exhaustion.

“Mm, that could say more about how you are in bed than how long we were kissing,” you tease. 

“You’re right. I’m incredible in bed and my partners come instantly, so it doesn’t take very long. I have magic fingers.”

You laugh. “Can’t wait to put that claim to the test.”

“I’m sensing doubt,” Brendon says lightheartedly, but he seems distracted. You finally notice him shifting uncomfortably and adjusting his jeans.

“You okay, B?”

“Yeah,” he clearly lies.

“You’re squirming like there are ants in your pants,” you point out.

“I’m okay. Can I use your shower real fast before we go to sleep?”

“Yeah, of course. I should have offered earlier. I’m such a bad host,” you apologize.

“It’s fine, love. I’m certainly not upset that my lips distracted you,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “I just need a few minutes of alone time if that’s okay.”

You gasp. “You’re going to masturbate in my shower!” You accuse playfully, not actually mad.

Brendon smiles sheepishly. “I was actually just going to stand under the cold water and try to calm down, but you have the right general idea,” he confesses.

“You can masturbate in my shower, Brendon. I don’t actually mind. One of us should get off.” You shrug. “I want you to be comfortable too. I know ‘blue balls’ is mostly a way to pressure women into sex, but I know you would never pressure me, and I don’t want you crampy or sore or uncomfortable from being turned on too long.” 

“That’s very considerate, but I really don’t mind.”

You peck his cheek. “Go shower. Take care of yourself.” You see him hesitate. “Go!”

Brendon sighs. “Thank you, darling.” He hurries to the bathroom, and you hear the water running. You don’t know why, but you kind of want to put your ear to the door to listen to him. You’re just about to when you hear the water shut off. He comes back into your room just a few minutes later in pajamas. 

“Feel better?” You ask and he nods, yawning. 

“Sleepy though.” He crawls into your bed and you pull him tight against you.

“Me too. Sleep well, baby.”

•••

“I don’t want to get up,” Brendon groans.

You woke up tangled in each other and haven’t moved since. 

“I could reschedule my meeting,” you offer.

“No,” he says without even considering. “No career sacrifices. Absolutely not. Go shower and get ready. I’ll see you at my place tonight.”

“You’re the best, B,” you tell him, reluctantly rolling out of bed. 

“No, you’re the best. Knock their socks off, babe.”

[collegiatediaries]

February 18, 2012

His touches were delicate and his kisses were pure, something about being with him made me feel secure. Who knew from our secret flirtatious moments that I would be in this furnitureless apartment, with this mysterious man; who was sending electricity down my spine just by his soft fingers grazing my leg as his eyes spoke to my soul. How did I get here? I thought, as our lips met again. His lips were so juicy and smooth. Someone pinch me, Zori Rain wake up because you are dreaming. I scanned the room taking in all the romance; dimmed lights, candles, fruits, and rose petals everywhere, what a lovely ambiance. A glass of wine would’ve complimented the evening well, but he was not going to buy me any since I am underage…barely. 

I remember the first time I saw him, he walked in the house with my cousin. His family member was one of my favorite people; I really loved his energy. I was asked if I remembered him from years ago; listen, a face like that is unforgettable, so there was no way that we were introduced before.  Dalmar was very handsome; skin dipped in caramel brown, tall-athletic built, almonds light brown-eyes, and a breathtaking smile with a beauty mark on his face. Given that our families were close, I saw him plenty of times when I was around my dad’s side of the family. He was at cookouts, reunions, any family event. As time flew by, we became friends. We would text and send jokes. Not going to lie, I started to develop a crush on him, but I knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, since I was looked at as the little sister of the group. Ugh. So, I knew I was pretty much in the friend zone, so I went on about my life while leaving a little space for him in my heart.

 One day after being around him, things got a bit flirtatious. I don’t know if he was testing me, but I did enjoy our friendly banter. Therefore, our texts became more frequent and more personal. It was a safe and vulnerable place for the both of us. Normally, when I was in town from school, I would let him know. I knew I would see him, but he asked if I wanted to hang out…ALONE. Say what now? We have never had alone time. What does he have up his sleeve? Of course, we can hang out, he had to work that night, but he was going to come get me the next day. That day, I wore a high-low tight fitted sundress, showing all of these curves; there was no way he was going to see me as his little sister tonight. I told him to text me when he got to the house because I didn’t want anyone to see him. When I received the text, I sprayed some perfume, hit the lips with some gloss, and winked at myself in the mirror, while grabbing my keys to head out. When I got in the car, we hugged. He took a couple of sniffs enjoying my perfume, he said he liked it, along with my outfit. Yessir, this is a grown lady in the car with you. 

“Zori, did you hear me?” He must have said something while I was zoned out, taking everything in. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked, trying to contain myself. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, flashing his smile that made me want to melt in his arms. 

“I am. How about you?” I sipped my lemonade, trying to quench my thirst. Zori, get it together girl, I demand my thoughts, which were undressing him. I had to get up and walk around. He followed suit. 

“Good. I enjoy hanging out with you.” He stood behind, looking over my shoulder out the window. “I am also enjoying the view.” 

“Well you don’t look too bad yourself.” I complimented, while sizing him up and down. I needed to sit back down because my knees were getting weak. 

“This is a nice change of things.” 

“Yeah,  normally we are in a different setting. You know with my family and your friends around.” I joked and chuckled. 

“Touche. So, what is going through that head of yours?” He inquisitively stated, licking his lips. I didn’t know if his lips were chapped or if he tried to seduce me, but either way I liked it. 

“What do you think?” I teased by biting into a strawberry, I can keep up. His eyes were fixated on my lips. 

“He is so fine. I can’t wait to get him in that room?” He mimicked, which was terrible by the way. My voice is not that high pitched. 

“You mean the room with no bed. I am good off of that.” I sassed,  we both laughed. 

“I don’t know why this dude doesn't have any furniture, he might be a minimalist.” He defended, but I was not buying what he was selling. Dude had NO furniture. Not even a chair in the room. I wonder how many women Tim brings back to this place, or does he rent furniture when they come over. 

“Too busy paying for eHarmony?” I suggested, shrugging my shoulders. 

“Wow. That is cold!” He gawked.  

“I know. Not going to lie, I am surprised by all of this.” I got us back on subject because I didn’t want to keep talking about Tim and his furnitureless apartment 

“Why? We hung out.” He leaned in closer, moving my hair out of my face. 

“Well, our families have always been close and this is the first time you’ve looked at me this way.” I explained, tilting my head to the left. 

“Is that what you think?” 

“Touche. That’s what I assumed. However, you are a semi-intelligent man. I know you knew I had a crush on you.”  I elaborated. 

“I did.”  He acknowledged, nodding his head. 

“So, you were playing games.” I implied, I scooted away from him. He placed his hand over mine, forcing eye contact between us. 

“No. Like you said our families are close. Just didn’t want to cross any lines.” He explained, moving closer to me. 

“Kissing me the way you are…it’s definitely blurring lines for… me.” I confessed, there was no reason to be shy about it. I was the truth. 

“You mean like this,” Our lips met again and he pulled me on top of  him, allowing me to feel his hardness and I was not disappointed. 

“Dalmar, what are we doing?” I questioned, there was no way that we were going to move forward with anything without some clear “lines.” 

“What do you mean?” He continued to kiss my neck, drawing me into his seductive vortex until I nudged him away. 

“Stop playing with me, if anything happens tonight. No one can know.” I expressed my concern. 

“I don't kiss and tell.” He attempted to console my crazy thoughts. 

“I hear you, but I am telling you. NO ONE can know. If this gets back to my dad or even…” His lips silenced me. 

“Listen, I got you. As far as I know, you are a good girl.” He reassured with a playful wink, then continued with his embraces.  

“Right. And what did you tell Tim, when you asked to use his apartment?” I needed to know, my paranoia was clouding my thoughts. 

“I am entertaining a lady friend.” he didn’t hesitate. 

“A Lady Friend? How many women do you bring up here?” I pulled away because I wanted to look him in the eyes. 

“None. That’s why he was cool with it.” I shrugged it off.  “Listen, if you want me to take you back home, then I can. No pressure,  I would never do that; but from what I can feel and see in your eyes. You are craving me, just as bad as I am craving you.” He grinned, creating a new level of desire for him. 

“Craving?” I mouthed. He was bewitching, with a tight game. I felt his hand glide up my thigh under my dress. 

“Your panties are soaked. So, I can say with complete confidence-” I could feel his fingers inside, “-that you are most definitely craving me. Like I am craving every part of you.” He licked his finger. His luscious touch, had me vulnerable and throbbing below. He slid his finger back in, causing my back to arched as his tongue traveled down my body. 

“Mmmhmm.” I tried to contain myself. 

“Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. It’s your world and I am just visiting.” he picked me and placed me against the wall. 

 

I love when a man is in control. I unbuckled his pants, as he hiked up my dress, removing my black lace panties. I grabbed on to the curtain rod as he entered, sending me on a passionate ecstasy of pleasure wave. I floated with each thrust, and his body synced with mine; creating the perfect rhythm that couldn’t be duplicated.  He touched places that my body has never experienced.  I didn’t even know what was going on, but I was enjoying every inch of him. He was an intoxicating high that I never had and I wanted more and more, the deeper and deeper he entered. I was in his sexual abyss and didn’t want to leave. Honestly, it felt like an out of body encounter because I had no control. Juices ran down my leg, from cumming over and over. He was a g-spot master, more like the pussy whisper. Our bodies collided and our connection was profound. My pussy openly  told him all her needs and secrets, because he was pleasuring her in a different realm. Things took a turn when in the midst of this high vibration, he said something that threw me off, “What’s Up?” 

I ignored it because I thought I was hearing things. It could be possible because this was an unfamiliar encounter that I have ever experienced. Nope, I heard it again. “What’s Up.” 

Umm, where in the hell did that come from and why would you ruin the moment like that?  I pondered. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say back. I didn’t know if that was a code word or what. I tried to ignore it, but he was staring at me, which turned things awkward. Maybe it meant he was about to cum because he quickly yanked back. Well, that was eventful, as I laid there in silence; still feeling like I was in a whirlwind. My body was playing catch up, from the pleasure because I was still cumming after it was over.  Once my body settled, he passionately kissed me. Even though I really enjoyed it, there was no way this could happen again because that type of sex was addictive and dangerous. My pussy would crave him all the time and we live in different cities. There was no way this was going to work out and be healthy.  I jumped in the shower, in there I took a moment of silence and apologized to my girl because that was a ride, we would never ride again. 

Once I got out, he was waiting for me, smiling. When his hand touched my body, I almost melted to the floor, but I was not going down like that, so I held my composure…the best I could. Yep, I need to go home because He would have me busting it wide open all over this furnitureless apartment again and there is not enough time left in the day; plus, I am sure that Tim wanted to come home. 

“So now what?” He stepped closer to me. I pushed him back, shaking my head.  

“Please don’t start.” 

“Don’t start what.” He teased, holding my lace black panites in his hand. 

“I was wondering where they went.” I snickered. 

He placed them in his pocket, biting his bottom lip “They are mine now.” 

“It’s time for me to go home now.” I suggested,  grabbing my jacket and keys. 

“It’s like that.” he threw up his hands, surrendering. 

“Most definitely.” I said with a salacious winked, walking out the door.  

 

He drove me back home, the ride to my house felt shorter than the ride from my house. I was not complaining because I really needed to get away from this man before I jumped on him in the car. My body was acting like a horny sex addict. It seemed like he knew because he placed his hand on my leg. I tried to ignore the hand and continued talking about life. When we pulled up to my house, my inner body leaped for joy. We hugged. 

“So, when can we do this again?” he asked, face plastered with delight. 

I lied through my smile, “Soon. I’ll let you know.”  I shut the door, then placed my head in the window. “Our secret.” I said holding my pinky out. He locked his pinky with mine. 

“Our secret.” He agreed. Our eyes were deadlocked. Blinking to break the overwhelming feeling to get back to him. 

“Text me when you get home.” 

“You will be asleep,” he argued. 

“Text me.” I demanded. 

“I will. Good night.” He said before pulling off. 

“Night, Dalmar.” I veered away with weak legs, but I gathered the strength to continue up the driveway with my sexy walk, as he watched this voluptuous ass.  

 I waved him goodbye and passed out on the bed. I kept my promise and stayed up until he texted me back, saying he got home. I got in bed replaying the night because I was in disbelief that all of that happened. What a night, some secrets are good secrets!

[luveline]

a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

-

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

[natewriteslol]

Could i get hcs of savanaclaw+octavinelle with an s/o whos a vegetarian? Gn! Please and thank you! 💖

Y/N is gender-neutral

Warnings: none, possibly descriptions of meat and eating? idk sjfkhaks

Leona:

-Decided to collab with the other dorm leaders to take everyone out for dinner

-At first he was reluctant, saying and I quote “Why would I go out to eat with all of you mongrels?”

- “Damn, I already bought a super nice outfit for going out to dinner-”

-“I’m going.”

-You had  just started going out with Leona, and once everyone had gotten their food he wanted to be a gentlemen and give you bits of his food

-and...his food was a medium rare-juicy steak

- “You want a bite?” he asked, the bit of meat on the fork placing it near your face

-“No thanks, I’m actually a vegetarian.”

-Everyone let out a quick chuckle, they couldn’t believe that he was so into you and he didn’t know

-He felt humiliated and it wasn’t even that serious adflshfafsa

-A blush rose to his cheeks

- “Oh...my bad”

-Did Leona just apologize? 

-By the Great Seven this is alot of character development we’re having-

Ruggie:

-It was a meat all you can eat restaraunt and he was so excited for it

-They only have this special once a year! And it would be one of his first dates with you!

-“C’mon dig in Y/N! I filled your plate up for ya!” 

-Ruggie was excitedly stuffing his face and you felt like you were going to be sick

-You had just started dating and Ruggie’s mind was clouded by all his excitement that he forgot that you were vegetarian...

- “Ruggie...”

- “Mhmm?” he asked, his mouth full with meat

-“You do know I’m vegetarian right?”

-Ruggie remembers your birthday, your parent’s names, your friends... but he forgot that you were vegetarian

-He swallowed, “I’m sorry babe, I just completely forgot.”

-You knew he was super excited and you didn’t want to leave Ruggie alone and make him eat by himself

-So you stuck it out and Ruggie quickly ate his full

-And you went to one of your favorite cafe’s in all of Twisted Wonderland, The Brewery 

-The scenery was so calm and beautiful, it was one of the most perfect places to spend the rest of your date

- “Babe, I’m really sorry about forgetting you were vegetarian. But thank you for introducing me to something new, this cafe is killer. Even if there is no meat...” 

-You rolled your eyes at him jokingly, making him laugh “My bad, my bad!”

Jack:

-Before he knew that you were vegetarian he would always offer you a bite of his sandwiches/meat stuff

-Once you tell him that you’re vegetarian, he feels really embarassed

-‘I should’ve put the pieces together, no wonder they never took a bite’

-Always makes sure to accomodate for you whenever you both go out to a restaraunt 

-Brings you vegetarian snacks if you’re out somewhere 

-Starts to grow fresh vegetables for you

-“Here, I grew these for you in the greenhouse. Ah, don’t worry they didn’t take that long  to grow, here take em’.” 

-ajlfajha Jack ilysm

Azul:

-It all started with Azul trying to sell you some food from the Monstro Lounge

-We have the finest of seafood, grand meat specials that will make you go wild!

-Yet...nothing was appetizing to you?!

-Impossible! There must be something that he could whip up that could change your mind

- “Jade. Floyd into the kitchen, and give them ‘The Convincing Special-”

-“Azul, I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.”

-Damn! Azul was so used to being around meat eaters like the abundant Savannaclaw students, that he realized he needed to give better accomidations for those who were vegetarian!

-Oh no, you could possibly think that this means that he doesn’t care about you or your diet!

-Meanwhile you’re just sitting there while he’s overthinking ladfhsjhfs

-You become his new guinea pig, testing out all sorts of delicious vegetarian options 

-His business does well, and you’re happy!

-My, my he is quite the deal-maker, isn’t he?

Jade:

-He’s not the biggest meat eater himself, so he relates to you alot 

-Jade is a very observant person, so he’d already know and wouldn’t forget

-Knows the best spots to hit up for breakfast, lunch and dinner

-Another boy who gets the idea to start gardening! 

-Since he loves nature, he would love to start a little garden in Ramshackle with you

- “I think Ramshackle could use a little more...life, don’t you think dear?” 

-Woo lord Jade pls gimme a chance-

-Your lucky self gets a peak into a Domestic Jade :D

-And he’s very passionate about his hobby for plants, pls be supportive-

Floyd:

-It was when you first started dating

-Talking about his experiences under the sea with his brother...while eating with his mouth open

-I’m sure he was just excited since he hadn’t been there for a long time, but it was grossing you out ajdshljfasdjad

-You tap his chin, “Chew and then speak, love. I can see the meat in your mouth.”

-He gulps, shit! Floyd forgot that meat stuff grosses you out

-He cries about it ajldfhjla-

-”Shrimpy, I’m sorry please forgive me!” He wails in your dorm room.

-“Yes, Floyd, I forgive you. I’ve forgave you multiple times by now-”

-But after a while of you dating, there are little to no slip ups 

-And has no problem that you’re vegetarian

-“Ah! You’re so cute, you’re like a little rabbit~” Floyd says, poking your cheeks softly

-Calls you bunny or rabbit sometimes, swapping out for Shrimpy-chan