#I wanted to practice painting more but gOD is dim lighting hard???

[roadkill-creatures]

Pathlighter Blue ;]

The funny guy belongs to @/angstyhikka

[muffinsin]

just saw a video of a woman doing exercise in sports bra and shorts, I immediately thought of Cassandra

just, fuck, her doing push-ups, her arm muscles flexing, and she’s all sweaty, or her doing hip thrusts and I’m straddling her and she has her hand on my hips, I start to grind against her dick and she gets hard. Or or or she’s using her weapons, fighting dummies, and every muscle in her body flexing, giving me a free, god, I’d be so wet for her. (Honestly any exercise that she would do, would make me wet af)

-rambunctious anon

I’m indulging myself with this one too hon because that thought is SO good, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to write it out🙇‍♀️

Fem reader everyone,

GIP Dom Cassandra

Masterlists

You bite your lip as you watch her, your thighs pressed together subtly and your fingertips pressing into the doorframe.

You didn’t mean to peep. To watch her. To get so turned on…

That means, you didn’t come here exclusively for this. It’s just…

When you saw her, you couldn’t stop watching. Your hips move slightly, thighs clenched against one another at the ache and pull you feel from your clit. You’re quite literally aching to be filled by her.

Cassandra’s back it turned to you, her hair in a high ponytail, wearing merely a black-grey sports bra and skin tight black sports leggings.

Her back and body is sweaty, and you hear her pant among groans and hisses as she keeps hitting the dummy in front of her.

Her hands, bare, and her fingers with the black-painted nails clutch the sword handle tightly as she deals more and more damage to the wooden figure in front of her.

Her back muscles twitch as she moves, the subtle biceps on her upper arms almost gleam in the dim light of the room and the light, glistening layer of sweat.

You can practically feel how wet you are, your panties clinging to you under the maiden uniform. You know, you’re supposed to be working rather than spying on your girlfriend, your superior even, technically, but just can’t bring yourself to.

She turns fast, and hits even harder. Each time her blade gets stuck in the wood, she rips it back out easily. You out of all know of the strength and the skill of her fingers she possesses.

Her hair, even as it is held up by a black hair tie, slaps against her back and shoulders occasionally.

You bite down on your lip harshly, stifling the moan that threatens to slip from you. The scene before you is so erotic, you can help but grind the air and rub your thighs together.

You bite into your right fist to resist the urge to make a sound, and, with a sharp intake of your breath, slip your hand below the skirt of the uniform and underneath your soaked black panties.

You nearly whimper when you at last push your finger inside of yourself, easily so due to the wet state of your cunt.

You push them deep inside, your forehead pushed up and resting against the doorframe.

Cassandra grunts lightly as she delivers hit after hit, each swing harder and faster, slicing the wood faster. You notice the subtle muscles in the back of her thighs, her smooth skin and outlines showing through the skin tight clothing.

Her round, perfectly shaped and thick ass…

Through lidded eyes do you watch her, her right leg lifting to hit against the torso part of the dummy.

You nearly gasp when she raises it again, higher than before and a powerful kick is made against the wooden dummy’s head. She easily lowers her leg to the floor again, the leggings skin tight against her.

The sight of it against her thick, strong thighs has you curl your fingers within yourself.

Your eyes close, silent pants leaving your dry lips.

You listen to her pants and groans, the sounds of the sword slicing and hitting wood filling the room.

Next you hear the thuds and loud bangs of her shoes hitting the floor and dummy.

You smell her, her sweat and perfume, the metallic aroma of blood that seems to follow her forever she goes, the freshness of the smell found in the woods she brings with her.

You gasp when suddenly the sharp tip of the sword is pressed against your throat.

As your eyes snap open, you’re face to face with her.

A playful, dangerous smirk on her dark painted lips, her arm outstretched with her fingers grabbing the handle of the sword tightly. You feel it against your neck, just underneath your chin, tipping it upwards.

You’re caught right in the act, her golden eyes set on you hungrily. Your fingers are still deep in you, and to your upmost shame, you feel yourself clenching around them upon being discovered like this by her.

Cassandra smirks at you.

“And here I was, thinking I fucked the disobedience out of you, pet”, she speaks clear, and harsh.

You jump when the blade moves down your neck, slow and antagonizing.

It doesn’t once waver and shake. Cassandra’s grip is tight and practiced as she drags it down your neck, collarbone, chest and eventually bumps it against your lower arm.

You whimper, your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you pull your fingers out your tight cunt and bring them back up from under your skirt.

You go to brush them against it, and gasp when- as ever- Cassandra is faster than you. Her fingers wrap around your wrist immediately, her black painted fingernails a sharp contrast to your skin.

With a primal urge and hunger visible in her deep golden eyes, she sets them on you and parts her lips around your fingers.

You pant as you watch her, a warm, strong tongue licking alongside your fingers before she sucks them properly.

Golden eyes close as she licks and sucks, her sharp, fang-like teeth dragging against the side of your middle finger.

Upon looking down, you gulp. The outline of her hard cock is very visible through the skin tight leggings. You squirm, your free hand fisting your skirt upon seeing this.

She’s so hard, so visible and big…her full, large balls, her thick base and large tip. You can’t help but whimper, and gulp when it causes her closed eyes to open again.

Your fingers, upon being pulled from her lips, are connected by a string of spit.

You whine and gasp in surprise when the blade cuts slightly into the side of your lower arm, just below your elbow.

“What’s that, pet? Did I ask you something?”

You gulp, and shake your head.

A low chuckle passes her lips when the blade drops to the floor and her hand grabs the lower half of your face roughly.

“And did I demand you to speak?”

You shake your head again.

A smirk plays on her lips and her tongue pokes out to slide across them for a mere moment.

“Then tell me, pet, why are you making such stupid noises?”, she demands.

You whimper, and gasp when her nails dig into your cheeks. Immediately, you jump to answer.

“There is no excuse, Lady Cassandra!”, you answer like the well trained pet she’s trained you to be. She laughs, the dark hair in her ponytail wiggling as she throws her head back.

“That’s what I thought, morsel”

You shriek when she grabs you by the ring attached the collar sitting around your throat, ever since she has claimed you, and easily pulls you with her.

“With me, pet”, she demands, a smirk playing on her lips.

You’re made to follow her, further into the room. “Give me that, pet”, she orders, her arm outreached and her hand pointing to the dropped sword on the floor.

You retrieve it quickly, and gasp when it is taken from you just as fast.

“You’re going to polish this for me, pet. It’s by far not in the state I’d like it to be in”, she demands, setting it down on the far end of a table. You gasp when you’re bend over it, arms outreached to hold onto the blade’s handle.

“You’ll prove to me that I don’t need to discipline you again, pet”, she hums.

You squirm, overly aware of the cuts and bruises caused by whips and a paddle on your ass and thighs, and gulp, as though able to feel her in your mouth and making use of your tight throat.

She slaps the cloth in your hand, and you bite your lip in concentration as you drag it against the blade.

Wood and dust sticks to it, and, with a blush, you realise so does your blood.

“Mmm!”, you shriek upon feeling her clothed core against you. You feel how hard she is like this, the leggings barely covering her.

“Keep going, pet.”

It’s a command, you know.

You feel her lift your skirt as you work on cleaning the blade, strong fingers easily pushing the fabric up to rest at the arch of your back.

You feel her against you, her cock defined through the skin tight clothing.

“I want it perfectly clean, so much so, I can see myself fucking you in its reflection”, she speaks easily. You squirm slightly, and feel her tug up your underwear to have your ass cheeks wiggle for her.

She hums as she does this, her free hand rubbing alongside her cock, an almost tickling touch through the pants.

You gulp when she picks up some weights, one per hand, and rest them on the table.

One next to you, the other right above you. You realise, you’re unable to move with the bar above you and her behind you.

Not even can you get up, as the weight is by far too much for you to even attempt to pick up.

“Keep going, pet. Don’t make me tell you again”

You shriek in surprise when your underwear is tugged off, harsh enough for the soaked fabric to rip under her strong fingers.

You notice her toss them someplace, and bite your lip at the realisation that this will be yet another day she has you walk away bare underneath your dress, likely so even with her cum dripping from your cunt.

You feel her grind herself against you for a moment, and can’t help but smile in anticipation when you notice her swarm out of her leggings. She doesn’t wear any underwear at all, and so, in the reflection of the sword, you see her large cock dangle between her legs, standing hard and leaking precum already.

“There, you’ve made me mess my trousers, pet!”, she scolds, the fabric thrown on the table mindlessly. You can’t help but feel proud.

You take a mere moment to watch her through the sword’s blade, to see her cup her large cock and to see her bite her lip to stifle a moan- a moan that slips easily from your lips- when her cock tip pushes apart your southern lips.

You jump when a harsh hand is brought down on your ass.

“Eyes on the task, pet!”

You quickly continue polishing the blade, and whimper as she pulls your thighs apart further to slide herself inside.

The metal bar of the weights above you keep you in place, almost, so that no escape is possible unless she grants it.

For a moment, you dare push your back up against them, and flush at her loud laughter. The sports equipment is not even lifted an inch from your efforts.

As though to taunt you, Cassandra lifts the other easily, the muscles in her upper arms flexing as she bends her arm at the elbow, lifting the weights up and down easily.

Her remaining hand is set on your right ass cheek, a smirk on her face as she thrusts forwards and right into your soaked warmth.

She stuffs you easily, and you shake against the table as it’s rocked with each thrust inside of you.

Her balls slap against you every time, full and round, capable of holding the large amount of thick, warm seed that is to be pumped inside of you.

You smell her all around you, one hand gathering your hair and pulling it into a makeshift ponytail while the other gasps the weights tighter.

You’re left whimpering and moaning, filthy groans and little “Ah!”’s leaving your wet lips as she tugs your hair to make your back arch up against the bar of the large weights trapping you in place.

She’s easily dominating you as she works out, her hips rutting against your backside.

Golden eyes take in your bare lower half, as though she was a predator scanning for her prey.

“Legs apart!”, she commands, her shoe kicking against your ankle as though to remind you. With a whimper, you obey, standing with your legs spread and your back arched for her.

She moves her hips easily, the large cock within you rubbing your inner walls as she effortlessly brings you right back on the brink of an orgasm.

“A-AAH-AH-AH! Mi-Mis-AAH!”

You shriek as her thrusts pick up and she forces herself deep into you.

“What did we say about those silly noises, pet?”, she sneers. You whimper. You know, you can’t cum without her permission.

Not if you don’t want a punishment yet again, that is.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you, pet? Getting off to the sight of me?”, she taunts. You’re moaning and mewling below her, your hips grinding back against hers by far too eagerly.

She’s rough with you, more and more precum shooting from her. Somehow, she still holds up the weights effortlessly.

You groan when she lets go of your hair to slap your bruised ass, her balls twitching and her cock drooling at the sight of the marked flesh jiggling under her.

“Please, Lady Cassa-AAaAh-ndra!”, you beg, helpless as you can only take what she gives you. To make matters worse? With each thrust into you, she sends you rocking forwards and you feel your clit rub up against the table edge.

She laughs, as though not even considering this.

“No, pet”, she decides, the weights dropping down next to her. You flinch at the loud noise and gasp when she easily lifts the one from above your hips, then shiver upon feeling her strong fingers on you.

“Take my damn cock and let me keep working, you needy slut!”, she curses.

You scream at the stretch of her cock pushing full inside of you as you are pulled off the table and turned to face her, and squeal upon feeling her arms below your knees, easily lifting you to her chest.

You moan at the humiliating position when she at last sits down on the table edge, subtle biceps twitching and glistening in her own thin layer of sweat as she lifts you up and down on her as though you were merely a fancy fleshlight to her.

“Mgnmnn Y-Yes..!”, she groans, her balls slapping against your ass, your chest moving up against hers. You feel her large breasts push up against yours through her sports bra, and shriek when sharp teeth drag against your neck.

You feel so close, whimpering and shaking on her as your body is bounced up and down on her large cock.

“Are you satisfied with this, little maid? Is this what you were hoping for when you watched me work out like a pervert?”, she snarls, a hunger in her eyes you know all too well.

What was it she said once? Your blood tastes even better when you’re near an orgasm?

It seems she can’t hold back, nor attempts to, for in the next moment her teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your neck, right below the collar, and she moans hotly against your skin.

You groan when she cums inside of you, her thick sperm shot deep into you as her hips thrust up a couple more times and her balls twitch.

You know, she has more to offer. And you know, she will not grant you more for your pervy behavior. The thought alone makes you whimper.

Cassandra laughs as she puts you on your feet, your skirt ruined and pussy stretched and drooling her cum, hair a mess and blood running down your neck to mess the white uniform.

“Run along now, pet. I will yet take care of you later”, she hums, a smirk on her lips as she grabs your skirt and uses it to smear the cum off her cock.

You know, you’re already reeking of her.

[writingsofwesteros]

Larys Strong x reader with an age gap but he was her teacher or something with forbidden sexual tension like Daemon and Rhaenyra in the first half of the show

Also I love you a lot and have been obsessed with your fics since I first watched hotd

Similar Request: Kinktober request: Professor Otto or Professor Larys x female student plsss!!

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“You smell good.” The familiar, deep voice of your professor whispered into your ear as your body stiffened. “Professor….” The title fell from your soft lips as you still stared ahead. His hand softly began to move up and down your sides as soft shivers moved over your spine. A spark of fear washed over you as those big eyes of yours looked around the busy room.

Still, Larys continued to push your buttons as he rested his head on your neck. A hum escaping him as your mouth watering scent washed over him. A soft gasp escaped you at the feel of his hard length brushing against your back. “Did you wear this for me?” Larys purred; his fingers playing with the thin strap of your little black dress.

The material clung to your figure with ease as those sweet, perky breasts of yours were being shown off completely. His free hand slowly moved over your collar bone before fingering the pretty, diamond necklace settled on your soft neck. A gift from him and you knew it would drive him wild, which was why you had worn it this evening even as your families were in the room.

His hands roamed your body with ease and without care as he slowly pushed you against the window. The coldness brushed over your sweet, perky breasts and had your nipples pebbling soon enough. “I wonder what they would say, if they knew what you were.” Larys hummed; his tongue moving up and down your neck as you shivered some more.

Gods, had he no shame? Thankfully, the dim lights of the large, full room kept any stares from coming your way. Subtly, your thighs began to rub against each other as your stomach only tightened in anticipation. You could feel your cheeks warming up as his hand easily slipped under the tight, silk material of the dress.

His dark chuckle sounded out as he realised the lack of underwear as his fingers brushed against your bare, creamy pussy. Larys hummed and whispered sweet nothings in your ear just as he had done in the classes he taught. His fingers captured your sweet clit and you could only whimper. Your delicate, red painted hand reached for the bar.

A sharp gasp escaped you and soon his fingers were completely coated with your wetness. Your head falling back against his chest whilst his touches only kept that slow, precise touch. It was driving you wild. Larys was obsessed with your begging but you fought against it. “We shouldn’t….” You softly whispered out to him.

Only silence was your answer as two of his thicker fingers sinked inside your warm, welcoming pussy. The wet squelching muffled by the music only becomes louder around you both as the party continues on. His thumb with practice began to brush against your clit again and again as his fingers moved in and out of you.

Your eyes began to roll as he bent his fingers in a come-hither motion. That soft, spongy spot he knew so well was being hit again and again. Your soaked pussy clamped down as his fingers finally quickened. “Hmm, Larys….” You were beginning to drool as his palm hit against your clit now and any thoughts of being caught fell away.

“Please…” Those sweet sounds of your begging he enjoyed so much fell from your soft lips. Your body began to rock against his hand now as you began to chase your climax. It seemed luck was not on your side as Larys’ fingers slipped from you. Your eyes flashed open whilst his dark chuckle echoed in your ear once more.

“We shouldn’t…we may get caught.” Larys hummed; taunting you. You knew he did not care about being caught with the amount of times he had taken you. No, this was punishment and of the cruellest kind. “Gods, you look so good like this…so pathetically wanting what I can give you.” His dark words only continued. 

~

“Gak-ah-ah…” The obscene sounds echoed around the incredibly rich bathroom. The cold tiles were nothing you were focusing on as you knelt down. Your soft, hot mouth wrapped around Lary’s throbbing cock as he forced your head up and down with eagerness. The sound of your gagging only pushing him towards a climax.

Your hands clasped at his bare arse as his trousers were pulled down. Those big eyes of yours looking up at him as you shivered at the dark desire present in his own eyes. Your drool coated his length with ease as he forced you down; deepthroating him as he kept your face against his stomach and still continued to thrust.

His free hand moved into your locks as he pulled you away. Soft gasps escaped you as you tried to catch your breath. “Hmm, good girl.” Larys whispered; brushing his fat, leaking head over your cheeks and lips before pushing in once more. Your eyes watered as he returned to fucking your face; punishing you for the brattiness you showed.

Your makeup was completely ruined now even though you had enough money for better products; he enjoyed seeing your mascara run down your face as it was now. Your eyes rolled as your mind began to soften once more. “Fuck, that’s it–hmm…” His own head fell back as he bit into his bottom lip to keep his sounds at bay.

The act was becoming increasingly sloppy, which was something Larys enjoyed best as he took his pleasure from you. It seemed you were too far gone in your hunger to please him to notice the door slowly opening. Still, Larys did nothing but rock his hips. Both of his hands now in your locks as he bobbed you up and down.

His smirk widening as he locked eyes with the man. It was then that Larys pulled your dress up and showed off your pretty, bare arse. His hand came down on your arse and had you gasping around his fat cock. Soon, three of his fingers were stuffing your weeping, creamy pussy full and his movements quickened instantly.

Larys nearly had you bent in half as you cried out around him. Your body slowly collapsed against him as his fingers pounded harder. The slaps of his hand against you echoing around the room as did your gagging. “Such a good little slut.” Larys hummed without any care; his eyes still locked on the peeping tom. 

Your face was a complete mess now as he used you. The little black dress falling from your body; bunching at your waist as those sweet, ample breasts of yours bounced freely. Your toes curled as your own climax was building with ease now. “Fuck! Ugh…” Larys grunted as his cock began to twitch inside your hot mouth.

His cum was flooding your mouth before you knew it as he forced you against his stomach once more. All you could do was gag and swallow what came your way but it was too much. His cum was dripping down your mouth now as you began to squirt around his fingers. Your eyes rolled as his movements only continued. 

A fourth finger was pushed inside and had you whining around him. Slowly, Larys allowed his softening cock to fall from your mouth. His free fingers were soon taking the cum from his soaked cock and pushing two of them into your hot mouth. All you could do was like and suck as another climax was eagerly making its presence known.

“You have such a good pet.” A new voice echoed in the room and your eyes flashed open in shock. Larys’ amused smirk told you everything as his fingers pushed down onto your tongue. “Oh, she is good.” He purred his praises.

[shieldofiron]

Trans femme re8 harringrove! Some soft porn in Lady billies giant bathtub!! (Maybe the bloodbath XD it's your choice!)

Yesssss. Lets bless each other with some hot sexy t4t lesbian sex.

TW dysphoria

also TW Blood everywhere, bro. TW Vampire Biting

Comparison was the thief of joy. Stevie knew this, it was practically a mantra at this point. It just hurt to compare herself to the other girls, so she tried her best to nip that right in the bud. She had put in the effort to be a girl, she had put in the time, and honestly, the money for it.

Still, her brain wasn't always on the same page. It hurt, to see effortlessness where she had to put in the damn work. It hurt, to look in the mirror. So some days it was easier not to look.

And then, everything had gone so spectacularly to shit. Her wife was gone. Their child, gone too. Nightmares became real again: And Stevie was too tired to look in the mirror, which honestly was probably a blessing at this point.

And then she'd come here. And comparison... well, comparison was hard.

Lady Billie was beautiful. Terrifying, but oh so beautiful. Like the barbies Stevie had stolen when she was a kid, but pale from being hidden in the closet. She was built like it too, mile long legs, full pouty lips, long blonde hair.

A real life vampire Barbie.

She thought Stevie was sort of funny. In her loose hoodie and jeans. Small, though Stevie was tall for a woman. But not compared to Billie.

Stevie kept waiting for the awful words, questions. The teasing look that cis women could have, like they were in on some sort of joke, and the joke was you. Being trans and butch, Stevie was used to it. Her gender wasn't always something girls "got." It sometimes felt like she was the only one in the world who got it.

But the questions never came. Lady Billie just looked with those sky blue eyes. After they'd gotten past the whole, "let me slice you to ribbons" part, it seemed like Lady Billie... wanted Stevie there? As if that was possible.

"Would you like to join me for a bath?" Lady Billie's voice echoed against the cold castle walls,

She had her back turned, a diaphanous, ivory robe draped over her shoulders.

Stevie fidgeted in the doorway, trying and failing to tear her eyes away from that broad back. Billie swept her long curls over her shoulder.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Lady Billie turned. Without her hat, the golden candlelight hitting her face painted her in a softer light. She was still wearing gloves, Stevie noted, her long elegant fingers trailed thoughtfully over the back of the vanity chair. Stroking the velvet softly... God, if Stevie thought it was possible...

But it wasn't. Obviously.

Billie rose, turning slowly. Stevie tried and failed again to keep her eyes to herself. High, firm breasts, and that waist and... OH.

Stevie's eyes flew to Billie's face.

Oh. Oh.

"No offense meant," Lady Billie cocked one hip, "But you smell, pretty girl."

Stevie blinked up at her, "You're trans."

"Yes," Billie's red lips curved up sensuously.

"Y-you know that I'm trans too."

Billie's smile didn't dim, "I know."

Stevie could only stare, breathing shallowly.

“Pretty girl,” Billy leaned down, her cold inhuman breath brushing Stevie’s cheeks, “The prettiest.”

She turned, and stepped slowly into a sunken bath, more the size of a small swimming pool. The robe pooled around her, laying across the water like frost on a pond. And then it turned a deep red, almost plummy. Stevie’s brain must not have been working because she followed as if hypnotized, walking right up to the edge.

“Join me,” Lady Billie beckoned, “I promise, I won’t bite. Tonight.”

Stevie kicked off her shoes and pants, shucking her shirt and nervously taking off her shirt. She wasn’t perfect. Scarred, inside and out, and-

“Pretty girl,” Lady Billy’s voice seemed to come from everywhere, from the ground under Stevie’s feet. She untied the robe and let it float off into the bloody water, “Let me make you feel good.”

This had to be a dream, Stevie thought as Lady Billy tugged her to sit at the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the water. A dream, a lovely dream.

Billie's hands were cold and icy as she took Stevie's face, but Stevie's chest was bursting with enough heat for the both of them. Stevie melted as their lips met, almost sliding into the water. Her spine felt too weak to hold her up and she went liquid, hand clinging to Billie's shoulders.

Glove covered fingers ran along Stevie's body, satiny smooth... reminding Stevie of the claw tipped fingers underneath. She shivered as they traced over her sensitive, small breasts, the lattice of her ribs. Stevie would wonder later if Billie thought of killing her. Now, Stevie's hands were occupied with miles of cool flesh, as flawless as perfectly carved marble.

Billie broke their kiss with a flick of her tongue across Stevie's upper lip, "You like these underwear?"

"No, I-"

Billie dove down, her teeth rending the white cotton to shreads. It should have been terrifying, but god, if Stevie wasn't hard, wet and leaking against her stomach. Billie nudged Stevie's thighs apart, running a gloved hand up to her stomach.

"Lay back," Billie's voice was everywhere, inside Stevie, rattling her ribcage. She licked her lips, running a trembling hand through her hair, and did as she was told, leaning back into the cold stone floor while Billie spread Stevie's legs and angled her hips up.

"Good girl," Billie's red painted lips curved into a smile. "See how nice it can be? When you're my good girl?

She could barely breath in a shallow breath and gather how that made her feel before Billie's mouth was on her, licking the tip of Stevie's cock while gloved fingers probed lower, between her cheeks.

"Whoa, wait-"

"Just gonna," Billy kissed the tip of Stevie's cock, "Finger you a little, pretty girl."

Stevie groaned, arching up. Maybe there was an element of hallucination to it. After all, nightmares were real, maybe dreams could be too.

Billie slicked up a few of her fingers with her mouth, and resumed teasing, nibbling along Stevie's cock while Stevie slowly lost her mind.

Like it had a homing beacon, Billie's finger unerringly found Stevie's prostate and began to stroke it ruthlessly, wet satin dragging over her. Stevie let out a broken off moan, hands gripping uselessly at the stone floor.

"There it is," Billie licked up Stevie's cock, "That's the spot. Good girl."

Steve made a noise she had only ever heard in porn before. She had never done this with someone else, always alone, burning with mortification and feeling strange. The women she had been with in the past had never...

"I know," Billie pouted prettily, freckles standing out sharply on her pale nose, "Feels like you could just shatter, right?"

Stevie babbled something that might have been yes, a sound that morphed into a choked noise as Billie swallowed Stevie's cock down, her tongue rolling along the head.

Billie looked up at her, crystalline eyes filled with a look that wasn't like pity at all. Stevie groaned, hips jerking.

Billie came off with a pop and Stevie gasped.

"I... I..." Stevie thrashed, "Please... please, please..."

"That's it, you gonna squirt for me?" Billie's lipstick was smeared, no longer perfect.

Stevie babbled hopelessly. Her whole body was thrumming to the rhythm that Billie set with her prostate.

"Can I bite you?" Billie smiled, "Just a taste?"

"Yesyes just p-please..."

"Where should I?" Billie flicked the head of Stevie's cock with her tongue, "Here?"

Heat washed over Stevie. She was unfurling, blooming into something she knew not what.

"Here?" Billie tongued to Stevie's inner thigh, "Yes. I want to watch the prettiest girl cum on my fingers. This is the perfect spot."

Stevie's mouth was open, but she wasn't sure if she was talking, agreeing, or what she was doing. All she was sure of was that she was shattering, breaking into a million pieces. And of Billie, her fangs sinking deep while she watched with those hypnotic eyes. Vampire Barbie, cheeks flushed with blood.

Ribbons of pleasure wrapped around her, tying her in the grip of madness for a moment as her cock jerked, cum splattering across her own chest. It seemed to go on forever, not a single point of pleasure but a death by a thousand pinpricks. She screamed, hips convulsing. Billie muffled a moan into the bite, her other hand gripping Stevie's hip tight enough to bruise.

"You... what about you?" Stevie finally had the presence of mind to say, when her spine finally relaxed into the stone.

Billie just smiled. Stevie guessed she couldn't talk, not with her mouth full. She pulled back, licking the bite lingeringly.

"Came when you did, prettiest," She smiled, "Though you can do whatever you would like to me, I am entirely at your disposal."

There was no pity in her, only desire. She licked her lips, and dragged Stevie into the depths. Stevie curled limply around Billie, her legs tightening around Billie's hips, their spent cocks brushing and sending a shiver down Stevie's spine.

"Good girl. My good girl," Lady Billie whispered.

"You broke your promise," Stevie said dazedly.

Billy just licked at Stevie's lips, "Oops."

PSST @intothedysphoria for when you awaken from your slumber.

[unprofessionalclownery]

hi have my cringe little half life blurb of a fic

“Hey, Gordon,” Alyx sat down on the edge of the dirty old mattress that someone had dragged all the way from god knows where to the White Forest base. Gordon Freeman, who was currently trying to fight off sleep and plan his work for the next day, sat cross legged and hunched over a spiral notebook. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing his smudged glasses up to his forehead.

Alyx peered over his shoulder at the notebook. “Hard at work, I see.” Gordon nodded absentmindedly. Alyx placed a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Hey, I can tell you’re stressed. We all are. But you need to sleep. You look like shit.” Gordon frowned. “C’mon, you know it’s true. Now get some rest, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Have to finish these plans,” He signed in reply. He was deep in focus, and if getting this done meant losing a few hours of sleep, he was going to risk it.

“Gordon,” Alyx said sternly, pushing him back slightly with a hand, “Sleep. Now.” Gordon let himself fall back on the mattress with a sigh. He glared at Alyx before shooting her a more playful expression. She punched him gently in the arm, then flopped down beside him. They laid in silence, staring at the cracking paint on the ceiling and the dim flickering fluorescent light above them.

“I’m worried too.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, but Gordon could still catch the twinges of fear in it. They’d risked their lives every day out there, fighting against the Combine forces and doing their best to improve the lives of everybody else, but it seemed that each time they took a step forward there was always something pushing them back. At times it seemed pointless to Gordon and he just wanted to give up and pray for a quick death. There was so much pressure on him and his friends, as essentially figureheads of the resistance. If they fucked up people would lose more than just their hope, they’d lose their lives. 

Gordon felt his breath tighten in his chest. He gripped his hole-ridden t-shirt, trying to calm himself down. Once they got to White Forest and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, he found his lungs failing to work properly more often. 

He sat up quickly in a panic, feeling like the oxygen was rushing out of the room. He started to feel lightheaded and held an arm out towards the wall to steady himself. He felt a hand on his back, rubbing in circular motions. 

“Let’s get some air.”

The two of them leaned over the cold metal railing, watching the breeze gently rustle the tall evergreens and the stars twinkle overhead. The air was crisp and carried the promise of future rain. 

“Sorry. For freaking out,” Gordon signed. 

“It’s alright. Happens to the best of us,” Alyx said, lacking the emotion she usually put into her speech. She stared out into the wilderness, and Gordon could practically see the gears turning in her head. 

“You ok?” His eyebrows knit together in concern. Alyx sighed and buried her head in her hands.

“Honestly? No. What if it doesn’t work? What if everything we’ve done has been for nothing?” She turned to face Gordon, eyes sparkling with tears. “Gordon, I don’t- I don’t want-” She cut herself off and looked back to the trees. “I don’t want it to be for nothing.” 

Gordon wasn’t the best with physical affection, but he pulled Alyx into a tight hug anyway. She closed her eyes and let her head rest against his chest, listening to him take long breaths in. 

“I’m scared, Gordon,” She admitted, maybe more to herself than him. 

“S-C-A-R-E-D T-O-O,” He traced on her back. He squeezed her tightly before pulling back. “But we have to have hope,” Gordon signed with a weak smile. “You taught me that. You give me hope.” 

“Hm,” Alyx smiled, “You’re sweet. Thanks for that.” 

“What are friends for,” He replied, leaning against the railing and taking in the night air. His anxieties still nagged at him in the bottom of his stomach, but he pushed them away and focused on the space around him; the crickets chirping deep in the woods, the wind tangling his greasy hair, distant chatter of resistance members inside. Alyx leaned against him, winding an arm through his. 

“We’re just messes together, huh?” She said. Gordon nodded and rested his head against hers. Messes together. He liked the sound of that.

[thx-ghxst]

Smut - OC - Unfinished

@herosneednotapply

Aaron and Sybil

Aaron and Sybil

“Still with me sweetheart?” He asked carefully into the dark room. The man had been worked up the better part of the evening, they had only taken a few minute break.

Seeing her figure moved to the threshold of the room he tensed, she had changed into heels. The black lace still clung to her skin as if it had been painted on, “Thought we lost you there,” she whispered heels clacking as she got closer touching the man’s face. Briefly she had, the man had practically blacked out from his last peak.

It had been her idea to flip roles, allow her to ask the questions- see if she could get her answers. The man had resisted her advances for the most part, but he was waning. He couldn’t once remember that many times without rest. Heels we’re an evil addition, giving him a better view while allowing her to stand taller. A drool worthy sight, if the lights hadn’t been dimmed. His imagination was powerful though, she knew it. “I think you’ve had enough time,” she whispered as her lips brushed against his ear. “Can’t have too much fight left in you, you’ve been such a good boy. You can rest Aaron, if you just tell me,” gods did it sound sweet coming from her lips again.

Her hand slid down his bare chest to his clothed legs, avoiding his most sensitive areas. Dispute what he thought he began to harden again, “Good boy,” she purred hand moving between them.

“Fuck-“ sensitive was a gentle way to put it, his hips bucked into her palm. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to continue or stop, “Sweetheart- I can’t-“

“But, you can. You are. Such a good boy,” she whispered ignoring his pleas. When he was fully hard once more he stared at her with a mix of need and worry. Mouth once more? His eyes drifted down and her smile grew wider, “I think it’s time to try that. If that doesn’t make you talk we’ll have to take more drastic measures.”

Aaron was aware her threats were not empty. She turned away from him, he figured to taunt him some more. A small groan left him watching her small show, “Sweetheart.”

Taking her time to slide her panties down she bent over before the man with a cheeky grin. His mouth had fallen slack, “You want a taste?” It was the nod before he caught himself that made her laugh, “I’ll let you eat her all night. But, there’s a cost,” sauntering closer she threw the lace over her shoulder. She didn’t bother remaining him of the terms, he knew them. “We can negotiate that in a bit, when you’re too drunk on me to know your lefts and rights,” one leg rested atop of his, then the other. Spread over him, heat practically radiated off of her, “I’ll be gentle.”

Guiding his head between her folds both groaned, Aaron’s head fell back as a feral moan left him. She wasted no time to slide down onto him, pressing her hips down when she bottomed out. “Fuck - fuck- oh god- god fucking dammit,” the man led to ally howled feeling her tighten down on him. His head fell forward onto her chest, his breath worked into a frenzy within a matter of seconds. “Oh such a good boy, filling me up so good. Let me hear it,” she didn’t dare lift herself instead drawing a figure eight. His hips had a mind of their own bucking up into her, the motion was small but earned a gasp. “Aww good boy, show me how badly you need this,” fingers carded through locked of hair before gripping tight. Head ripped back he buckled his hips once more, “I thought you couldn’t do anymore.” She teased, pulling herself off him entirely, “Now, now you seem a little more motivated by her.”

“Fuck me sweetheart,” the request was firm- desperate.

“No, I want this one to last. Make sure you don’t forget how good I make you feel. How easy it can be given,” grinding down onto him she smiled, “Or taken.” All friction was gone.

[samthemarvelfan]

Bad Romance: Chapter Two

The Hand You’re Dealt

Summary: Bucky’s interest in you keeps growing, but so does you interest in him. It’s only a matter of time before it comes to light that your lives are more intertwined than either of you realize.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader, feat: Scott Lang/Sam Wilson

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Mentions of loss, angst, swearing, smoking, alcohol.

A/N: This...this chapter. It really sets in motion so many further events! A tangled web of deception and love and lust. Buckle up, bbs. Feedback is so, so appreciated! 

previous chapter

You’d been back in Brooklyn a little more than a week. Despite not having Uncle Sal to enjoy it with, life at home was getting easier.

Making your way through the neighborhood had become something akin to muscle memory; streets you used to know so well, you could walk them blindfolded, re-engraining themselves into your mind. New shops and store fronts had opened, and of course, the familiar Mom and Pop stores maintaining Brooklyn’s charm.

It was a comfort, to know this place thrived in your absence, and would always be here to come back too. Weirdly, it only took a few days to settle into a routine of sorts.

You’d wake up, and go to your new favorite—and outrageously overpriced coffee shop. Grab something iced and a pastry, head back home to clear out boxes and boxes of old papers, sports memorabilia, and some severely outdated furniture. Then you’d spend the day painting the walls and organizing. Creating a space for you to grow in, and one you felt was truly your own.

Through all of the changes you made, you left one room untouched; Sal’s office. That place was like his sanctuary. He gladly spent one too many nights in there ‘crunching numbers’ or ‘dottin’ I’s and crossin’ T’s’, as he’d say. God, you remember that like it was yesterday.

Padding through the hallway, you notice the light flooding from under Sal’s office door.

You approached it quietly, peeking inside. There he was, in his big leather chair; a stack of papers to his left and a scotch to his right.

“Sally…” you called to him, the silly nickname making him smile. “It’s 11:30, what are you still doing in here?”

He peered up at you above his glasses, “Hey Bellissima,” he greeted, returning the nickname. “What are you doing up, hm?”

You smirked, “I asked you first, old man.”

Sal chucked, closing the file in front of him. “You know me kiddo. My brain never stops, so neither do I.” He paused for a second, standing behind his desk. “Don’t you have a history test first thing in the morning?”

You nod, “Yeah, I was studying. Gonna be easy-peasy.”

Sal folded his reading glasses up, and chucked them lightly onto the desk. “Well then, I think we both deserve a little midnight snack…you know, for all our hard work.” He finished with a wink.

It infuriated you. He wasn’t supposed to be gone, but he was, and everyday that passes without answers just makes accepting it harder and harder. None of the so-called detectives have followed up on the case since the night they interviewed you. No one returned your calls, and at this point it seemed like they weren’t even trying.

You were dangerously close to taking matters into your own hands.

84th precinct - Brooklyn, NY 1:43 pm

The station was dim. Off-white walls and buzzing fluorescent lights were a terrible combination. This place was designed to keep people agitated and uncomfortable; you were officially both.

“I told you,” you said, practically shaking with frustration. “I don’t know how many times already, my Uncle wouldn’t hurt anybody. There isn’t a single person I can think of that would want to do something like this to him!” Your voice raised at the detective in front of you.

“Miss L/N, you need to calm down. I’m only trying to—“

“You’re trying to get me to tell you that I know something when I don’t. I flew out here on a fucking red-eye to try and help get whoever did this to him. All you’re doing is asking the same question in 9 different ways to see if my answers will change. Figure out who killed my Uncle, or get me a new detective and a lawyer. I won’t be questioned again ‘til you do.” You stood abruptly, snatching your bag from the floor.

You know your rights, something the cops clearly didn’t count on.

“Excuse me, Miss L/N.” A different detective calls, running after you before you could make it to the lobby.

You sigh, “No. I’m no doing this anymore.”

“Please,” he practically begged. “My name’s Scott Lang, I’m a detective in the Organized Crime division.” He held a card out to you, and you pocketed it absentmindedly.

“And how exactly can you help me?” You were being rude, but honestly? Who gives a shit.

Detective Lang smiled awkwardly. “You were dealt a pretty bad hand…I just want to offer any assistance I can.”

You eyed him up and down, your brain finally catching up with what he’d told you. “You said Organized Crime? Like gangs? The mob? How the hell are you gonna help with a mugging?” You ask, on the verge of tears.

Detective Lang looked over his shoulder quickly, and then back to you. “To be frank, Miss L/N, I don’t believe your Uncle Salvatore was mugged at all. I believe this was a hit carried out by—“

“A hit?” You exclaim, cutting him off. “No. No, my Uncle was in business, he wasn’t…he’s not…that’s not what this is. It was a mugging that went too far—his watch, his wallet…all of it was missing.”

He sighed, and smiled softly at your innocence. “I see,” Lang shoved his hands in his pockets, “Well, if you think of anything else, and you don’t wanna deal with the MCU again, feel free to contact me anytime. Number’s on the card.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “The MCU?”

“Sorry—the Major Crimes Unit. They’ll be handling the investigation unless…”

“Unless?” You urged him.

His voice was hushed once more, “Unless we can prove this definitely was not a mugging. Between you and me, cases like this tend to get…mishandled in the MCU.”

The amount of trips taken to your curb with bins full of trash and recycling should count as your cardio for the damn month. Clothes and skin stained with paint, and you were dirtier and dustier than you’d been in ages. With a groan, you tossed a final box full of donations down, and wipe the sweat from your brow.

“Is that everything for ya?” One of the movers asked you.

Surveying the pile of items in front of you, it seemed complete. “That’ll be it. Thanks again.” You smiled.

You’d hired these guys to haul off some things to the local shelter. Just because you didn’t want it anymore, didn’t mean there wasn’t a family who could get some good use out of it.

The man and his partner began to load up their truck and you headed for the steps. “I’ll grab the check for you guys, be right back.”

At the end of the block, the loud rev of a motorcycle’s engine echoed between the buildings, stopping you in your tracks. The sound of shifting gears getting closer to you, and eventually skidding to a stop right in front of the house.

Matte black and clearly brand new—either that, or seldom ridden. A sleek design that was definitely meant for fashion over function. To be honest, if you weren’t so unnerved by motorcycles, you’d say this bike was impressive; sexy even.

The driver cut the engine and put the kickstand down, swinging his leg over the body of the bike. When he pulled off his helmet and your heart nearly fell out of your chest.

“You look like you could use a break.” He grinned.

It was J—Bucky. Stood there in a riding jacket and matching leather pants.

God, he’s pretty.

He stood in front of you now. The corner of his mouth upturned into a smirk.

“How’d you know?” Gesturing to your less-than-flattering appearance.

Bucky reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, along with his zippo. In a smooth motion, he quickly tucked one between his lips, flicked the metal hinge of the lighter open and lit it.

“Mr. Barnes!” The man loading the truck called, interrupting your stare. “How are you, sir?” He walked to Bucky, and shook his hand kindly.

“Vinny,” Bucky greeted with a clap to his shoulder, “I’m good, my friend. How’s your little girl? Eliza, right?”

They engaged in friendly small talk, which made you smile. You can always tell what kind of a person someone is based on how they treat other people. It didn’t matter to Bucky that the man was hauling garbage away, while he wore a $2,500 jacket—he spoke to him with the same kindness and respect he’d hope to receive.

A good man. You thought.

“What brings you guys around here?” Bucky asked him, but set his eyes on you.

Vinny gestured to you with his now removed work glove. “Just doing a job for this nice lady.”

You smiled at him, “Oh!” You shake your head, remembering you task before Bucky distracted you. “The check, don’t go anywhere—“

“Actually Vin,” Bucky cut you off, reaching into his pocket. “Y/N here is a good friend of mine, just add the job to my account, hmm?”

He balanced his cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, and pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. Tugging a few loose, he placed that cash into Vinny’s hand, closing his fist around it. “And here, buy somethin’ for your daughter on your way home.”

Vinny tried to suppress the look of gratitude on his face, “Thank you, sir!” They shook hands once more, “Well, we’ll finish up.” He said, returning to loading the truck.

What the hell?

That’s what you want to say, but you choose a different set of words to speak to the chivalrous man in front of you. “You…didn’t have to do that.” It comes out with a smile you’re sure is far too eager.

Bucky grins at you, and winks, taking a drag. “I wanted too.”

Oh, to be that cigarette…

You shake your head, breaking the trance you hadn’t even known you’d entered, and gesture to it, “That’s gonna put you in an early grave, ya know.”

He smiles to one side, a charming dimple forming in his cheek. Bucky thinks for a moment, before plucking it from his lips and throwing it to the ground. “Of all the things that could kill me, that’s the least of my worries. But for you, I may just quit.”

“Good,” you cross your arms, weirdly unsure of what to do with them at this point. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

What in the actual fuck is wrong with me…

Bucky took a step closer to you, “Call me old fashioned, but do I need a reason to pay a visit to a beautiful girl?”

Heat rose to your face, and you looked away timidly, kicking a twig you saw near your feet. “Smooth, Mr. Barnes. Very smooth.”

Bucky had this stare. Being on the receiving end of it, especially without knowing what a guy like him is thinking gave you goosebumps.

“I came to ask how you were settling in, if you needed anything. I also wanted to see if you’d like to get dinner some time? I own a few restaurants around here, and I’d love to take you.” He asked genuinely.

You blinked, “A few? As in more than one? You own more than one restaurant?” The shock in your voice couldn’t be hidden.

Bucky chuckled, “3, actually.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Whadd’ya say? Can I take you out?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was a tinge of nervousness under all that bravado.

A long breath escaped your lungs, and a moment of hesitation left the words caught in your throat.

Bucky noticed and gave you a soft look, “I don’t bite, I swear.” It’s said with a smirk, as he put his hand over his heart.

How could you say no to that?

You couldn’t.

“Sounds great.” You replied, hoping one of those butterflies in your stomach didn’t fly out.

A grin found it’s way to Bucky’s face and you swore you saw a bit of red creep up to his cheeks. Without a second thought, he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips.

The kiss he placed on your knuckles was soft. Warm lips communicating just how grateful he was that you’d said yes. His thumb swept back and forth along the top of your hand, small ministrations soothing the now tingling skin.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay? Around 7?” He asked, getting back on his bike.

You nodded. “Wait, are we gonna…” you gestured to the motorcycle he was currently straddling.

“What, this?” He slapped the tank of his bike. “Nah. Unless you want too?” He asked cheekily.

“No, no…I don’t think I’m ready for that. Maybe next time.”

He rolled his lips, letting his tongue flick over the bottom one. That sight alone made your knees turn to jelly.

“What?” You ask desperately.

He smirked, “There’ll be a next time, huh?”

Oh, he’s good.

You open your mouth to reply, but his laugh cut you off. “I’ll be finishing up a meeting, but I’ll have my driver grab you.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, Casanova. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dollface.”

You should be nervous, worried that he’s taken such an interest in you, but you weren’t. Maybe it was naïve, and a little bit reckless, but your gut told you that Bucky Barnes would never hurt you.

How does someone just…forget how to go on a date?

Granted, yes, it’s been a long time since you’ve had time for a social life, much less a date, much less…anything else. But come on, it shouldn’t be this hard, and you definitely shouldn’t be this nervous.

The vibration of your phone on the end table caught your attention. Grabbing it quickly, you saw the ID was coming from a blocked number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N? This is Happy, I’m Mr. Barnes’ driver. Just lettin’ you know I’m out front whenever you’re ready.”

“How did you—“ you start, wondering how the hell this guy got your number, when you hadn’t even given it to Bucky.

Probably Steve. You resign.

Noting the time on the wall said 6:45, you decided to head out earlier.

“Perfect. Be right there.”

Hoping the mirror would be kind to you, you double check everything once more for good measure.

You’d decided on a grey, long sleeve v-neck, tucked into your favorite black leather pants. Pull it all together with a pair of black booties, and a hand bag the same shade as your burgundy lipstick, and you felt unstoppable.

With a warm trench coat wrapped around you, you make your way outside where a large, friendly looking man was waiting for you.

“Hi, Happy was it?”

He opened the rear passenger side door of the black Cadillac. “That’s me, nice to meet you.”

You slid in, mindful of your coat. “Here we go…” you whisper to yourself once the door is shut.

The car ride is pretty quiet. Small talk here and there about the weather, the news, or sports that you don’t really care about.

“My condolences by the way, your Uncle was a good guy. We had a lot of laughs together.”

He knew your Uncle too?

“How—how did you know him?” You ask, trying to keep a less-inquisitive tone to your voice.

“We, uh…well, I’d drive him. He and Bucky to appointments and whatnot. He never mentioned you by name, but always talked about this girl he had to visit in California. I’m assuming that was you?”

You smiled fondly, “Yeah, that was me.”

Happy smiled too, “He’d always say that he had to go because that’s where his heart was. Never occurred to me he could have meant a niece. Nice to know a part of him is still here, ya know?”

Nodding, you fiddle with your fingers, trying keep your eyes from watering. “Yeah.”

The car comes to a gentle stop, and Happy puts it in park. “We’re here, kiddo.” He gets out quickly, opening your door.

The building in front of you sat on the corner. It was painted black, with wooden panels and pillars and big glass windows, showing off its happy patrons. Above the awnings sat a sign, aglow from the several lights shining on it. Black as well and imprinted with big, gold lettering.

Nascondiglio

Happy offered you his hand as you stepped onto the curb. “Wow.” You whisper. How had you never noticed this place before? Brooklyn’s big and all, but surely you’d notice a place like this.

Through the large double doors, you see Bucky exit the restaurant, and at the sight of him, you suddenly felt very underdressed.

He was in a suit—pressed to perfection. Charcoal grey, and a black dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. His hair looked like it was slicked back at one point, but definitely had more of an effortlessly styled look now.

“Ah, there she is.” Bucky said, smiling from ear to ear.

His grin was infectious, and you’re sure that it mirrored your own. “Hi, Bucky.”

He approached you without hesitation, putting his hand on the small of your back that made your skin prickle. Then he kissed your cheek, and you were sure he could hear the fluttering of your heart beat.

Reaching for his drivers hand, he shook it gladly. “Thanks, Hap. What did I tell you? Isn’t she gorgeous?” He said proudly, as heat filled your cheeks.

“You were right, boss,” he smiled. “Oh, and here…” he reached into the front seat of the car, pulling out a new pack of cigarettes. “Picked ‘em up for ya.”

Bucky looked at the box in Happy’s hand, then to you. “Ya know what, Hap? Throw ‘em out.”

The drivers eyes grew wide, in obvious shock at his Boss breaking the horrible habit. Happy threw the box back in the car, and turned back to you. “I’ve been trying to get him to quit for years, and you do it in a week? How the hell did you manage that?”

You laugh, but simply shrug “A woman never reveals her secrets.”

“Oh, I like her.” Happy smirked.

Bucky put a gentle hand on the small of your back, “Yeah, me too.” He said with a grin. “C’mon, let’s eat. Hap, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Same time, same place. Enjoy your evening, Y/N.”

“Thanks again, Happy.” You wave.

Bucky leads you into the restaurant, the interior of which is just as glamorous as the outside. Beautiful sconces, expertly designed place settings, and the delicious aroma of the Italian fair being prepared. It’s also packed with couples, business meetings, and the odd family.

An older woman, tanned and blonde greets the two of you with a smile.

“Is this your girl, Jimmy?” She asked in a raspy voice. “She’s a looker.” Her accent making her drop the ‘r’.

“Don’t go scaring her off, Donna.” Bucky laughed, kissing the older woman’s cheek.

She pinched his in return. “I’ve known this guy since he was in diapers, he’s a wise-ass.”

“Thanks, for that one, D.” He said, redness creeping to his cheeks.

“No problem,” she sassed. “Can I take your coat?” She asked you.

“Oh, sure! It was nice meeting you, by the way.” You smiled genuinely.

“My goodness, you see that Jimmy? Those are called manners, not that those other girls you bring in here would know about that…”

Bucky shook his head, “Okay, okay. Thank you, Donna.” He said, an avoidant lilt in his voice.

He lead you past the front of the restaurant, through the kitchen. Holding your hand to guide you, you went into a back hallway.

“So, Jimmy…” you tease.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Not living that one down, am I?”

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’.

At the end of the hall was a large wooden set of doors.

“This isn’t where you kill me, right?” You chuckled.

Bucky eyed you as he opened the door. “Please, as if I’d be that predictable.” He joked.

Through the doors was an office—Bucky’s office. It was covered floor to ceiling in mahogany. A thick, sturdy desk on one side with a roaring fireplace behind it. On the other, a table with beautiful white linens, set for two.

He removed his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of his desk chair.

Wow.

He looked so…powerful. Completely and totally in his element as he looked at you. “I wasn’t just putting on a show for Happy. You look beautiful.”

“You’re quite the gentlemen, aren’t you?” You muse, walking around the office.

He chuckles, “Only during the day.” His voice is lower this time as you feel him behind you, the timber of it sending a chill up your spine.

Is he flirting?

Of course he’s flirting, he asked you out. Jesus Christ, Y/N get it together.

The heat of his body disappears as he moves to the table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had the kitchen make a bunch of our most popular. That way you can try a little of this, a little of that…”

Bucky pulled out the chair, gesturing for you to take a seat.

You smiled, “Now you sound like my Uncle.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked and pushed in your chair. “How’s that?”

You adjusted, “He always used to say that’s what he did for a living…a little of this, a little of that.”

“Really?” Bucky laughed, and you nodded.

He stood, grabbing the Dom Pérignon chilling in the bucket beside the table. “I still can’t believe he never mentioned you—that I never met you. I used to see Sal practically 7 days a week.”

Bucky poured your glass first, the bubbles floating in it reminding you of the current state of your stomach.

“I can’t believe I never met anyone.” You say as he sits. Sipping your champagne, you relish in the taste of the expensive liquid. “I mean, sure. I was in California for half a decade, but you all seem to really know a lot about him. Even Happy knew him…”

Bucky nodded, sipping his glass. He could practically feel the question at the tip of your tongue.

“What did you guys do? I get the gist—worked together here and there, but…” you let your finger circle the rim of your glass. “What was your actual job?”

Bucky cleared his throat, “That’s uh…”

Sip.

“That’s a complicated answer.” He laughed.

Bigger sip.

“Complicated?” You quirk and eye brow at his answer—or lack there of. “What do you—“

Knock, knock, knock.

His eyes drift to the large wooden door, as do you.

“Yeah.” He calls suspiciously, clearly not expecting to be disturbed.

The door opened revealing a man you didn’t know.

“Sorry about this, Buck.” He said breathlessly. “But we’ve got some trouble out front.”

Bucky looked to you for a moment, taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry, Sweets. I gotta deal with this, don’t go anywhere ‘til I get back, okay?”

Stunned for a moment, you simply nod.

He smiled softly, kissing your knuckles.

Joining the gentleman at the door, you hear him right before it shuts completely.

“What the fuck is going on, Sam?”

next chapter

[holy-guacamoly]

Make Me - ConniexFem!Reader

Okay, so as I said multiple times on my blog here. S4 Part 2 Connie is SO fucking hot. I want him to choke me like he chokes Onyakopon. I mean wtf? And since he canonly wants a big family, our boy has a breeding kink. I decided that. Don't try to fight me. I wanted to focus more on that but I got carried away, so maybe next time. lol Summary: Connie Springer had enough of your attitude and will make sure to fuck it out of you.

Warnings: slight Breeding Kink™, brat taming, cursing, mentions of alcohol, angry fucking, degradation, spanking, choking, use of insults, fingering, oral (m receiving), y/n is a toxic bitch tbh (let me know if I forgot anything)

Connie Springer wasn't the type of person to lose his temper easily. The actual opposite was the case. But when you were around, he felt a burning sensation seething in his stomach. You had such arrogant ways and never missed an opportunity to get on his nerves. To be perfectly honest, he despised you. He despised how you always mocked him in front of his friends. He despised how all the attention was drawn to you whenever you entered a room and how it was taken from him. He despised how you seemed to always outsmart him. Oh, and how he despised your cute little tits bouncing when you were dancing in those tiny outfits. Like right now. The room was filled with sweaty bodies, grinding on one another. Loud Hip Hop beats blasted from huge speakers, forcing the wild crowd to move in synch. At this point of the night, it was nearly impossible to see that this used to be a simple living room. Most of the cream-colored furniture was pushed to the sides so that the new space could be used as a dance floor. The lights were dimmed, while some cheap disco lights, possibly bought from Amazon last-minute, painted the walls with colorful dots and light rays. And in the center of all this commotion, Connie found you. You wore a ridiculously short tennis skirt and an even smaller tank top. Your boobs dared to spill over any second and the young man wondered if you were wearing a bra at all. He swore he could see your nipples peeking through here and there but the hectic light pattern made it hard to focus.

"Hey, Con'," someone interrupted his inner monologue. Connie reacted with a surprised "Huh?" as his head automatically tilted into the direction where the voice was coming from. In an instant, he was met with the wide grin of his best friend Jean Kirschtein. "I find it weird that you are standing here while she's dancing over there," Jean stated nonchalantly, pointing his head in your direction. Another confused sound made its way out of Connie's mouth as he tried to comprehend the things said. "What do you mean, Kirschtein?" His friend only laughed whole-heartedly in response and patted his shoulder. "She told everyone that you have a crush on her and are desperately trying to flirt,“ Jean answered, his face plastered with an even bigger smile. Connie‘s expression froze for a second, while his grip tightened around his red plastic cup. The liquid inside almost dared to spill over. You fucking liar. „She did what?“ he hissed between gritted teeth. „Y/N talked about nothing else tonight. Everyone knows.“ Jean was about to add something else, but the young man was already stomping off straight into your direction. He practically bodyslammed everyone on the way to your dancing figure, vision blurred with rage. You were a lying piece of shit. Why did you bring up such a rumor in the first place? Why did you always have to make his life a little bit harder? God, he hated your toxic ass. When Connie finally reached you, he didn't even bother to slow down his pace. In a quick motion, his hand found your upper arm and pulled you along. You squealed at the sudden movement, while your body spasmed to wiggle itself free. His fingers dug deep into your skin and would mark you for sure. "What the fuck, Springer?" you yelled over the loud music, as you dared to trip over your own feet. Connie ignored you and dragged you out of the crowded area, up the stairs and into a room you'd never seen before. As the light was switched on it dawned to you that this must be the bedroom of the host. It was a neat room, not big, but very well decorated. The Retro-Theme that was going on looked quite enjoyable. A beanbag, the carpeted floor and even an old record player made the whole scenery movie-worthy. "Connie, why the fuck did you drag me up here?" Your eyes narrowed into thin slits, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you spoke. "Fuck you, Y/N. You know damn well why you are here," Connie snarled in return, now grabbing you by the shoulders so that you were forced to face him.

"Why the hell did you tell everyone that I am in love with you? I hate you and you know that, you bitch!"

His words were spat out like daggers, aiming directly for your face. Every sane person would have been intimidated by such actions, you on the other hand seemed to enjoy the show since the corners of your mouth lifted with glee. "Aw, Con-Con, are you sure that you don't like me? You were starring at my tits the whole night," you mused with a hint of sarcasm in your voice. You didn't even try to talk yourself out of this misery. In an instant, you felt his fingers molesting your soft flesh again. It amused you how easy you were able to pull this poor man's triggers. To be perfectly honest, you didn't even know why you always messed with him, but something about Connie being angry made him so ridiculously hot to you. "Fuck you, I didn't stare at shit," Connie scoffed, holding you still. Your faces were now only a few inches away from each other and you could smell his Gin-Tonic-infused breath. In the softest voice, you could muster you mewled, "Are you sure? Then why are you blushing?" Something about how you said it, activated a primal fury in Connie's head. He could practically feel the arrogance that radiated from your sweaty body oh and how badly he wanted to punch it out of you. White rage crawled up his veins until it reached his brain and poisoned everything with red venom. Like someone else was taking control over his body, Connie's hand mechanically found its way to your throat. With great force he rammed you against the door, digging his nails into your neck, as his irises shook in an uproar. A pathetic little gasp was all you were able to muster. "Shut up, you slut," the man growled, his lips hovering over your ear. His breath was shaking audibly and caused tingles down your spine as it hit the sweet spot on your neck. Goosebumps grew on your skin like daisies on fertile ground. Again this god-forsaken grin played on your lips. Hell, you enjoyed yourself way too much right now. This was exactly how you wanted this night to end. Your voice sounded thin when you spoke, due to the lack of air, but the statement itself hit Connie like a truck,

"Make me." And that was all it took. Time seemed to speed up as your lips crashed onto another and your tongues moved in a feverish dance, fighting for the upper hand. His digits were released from around your throat, only to wander over your heavenly body. Squeezing your supple ass cheeks on their way. Your hips ground into his touch as they begged for some kind of friction. You were a needy little thing and you knew it. "God, you make me sick," Connie murmured against your lips, causing you to breathe out a silent laugh. Your digits trailed over his clothed chest, up to his nape where you rested and pulled him even closer into the kiss. "Stop talking so much and just fuck me already, Springer." You didn't have to tell him twice. Before you even realized it, your body was already hanging over his shoulder secured by his big hands. Like you weighted nothing Connie carried you over to the bed and carelessly threw you on it. "Be careful what you wish for, baby girl," he huffed and pulled his white shirt over his head. A set of glistening abs was revealed, which you never noticed before. Connie preferred to wear baggy clothes that hid his surprisingly toned figure. You admired the sight in front of you, soaking in every inch of this man. On his tanned neck rested a thin gold chain, which added a very appealing extra. A soft "Damn, Con'." escaped your lips as your eyes scanned his body. He was quick to grab your chin between his index finger and thumb and forced you to look directly into his face. You felt his digit caressing your bottom lip, gently pulling it down. The male in front of you scanned your longing expression and asked, "You wanna see more of that, huh?" You nodded eagerly while an audible gulp was formed in your throat. Connie chuckled and huffed an annoyed "Pathetic" while he opened his belt. The chime of metal and leather colliding as he undid the clasp was music to your ears. "Get on the floor," he finally commanded. „I am not -" you tried to protest but were instantly cut off by Connie. „On. the. floor." On every word lingered an emphasis, such anger that it made your stomach turn. "Where a bitch like you belongs," he added. It was almost scary how the funny boy you knew was gone and replaced by some dominant presence. The fact that there was no place for arguing finally dawned on you. There was no other choice but to obey. Your knees met the floor and you were thankful that it was coated in a fuzzy carpet layer. Every muscle in your body tightened at the excitement of what was going to happen next. You dared to let your eyes meet his and for a mere second, you were sure you could discover a smile. As you waited patiently, your pupils widened when Connie finally decided to relieve himself of his pants and underwear. His cock practically sprung into your face, almost slapping your cheek. Not that you would have complained about that. You liked how he treated you and above all you liked what you saw. In the dim light of the room, you were able to muster his glorious cock. The size was average, but it was thick and rosy, covered with just the right amount of veins. His tip was already decorated with pearls of pre-cum. To be perfectly honest, you've never seen such a perfect thing. "You can lie with that mouth, but let's see what else it is good for," Springer stated as he placed his hand on the back of your head, firmly pushing you to his throbbing length. Even though every cell in your body fought the urge to please this man, you couldn't resist opening your mouth. It was like some magnetic force radiated from his member. "Ngh- Fuck, just like that," Connie sighed as he entered the sanctuary of your lips. Your tongue was quick to swirl around his aching tip, while you wrapped one hand around his cock. You couldn't fully close your hand around it and you began to wonder how it would fit in your tiny, aching hole. But you had to focus on other things right now. Like on the taste of the milky droplets, coating your tongue. The sound of Connie's throaty moans as you sucked with all your might.

And how a familiar sensation of heat and fuzziness was boiling in your core. With a quick pace, you bopped your head back and forth, sucking on Connie Springer's dick like there was no tomorrow. "F-finally...I found some good use for you," the young man breathed, rutting against your face. His thrusts became more erratic with every second while the grip around your head tightened. Tomorrow your whole body would be covered with marks like violets. Connie couldn't help but fuck your pretty face, like some sex doll. You deserved to be used as a piece of plastic after all. Obscene slurping sounds filled the heavy air, mixed with the symphony of groaning and moaning. As his cock left your mouth for a moment you were quick to beg, "Use me, Con'. Please use me." Luckily no one was able to witness this pathetic scenery, even though you enjoyed it. The person in front of you smiled proudly at what he had turned you into. If he knew that taming you was this easy, Connie would have rammed his dick inside you earlier. With lust dripping from his tongue Connie said, "Yeah? Want me to use you? Want me to pound you like the little cum-slut you are?" Again your head moved in a yes-motion, while you looked up at him with the biggest puppy eyes. "Please, I fill me up. I want to be your cum-slut." And how could he deny you when you begged so nicely? With a quick motion, he pulled you up and a second later his hands sneaked underneath your skirt. You felt his fingers playing with the elastic bands of your thong, pulling them away from your hips and letting them snap back. You winced at the delicious sting. "Let's see what you got there for me, eh? I've been wondering all night." Connie pulled on the silky fabric with one harsh movement and tore them off your body. You would have protested that this motherfucker ruined your cute underwear, but you couldn't care less right now. His digits brushed over your hipbones, slowly wandering to your aching core. Heat radiated from your throbbing, impatient pussy. An insanely loud moan slipped past your rosy lips as his finger finally got in contact with your clit. His mouth on the other hand latched onto your bare shoulder, slowly drawing circles with his tongue. Your head snapped back as a wave of arousal washed over you and you let out a whimper. "F-Fuck. More...please," you cried and felt him smiling against your skin at the wretched plea. Connie was quick to intensify his circles over your sensitive bud, while the digits of his left hand crept into your wet core. His movements were fast and precise like he never did anything else but to please you. Every time Springer curled his fingers he was able to hit this certain spongy point, sending you into oblivion. Your velvet walls practically hugged him in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. You wanted, no, needed to swallow him whole. "Such a needy thing. Who would have thought?" Amusement coated Connie's voice as he whispered in your ear. Between heavy breaths, you mewled, "I am a needy slut just for you, baby! Gonna cum soon." And as soon as those words left your lungs, the heavenly friction was gone. "You are not cumming until I tell you to and there is no chance that you are cumming without my dick." Tears threatened to spill over your waterline at the loss of the marvelous feeling that danced in your stomach. "But, Connie I-" Of course, you wouldn't get the chance to explain yourself. You should have known better by now. The young man pushed you onto the bed, shutting you up in an instance. "On all fours, babygirl." You whined slightly at his commanding tone but did as told. Like the good girl you were, you placed yourself on your knees and hands, while wiggling with your butt. Your back arched like a lioness, stretching on a hot stone, presenting your throbbing hole for Connie. "I'm gonna fuck the attitude out of you," he announced stroking your entrance with his leaking tip. You mewled at the soft touch, his name pouring from your tongue like a mantra.

"Do it, already!" you whined desperately. That earned you a hard smack on your left ass cheek. The soft flesh jiggled under Connie's force and you couldn't contain the primal moan you were holding back any longer. Before you were even able to comprehend what had just happened, you felt the male's hand digging into your hair, twirling it into a ponytail and jerking you up. Your back rested against Connie's sweaty chest and his breath caressed your delicate skin as he spoke. "What was that? Pretty impatient, aren't we?" "Please, Con' I'm begging you! I want you so bad!" Springer let out a dark chuckle as he rammed himself inside of you. A high-pitched shriek was heard as you felt his dick split you open. Inch by inch he buried his aching cock inside your velvet walls, knocking the air out of your lungs. "Mhm, it's...so big," you praised with half-lidded eyes. You were glad that Connie still held you close to his chest. His arm that was occupied with your neck was now wrapped around your chest, grounding you. Otherwise, you dared to just fall apart and into the voids of pleasure. The young man rested his chin on your shoulder and asked nonchalantly, "Will you take me like a good girl? Will you let me breed you, like a whore?" You nodded. With deep strokes, Connie began to move. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the pregnant air, mixed with obscene moans. You whined as the full potential of his cock filled you up. At some point, you weren't even sure if this was all some kind of hallucination - a dream. If this was the case you prayed to never wake up. "God, Con' I wanna cum! Can I?" It seemed that you were a fast learner. This time you didn't even hesitate to ask for permission. "You promise that you will stop being a bitch? Gonna be a good girl for me, like right now?" Connie growled. His strokes grew deeper and faster as he was to underline his question. He wouldn't take a "No" for an answer. In addition, you felt his digits rubbing the swollen pearl between your folds again. A white heat spread through your lower abdomen, hugging every single nerve down there. Your thighs started shaking at the building stimulation and you wondered if he wanted to torture you. "Fuck, yes, I am going to be everything you want!" you cried as tears of pure pleasure painted your rosy cheeks. "Then cum, princess." And you did. The creamy nectar that seethed inside your needy cunt, poured out in tiny waves and painted Connie's dick white. You whined, screamed, begged for something you didn't even know as your orgasm finally hit you. Your poor little clit was still abused by Springer's digits and you squirmed as you tried to escape overstimulation. "Please, Connie, fuck!" You tried your best to voice your despair but your fucked out brain wasn't able to form a proper sentence. You heard his breaths also growing heavier and you knew that he was chasing his release as well. "Gonna make you mine, Y/N. Gonna breed that little cunt of yours, " was all Connie grunted when he finally shot his loads inside of you, coating every little inch of your walls. His nails molested your already abused skin, as he held onto you for dear life. Connie's grip seemed to tighten as his muscles spasmed with joy. And slowly, very slowly, you both rode out your highs. As the blissful feeling of your orgasm finally left your system, you found stillness. Your chests were the only thing moving in heavy motions, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. "Uhm..." you hummed after a few minutes of silence. "You can let go of me now." Connie still secured you in his embrace, not even aware of that matter of fact. You would have liked to linger at this moment a little longer, but things were already weird enough. Suddenly Springer's bossy behavior was all gone and the giggly boy you knew came back. With a soft chuckle, he voiced a soft "Oh, sure" and gently placed you on the bed. He cleared his throat as he lay next to you and you could feel that he was fighting for words.

"Sorry about calling you names and shit. Heat of the moment thing, you know." You laughed quietly at his awkward attempt to explain himself.

Yes, Connie Springer was back to normal. "It's okay. I actually really enjoyed it. And to be honest I kinda deserved it." You took a deep breath before you continued. "I was being a bitch to you and I need to apologize for such behavior. Guess all I wanted was your attention." You draped your arm over your face to cover the raising heat on your cheeks. The pheromones and the alcohol in your system let you no other choice but, to be honest, and disgustingly emotional. As you hid behind your arm you couldn't see Connie's expression, but you could hear the softness in his voice. "Well, I am way too confused and drunk right now to talk about that stuff, but how about we discuss this over a nice dinner tomorrow. Just you and me." You smiled. "I would love to, Springer."

[toiletwipes]

and i'd give up forever to touch you

extra chapter. all i can breathe is your life.

Summary: It's discount, disco Tuesday and you've decided to drag Wilbur along too!

~3.4k words. masterlist.

---

he finds himself wrapped in one of your adventures, you being determined to find inspiration to keep writing music and living life the way you always loved. he didn't get any of it, but you were his friend, and he didn't mind all that much when it was you.

at the moment, you'd taken him out for a drive, refusing to tell him where you'd be going but beforehand you'd painted shapes onto both of your faces, with neon green and yellow and pink paint. diamond and hearts on yours, clubs and spades on his, not to mention the outfit you demanded he wear. demanded is a loose term, you merely gave him a look, puppy dog eyes, and he folded like a lawn chair.

the paint had dried and left his face feeling itchy but every time he raised a hand, you'd slap it down. "if i have to hold your hand, i will, don't test me, will." you had teased but you definitely felt your breath stutter at the thought, and he wasn't fairing that much better. holding hands?

much to his surprise, he found himself standing in a short line for roller skates, lights dim and people skating in a large rink. you had paid for the tickets and everything, insisting all he had to do was skate. how hard could it be?

for him, unnecessarily.

the moment he stood up with the skates tied to his feet, he could barely stand still, threatening to fall over in three different directions. his long legs have finally backfired on him from all the times he's mocked you for being shorter.

but you, you glided through the air, stopping by his side as you steady him, a little giggle in your breath. and he could see the outfit and the paint coming together. while everything else had dimmed, the paint and clothes glowed. and you didn't look so bad like this.

not to mention the skirt you chose for tonight, with shorts underneath of course, but it was hard to remind himself that you're just friends.

that you didn't wear it for him, why would you when you're just friends?

he whines inside of his head, so cruel, as you help him to the edge of the rink, holding onto the wall. most of the skaters stay close to the inside of the circle, lucky for you two as you guide him to the edge of it, feeling the breeze from everyone.

you cut slide backwards as you hold both of his hands and guide him through the motions. "just one foot in front of the other, like you're sweeping dirt behind your feet." you say, but as he tries to kick his feet, he trips himself and falls into you. you curse as you both tumble to the ground, wilbur's face shoved into your stomach and your knees wedged into his armpits.

"you okay?" you call over the music, ignoring the slight ache in your elbows and butt, patting his shoulder.

he lifts his head and is met with your face staring him down and all he can see is the paint and the whites in your eyes glowing. and he can't think, nothing processing. is that what a god looks like, he vaguely hears in the back of his mind.

"wilbur?"

without another second to think, he's scrambling off of you, as much as he can with the skates tied to his feet still, but he can see a slight impression from the paint, somehow, in your white shirt.

you don't notice, only snickering as you pull yourself to your feet and he just so happened to be looking up and oh fuck.

he can see up your fucking skirt.

and it doesn't matter that you're wearing shorts, because he's still fucking looking. until he covers his eyes and attempts to stand without any aide. god, he knew he was a pervert but shit. not that he could forget the sight when it's burnt in the inside of his eyelids.

"oh my god, you're so stupid," you laugh and tug on his arms, and drag him back to the wall, getting him to stand eventually.

he groans, leaning his forehead against the wall with both of his hands gripping the sides as tight as he can, "how am i supposed to skate if i can't even make it past the entrance? what was the point of bringing me?" he says, looking up at you as you survey the area, and you just shrug, a small smile playing at your lips.

"it was a discount tonight, figured you'd might enjoy learning," and you're tugging his arms again, looping one of your arms into his to help guide him. "and besides, you'll never learn if all you do is mope and whine about it!" and you press on his back and chest, getting him to stop slouching and telling him how to balance his weight the best way for him, before nudging him forward and watching his arms lock up, feet straight as they roll right towards the chairs lining the walls.

he falls to his knees when he reaches the chairs, and you don't hesitate in calling him dramatic, stopping right in front of him as he pulls himself to sit.

"i think-" he gulps down air like it's water, "i think i'll sit here for- for a minute." you try to pull him up but he shakes his head, insists that you get a headstart into skating, he'll probably figure it out after watching you do it anyways.

you skate away, only after he reassures you once more he's more than okay sitting for a moment.

and you make it look more than easy. you skate across the glossy floor like it was made of butter, weaving your way in and out of the crowd as if you had places to be. and in a brief moment with no one in front of you, you slow down, arms lowered to your side as you enjoy the chilled air, a smile growing as you begin to move your legs and arms again, doing two more laps before you come back to wilbur.

he doesn't have much to say.

"wow."

and he just accepts the punch to his shoulder, rubbing out the ache as you laugh.

"it's just practice, that's all it is."

"you probably practiced like a professional, knowing you." he teases, eyes flickering from the endless moving mass, glowing in the darkness and back to you.

"to be fair, my parents loved taking me here as a kid, didn't help that they knew the owners," you shrug, chest heaving a little bit as you spoke, your breath not yet even.

"that does help," he says, fingers pressing into his knees as he briefly wonders when this place will close. not that he's not having fun, it's just that he doesn't know how to skate at all. and maybe it doesn't help that skating comes to you like breathing does. "so what's-"

"-alright, skaters, it's time for the first special skate, the couples round, if all the single people could please safely exit the rink-"

"oh that's our cue," he says and as he stands you tell him to just hold onto your shoulders, you'll lead him out of the rink. but just as you get to the halfway point, you're singled out.

"to the strange couple, please refer to the default hand-holding, and not the conga, thank you,"

your brain short-circuits to the point where you miss the exit and, on accident, rejoin the circling mass of skaters. wilbur, who's right beside you, is panicking.

"y/n- i can't- i can't do this- i can't skate," and he's breathing too hard as his limbs begin to lock up, you shake out of your stupor and gently take his hand into your own and try to distract him, going from telling him you believe in him, telling him to just bend his knees and you'll guide him like before. then you offer something else up.

"if we get through this lap, we'll do anything you want and i can't say no," you tell him, and it's unbelievably hard to say anything but yes please get me out of there.

and all he can get out is a strained yes, quiet as anything over the music that reverberates through their chests, over the sound of the wheels against the floor.

but you guide him through it, slow and towards the outside of the rink, where most of the couples weren't, and its painful to watch him stiff as anything, barely holding himself together. but as the time passes, you find yourself back at the exit, and he doesn't hesitate to latch onto the closest free table and sit down. he's swallowing mouthfuls of air, maybe a little bit dramatic you humor to yourself, but for the most part he looks tired already.

you stand next to him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. "you did so good, wilbur, you made it," he doesn't say anything as he leans his head back as you work your fingers through small tangles. doesn't say anything as the praise burns at his groin, and hopes the dim lights and his physical exhaustion covers the fact that he might have a praise kink.

you lean down to whisper in his ear, "alright, we got through it, what would you like to do now?" and it takes a lot for him to hold back begs and whimpers, but he manages to say something along the lines of food.

you lead him back to your original table with your shoes sitting on top, you ask him if he wants to take the skates off and he doesn't even hesitate to pull them off as soon as he's sitting again. you have to laugh, but then his head rolls around his shoulders and looks at you with dark eyes and it catches in your throat.

eyes wide and mouth open, he knows that this view is dangerous, but keeps looking. though, you seem to pull yourself together and give yourself a thorough shake, your fingers, hands, arms, and torso wiggle in your seat. shaking off whatever it was that had you frozen.

"alright, come with me to get food?" you ask and he nods, standing up and finds that standing without a death machine strapped to his feet is much easier now. with the challenge gone, he starts to walk and then finds you latching onto his elbow with glowing, puppy dog eyes. "drag me?" you pout and he gives in, so easily, you wonder if he would ever say no to you.

your skates facing straight, he pulls you down the pathway between tables and finds himself at a bar area, you barely stopping from slamming into his sides, and he has to wrap an arm around you to settle you still.

you stay still alright, his arms warm from the exertion, and the slight sheen coating his skin makes you want to wring him out like a hand towel and at the same time, you want more than his arm around you.

but you're not toeing the lines of your relationship right now, you're fucking ordering food.

"what can i get for you today?" you skim over the menu above the employee's head, and will answers him curtly, you responding just as quick, handing over the right amount before waiting for the food itself by the edge of the bar.

you lean your knuckles into your cheek, breathing out a dramatic sigh to get wilbur's divided attention. he barely turns around at the sound of another sigh and by then, he's got an unimpressed look printed on his features.

"what is it going to take for you to loosen up? you move as if your bones are popsicle sticks held together by glue."

"you don't know my bones," is all he says before nodding to the employee handing him his chips and water, not even wasting a second before opening the bottle and drinking half of it to soothe the dry itch in his throat.

"you didn't answer my question, will," you inch closer to him to sing it in his ear, but he turns his face to look at you, instead of forward, and you're now nose-to-nose, so close together, just barely a breath's distance.

your breath hitches and he hears it, above everything else, he hears it and just barely closes his eyes and closes the distance. you don't move until you realize where you were again, and you're pushing on his shoulders, skating across the floor with the bag of pretzels and bottle of water in your hand. wilbur walks behind you confused, more along the lines of afraid of the car ride home where you inevitably stop talking to him and demand he never speak to you again. had he read all the signs wrong? did you hate him?

you yank the shoes off your feet, taking the pair and wilbur's to the front, pulling on your converse as you left the rink with him trailing behind you, feeling more than ever like he fucked up. he knows he fucked up in his life before but it never felt as big as this.

the sky is dark and feels unforgiving as you, but you're taking the drinks and snacks and throwing them into the back without him saying anything.

and then you're closing the door and looking at him with your hands still open, as if you're still holding something, and he's about to ask a question, ask if you're okay or something like that, when you yank on the collar of his shirt and press your lips against his firmly, leaning your back against your car, hidden away from potential onlookers.

he braces himself with both hands landing on either side of you, your mouth distracting him more than he'd ever thought. fucking hell, he thinks, your lips soft, warm, and he can't help but chase after yours when you pull away for a second. you're looking at him with half-lidded eyes, and then you're leaning into him, hands sliding up to cusp his face, before tucking your head under his jaw and lips attaching to his neck, sucking and biting and soothing the bites with long swipes of your tongue.

wilbur feels so warm- so hot as you continue to leave hickey after hickey, it feels too good and he grinds his hips against yours, feeling a moan bubble in his throat when a hand covers his mouth, "don't let them know what we're up to, mkay?"

he almost whines beneath your hand but you're right back to his neck, pleasure spiking up in his spine every time you bite down and every time your tongue flattens against every lovebite.

eventually, the sound of the doors constantly swinging open and closed grabs your attention than the trembling man under your hands and mouth, leaning back as you look at the mess you made of him.

"wanna head home now?" you whisper, reaching up to push his hair out of his face, pressing a small kiss to his jaw.

home. not your dorm, not his apartment, home.

he nods, barely holding it together as you lead him back to the passenger side, closing the door and heading towards the driver's, a little pep in your step. you nod at the other skaters leaving and they give a slight nod back, unbeknownst to the man you're slowly ruining that sits in your car.

getting in, you're faced with a mess. glancing at his neck, you reach back and down for something soft, pulling it up, you see it's your old jacket, something you had for years and… something to cover your friend in for now. "here, if you get cold, because i'm feeling hot." you hand it over to him, before turning the ac up all the way, cranking it to the maximum settings and feeling the bitter cold on your very warm skin.

it was an excuse, of course, but you weren't going to tell him that as you see him very quickly pull it over his head. had you gotten it in a size that fit you, it might not have fit his long torso, but oversized? perfect on him.

you don't see him pulling on the edge of the hoodie, breathing deeply as he could to take all of your scent in. something akin to weed and cinnamon. something home would smell like, he figures.

it takes twenty minutes before you reach the dorms, and it takes another minute before you're inside your designated one, finding rosie and jared curled into the sofa, jumping at every turn in the horror movie on the tv.

"we're back," you say, as you head into the kitchen and pull out another bottle of water, drinking it in as you're well aware of the eyes you have burning into your skin.

swallowing the last gulp, you throw away the empty bottle before looking the man in your hoodie in the eyes and seeing just the very edge of hickeys peek out from the collar. stepping close to him, you reach up to his face and grasp his chin fairly soft, pulling him down just enough to kiss him slow and deep. when you pull away, the dried paint is dripping slightly down his cheek. you swipe it away as his eyes stayed shut.

"we'll be in my room, call us if you need us," you say but they were too absolved in their scary movie, too busy to notice the man practically shaking under your touch.

leading him to your room, like the thousands of times before, and leading him to your bed like the thousands of times before, but this time you give the door a slight kick before it closes. this time you kiss him and let him press you into the bed, hands burning everywhere they touch on your skin.

the nerves in his body feels shot when you reach under the hoodie to press your cold fingers against his skin, pressing against his stomach and gasping into his mouth when he does the same, flicking your shirt up a little to dig his fingers into your hip.

pulling away to breathe, you slow down, your heart pounding against your chest as you come down from a high that you knew would become a problem later on. you lean your head back into a pillow as he slows down too, his sticky forehead against your bare shoulder.

"would-" your mouth sticks together but you push the words forward, "would you be okay if we went to sleep right now?"

you didn't want to ruin anything more than you already did. knowing yourself, you probably confused him. you knew he had feelings for rosie but damn it if you didn't try at least. now look at where it's got you.

you don't see him nod, only feeling the bed dip as he moves off of you and moving to lay down in front of you. he gives your arm a nudge and when you move it, he leans into you, curling into your side as he gives you no room to think. all you could think about was him.

breathing in his hair, you smelt the shampoo from before, the slight smell from the rink, and then the damp feeling of sweat stick to his hair.

yeah, you would need to shower again in the morning. and yeah, you'd probably need to talk about this again. but couldn't you at least enjoy the way he can't seem to leave you alone? Can't you relish in the fact that he wants to be near you and not her. letting you mark him up. you could enjoy it, if not for a second. for the moment, you could enjoy the feel of him grounding you.

as for him, he doesn't know how much luckier he can get. so as your breaths slow in between, he sticks his head into the crook of your neck, just breathing you in and relishing the close proximity he has once again.

he may not have gotten to bury himself inside you but this is fine all on its own, head feeling light from how close you are together.

he presses a kiss to your skin before letting himself sleep in your arms.

(you almost cry when you felt his lips against your collarbone. wondering if this is the modern version of torture and who's administering them from above.)

...

taglist: @fxnxtical @ghostburlovebot @ollie-overscore @roygbivvie @beehive-syst3m @boiled-onionrings @mayempress @bringm3th3n1rvana @yui-san0 @comonlokbut2 @lurkey-lurker @tiredofsatansbullshit @serendipityryn @facelessmatchstick @sewagespaghetti @dogsandrocketsocks @unhelpfulghosty @struggling-with-time

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

[jaskierswolf]

Mayhaps a wild take : Geralt folds the corners of his precious, centuries old, valuable beyond compare, bestiaries. Jaskier sees and loses his marbles. ( Then gifts geralt a book mark with pressed.. somehow familiar flowers... 👀 )

Hi, hello... So... I got carried away? This is 2.1k? I hope you like it!

CW: mentions of injury (on Jaskier)

________

Monsters mutate. They adapt, change, grow. Geralt was clearly a very skilled witcher with decades of experience, and Jaskier never grew bored of watching him fight, on the rare occasions he was actually allowed to watch that is. Most of the time, he had to make do with second-hand stories told by Geralt himself, which just wasn’t the same. But, sometimes, just sometimes, Geralt would deem the contract safe enough for Jaskier to trail along with a silver dagger gripped in his hands, and sometimes... Geralt got it wrong.

Jaskier was poking at his bandaged thigh where the drowner had bitten him, already beginning to stain red as the blood oozed from the wound. It hadn’t needed stitches but it still stung. The fight, however, oh the fight had been surprisingly spectacular. It was a small drowner nest just outside of town, attacking nearby fisherman along the beach, nothing that Jaskier hadn’t seen before and certainly not ballad worthy, but he’d tagged along regardless. He never wanted to pass up the opportunity to see Geralt in action. The witcher was just so beautiful, dancing with his sword in hand, all grace and elegance and fury. Jaskier was entranced every time. It was truly a miracle he didn’t get hurt more often.

The drowners had been fast, faster than they should have been, and now Geralt was muttering about mutations and skin pigments as he scratched words into a worn out copy of a bestiary. The witcher has borrowed one of Jaskier’s least expensive ink sets to update the centuries old book. It broke Jaskier’s heart to see such a beautiful book treated so poorly but he understood that it needed updating to keep his witcher safe.

The poor book though.

Academics at Oxenfurt would kill to get their hands on it. It would have been treated with the utmost respect, kept away from the grubby hands of the first and second years, only allowed out for special projects, and here was Geralt, covering it in his appalling handwriting, bloody fingerprints and dirt smudges in the margins.

“Oh bollocks,” Jaskier hissed as he jabbed at the bandages a little too hard, his restless energy getting the better of him. The witcher always told him off for picking and scratching at his bandages and scabs, but he couldn’t help it. They were just so scratchable, and the itching drove him mad!

Geralt sighed, glancing up at Jaskier with an exasperated expression. He took one look at Jaskier’s bandage and…

And he fucking folded the corner of his page before closing the book.

Jaskier saw red. He stammered and pointed at the pages, gaping as he tried to find the right words to express his utter outrage. “You-You… Geralt!” he whined.

The witcher’s brow furrowed and he looked between the book and the bard, obviously completely confused by Jaskier’s sudden change in mood. “What?”

“You did not just fold down the pages!”

“Yes?”

Jaskier scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, dear witcher, you and I are taking a trip to Oxenfurt immediately!”

Geralt scowled, looking at Jaskier as if he’d grown a second head. “Why?”

“Geralt, please. Don’t make me suffer your cruelty any longer,” Jaskier pleaded.

The witcher rolled his eyes but didn’t argue any further. He just took Jaskier’s hands in his, keeping them away from the bandages. Jaskier blushed, the gap between them suddenly feeling too small and yet too far all at once. He swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden swell of nerves in his chest, and laced their fingers together, smiling shyly up at the witcher.

______

By the time they reached Oxenfurt, Jaskier’s limp had almost entirely gone. He still got tired quickly and by the end of the day he had to lean on Geralt or ride Roach until they found a suitable camping spot. Geralt had been ridiculously caring, obviously looking out for Jaskier at every opportunity, their days were shorter and well… Jaskier had actually been allowed to ride Roach. That was new. Holding hands had now become almost normal, and Geralt was just so gentle when he took care of the bandages, making sure the bite wound wasn’t infected. It made Jaskier’s heart do all sorts of acrobatics in his chest.

If he hadn’t been in love with the witcher, then he certainly would be after all of this-this… nonsense.

When Geralt wasn’t looking then he crouched at the side of the road, picking up a variety of buttercups and cornflowers and slipping them inside his heaviest poetry book. The supplies he needed from Oxenfurt were specialist ones. He hadn’t made bookmarks in ages, not since his days at the Academy, but he used to make them for all his friends. It was something to do with his hands that didn’t feel like work, and he had always enjoyed giving gifts. He was looking forward to getting back into his old hobby.

“Why are we here, Jaskier?” Geralt groused, glaring around the town with his scary witcher face. Jaskier felt a little bit bad for dragging Geralt back into a busy city but it was important.

He scoffed and waved a hand at the witcher. “You’ll see,” he said with a grin, and booped Geralt on the nose. “Don’t be nosy.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed back, sticking out his tongue. “You know your way to my rooms at the Academy?” Geralt nodded. “Excellent! I will see you there in time for dinner, but I have shopping to do. Did you need any potion ingredients?”

Geralt cocked his head, his brow furrowing as he thought. “Blowballs.”

Jaskier grinned and brushed his lips against Geralt’s cheeks before he could chicken out. “Be good, darling, no scaring my colleagues.”

The witcher smirked. “Unless it’s Valdo?”

Jaskier laughed, “Unless it’s Valdo.”

And then they went their separate ways. Jaskier easily navigated the streets of Oxenfurt, basking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was alive and thriving, as if it had a beating heart of its own. The witcher may hate the city but Jaskier lived for it. He was a bard, a man of the people. He needed to be seen, loved, adored. The bookshop was in the same place that it had been when he was a student, tucked away in the backstreets, only known by the students and professors. Jaskier grinned and slipped inside, the bell ringing as he pushed up the door.

He let his fingers trail along the leather spines of the books, inhaling the musky scent of paper and old parchment. It smelled like home, and a warmth settled in his heart. He knew this shop like the back of his hand, and he easily found the supplies he needed. The pressed flowers from the road would be fixed onto a soft leather strap, and then Jaskier would cut the end into smaller strips, creating a kind of tassel. He also planned to engrave an inscription into the leather, something lyrical, something poetic… something for Geralt to remember him by when they were apart.

“Gods, I’m pathetic,” he mumbled as he worked. His tongue flicked between his lips as it so often did when he needed to concentrate. Each letter took time, a delicate process, and he sat in the little corner at the back of the shop, just as he had in his youth. After an hour the owner, now an old man with a thick grey beard, brought him a cup of herbal tea. Jaskier smiled up at him, and gestured to his work.

“How’s it looking? I’m, well, I’m a little out of practice,” he hummed, scrunching up his nose.

“It’s beautiful, and it’s good to see you back here, Jaskier. It’s been too long. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

“Oh, no. I would never!” Jaskier reassured him, “and thank you. This one is special.”

The shop owner chuckled. “You used to say that every time.”

Jaskier grinned sheepishly. “This one is extra special.”

He stayed later than he intended, past the closing time of the bookshop, and certainly past dinner time but he just lost track of time, too focused on his task. By the time he finished, Geralt’s bookmark was a work of art. The inscription was written in his finest calligraphy, and the flowers were arranged just perfectly. It had been made with love.

He just hoped that Geralt liked it.

When Jaskier made it back to his room, Geralt was perched on the corner of the bed, a needle and thread in his hands as he made repairs to his armour. His silver hair was loose and falling in front of his eyes, and there were the beginnings of a beard growing on his cheeks. The witcher’s golden slitted eyes were almost completely black in the dim light of the room, and Jaskier was once again envious of his friend’s ability to see in the dark. It was a handy skill, and he looked almost ethereal as the light bounced off his eyes, making them glow.

“Dinner was two hours ago,” Geralt murmured, not looking up from his sewing.

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up and he scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, umm…, yes, well…”

“Jaskier.”

“You know how I get?”

“Hmm.”

His friend finally looked back up at him, giving Jaskier a soft fond smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Jaskier stuck his tongue out, “Don’t hum at me, witcher, I’m fluent in Geralt speak!”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being obtuse, and don’t you dare…” Geralt hummed again. “Stop it! You bastard. I’m not giving you your present now.”

“Present?” Geralt cocked his head, looking stunned by Jaskier’s revelation.

“Ha! That got you, oh shit, cock it. It was meant to be a surprise. Fuck!” he groaned and buried his face in his hands. The bookmark was tucked away in his bag but it seemed to be taunting him, and he was suddenly struck by the fear that Geralt would hate it.

Fucking buttercups.

He was an idiot.

Why would a witcher want flowers on a bookmark?

“You got me a present?”

Jaskier nodded “I made you a present, Geralt.”

The witcher looked completely taken aback, a blush painting his cheeks. He set his needle and thread aside, and reached out for Jaskier. It was almost instinct at that point to reach back, taking Geralt’s hands in his. “Can I see?”

Jaskier glanced at his satchel and sighed. “Yes, yeah. Yes, of course. Umm, wait here.”

With shaking hands he plucked the cloth bundle from his satchel and handed it to Geralt, mentally preparing himself for the worst. At least he was already in Oxenfurt, he wouldn’t have to travel alone when the witcher inevitably decided to dump him. Gods, he was such a fool.

Geralt gingerly unfolded the dark blue cloth, humming as he picked up the bookmark. “Buttercups?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Jaskier cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“To my dearest, Geralt. May your days be filled with Destiny, heroics, and love. Ever yours, Jaskier.” Geralt read the words aloud and Jaskier wanted to sink into the floor. It was ridiculous. They weren’t even that good. He was supposed to be a poet for Lilit’s sake.

“It’s shit. I’m sorry, I’m tired, what with my leg healing and the rush to get here, but I just… you fold down the corners of your page, Geralt. I could not sit by and let that happen, and I-I… ah fuck it. I wanted you to have something to remember me by, you know,” he gave a flick of his wrist, one hand resting on his hip, “when you’re stuck up in that mysterious witcher keep of yours, and well, you probably don’t remember but I-I said you smelled like-”

“Death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak, I remember.”

“Oh, umm… well yes. Death and heartbreak seemed a bit… dramatic? So, I-I changed it… to love.”

“Thank you, Julek,” Geralt murmured, cupping Jaskier’s cheek and pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss that was over before Jaskier could even process what was happening.

He stared wide-eyed up at his friend, his heart racing and the whole universe shifted until Geralt was at the centre, burning brightly in the dark. Jaskier cupped the nape of Geralt’s neck and pulled him back into another kiss, and this time they didn’t break apart, their lips moving in tandem. It was slow, lazy even. There was no rush, just the two of them against the world, their breaths mingling and their hearts beating as one.

[tiffdawg]

Your Heart is My Home | A Javier Peña x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @javier-pena​

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.4k

Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, masturbation (f), use of a vibrator/sex toy, breathplay, dirty talk, aftercare. Rough sex with a soft, tired Javi. 18+ only.

A/N: Look, I don’t even like Valentine’s day, but I love all of you so here’s a little sweet treat. Everyone say thank you to the lovely anon who requested HCs for Javi (consensually) walking in on you. Safe to say, this one got away from me. 

Read on AO3 | My Masterlist

... . ...

Your Heart is My Home

It wasn’t his original plan, but as Javier left the embassy well past midnight — again — he steered right out of the employee parking lot toward your place instead of heading to his own empty apartment. He was dead on his feet but after the day he had, he realized that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed next to you. Just as he had practically every night since he met you. In the past he might’ve sought out a bottle or a brothel, but lately the warmth and comfort of your embrace was all he craved.

With the spare key to your apartment that hung next to his own, Javier opened your front door as quietly as possible, mindful of the old hinges that creaked past a certain point. He kept telling himself he’d fix that for you on his next day off from work, but those were few and far in between. With light footsteps he toed off his boots and nestled them next to yours on the shoe rack and his leather jacket found its usual hook just above yours. The more he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the night at his own apartment. Like his things, Javier seemed to have a home there with you.

He didn’t even startle at that thought. It was just… true. 

Instead, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissipate the more the notion settled within him. As he exhaled the stress of another bad day, the sweet, vanilla scent of home replaced it with something much more comforting.

Until a quiet buzzing noise drifted to his ears and disrupted the peace. “What the fuck is that?” he mumbled to himself, brows pinching in confusion. Socked feet padded across the old hardwood floors as he moved toward your bedroom. Only then did he notice the dim light seeping out from under the door. He pushed it open gently on the off chance you were asleep.

Javier’s eyes shot open when he realized you were wide awake.

With the silky sheets thrown back, you were a sight to behold in the flickering candlelight, sprawled out on the bed wearing nothing but lacy pink lingerie dotted with red hearts. Mind overcome by a lusty haze, he moved to the edge of the bed without thinking and gazed down at your angelic form. His mouth went dry when he noticed your panties pushed to the side as you fucked yourself with a vibrator. It was small and discreet and got the job done when you needed it. He’d seen it before but swore you wouldn’t need it as long as he was around.

“You’re finally home,” you said, acknowledging his presence. 

“You should be asleep.” He’d aimed for chastising, but his amusement was evident in his tone.

“I tried to wait for you,” you cooed, staring up at him with glossy, half-lidded eyes. “I’ve hardly seen you all week and I needed you.”

“My poor baby,” he consoled, squeezing your thigh with a firm hand. “Was this pussy aching for me?” With pouty lips you nodded. He smirked when he realized you were still pumping the vibrator into you. In that moment, you were a desperate, unashamed little thing and he was the luckiest man alive. “Is that little toy satisfying you, cariño?”

You whined as you shook your head against the pillow, but he was already unbuckling his belt, the leather strap snapping as he pulled it out of the loops. “You need something bigger?”

“Yes, Javi,” you simpered.

“You need my big dick to stretch out that tight little cunt?” he teased, suddenly feeling much more awake and inclined to play with you than he was when he’d first walked through the front door. You moaned as your back arched off the bed. He stripped off his pants, leaving him in just a half-buttoned up pink shirt. He knelt on the bed in between your parted thighs and leaned over you, wrapping a hand around your neck. His fingers pressed against your pulse points in warning. “Answer me.”

“Oh, fuck yes!” you wailed. Your own hand circled his wrist, holding him in place. He squeezed and felt your ragged breath against his palm. His other hand slipped between your bodies to steal the toy from you. Without so much as a glance, he increased the speed as he expertly pumped it into you and rubbed that sweet spot he loved so much. The one that brought tears to your eyes and made a mess of the bedsheets.

Needing to taste you, he trailed hot, wet kisses across your flushed skin, slightly salty and shimmering, until he reached your breasts. Your tits looked so pretty covered in pink lace with the darker skin of your nipples just visible, teasing him. Mouthing you through the flimsy material, he sucked and bit at each one until both pebbled beneath the fabric. He reveled in the way your body responded to him. Only him.

As he took one nipple between his teeth and fucked you with the vibrator even faster, you cried out. “Right there, don’t stop!”

That was his cue to remove the vibrator from your core.

You groaned in frustration but he grinned when he saw your cum already dripping out of your fluttering hole. At least in the time he’d been there, you hadn’t even orgasmed yet. But his filthy girl was close for him. “What the hell?” you gasped. Your pleading eyes searched his for an answer he gave readily.

“You’re only allowed to cum on my cock tonight, cariño.”

You beamed at him, and his chest filled with a familiar mix of pride and admiration. “Then give it to me, Javi.” 

With a devilish smirk, he turned the speed up again before he wrapped your hand around the toy and placed the rounded head right on your clit. You hummed pleasantly at the vibrations. “Hold that right there for me. Can you do that?” You nodded eagerly. “Good girl,” Javier praised with a slap to the inside of your thigh and he parted your legs further.

Settling between your thighs, he gathered up your slick and stroked his hard cock to its full length, nearly there just from watching you. Grasping his base, he entered you in one slow push. He usually had to spend more time working you open, but you’d made sure you were wet and ready for him that night. He stilled when he was fully seated inside you and tried to steady his breathing. He could feel the vibrations from your toy and the new sensation threatened to overwhelm him.

“Oh, god,” you panted. Your hand slipped beneath his open collar and your nails dug into his shoulder and you held on for dear life. Javier hadn’t even started moving inside you yet. “It’s too much. I’m gonna cum.”

“Already?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you laughed even as you squeezed your eyes shut. “I feel so full. Fuck– I’m right there.”

“I can tell.” His voice strained as he struggled to hold on to his composure. The feel of your pussy pulsing around him as you neared your orgasm was nearly enough to send him over the edge. “Hold on, baby. Let me take care of you”

Without warning, he pulled out and snapped his hips against yours. Again. And again. You made breathy little moans and yelps that matched his every forward thrust that spurred him on. It wouldn’t take either of you long before you fell apart for the other. 

Javier glanced up at the sound of a sharp rapt on your shared wall. He cursed to himself when he realized it was your damn neighbors again. He was well aware of how they felt about him.

Annoyed, he changed his angle so every time his hips snapped against yours, the metal headboard hit the wall. You covered your mouth as you let out an uncharacteristically girlish giggle. But you grinned for him when you said, “fuck me harder, mi corazón.”

He covered your body with his, caging you in, and pounded into you. You cried out, a mix of his name, every curse you knew, and a string of desperate oh gods tied together with mewls of pleasure. It drove him fucking wild. Suddenly the only word you seemed to know was yes, yes, yes and he felt you clench down around him, felt you soaking his cock as you neared your peak.

You came hard and loud, reduced to a writhing mess beneath him and he smiled as he fucked you through it all. Javier was never far behind you. He pulled out at the last minute, groaning as he painted you with him cum. Coating your soft stomach and pretty tits with hot, sticky white ropes.

He was a sweaty mess, shirt sticking to his skin, hair damp on his forehead. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Could barely hold himself upright. But he knew you. He knew you didn’t want to wake up in a few hours like this. He’d promised — promised you and himself — that he’d always take care of you. So, he drug himself out of bed.

“Cariño, stay with me.” Your eyes blinked open and he helped you up and into the bathroom on shaky legs. He switched on the shower, testing the temperature of the water with an open palm before turning his attention to you.

“This is new.” Javier observed as he flicked open the hook holding your pink bra in place. He guided the straps down your arms and grimaced when he saw the mess he made on the pretty fabric. He tossed it aside with your panties to wash later.

“I brought it just for you, mi corazón. I wanted tonight to be special.” Confused, he tried to catch your eye, but you were half asleep on your feet. “And it was,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his cheek and ran your fingers through his damp hair. “It’s always special with you.”

With a quick peck on his lips, you hopped into the shower. After switching the sheets, Javier threw his shirt into the basket as well to worry about in the morning. He figured he’d start the laundry as soon as he woke up and have it in the dryer before he left for work. It’d make your life a little easier. 

He joined you in the shower, carefully washing both of your bodies with your sudsy lavender soap. Washing away the aftermath of your evening. Washing away the stress of his day. He was sated and relaxed and... as he looked at the dreamy smile on your face, he was happy. So fucking happy it felt unreal. He’d never expected to come home and find you like that, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Somehow, you were always just what he needed.

After toweling you off and earning a lilting laugh from you, Javier offered you the red satin nightgown that hung off a knob on your dresser drawer. The thought crossed his mind that if he’d left work at a decent hour, he would’ve come home to you wearing the slip of fabric for him. Like a perfect present to unwrap after a long day. Pushing down his frustration at himself, he led you back to bed with your hand in his, wanting to hold you through the night with the time he did have to give you. He blew out the candles you'd lit before slipping between the fresh sheets and pulling you toward him.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” You looked awake and alert now, eyes boring into his. He shifted so the two of you laid side by side facing each other. “What do you think about moving in here?” You let the question settle between you before you continued, ready to state your case. “You spend most nights here already and I­– I think we could make a home together.”

“I like that idea.” He twined your hands before kissing the tops of your knuckles, smiling against your skin. “Not sure your neighbors will.”

The two of you touched foreheads as you laughed until your shared mirth turned into a collective sigh. He felt the same relief you exhaled. Logically, living together made sense. But there was also something inside his chest, something well beyond logic, that had wanted that all along. Throwing an arm across his middle, you snuggled closer, seeking his warmth like you always did.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi,” you murmured into his neck just as you drifted off.

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head at himself. He’d completely overlooked the date, but you weren’t angry with him. That wasn’t how your relationship worked. He doubted you cared about the holiday any more than he did. And you always understood that his life revolved around his job. You accepted that. Accepted him. He’d never understand how he got so lucky.

“I love you,” he whispered against your temple, testing out those three little words he’d felt for so long for the first time.

“I know,” you sighed. “I love you too. Now rest, mi corazón. You earned it.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 

... . ...

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[nagito-kissmaeda]

I don't know if I've Talked to you yet? But may i get Nagito with a Talentless! S/o who's a Degradee. So whenever He Gets angry and Talks about her because of her talent. She's attracted to it. But is able to hide it for a while. But one day she slips up ane admit she likes it to hajime and nagito happens to overhear it. (I'd love a Nsfw Fic) if your open.

ミ☆ Thanks for the request! This was very interesting for me to write because i dont usually make Komaeda so.......mean. It does get pretty filthy so i hope that’s okay ahah.  Word Count:  2882

Warnings: Fem reader, no pronouns, explicit sexual content, degradation, possessive behaviour

You’re not sure that Komaeda’s insults are having their desired effect.

Generally, the other students of class 77-B treat you perfectly well, even kindly. You’d braided Sonia’s hair for her once when it was windy and getting in her eyes, after that she seemed to take a liking to you and started inviting you to eat lunch with her in the main course building. At first you were very nervous, shaking as you lurked in the doorway, holding your bento box between your quivering hands. 

But then, “Good afternoon, everyone! I’d like you all to meet my new friend!” Sonia said brightly, and everything sort of fell into place.

Everything except Komaeda. 

Presently, he has you backed up against a wall, one hand pressed up beside your head. He’s quite a bit taller than you, and has to crane his head down when his lip curls up in disgust. You aren’t really sure what his problem is, but he finds a way to antagonise you almost every day. Like he’s trying to convince you to snap. It isn’t working, but it is doing something else.

“How much did your parents pay, huh?” He whispers, voice eerily delicate even as his eyes burn with vitriol, “How much did you sacrifice just so you could pretend to be worth something?”

Your mouth has gone dry. Your eyes flit around his face, trying too hard not to focus on the subtle movement of his lips. 

“Ah, are you too afraid to answer? Afraid of what I might think of you?” 

You are not afraid. 

Komaeda leans in closer, lips curling up in a snarl, “you mustn’t concern yourself with such things.“

You are something far worse than that.

“My opinion of you will remain less than dirt regardless of your answer.” 

You are aroused and a pathetic little moan breaks away from your mouth at the feeling of his breath on your face, at his closeness, and the way he leers down at you like you are nothing more than a nuisance to him. His tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his lower lip and you whine . 

He laughs, mistaking the sound for one of fear, “The only reason I don’t pull you from our classroom and lock the door behind you, is because Sonia seems to enjoy your company. I’m sure her little fancy will not last long.” He smiles, “so make the most of the honour while it lasts.”

Komaeda leans back from you, and it feels like you can finally catch your breath again. Trying your hardest to ignore the way your heart is racing and just how wet your panties are getting. He does not seem to notice, lips curling up in a smirk that makes your breath hitch as he turns on his heel.

He did not notice the effect he was having on you. Far too concerned with trying to get you away from the rest of his ultimate classmates before you have a chance to dirty them with your pathetic presence. After all, even he was above you and that was saying something. Komaeda leaves you quivering in the hallway and heads back through the open door of classroom 77-B, but the sound of running feet brings him pause. He closes the door most of the way, leaving it open enough that he can watch through the gap without you noticing. 

“Hey.” Hinata says breathlessly, coming to a stop where you are still leaning against the wall, “I saw Komaeda bothering you, are you alright?” 

Komaeda scoffs. Hinata is just as much a problem as you are, always hanging around Nanami-san like it’s his given right. 

“Huh?” You say, still noticeably shaking, “oh I’m fine.” 

Komaeda smirks. If asked, he would claim that he only harassed you for the good of his fellow classmates; he would not admit the exhiliarion he feels in the moments when he finally gets to be better than someone. When he has you up against a wall like that, when he talks down to you like that. He feels something in his gut. A twisting that feels almost euphoric. 

Hinata huffs and crosses his arms, “look, that guy's an asshole. I can see you shaking, did he threaten you or something?” 

“No! Not really? I’m just…..uh…..” Komaeda can see you twisting your hands with nerves, his brows draw together in confusion, “I think I…like it…” 

Hinata balks, “wait. What?” He hisses, and Komaeda is thinking something very similar.

“When he’s mean to me like that.” You breathe, chewing on your lower lip, “when he has me up against the wall I...feel...good…” 

“No. Stop. Please.” Hinata exclaims, waving his hands in front of his face, “look, we’ve got to get to class. I don’t want to hear anymore about this. Okay?” 

Komaeda’s breath is caught in his throat as he watches the both of you walking back down the hall. Horrified at the tightness in his crotch. He whirls around and leans back on the wall, cupping a hand over his mouth to hide his heavy breathing. 

Those little noises you were making, the way you were shaking beneath him. 

This had not been his intention. 

Though, he supposes he can entertain the idea. Just to see how you react. It might even be fun. 

*

A few days later, you are back in the mostly vacant classroom with Sonia and Ibuki, the latter is in the middle of painting the nails on your right hand. 

“I know you said you don't really like this colour, but it glows in the dark, so that makes up for it, rigggggght?” Ibuki says; her nailpolish skills are lacking so your fingers are a bit of a mess, but you’re having fun anyway. 

“I think i might scare myself tonight when i turn the lights off and my fingers start glowing.” you laugh, Sonia titters politely behind her hand, but her expression quickly changes. 

“Oh.” She says, looking over your shoulder, “Hello, Nagito.”

You freeze. Throat going dry. You are not prepared for another encounter with Komaeda. 

“Ah, Hello. It’s nice to see the both of you.” He says. It does not escape your notice that he purposefully didn't even acknowledge your presence. 

“Don’t get too close naggy-waggy.” Ibuki replies, tongue sticking out as she starts painting the nails on your other hand, “I must focus on my art!”

A shiver runs up your spine when you feel the warmth of another body behind you. Komaeda leans over your shoulder to look down at your nails as Ibuki paints them, you can feel his breath on the side of your neck, you can smell him. He smells really good, why does he have to smell so good?

“You’ve improved a lot since your last attempt, Mioda-san.” Komaeda says, you can practically feel the words on your skin.

Ibuki laughs, “Kaz was a very good sport when I spilled it all over his arms! Plus! He was glowing for three days straight and i actually think it looked pretty sick!!!” 

“You're very lucky to have someone as wonderful as Mioda-san do your nails.” Komaeda breathes, you turn your head just a little. His face is so close to yours, his lips quirked up in the corners just enough that you know he is mocking you. Then, as he finally begins to stand back up again, he whispers in your ear, “after all, you’re just a pathetic reserve course student, aren't you?”

You feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you swear it can't be intentional, but a shudder runs through you so powerful that you accidentally bump the nailpolish out of Ibuki’s hand. 

You are too busy trying to help her and Sonia clean up the mess, to notice the way Komaeda looks back, hands in his pockets and smirking at how easy it was to rattle you.

Yes, he thinks. This will be fun. 

*

It continues like this for some time. Komaeda is always lingering close to you, whispering in your ear. He’s always loved watching you squirm, but now it feels like he is doing more often, more shamelessly. After weeks of what feels like almost endless torment, something finally snaps. 

You’re dashing down the hall at lunch, it’s a decent walk from the reserve course building to the main course, so you really have to put the leg work in if you want to spend any real time with Sonia before heading back over again. You round a corner and run headlong into Komaeda. The universe has a hilarious sense of humour.

“Ah.” He starts, cocking his hips to the side while staring down at you, “What rotten luck.”

You glare at him, “Rotten luck, indeed.” 

Komaeda laughs, “Is that so? I’m quite sure this is the highlight of your day.” You stiffen as he leans down by your ear, his long fingers coming to rest on your hip, “You do so enjoy it when I mock you, after all.” 

You feel his teeth on the side of your throat, not really biting, but pressing down just enough that you can feel them. You release a shaky moan, digging your nails into your palms.

“Just like a reserve course student to revel in my touch; in whatever form it comes.” His hand grips tighter, you can feel his nails pressing hard against your skin, “I could bite down so hard that you bleed, and you’d still moan, wouldn’t you?” 

You would. Oh god you would. Your legs are shaking, you can feel his warm breath in your ear and you’re becoming painfully aware that this is happening in the hallway. You swallow as your eyes dart open to the supply closet behind Komaeda. He grins saccharinely as he follows your eyes, grabbing you by the hand and tugging you down the hall. Before you have a chance to ask what is going on-

The door to the supply closet clicks shut, and you are suddenly very aware of your situation. It takes you eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, but when they do, you can see the utter hunger in Komaeda’s eyes. You swallow.

“How...how long have you known?”

“Known what?” He asks, feigning innocence.

You huff, “don’t make me say it!” 

Komeda crosses his arms, “no, I seem to have forgotten. I’ll need you to remind me.” 

You avert your eyes, scowling down at the ground, “how long have you known, that your degradation turns me on?”

He grins, “Almost a month.”

Your head snaps back up in horror, “So you’ve been toying with me on purpose this whole time?” You scoff, “What am I saying, of course you have been.”

“You’re lucky that I pay attention to you at all.” He breathes, and your heart starts racing at the jangle of a belt buckle.

This can’t be happening.

“You should be worshipping me.” Komaeda purrs over the sound of a leather belt being tugged through its loops. Your legs are quivering.The snick of a button coming undone, the sound of a zipper, and the thump of your knees hitting the floor all happen within seconds of each other. 

Komaeda chokes on a laugh. “I thought I would have to ask you to kneel.” He pulls his cock out of his boxers, already half hard as a smirk crawls up the side of his face, “But it seems you already know your place.” 

His cock is very pretty. Pale and slim with a blush red tip that you can't help wanting to suck on. 

“Don’t worry.” Komaeda whispers, “I have very low expectations for someone as talentless as yourself. I’ll be impressed if you even manage to make me come.”

Arousal shudders through you at his words, leaning forward and giving the head of his cock a cursorly lick. His breath catches in his throat. Such a pretty sound, you want to hear it more. One of his hands curls into your hair as you open your mouth wide and take the whole head in, sucking gently before bobbing your mouth halfway down. 

“ Ah! ” Komaeda hisses, hips stuttering deeper into your throat, “What an honour for you... aha ...to have an ultimate’s cock in your mouth, what a privilege .” his words break off into a laugh, wheezy and breathless as you take him all the way down, tears prickling in your eyes as it becomes harder to breathe. His head thumps back against the wall of the closet, cock pumping harder and faster into your open mouth as his nails dig into your scalp. You can feel drool running down your chin and dripping down to the floor, keening and moaning around his cock as you lathe the underside of the head with your tongue. 

“Who...Who knew...that this would be your one use…” Komaeda stammers, hips twitching and rolling into your mouth over and over, “is this your talent? Aha! Is sucking cock your talent?”

You make a noise of affirmation, unable to form words as he keeps relentlessly fucking into you. One of your hands slips up under your skirt and into your panties. It isn't surprising how wet you are, moaning unabashedly as you circle your swollen clit with a finger. 

“Ah... Ah! Look at you!” Komaeda exclaims, voice high and breathy as he tries to hold back another moan, “Being used like this turns you on, doesn't it? I wonder if one of those reserve course boys could do this to you.” he laughs breathlessly, “I wonder if you would let one of those reserve course boys fuck your mouth in the supply closet.” he grins down at you, eyes wild and almost unhinged, “I dont think you would, would you? I think you only want me, isn't that right?”

“Yes…” you manage to slur around him, circling your clit faster and faster, “nghh...only...you”

Your assertion only spurs him on further, hiking on leg up over your shoulder and pressing the heel of shoe hard into the wall behind you, hips stuttering forward with no discernible rhythm. You moan deep in the back of your throat and curl your arm around his thigh, feeling the muscles flex below your fingers as fucks into your mouth with unbridled desparetion. For all his talk, he seems to find your blow job abilities pretty competent.

“Don’t... ahh! ...Don’t stop-“ he groans, teeth gritted together, sweat dripping down his brow, “I...I’m gonna…” 

You’re close too. Your fingers pressing hard on your clit, circling almost brutally as you take his cock further down your throat. You can’t help but peer up at him, lording over just how thoroughly ruined he looks. Usually so neat, so clean. He looks like a perfect mess and it makes you keen around him, hips grinding harder into your own hand as you get closer and closer.

“You’re mine...all mine” Komaeda rasps, twitching and moaning, “Your mouth is mine to fuck...no-no one else can— AHHH!” 

His head collides with the wooden wall so loudly that you’re almost worried it hurts, and then he comes hard down your throat. You aren’t far behind, knees shaking and shuddering under your weight as you come tumbling over the edge, absolutely soiling your panties. There’s a filthy mixture of cum and saliva dripping out from your mouth that you swallow as best you can with Komaeda’s softening cock still in your mouth. The foot he had up against the wall slowly drops, resting gently on your shoulder instead as he catches his breath. You can see his chest rising and falling, his eyes gently closed. He’s cute when he’s not being such an asshole. 

Finally, he pulls his hips back and his cock slips out of your mouth, there isn’t too much of a mess on that front, at least nothing you can’t wipe away with the back of your hand, but your panties are another story. You’re just going to pray that they dry off a little before you have to go back to class.

Komaeda slides his leg from your shoulder and leisurely starts tucking himself back into his pants. You aren’t really sure what you’re supposed to be doing, so you just sit on the floor and wait for him to finish.

He hums, reaching down and tilting your chin up with a finger, “maybe you aren’t entirely pathetic.” he surprises you when he leans down and slots his lips against yours, flicking his tongue into your mouth, “if I’m able to make time in my busy schedule, I could shove my cock somewhere else next time.” 

You moan audibly, nodding your head with probably a little too much gusto.

Komaeda grins, all teeth and gums, and says, “I look forward to it.”

So do you.

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C2: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy. chapters >

“Perhaps you would fear if you saw me, and love is all I ask. There is a necessity that keeps me hidden now. Only believe.” - Cupid and Psyche ══════════════════════════════════

You have a dream; heavy and looming as you carry a boulder on your fragile back. It dares to crush you under its weight, while you trudge up a steep path towards the peak of this mountain. The sun glares with its heat like a guard set to watch your endless labor, sweat trickles down like rain on your skin as you pray for water. 

The relief comes in the form of waking from this endless dream.

Breath. Breath. Breath. You breath as if your lungs were crushed and you had drowned in earth, wondering why the familiar pain of doing so was gone. “Slowly,” smooth like velvet and deep that it reverberates to your being, your dear husband hushes next to you observing for any hint - even a twitch - that you might need help. 

“I felt like I had a really long dream,” you say, sitting up from the warm sheets of your shared bed. 

“Care to tell me what it is about?” He is the epitome of patience practiced and perfected, waiting for your reply; though try as you might to remember what it was, the dream had long  slipped from your mind like sand held between cupped hands, flowing and flowing until nothing is left.

“Have I been asleep long?” Voice groggy and eyes a bit blinded by the light, small hands felt the sheets on his side, the warmth and ghost of his form long gone, your dutiful husband, always awake and dressed before you even rouse from slumber. 

Zhongli leans toward you, his gloved fingers graze your cheeks with tenderness only to tuck a strand behind your ear and it is warm as the morning sun that rises on your window. “It’s alright, I know that you need rest after our move.”

You blush, heart soaring like a pure maiden in love with her suitor even though it is none other than your husband who gives you his full attention. It’s supposed to be endearing. It is endearing. Yet there is an ache at the back of your head, that something is amiss.

His fingers, barely touching your skin, made you think of claws, long and sharp, shining with polish. You brush it aside, under the bed long forgotten in the dark, while you would begin your routine. 

You could say that a day does not begin when you wake, rather it is when you make his tea.

He once told you that brewing is an art no less than painting or writing, it is not a matter of simply sprinkling leaves on a clay pot. It is a meditation and a ceremony practiced to bring forth a harmony of earth and water.

You take his words to heart. You take almost all his words to heart and memorize them the way he recites poems to you before bed. You command air to bring forth an aroma that allures the butterflies and with practiced elegance, you hold the Yixing teapot to pour him his cup while Zhongli is nothing but a spectator to this show.  

There are no words exchanged before he sips. It is a little game between you and him, a show of trust you would like to think. Even the heavens could not imagine Zhongli take abhorrent food, not even for his wife.  

He is nothing but an expert, listing the leaves you secretly used and the flavor in full detail like a practiced line from a play. You’d wager that had he been blessed to borne out of better parents, had he been blessed with a better standing rather than a son of a merchant who had a herbalist like you for a wife, he would have stood as the finest in a world of history and art with those deft amber eyes that miss nothing.

Not even the way you look as he leaves through that door with a kiss. 

A kiss of parting as you wave him goodbye, the wind whispering that this is not your simple husband, who goes down the mountain to sell herbs and trade merchandise in the city. He is your foreign husband, who disappears from your presence and hides a secret deeper than the mines the humans could hope to till.

But who is to listen to the wind? Zhongli tells you that it is nothing but your active imagination and you are nothing but (Y/n) (l/n), a herbalist, who belongs to the soil.

This thought repeats in your head like a broken record and rings in your ear. 

It is spring now, you remember looking up and thanking the clouds and the lush leaves of the tree that hide the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. The grass was evergreen and the wind smell of the oncoming summer heat, fragrant with flowers that bloom in the wild.

In spring, he tells you that a gardener is happy for the harvest is abundant and the lands teems with life. In spring, you should be happy.

The plants are alive and they grow easy, they are not shriveled by the summer heat nor do they hide under the ground because of the winter. The flowers and herbs bloom, almost too perfectly as if the little pots were visited by the dendro archcon themselves in your sleep. 

You are (Y/n) (l/n). In spring, you should be alive.

Yet cannot help but notice the absence of the worms nor ants that you once complained about. Once upon a time, you would be maneuvering them all throughout the day away from the lush green leaves and bountiful earth. And sometimes your imagination would play tricks and whispers of their avoidance.

“What cruel little pest,” you tell the soil while planting new seeds until the sun goes down and hides from the skies, when you light the lamps in the house, but most especially by the door, red and glowing like a star against the vast darkness of this lonely mountain.

Hoping, praying that this simple light will lead him back, if he might ever be lost in the shadows in the road. 

Even before he walks through the door, your ears are listening to the whispers of the air that carries his footsteps as it taps the ground so when he opens the door, you are there with a warm welcoming smile and a kiss to his cheeks, heart calm as you know he is safe and he is here. He is home.

You should laugh, really. Your husband who has mapped this mountain like the back of his hand would never be lost but the anxiousness of it never fades. A perpetual worrier, he would call you with eyes lost, staring at yet never really seeing. You know that he has his moments, he doesn’t mean to show, it is fleeting as it comes and no more than a blink of an eye hence you blink and pretend that you don’t see and lead him by the hand to the table neatly set and filled with warm food. 

You dine as he talks about the people he has met and worked with in the city, how the land has begun to thrive and the mora flowing. He tells you of a harbor, where boats are ever growing in size as the days go by and the merchants travelling to do business within it. As far as you can remember, there was never dinner where Zhongli does not talk endlessly about the city - always proud yet humble like a poem, you would think that he talks about it like a child of his own.

“I wonder when will I see the lights of the city from here.” You don’t know what compelled you to say this, maybe it was the stories that he never ceased to tell, maybe it was the lantern that still hung lit outside and darkness that encloses it like a sky with a single star. He pauses,  struck and still as a statue, he looks at you in a way that you have never seen before. 

This smile is is not warm as the morning sun when you wake; it is not tight and constricted when he leaves; nor is it practiced the way it would fall so easily on his visage like a mask; rather this smile dims the glow in his amber eyes and wrinkles the skin akin to sadness and guilt held back.

He reaches for your hand on the other side of the table and kisses it, tenderly, gently as if you are glass that would break with a tap and this is his silent promise that you feel would never come to fruition, “Maybe one day when you are feeling better.” 

The routine ends when your dear husband leads you to bed, the fire closed and you are both in the dark. Tonight he kisses you with unhinged passion, holding unto your small form against him like you were about to disappear into thin air and he is a stone cage. 

“Is it so selfish of me to keep you by my side and never want to let go?” 

He asked barely a whisper above your skin, like a prayer to a god that never answers while the only thing on your heart was pity for your dear husband’s deep sadness, who was an embodiment tragedy that could make you cry.

Had you been born with a stronger body, maybe then you could promise him tomorrow and the rest of your days yet you are nothing but ephemeral so you don’t speak; simply hold his arms, firm and hard under your touch briefly wondering why you thought of scales, mighty and solid as the unblemished core lapis from deep underneath.  Under your fingertips he is foreign yet familiar, in every wrong and right way possible. “You have enraptured me, body and soul. I will always love you, even after I have long passed”

“Is that what it means to love”

“That is what it means to be human.” 

You fall asleep, long before he does. He holds your hand, tightly. 

Step by step by step. An endless walk as you contemplate: why? What sin so great that you have committed for this to be an equal torture. And yet even as millennium of wondering have passed you don’t know, rather you’ve forgotten, memories and thoughts lost in the pain that seeps into the bone, desert in your throat and the eyes that cannot see the peak of this mountain you climb.

[strawbrrychan]

Wildest Dreams

pairing: han jisung x reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: depictions of panic attacks, funerals, death, suicide

word count: 4k

a/n: AAHHH ITS HERE! i hope you’re excited to read this omg it literally took forever … like over a month. BUT! SHES HERE AND I HOPE YOU LOVE IT!! please please please give me feedback in the comments (what you liked, didn’t like, etc.)!! it’s much shorter than i wanted it to be, but i really tried :( anyways, if you’re uncomfortable / sensitive to the topics listed in warnings, i don’t recommend you read any further. (@punkjisung , enjoy <3

“Class is dismissed,”your teacher sighed, visibly tired from the school day. The bell rang as he spoke, and the hallways were soon flooded with students eager to leave the building. You joined them, walking quickly to your small locker. You tossed the papers from your previous classes inside of it, snatching your bag up and swinging it over your shoulder.

“Y/n!” You heard your best friend’s voice chirp as you slammed your locker, almost as if on cue. You had been waiting for him after the bell rang. “Are you ready to leave?” he smiled, hopping up to you.

“Hello, Y/n! how are you Y/n? I’m good, thanks Jisung!” you rolled your eyes at him, leaning against your locker.

“Sorry!” he looked down, flustered.

“I’m teasing,” you tapped his arm, beginning to walk down the hall to the exit. “Yeah, i’m ready.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You could feel the goosebumps rising on the back of your neck.

You hated that feeling he gave you. The feeling when you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, where every time you hear his name your heart beats just a little bit faster. Or when his fingers graze your skin, you can’t help but feel sparks spreading across your insides like the plague.

You always wished that your were just a little bit more than friends with Jisung, but never had enough guts to ask him. You could never let yourself, in fear of losing the relationship you already had with the boy. He had been your best friend for a few years now.

“Y/n?” he asked again, snapping you back to reality from your thoughts. You shook your head. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just really tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You smiled at him, swinging the school doors open to reveal the bustling schoolyard.

“We don’t have to go to the coffee shop,” he said, staring at you with concern.

“Are you kidding me? We do this shit every week, Jisung. I promise, I’m okay.” you smiled at him, reassuringly.

“Are you okay?” you said, never removing your gaze from his face. His eyes were glued to the floor for a few moments before meeting your own. For a moment, he looked like he was going to cry. “Yeah, I’m okay.” he finally nodded, a small grin forming on his face.

By the time you reached the shop, the two of you were practically gasping for air, laughing at yet another terrible joke Jisung had told you. You smiled, seeing the familiar painted windows of your favorite coffee shop. You quickly adjusted to the cool environment, the bell on top of the door chiming as you walked inside.

The coffee shop wasn’t large or busy, you and Jisung were one of the few regulars there. You inhaled as you walked in, smelling the freshly made coffees and warm pastries ready to be served.

You had always admired how pretty the interior was. The lights were dim and the wooden beams covering the walls were painted a warm brown. The seats were a complimentary emerald green, matching with the plants scattered around the shop.

“God, I love it here,” you sighed, slipping into the usual booth you and Jisung shared every time you went.

“Do you want your usual?” he asked, standing in front of the table. You nodded, thankful for his memory of your specific order.

That was your routine. Every friday after school you and Jisung would walk to the coffee shop from school, and sit in your usual booth right next to the windows at the front of the shop. You would order a simple iced coffee with caramel, and he would order an iced americano with a slice of cheesecake. Every single week, since the beginning of the school year. You had always felt some sort of comfort there, or maybe it was the fact that Jisung was always there with you.

A few moments later, the boy walked back with your drinks and his snack excitedly. “How do you always manage to get my order right? Your memory is terrible,” you laughed, sliding your coffee towards your body on the table.

Jisung’s head lifted up, his eyes widening a little. A small blush that you were somehow oblivious to, crawled across his face as he spoke. “I don’t know,” he sat down across from you, wiggling in his seat as he began to eat. “I think i’ve just gotten used to ordering it so often.” He spoke. “You’re acting like we don’t do this every week.” he continued, shoveling a piece of cake into his mouth, squirming with joy. You looked at him with pure adoration in your eyes. “They didn’t have it last time, remember? I’ve been through a drought!” Jisung whined, chewing on his cake.

“You’re so annoying,” you laughed, taking a sip of your coffee.

You groaned, tasting pure caramel.

“What’s wrong?” Han looked at you.

“They did not mix this well,” you frowned.

“Oh.. I’m sorry,” the boy's expression mirrored yours.

“It’s fine, I’m still gonna drink it. And it’s not like I can’t stir it,” You smiled softly.

A moment of silence fell between you, as you swished the drink around in your cup.

“How are you always so optimistic?” Jisung sparked another conversation, pushing his plate to the side, finishing his last bite.

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head from your phone. A flash of what almost looked like dejection flashed behind his eyes, before returning to normal.

“I don’t know, after you said that about your coffee it made me think… You’re always looking at the bright side of things. Like… always. I wish I were like that.” he frowned. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking.

“I do that? I didn’t even realize.”

After that, the two of you took your drinks and began walking back to your house.

“What are we watching today?” you turned to him, taking another sip of your coffee. You also watched a movie at your house, and Jisung would always choose what to watch.

“Can we watch The Grinch?” his chestnut head turned to look at you.

“The Grinch? Jisung, it’s the middle of spring-“ you laughed.

He scoffed, folding his arms. “I wanna watch it, Y/n! You asked!” his lower lip formed a pout, stomping his feet a little. You smiled at his childish antics, watching him with pure adoration in your eyes.

He was so cute. The way his brows furrowed when he pouted, and his cheeks got all puffy. Or the way he’d dance when he was happy. You loved all of it.

You threw yourself on your couch, the TV remote in your hand. You switched the TV on, searching for Jisung’s request of “The Grinch”. You could hear the popcorn popping in the kitchen where he was. As soon as it stopped, his loud footsteps were heard behind you. “Ah! Jisung!” you whined, as he jumped on top of you, placing the bag of popcorn on the table in front of the couch. The movie was long forgotten by then, as you felt his fingers jab at your sides violently. Soon he was sat on top of you with no plan to cease his actions. You couldn’t help but wiggle underneath him, trying to escape his unstoppable tickles “Jisung! No!” you cried, reaching for something to defend yourself. Finally, you managed to get ahold of a pillow, hitting his head with it. His body went tumbling off the side of the couch, smacking onto the floor.

“Ow, that hurt! You’re lucky I love you, Y/N.” he said sitting up.

Both of your eyes went wide in shock. You watched Jisung’s hand fly over his mouth, not bothering to get up from the spot on the floor where he landed.

There was that feeling again. Where you swore your heart could beat out of your chest if it wasn’t for your ribs caging them in, where the hair on the back of your neck stood up, and butterflies swarmed your stomach, making you dizzy.

Did Han Jisung like you back?

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jisung beat you to it. “I like you.” he spoke hurriedly, before he stood up smashing his lips onto yours. You gasped at the sudden contact, and yet he was still so gentle with it. Jisung’s lips were soft against yours, melding perfectly into them. Like they were crafted for you, and you alone. Your heart was beating so hard, so loud, you swore Jisung could hear it too.

Han Jisung was kissing you. He liked you.

You felt his hand on top of yours, the other cupping your cheek, caressing it gently with his thumb. Your eyes fluttered shut, reaching up to rest your arms on his shoulders. Your once stiff body relaxed into his touch, kissing him further. He sat down, guiding your hips onto his lap. His hands were on your waist now, rubbing gentle circles into the fabric of your pants. He lifted your head, placing chaste kisses along your neck as you played with the hair at the base of his hairline. You finally pulled back, breathing heavily.

“I thought..” You began, staring down at Jisung’s now swollen lips.

“Me too,” he smiled, staring up at you. “How long were you planning on keeping it from me?”

“I was never gonna tell you, Jisung.” you sighed. “I didn’t want to lose what we already had. I couldn’t lose you. Not over something like a stupid crush.” he stared at the floor for a moment, analyzing your statement .

“So what does this make us?” he lifted his nervous gaze to meet yours once again. You sat in silence for a moment, considering.

“Well,” you said, standing up in front of him. “Han Jisung, will you be my boyfriend?” You bowed, holding your hand out to him. He smiled up at you, taking your hand and joining you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying your bodies together. You placed your head on his chest, sighing in relief. "Yes," he spoke into your hair gently.

“I’m tired. Let’s nap or something.” You finally said, after a few minutes of just swaying, the movie seemingly quiet.

Your hips finally slowed in sync eventually becoming still, as Jisung lead you back over to the couch. The credits of the movie were well past finished, the tv had yet to shut off. Jisung ran to grab a blanket for the two of you, knowing your house like the back of his hand. He came back to you within seconds, holding your favorite fuzzy blanket and tossing it over your frame. You opened your arms wide, waiting to feel his body in your arms. Soon he was pressed against you, snaking his arms around your waist once again, sighing with a smile on his face.

“Sleep well Ji,” you whispered, kissing his forehead. It felt good, not having to hide how much joy feeling him in your arms brought you.

It was only a few days after you and Jisung had confessed to each other, on a casual Sunday night. The clouds were thick over the sky, rain pounding on your window violently. You were curled up in bed enjoying whatever it was you were looking at on your phone, until you were interrupted by a phone call. You smiled, looking at your boyfriend’s contact appearing at the top of your screen. You picked up soon after, lifting the phone to your ear. You were calm with the silence on the other end of the line, until Jisung let out a choked cry.

“Ji?” You sat up immediately. “Jisung, what’s wrong?”

“I-I feel like-“ he began. You were slipping your shoes on, already preparing to drive to his house. “I feel like I cant breathe,” he said again. “My hands are numb and I’m dizzy. Am I dying? Y/N, I don’t wanna die,” he cried.

“It’s okay, I’m coming. You’re not gonna die, I’m right here with you. Stay on the phone with me, okay?” You rushed your words more that you’d hoped, cringing internally. You jumped into your car, tossing your phone into the passenger’s seat next to you. “I’m almost there, okay?” You spoke hurriedly as you flew past the houses on the street. Only a few minutes passed before you were fumbling out of your car into the pouring rain, and running up to Jisung’s front door. You swung it open quickly, calling out for him in his dark house. You could hear his incessant cries from down the hall and instinctively followed them. Your gentle hands clicked his bedroom door open, to find him placed in between the wall and the side of his bed. His knees were tucked under his chin, as he rocked himself slowly. You dropped to your knees in front of him, bringing his head to your chest immediately.

“I’m here. You’re okay.” You hushed him, feeling him finally grip the back of your shirt.

You had never, not once, seen Jisung like that. He was always the happy-go-lucky friend everyone had. He never had an ounce of dejection in his body - or at least never showed it - which is what scared you the most.

“Please don’t bring this up again,” he spoke into your damp shirt after his cries stopped and his breathing evened out. You nodded silently, promising yourself and him to never speak of it.

It had been a few weeks since Jisung called you, the two of you still went to your usual Friday coffee ritual after school. You still never brought it up, keeping every question to yourself.

You were about to drive home from your coffee ritual, until Jisung proposed a bright idea. “Let’s go to the mall. I want to buy you something.” You blinked at him for a moment. “What? It’ll be fun!” He said shoving the keys into the ignition.

You wandered around the mall for a while, his hand in yours as you talked about anything that came to mind. The thought of asking about Jisung’s phone call still lingered at the back of your head.

There were a few times where you pointed out a pair of shoes or a bracelet that you liked, but you never let Jisung buy it for you. “Please, Y/n!” The taller boy whined, after you said no to yet another item to buy. “Let me get you something!” As if on cue, you stopped dead in your tracks, letting out a quiet gasp. You stood in the walkway of the mall, staring into the window of a store. Jisung inched closer to you, trying to meet your gaze through the store. You gripped his hand, dragging him into the store and standing in front of the item you were drawn to. Jisung stared at your face, analyzing the way your eyes shimmered as you scanned the item. You stood before the piece, your fingers dancing along the hem of it. “I love it,” you whispered, turning to face your boyfriend.

It was a silky cerulean dress, with a slit running along the upper thigh. The straps were simple thin strings, which would presumably hang delicately on your shoulders once you wore it. A smile was spread across your boyfriend’s face as well, watching your mannerisms as you admired the dress. “Will you let me buy it?” Jisung traced the fabric. You smiled wide, nodding vigorously. He swung the dress over his shoulder, grasping your hand gently as you sauntered over to the register together. The woman stood there smiling at you, taking the dress from your boyfriend’s hands. “You two are really cute,” she said, scanning the barcode as the total appeared on the screen next to the register. “Ah, young love,” she sighed, placing her hand over her heart. “That’ll be $19.99.” Jisung pulled out his wallet, handing her a card before turning to you to admire your features for a moment. You met his gaze, smiling at how focused he looked. “Here you go.” The employee said, handing Jisung your bag. You turned to walk away, before she stopped you. “I can see it in his eyes, they’re filled with so much emotion, he could burst. Keep him safe.” She winked at you. You thought back to the night that he called you. “He really does love you. I can see that too.” Although bewildered, you nodded and gave her a smile before meeting your boyfriend a few feet ahead of you.

Jisung dropped you off at your house, hugging you before leaning back to stare at you for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “I’m gonna pick you up for dinner tonight, okay?” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders. You smiled and nodded, giving him a small kiss before walking inside.

When he appeared at your doorstep again, his eyes were sparkling, taking in your glowing figure once again. You stood in front of him in your brand new dress, the corner of your lips turning upwards. You looked up to the sky for a moment, the baby blue you used to see now meeting hues of orange and pink, as the sun descended behind the mountains.

“You look so beautiful,” Jisung finally said, he looked shocked - eyes blown wide. “Thank you,” you smiled, kissing his forehead as you approached his figure.

“Shall we go madam?” Jisung teased, playfully lending you his hand to escort you to the car as if you were royalty. You grasped his hand gently, walking down your stairs.

You reached your destination quickly and blindly (he had you cover your eyes for the “best part”), Jisung coming to an abrupt stop, causing you to run straight into his back. “Sorry,” you could hear his sheepish smile in the way he spoke. You imagined that tinge of pink that coated the tips of his ears as he spoke again, “You ready?” You nodded, bracing yourself for the setting your boyfriend prepared for you. He untied the small cloth at the back of your head, bringing it down off of your eyes. You blinked slowly, your eyes adjusting to the dimming light of the sun. Jisung watched your expression change, a tender grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. You turned to him with eyes which he thought ‘held the entire universe in them,’ smiling wider than you ever have. “Oh my god, jisung!” you playfully hit his arm. He had set up a picnic for the two of you under a small tree. You were stood in a quaint field, decorated with an array of colored flowers everywhere you looked. You hadn’t realized, but Jisung had snapped a photo of your smiling face to remember that day. To remember how much love he felt for you.

Jisung swiped his fingers across your palm, drawing little shapes across it before connecting your fingers together as you walked to your setup. He had bought a few of your favorite dishes, and your go-to order from your small coffee shop on your way home from school.

After a while of picking at a little bit of your food, you found yourself situated between Jisung’s legs, your back against his chest, sipping your coffee occasionally.

“Can we take a photo?” you turned your neck to face him. Jisung grinned at you, as you grabbed your phone from the blanket the two of you were perched on. You held the device in front of your faces, posing for the image. You snapped a few photos, bringing your arms down to see them better.

“I like this one the most,” he pointed out a specific photo. “Your smile looks so genuine there. I really love it.” He started at it dotingly. You watched his eyes finally meet yours, and his lips pulled into a smile. “I love you so much,” he kissed you. You giggled into the kiss, placing your hands on his jaw. “I love you more.” you finally spoke.

The sun had gone down hours ago, leaving you with the ocean of deep purple and blue hues dancing with the stars as they shimmered above your heads. You were still sat in your boyfriend’s lap against the tree, staring at the sky now.

“Hey Ji?” Your gentle voice broke the comfortable silence you sat in. A blush crept up the boy’s neck that you could just barely make out in the darkness that surrounded you. He hummed in response. “Can you promise me something?” You felt the words fall out of your mouth. You shifted in his lap to face him with your whole body. He looked at you confused, but nodded anyway. “Promise me,” you began, grabbing your phone and showing him the photo he had pointed out earlier. “Promise me that you’ll remember this moment, you and I together under the stars. No matter what happens to us, remember how much fun we had.” Jisung let out a quiet sigh, before speaking. “But nothing lasts forever.” he whispered, wrapping you back in his arms. But this time it felt different - his hug. It was like he’d never see you again. At that point, you felt your eyelids getting heavier, letting your body lean further against your boyfriend’s. “I love you so much,” you whispered, letting sleep take ahold of you.

The next morning, you weren’t in a field of flowers with your boyfriend. Instead, you were met with bland ceilings and an empty left side of your bed. You laid in your once warm and welcoming oasis, stretching your arm out to touch the sheets. Your arms moved quickly, frantically searching for purchase in another warm body next to yours. “Jisung?” you sat up, finally looking around your room. Your eyes finally met his, just not in the way you’d hoped for. It was one of the last photos you had of him before he took himself from your world. It was framed on your once shared bedside table; a photo of the two of you in a park together. Tears formed in your eyes, blurring your vision as you let out a choked sob, your shoulders shaking violently as each cry was ripped from your lungs. It felt like you were suffocating. Drowning. Your whole world was dark and meaningless without him - Without Jisung. And it wasn’t fair - how your brain did that to you. How it made you think for a moment, that maybe, just maybe you’d have him back and it all would’ve been a bad dream. But alas, that want the case. You let your grieving mind wander back to his funeral.

You and all of your shared friends were stood in a dismal graveyard, surrounding a casket that didn’t deserve to be there; that shouldn’t have been there. You stood there, staring at the wooden box - cursing it silently. How could you have let him slip away so easily? You’d never forgive yourself for letting the only person who brought real joy to your life slip away from you so easily by his own hand. One of his and your closest friends, Chan, had walked over to you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. He didn’t need to say anything to you. You and already heard it all before.

Your body was shaking now, trembling hands gripping the bedsheets tightly as your mind finally came back from the horrid date.

You leaned over to grab your phone, unlocking it quickly. You opened the phone app, calling a number you knew all too well.

“Hey, it’s Jisung, sorry I couldnt get to the phone, please leave a message-“ his voice rang through the device. You needed to hear his voice again. Even if it was some stupid voicemail recording. It was the only thing you had left of his voice - of his presence.

Han Jisung, your person, your light - was gone. And he was never coming back to you, no matter how hard you tried, or how many stars you wished on. Your light had put himself out for good, and you’d never see him shine again.

It hadn't hit you until that moment - that dream was just highlighting your core memories of him. You scoffed, thinking of how your subconscious managed to do such a thing to you.

You really did have the Wildest Dreams after he died.

[mintmatcha]

10 Months

Matsukawa and Hanamaki

Part One

CW: mentions of death and illness, ANGST

Today’s just another day at work. Someone’s dead and someone else is talking about it. 

The worst part of the job, Mattsun decides, isn’t consoling the grieving or dealing with the aftermath of death: it’s listening to these shitty, repetitive speeches. There’s only so many times a man can hear about God’s plan and how much better someone is now that they’ve entered the great beyond before he goes numb. Sure, yes, logically, he understands this is all sad, but before all else?

 It’s boring.

Has he always been this bitter? Has he always been this good at choking down his feelings? Probably.

Mattsun looks away from the speaker at the front of the room, who's droning on about some shit while practically draped over the coffin. He does a precursory scan across the room, making sure everyone was properly teary eyed and mourning, before pulling out his phone. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s looking at the funeral director during these things. If they were, it was something for them to discuss later during the reception.

'Did you see that employee?' 

'No, I was crying.'

'He was on his phone!'

'How horrible!'

Just before he can open Twitter, a glimpse of unforgettable, bright strawberry blonde hair catches his eye. For a moment, he ignores it off. He’s used to imagining things, used to his brain searching for hints of pink wherever he goes. He's used to turning his head to see it was a trick of the eye.

But this time the color doesn’t fade. Instead, it comes into focus, catching the light that pours through the stained glass windows, rainbows painted across pale skin. All at once, the presence becomes real, and Mattsun feels like he’s seen a ghost.

Not a literal one, but, fuck, he might as well be.

It’s been years since he’s seen Makki, longer since they actually talked, but there he was, standing at the back of the parlor with an obituary in hand. He loathes himself for the way excitement bubbles inside him and his heart gets caught in his throat… and then immediately drops as he processes why Makki would be here. He tries to remember the last name of the deceased, hoping the last name wouldn’t be familiar. Makki’s dad was never in good health, could it be-

No, he definitely would have recognized anyone else with the last name Hanamaki.

That’s when it hits him that Makki isn’t dressed for the funeral. In a sea of black, he’s wearing some raggedy sweatshirt with coffee split down the sleeve and a loose pair of jeans, ripped in all the wrong places. Frankly, he looks like shit, but he’s just leaning against the door frame, standing there like he belongs, with a tiny little grin on his face. 

Makki never looks over, too involved in the speech, but he’s aware of Mattsun’s presence. His torso is angled to face his old friend, chest broad and inviting. Mattsun hates that after all these years, he can still read his body language and understand what it means. It’s an invitation to come over.

Mattsun has to stop himself from going over there. Time has passed, he’s made his choices. He can’t just drop his work for an old friend.

No, not a friend. Stranger adjacent. 

He’s made his choices. 

He stays where he should be, in the corner, for what feels like hours, autopiloting through the rest of the service. By the time it’s all over, and the lights are dimmed, Makki’s already gone.

Mattsun hates that he knows exactly where to find him.

.

.

They find each other behind the parlor, wedged between the building and the dumpster. Makki’s sitting on the curb, legs folded up under him and pressed into his chest. That signature smile hasn’t faded, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He pats the empty space next to him, but Mattsun just shakes his head and stays standing. 

“Just like high school, huh?” Makki says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pouch. He taps the bottom four times,  then shakes it, hard. Waking up the cancer, making sure it’s out of bed, he used to joke. 

“Except we aren’t hiding from teachers anymore.” Mattsun kicks at a crumpled soda can and watches it bounce across the asphalt. “And you’ve changed brands.”

“Now we’re hiding from your boss.” Makki pulls a stick out and waves it, “And Iwaizumi’s not here to bitch about it.”

“Dude,” Mattsun tries not to sigh, but it sneaks out. The casual act was unsettling; Makki was pretending that past 3 years never happened. “I’m happy to see you and all, but I’m working right now.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Makki pats his pockets frantically, then pulls out a small pink lighter. It's not the same pink as his hair, but it's close. He brushes it against his pants, back then forward, opening it and lighting it in one smooth motion. He holds out the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers, “Help me light this, why don’t you?”

Mattsun blanches, scoffing in annoyance at the thought. There's the flash of a memory, Hiro's fingers against his lips, holding the cigarettes for him as he breathes in, skinned knees brushing against each other, but he pushes it down.

 “Hanamaki, I-”

“I’ve been demoted to just Hanamaki, huh?” he places it between his teeth and sets it alight, sucking in until the end glows orange. He holds still, savoring the moment, then lets out his breath, smoke seeping out through his teeth. “So, it turns out that I need to plan a funeral.”

Mattsun lets his apathy break, just for a moment. He runs his hands through his hair, completely fucking up the slicked back style as he processes this.  “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be.” Makki shrugs, “Not the end of the world.”

Mattsun blinks, trying to shake off the initial shock. He just lets his work persona take over. “Well, we would be happy to help you plan. We can scheduling for next week in my office, if you want-”

“There’s no rush, don’t worry.” Makki leans back and faces the sun. Even though he’s sitting on the ground, no more than 5 feet from garbage, he seems so peaceful. 

“Who’s it for?” Mattsun asks the obvious question and Makki grins wider, like he’s been waiting for this moment. He waggles his fingers in the air, like he’s celebrating.

“Me.” Makki says. He rolls his head forward and that pleasant air about him fades. It strikes Mattsun that he’s lost weight since high school; his already sharp features are more sullen, sunken into his face. “I’m dying.”

How hadn’t he noticed earlier? He spent so much time looking at Hiro in high school, so much time studying his features…. How could he miss such a dramatic change? Even now, he can remember exactly how the curve his cheek felt under his thumb, how smooth his skin was. Mattsun doesn’t realize he’s sitting until loose gravel bites into the palms of his hands.

“Fuck, dude.” he can only look straight ahead, focusing on nothing, “Are--- are you sure?”

“As sure as medical science can get,” he has the audacity to laugh, “I got brain cancer.”

Brain cancer. Mattsun knows what that means in a vague sense and yet it means almost nothing to him. Questions bubble up in his mind, all of them swimming around, begging for any sort of information to make this all make sense. 

"How long?" He wanted to ask anything else, but that’s the only sentence he could form.

" 'bout 7 inches.” Makki pauses for affect, “Oh, you meant how long do I have left to live?" he's grinning wildly at his own joke, waiting for Mattsun to react. When he doesn't he just takes another drag of his cigarette, smile never fading. "I thought it was funny.”

"It was a little funny." Mattsun relents, gesturing for the butt. It's passed with brushing fingers, knuckle against knuckle. It's been years since he's smoked- since third year of high school- but each pull still burns all the same. "How long?"

"Well, two months ago they told me I had years," he says, like it's nothing, "But the doc did a rescan and it's way worse than they thought.” He taps his temple,  “Apparently, three lil fuckers in there."

"How long?" Mattsun can’t stop repeating himself.

"10 months." he wobbles his hand side to side, “Give or take.”

Mattsun takes another drag, harder this time. It’s unfair that he’s this upset about it, that this isn’t just another funeral to him.

“Whoa, don’t hog the whole thing!” Makki grabs for his cigarette, opening and closing his hand like a small child, “You’ll get cancer from these, you know? ”

Mattsun doesn’t laugh. He just watches the ember fall on to his slacks. They flare of a quick moment before dying, leaving  little discolored burns in their wake.

“Both of us can’t get cancer- it’d be like wearing the same dress to a party. So embarrassing.” he finally just snatches it out of Mattsun’s hand, “So, are you going to help me?”

“H-help you.” he repeats back. Nothing that’s happening right now feels real.

“With my funeral. Duh.”

“You want me to plan your service?” Mattsun asks.

“Well, us. Not just you. Duh.”

Duh. 

“Why?” Mattsun breaths and yet he feels like he’s suffocating, “Why me? After everything I did-”

“I don’t want my dad to worry about it.” Makki kisses his teeth and pulls himself into a ball,  “He almost had a heart attack trying to figure out my mom’s and I …. I just don’t want him to worry.” Makki breathes out through his nose- it’s how he dispels negativity in his life, just like how he did in high school. “Besides, if I plan it, it doesn’t have to be some fucking boring ass pity party. We can make it fun. A fun-eral.”

These all just seem like words. There’s meaning behind them, sure, but they don’t seem to mean anything when they’re strung together like this. Mattsun wonders if this is shock, or some weird form of it. He’s seen it before, in the eyes of family’s blindly choosing and planning. He always thought they dumb, not knowing how to react, not knowing if they should be sad or angry or …. Something. 

But he gets it now. The news doesn’t always sink in.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a long moment, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m processing this.”

Makki pushes off of the curb and stands, brushing off dust from his pants. “I get it. It’s a lot to hear.” he flashes a peace sign over his shoulder as he starts down the alley, “Think about it and get back to me.” A thin puff of smoke curls into the air, “My number’s the same as it always was.”

Mattsun sits there, hidden between the dumpster and his work, and tries to process as he watches Makki walk out of his life once again.