#THEY USUALLY COME UP WITH ONE SOON ENOUGH

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[wandasfifthwife]

🌷 her little brat

mommy!wanda x fem/afab!reader

you attend an event you were told not to go to. when Wanda’s contact appears on your phone you’re sure of what’ll transpire once you’re back home

tw: smut, established relationship (dating), top/dom!wanda, bottom/bratty sub!reader, slight age gap (w = 30, r = 22), reader is called baby, alcohol/drug mention (not r or w), rough sex (consensual), hair pulling (length and type not described), mommy title used, strap referred to as Wanda’s dick, strap in v (r receiving), oral (w receiving), impact play (spanking, cheek slapping), brat tamer / brat dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, r is described to be wearing a dress, not really proofread

୧ 2.2k‧₊˚ 🎐 masterlist ⋅

There’s a list of rules the both of you agreed on—and then there’s a grey line between them. You often danced on the line, always teetering on the line of disobeying Wanda—on the cusp of being a bad girl, but far enough where you usually don’t get punished for it.

She knows this, she knows you.

An event—the one brought up by your friend a week ago—was happening tonight.

Usually you’re okay with whatever answer Wanda provides, about whether or not you can go to an event.

The night you went to ask about this party she had sat in bed, a book in her lap. When she saw you come in, the book was discarded and you filled in where it was. You tried to get on her good side first—kissing her, whispering how much you love her, smiling at her. She dealt with it for so long, hand hitting the back of your thigh playfully—asking you to just tell her already.

“My friend invited me to this event, can I go?”

“Can my baby communicate better? What event?”

“A party,” you whisper against her neck, wincing when she hums—signaling you to repeat what you’ve said, “a party.”

“Mm what kind? A birthday party?”

“A house party.”

“So drinking, smoking—?”

“Yes?”

“Then no.”

You push back off her shoulder to look her in the eyes, “but—”

Her expression brings you to a halt, pulling you back down to lay on her shoulder again. You sigh, relaxing into her when her fingers draw stars onto your back, “good girl.”

If only she could read your mind in that moment, she would’ve taken that good girl comment back. You fixed your expression to seem as if you “moved on,” but you were going to this party. You’ve not gone to a single college party, always obeying Wanda and staying back with her. And it’s tempting, but you want to try it once. Just once, and she’ll never have to know about it.

Your plan was stupid, but who can you blame—you’ve never snuck around her like this before. She works daily from 9-5, and on Friday nights she’s usually later because she goes out with her coworkers. So she’s not usually home until 10PM.

Once she left for her dinner your friend came and picked you up, driving you towards the house. There were three hours to spend before your friend had to drive you back home so you could take everything off and act as if you’ve been there the whole time.

“Hey, you made it,” your friend starts, pulling you into a hug.

You laugh, “I’m here!”

“You doing alcohol tonight or—?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“Very unfortunate—why,” he asks, putting the extra cup he had set out for you back down onto a table.

“Just wanna be sober tonight is all. How’s your girlfriend doing? Is she here tonight?”

“Awh no, she’s studying,” he says, taking a sip of his drink, “You know STEM majors, cutting back the fun often so they can study.”

A tap on your shoulder and someone from one of your classes pops into your vision, smiling and hugging you. You return the energy, but hold back on saying a name because you’ve unfortunately forgotten it.

“My word, it’s so good to see you. How’s everything been? We soooo need to catch up soon.”

“Oh I’d love to, let me check my schedule,” you reach for your phone in your purse, pulling it out to check your calendar, “I could this weekend if you’d like?”

She agrees, squeezing your shoulder affectionately, “anyways, I’m heading out back. You can totally join. I can give you a house tour before though too?”

You thank her, following her through the crowd of bodies and clouds of smoke. The sweet aroma in the air from multiple people’s vapes is colliding with the smell of multiple people’s sweat. It’s a relief when you’re able to walk outside, the fresher air filling your lungs.

“Do you live on campus,” she asks, stepping down the stairs to walk out onto the yard.

“No I live with my girlfriend, we’re only like 15 minutes away. It’s not a bad commute.”

“Do you both go?”

“Oh no, she’s graduated.”

She looks shocked, sitting on a pool bench and patting the space next to her, “how old is she then?”

“Thirty.”

She nods, smiling suddenly and you take its because someone’s walking up from behind. A guy appears, introducing himself to you.

He sits himself across from you two, motioning a drink in your direction but you signal your distaste, “ahh alright, how’s your night been? Also it seems like Kacey and Lance are fucking in your bedroom again.”

“Again,” she sighs, exhausted, “I’m going to shut this party down.”

“No need for that, just stop inviting them.”

“That’s unless, they always show up.”

He laughs, “they must have some party kink seeing how they’re always fucking.”

You laugh, reaching behind you to grab your phone when you feel it buzzing underneath your thigh. Your heart beats louder when you notice the contact.

“Hey, you alright girl?”

No.

“Im fine, just realized I have an exam on Monday,” you breathe out, turning your phone’s vibration off. It’s only been an hour, clock reading 7:03PM. Maybe she’s just checking in on you? A text rings in just then, telling you to answer her call. You smile sheepishly to your friends when your phone screen lights up again.

“Do you need to answer that?”

“Uh,” you hesitate but end up hanging up, “no, it’s fine.”

It’s really not. You had every intention to not let her find out tonight, and she might not know—but you highly doubt that when you read her next text.

Come home.

She knows—she knows you’ve left for the party, and now she knows you’re not responding to her. You’re digging yourself into a rabbit hole. It’s exhilarating and nerve wracking.

Twenty minutes later and you can’t stop yourself from worrying. It’s one thing when she messaging you, it’s another when she goes silent. Radio silent. nothing comes through anymore, no calls or texts.

You feel you’ve done enough. Priorities have since changed. Before there was value in a college party (it’s not any different from the clubs Wanda’s taken you to, there’s just more vodka). But now? You’re nervously tapping the back of your phone, looking through the crowd for the one who drove you to the party.

You thank your friend once she’s driven you home, feeling your throat close after you’ve shut the door and watch her drive away. You now feel alone, cold walking back into the house. The lights are off except for a lamp shining in the living room, and apparently a candle was set in the kitchen— a floral scent filling the house.

It did nothing to calm you down.

“Hi baby,” Wanda starts, calling out to you from her place on the couch, “enjoy your party?”

“It was fun.”

“Mm, still fun even though I told you not to go?”You step closer, mouth opening to snap at her but she’s quicker, “don’t fucking start.”

You scoff, staying where you are and crossing your arms, “really? You’re being dramatic.”

“Tell me, why am I dramatic?”

“Because I went to a party.”

“You think I’m dramatic that you went to a party?” Your nod makes her laugh, airy and soft, “I don’t care, we’ve gone to clubs together. That’s not what I’m mad at, could you tell me what I’m actually mad at?”

“Leaving.”

“Close—disobeying. I’m upset you snuck behind my back and broke a rule,” she sighs, leaning onto her palm, “and you had a long streak going, you’ve been my good girl for so long you had to go and break that.”

“Well forgive me for wanting a fun night.”

“Did you communicate that with me?”

Your silence is loud, answering her question. She looks at you for a minute, eyeing you up and down, enjoying the sight.

“That dress looks pretty on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Why don’t you crawl over here, give me a show.“

“No thank you.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment as you bend down to the floor, eyes focusing on the wooden floor below you in shame. She ticks her jaw, “look at me.”

You lift your head, heart stuttering in your chest when you find her dark eyes. They’re looking all over you—your eyes, lips, breasts… you feel exposed with clothes on.

“I kind of want to see you turn around and push your hips up for me,” she mumbles, “would you do that for me baby?”

You grit your teeth, “and if I don’t?”

“You won’t come for a week—turn over for me?”

You do as told, turning away from her and bending your front half down onto the rug. It’s embarrassing how this is making you wet, panties growing darker the longer you lay on the floor poised as such. She doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t have to, the burn of her stare is enough.

“Come here,” You’re quick to move, resting your head along the inside of her thigh. Racing heart settling once you’ve settled into something familiar.

She brushes your cheek, “want to hear the punishment I’ve laid out for you?”

“Yes.” You’re met with the feeling of her hand colliding with your cheek, a gasp tearing from you. Water gathers in your eyes as you fix your posture, “yes, mommy.”

“Done this for what, two years and you’re still messing up my title?”

“Sorry, mommy.”

She hums, “I’m going to have you eat me out. If you do well I’ll fuck you with my strap. Understand?”

You nod, moving away from her so she can remove her silk pj shorts. Her scent hits your nose when you move closer, everything about it is intoxicating. You press a kiss to her clit, smiling at her shivering.

A hand comes to grip your hair, pulling a gasp from you, “tease me anymore and you’re going to bed with nothing, got it?”

“Yes—sorry, mommy.”

You don’t try anything after. She keeps your head stuffed between her thighs, moaning softly each time your tongue brushes against her clit.

“Being good for me, so good. Keep going, ah—!”

You swivel your tongue, and feeling her clench around nothing you know she’s close. She pulls your hair, jerking it harder when you do something that draws her closer to her orgasm.

“Ah yes, right there. Keep going, fuck.”

You whine, pressing closer and licking a stripe up her cunt. Her eyes are trained on you, watching every move and responding accordingly. She grinds herself on you, gasping as she comes off her high.

“Did so good,” she gasps in air, “so good for mommy. Want a reward now?”

You nod, climbing onto her lap and smiling. You feel her hands slide under your thighs to carry you into the bedroom, where she can set the harness onto her hips.

“Gonna be my good girl and take all of this,” she asks, parting your folds with her fingers, a slick sound coming from the action.

You whine, “fuck, please, I’ll be so good for you.”

“That’s nice baby, but what else?”

“I’m sorry for being such a brat. I shouldn’t have snuck off like that, should’ve talked with you. I’m sorry mommy.”

“I know baby,” she starts, hips pushing forward, “I know you’re sorry.”

“Mommy,” you gasp, mind shutting off at the feeling of every inch of her dick push itself in.

She grinds the length in, getting wet again at the sight of your cunt swallowing her entire length, even trying to suck it deeper. Her hands grab your hips, pulling you further off to bed so she can use the distance to her advantage.

“Feel this,” she says, pressing as deep as she can, “this is a reward only for good girls, are you done being a brat? Wanna be my good girl again?”

“Yes,” you mumble, shouting when her hand slaps your ass.

“Fucking speak up.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m done, just please!”

The pace she sets is brutal, tantalizing—hands pulling you down harder onto her length to hear you babble. She has you right where she wants you, moaning her name with glossy eyes. Your back slides against the sheet with each thrust, sounds half muffled by your arm and the sheets that got pulled up beside your body.

The bedroom’s half dark, the lamp from the living room cascading through the open door. You can see half her face, see it come closer until her lips are on yours. You met her halfway, arms wrapping around her shoulders to pull her closer. The taste of her lips is tantalizing, something sweet overwhelming your senses when her tongue runs across your bottom lip. You jerk when she presses against the spot, the one that makes you see stars.

Once she gets a pace going against the spot, she feels you melt in her grasp—eyes shutting, and head pushing back against the bed. Your loud moans become fixed breathy whines as your high builds.

The feeling of her body yours, length pushing and grinding just perfectly, her thumb swiping your clit pushes you closer to your high. You’re muttering nonsense into the air, gripping her shoulders tighter—nails pushing into her skin.

“Gonna come?”

“Yes! ‘M gonna come. Please let me, mommy. I’ve been good,” she pushed back in then, drawing a strangled sound from your throat, “oh fuck me, please!”

“Go ahead.”

She feels herself fall in love even more when she watches how your body writhes under her, hands drawing her face in for a kiss like you usually do. Who’s she to deny you, lips finding yours.

“You drive me crazy,” she whispers, looking down at you with a smile.

[suashii]

— 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 ౨ৎ

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boothill x f!reader. 2.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ pet names ( darlin’ ) ﾉ mentions of alcohol ﾉ confessions ! !

small towns like this one are good for long drives. you know the roads like the back of your hand and there’s no traffic that requires your focus. with your foot on the pedal, the low hum of the radio, and the cool evening breeze blowing in through your window, you can let your mind wander—think about all the things you’ve been forcing yourself to bury and ignore the past few weeks. the circles you make on the same roads give you all the time you need to wrangle your unruly thoughts and attempt to form a coherent confession of your feelings.

today, you’ll tell boothill how you really feel.

it’s been a couple of days since your conversation with meg, since you listened to boothill’s advice. you may have picked to be brave at that moment, but the task is easier said than done. ever since that night, you’ve been struggling to find the perfect moment to tell him. you’ve considered taking him up on his offer to help you with the dishes after lunch, casually coming clean over the mundane chore. you’ve thought about just blurting it out as you pass him in the hallway, chickening out at the last second. you’ve sat in the darkness of the living room, staring at the stairs, hoping he’ll come down them so you can recreate that courage you felt then and there.

you only realize today that there is no such thing as the perfect moment—it’s simply another scapegoat for you to turn to when you’re scared. but you’ve come to the understanding that this uncomfortable, suffocating feeling that has been weighing on you won’t go away unless you step off the edge of the cliff to take that terrifying plunge.

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve driven past the turn that leads down the road to the ranch but you finally take it this time around. your fingers tap nervously at the steering wheel as the house comes into view. despite its length, the driveway feels shorter than usual as you make your way up it to park at the end.

you take the time to turn the radio off and roll up your window before turning the car off, snatching the key from the ignition, and getting out.

you’re sure you hit the button to shut off the radio, but there’s still music in the air when you walk around the back of the vehicle to approach the porch. you almost frown, thinking you’ve driven yourself to madness finally acknowledging all of your thoughts, but your brow doesn’t furrow and your lips don’t curl down once you find the source of the music.

boothill is sitting on the porch swing, an acoustic guitar resting in her arms. rough fingers pluck at the strings, chords coming together in a familiar song that you’re sure you only know because of your grandpa—save the last dance for me by the drifters. at his feet, missy notices your arrival, tail wagging in excitement before she gets up to greet you.

you scratch the border collie’s head affectionately when she descends the stairs to meet you. the dog’s fur is warm beneath your fingers, likely due to the setting rays of the sun and, somehow, petting her brings you a little bit of determination to face boothill.

your eyes flit up from the dog to boothill and, to your surprise, he’s already looking at you. his lips stretch into a smile, fingers still playing despite his focus on you. though, you do notice that he’s slowed down.

“hey there.” he nods in greeting. the song has come to an end by now but boothill doesn’t abandon the instrument, instead choosing to set it on his lap. “we missed you at dinner.”

“yeah…” you don’t explain your absence, he’ll find out why you were gone soon enough. you pat missy’s head before walking up the few steps that put you on the same level as boothill. the new position gives you a better look at him. he’s wearing a shirt from high school if the name printed on it and its snug fit are any evidence, and a pair of basketball shorts. the style is a far cry from his normal attire but something tells you he’d be able to make a burlap sack look fashionable.

what he’s wearing should be the least of your concerns but you only exchange one distraction for another when trying to divert your attention.

“i didn’t know you could play.” you point at the guitar.

he shrugs, lifting up the instrument and leaning it against the house. you almost take the movement as a sign that he’d rather not talk about it but he’s only making room for you on the swing, keeping the neck of the guitar from taking up any unnecessary space. he jerks his head in the direction of the newly available seat, a silent way of offering you a more comfortable alternative to standing. you hesitate for a short moment before letting your feet carry you to the swing.

“i dabble in it—high school, mostly,” boothill tells you as you sit down. the swing sways with your added weight and neither you nor boothill try to stop it, preferring the subtle breeze the motion brings. your new proximity to him sets your nerves ablaze, makes you think about darting past him and into the house, but you force yourself to stay put.

boothill reaches down for something, something you hadn’t seen earlier. there’s a brown bottle in his hand when he sits back up, a bottle opener in the other. he uses it to crack open the beer and turns to you. “want one?”

a little bit of liquid courage might do you good but you grimace at the thought of it being beer. you shake your head. “no thanks.”

“can take the girl out of the city but never the city out of the girl.” he chuckles to himself before taking a swig. you’re tempted to tell him that your distaste for beer has nothing to do with geography but picking a petty fight with him right now seems counterproductive, so you keep quiet.

the chirp of crickets and the occasional huff from missy at your feet fill the otherwise silent evening air. the sound of your heart thumping against your chest becomes obviously apparent in the quiet and while you hope boothill can’t hear, it’s enough to act as a catalyst, a vital push in the right direction. your mouth moves with the words but even though it’s quiet, they don’t hit your ears. “can i tell you something?”

you're not sure you actually asked him the question until you see his eyebrows raise in curiosity, a smile tugging at his lips. it should be all the invitation you need to continue but you need a little more security. your next sentence comes out rushed, the ends of certain words blending with the beginning of others. “and you can’t laugh or tease me because if you do, i will pack up and drive away so fast—”

“hey, hey,” he stops you, raising his hands and the beer bottle in mock surrender, “i’m not gonna laugh.”

“and no teasing.”

he shakes his head, smile falling upon seeing just how serious you are. “none of that either.”

you nod. there’s understanding in his gray irises and as much as you’d like to keep looking at them, to draw courage from them, you don’t think it’ll be possible for you to get this declaration out if you’re meeting his eye. you’ve always heard that the eyes are the windows to the soul—you won’t be able to take seeing that understanding and compassion morph into rejection and pity.

you face forward, choosing to look at the blend of pink and orange coloring the sky.

“i…” you start, but your breath catches in your throat. it’s tense with fear and if air wasn’t passing through it, you would be sure that it was completely closed. but you can still breathe. you suck in a breath through your nose and slowly exhale a stream through your mouth. it does little to ground you, but it does remind you that you’re alive. you are now and you will be after—even if it does end less than ideal.

be brave.

“i have feelings for you.” an immediate weight is lifted off of your shoulders. the air around you feels light, easier to breathe. the relief that washes over you doesn’t last long, though. his eyes are boring into you, you can feel them urging you to turn and look his way. you don’t. you have something more to say. “you… you make me warm inside and i have no idea how to deal with it. i don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

the silence blankets you once more and you close your eyes. the burden you’ve been carrying is finally gone, you should be happy—you are happy. but there’s an entirely new dilemma that takes its place. the question of what happens after.

silence from boothill is always uncharacteristic, but this time around, it’s nerve-inducing. your mind is in shambles again, racing with all of the negative possibilities. there’s one thought that comes back more frequently than the rest; he’s trying to find a way to let you down easily.

“hey.” his voice startles you and tension tightens in your shoulders. the single word is meant to get your attention and it does but you refuse to open your eyes.

“would you look at me?”

it’s not a demand, it’s a request. the farmhand agreed to your terms, the least you can do is give him this. maybe this is part of being brave, too—facing the unknown in spite of its frightening nature.

you peel your eyelids open. the sky has darkened a bit and fireflies are visible now, their abdomens glowing softly against the sunset, but that’s not what you’re supposed to be looking at. you bite your cheek and turn to the right where boothill is sitting. his gaze is already glued to you.

your heart jumps at the sight. his gray irises haven’t dulled like you expected them to—they glow like the lightning bugs, burn like the warmth of the sunset. his lips curl up in a smile, putting sharp white teeth on display. your lips part in silent surprise.

“y’know,” he starts, smile never leaving his face, “i’ve been waiting for you to say so.”

heat blooms in your cheeks and under your skin, just like in the past when he’s said things like this. what does he mean he’s been waiting? did he already know?

the next words that push past his lips send yet another shockwave through you. “i fancy you myself.”

your answer to the question of what happens after. it’s not rejection, it’s not pity, it’s not indifference—it’s… reciprocation. he feels the same way. your mouth is beginning to dry with how long it has been open. you hinge your jaw shut, poke your tongue out to wet your lips. once it doesn’t feel like your voice will be muffled by cotton, you ask. “why?”

“why?” he repeats after you, disbelief lacing his voice. “are you serious?”

you nod. “very.”

boothill lets out a humorless chuckle. “you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles under his breath.

“well, you don’t let people talk down on you.” he scratches his chin and the smile that was lost slowly makes its way back to his lips. you’re about to ask what he means by that when he explains. “like when i gave you a hard time over not looking the type of help out—you called me on it and proved me wrong then and there.”

the moment he’s referring to seems like it happened forever ago but you remember the feelings you experienced then like it was yesterday—the initial annoyance, the determination, the shock. you certainly wouldn’t consider how you handled those feelings your finest moment (maybe your most embarrassing) but boothill regards the interaction in a different light, one that paints you as resilient rather than awkward.

“and you put others ahead of yourself,” he goes on. “always making sure i’m present before we start lunch and prioritizing a horse’s wellbeing over your own. you’re real caring.”

to think that he’s been examining you so carefully, reading into all of your little actions and storing them away in his head, makes you flush, warmth spreading over your skin despite the cool evening air brushing against you. it never struck you as possible that he might think about you just as often as you think about him.

“and, y’know, i’ve always said you’re pretty.”

he’s right, he’s told you that a countless number of times, but hearing it now feels different. there’s a new weight behind his words now that you know he truly means them and because you’re ready to accept them. well, partially—it’s still hard to say thank you, especially when boothill is looking at you so attentively. “that you have…”

his half-lidded eyes and the smile tugging at his lips added on to his silence tell you that his list has come to a close. he’s given you all the evidence you asked for with examples, too. you’d have to be painfully oblivious to question his feelings having heard his reasoning. though, there is something else you’re curious about. “so, were you planning on telling me? before now, i mean.”

“i was waiting for you to say somethin’,” he admits with a grin.

“you jerk.” you slap his shoulder playfully but he doesn’t budge an inch. it would have spared you a lot of grief and overthinking if he had made the first move. after all, it seemed like he skipped the whole “coming to terms with his feelings” part of the process and readily accepted them.

“you knew i was talking about you the other night then.” it’s not a question—there’s no way he didn’t know if this was something he’d been anticipating.

he shrugs. “i had an idea.”

you’re tempted to give him another smack but you restrain yourself—he wouldn’t have deserved it anyway. sure, he lied about how much he had heard, but you think you’re better off having waited until now. in your mind, this is as perfect as things could have gone. “well, thanks. for not forcing it back then.”

“no thanks necessary, darlin’.” he flashes his signature smile before taking back another swig of his beer.

the world seems to still for a moment. you like boothill. boothill likes you. you’ve both made your feelings clear but where do you go from here? “so… what do we do now?”

“anything you want,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer.

you haven’t thought this far ahead, considered what might take place if you made it through this encounter on the side where the grass is greener. what do you want to happen?

boothill can practically see the gears turning in your head. it’s apparent in the way your eyebrows crease, in how far away your gaze is. it’s cute to see you think so hard, but he’s willing to share a proposition of his own. “tell you what, how about i take you out on a date?”

“right now?” you ask, your voice a pitch higher than normal. 

he can’t help but snort at the surprise you fail to conceal. “i was thinking tomorrow but if you’re that eager—”

“no, no,” you wave your hands, “tomorrow is good.”

a date with boothill. a few days ago, the thought would have riddled you with fear. but now, your heart buzzes with excitement. you don’t know it when you ask him, but you’re smiling. “where are we going?”

he meets your eye, takes in the enthusiasm sparking in your gaze. he wants to hold onto it forever. the smile you wear is mirrored on boothill. “it’s a surprise.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤︎

[7ndipity]

Time For You

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just a lil blurb about Yoongi surprising his S/o at work bc he’s a softie.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to my lovely ⭐ anon for this request! It’s a lil short, but I hope you like it!💜

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It had been one of those work days that seemed to drag on longer than normal. Nothing was particularly wrong, it wasn’t any busier or more hectic than usual, but you were still acutely aware of the hours seeming to creep by at a glacial pace.

‘Just a little longer’, You promised yourself. Just a few more hours and you would be home, in your cozy apartment with your warm bed and your sweet boyfriend, who you planned to cuddle within an inch of his life as soon as you saw him.

As if summoned by your thoughts, one of your co-workers came over as you were finishing up helping a customer, sporting a knowing grin.

“Hey, Y/n? There’s a guy over there that says he’s going to start crying if you don’t look at him?” She said, nodding off to the side.

Glancing up in confusion, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your eyes landed on a familiar figure standing over near the door. His face was partially hidden by the hat that he tugged down , but you could recognized that sheepish, little grin anywhere

You quickly switched places with your co-worker before practically sprinting over to Yoongi, half tackling him in a hug.

“What are you doing here?!” You exclaimed, trying to keep your voice low to avoid drawing attention, but unable to hide your happiness at his sudden appearance.

“We were filming a few blocks over, so I thought I’d come by on my way home and check on you.” He said, glancing up at you shyly.

“Aww, were you worried about me?” You grinned, reaching up to cup his face. “You big softie.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He groaned, trying to squirm out of your hold.

“Hey, you were the one threatening to cause a scene because I wouldn’t look at you.” You chuckled.

He grumbled out something you couldn’t make out before holding out a small bag to you. “I also brought this, but if you’re gonna be weird about it-”

You quickly snatched the bag away before he could finish, peeking inside at the contents before looking back up at him in surprise.

“You brought me cookies?” You questioned.

“I happened to pass that bakery you like on my way here, no big deal.” He shrugged.

You said nothing, staring up at him as he tried to hide the growing flush in his cheeks.

“What?” He asked after a moment.

“You love me.” You grinned.

He huffed.

“It took cookies for you to realize that?” He asked dryly, fiddling with the edge of his hat, a habit of his that you had come to know meant he was embarrassed or flustered.

“No, but it’s a nice reminder.” You said. “It’s nice when you make time for little things like this.”

“I’ll always make time for you.” He answered softly, the sudden sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

Yoongi had always had a way of pulling your heartstrings with just a few words, even before you had started dating, a simple comment like “I miss you” had been enough to cause your heart to skip a beat before taking off at high speed.

As much as you liked to tease him for being whipped for you, you were just as down bad for him.

You suddenly remembered you were standing in the middle of your workplace, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I- uh, I have to get back to work.” You said quickly.

He nodded, understanding.

“I’ll see you at home.” He said, stepping away, but you followed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.” You said softly, stepping back. “Thank you for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome.” He said, his cheeks flushed fully red.

“I’ll see you later.” You promised.

“See you later.” He repeated, turning quickly and heading for the exit.

You caught him giving a quick glance back at you from the door, sending you a little wave before ducking out, leaving you stood grinning after him.

“He’s really something special, isn’t he?” Your co-worker commented, watching you with an amused expression. “My boyfriend never does stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “He really is something special.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (IV)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: An attempt to make amends.

A/N: we're nearing the end!! not sure how I feel about this part... hopefully it's okay

Word Count: 3k

Warnings ⚠️: none?

PREVIOUS PART

The next few days followed in a similar manner. Alexia brought you to the pitch even though you couldn't play, and you sat there for a few hours until they were done. Occasionally Jona would come over to see you, or Olga would stop by with food. Ana Maria even drove over from Madrid to see you and take you out for the day. But mostly you slept, listened to podcasts, and thought about what the hell you were going to do about Frido.

She still hadn't spoken to you and the team was starting to notice. It's not like the two of you were very close before (at least publicly) but now it was a conscious avoidance. The rest of the girls often kept you company when they could on breaks or in between drills.

It was only after five days, on Friday afternoon, that she approached you.

“Hi…” Frido said softly.

You looked up at her from where you sat on the pitch. You had been doing light stretches on your calves, still not allowed to do anything strenuous until next week.

“Hi, Frido.” You said plainly.

You tried not to react emotionally despite the fact that this was the first time she was speaking to you since the incident. She hadn’t even called to say she was sorry. It all seemed to confirm she really didn’t give a damn about you—didn’t have the courtesy to treat you like a stranger even.

“How are you feeling?”

Her careful, soft tone enraged you.

“Not so good, actually. My head fucking hurts, I’m sick of sitting here while the rest of you play. And I’d really rather be doing anything than talking to you.”

You felt bad the second you said it. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because this wasn’t you. You were better than that.

“Sorry, I just really would like to be left alone, Frido. Please, just leave me be. Leave me alone.”

Frido’s eyes shot towards the ground as she blinked furiously.

“Okay.”

She turned away and walked back to the field, joining Alexia and Ingrid as they talked about something. Part of you felt bad for rejecting her so quickly, but another part of you felt enraged that she had the nerve to wait this long.

Ingrid looked over at you and then back at Frido curiously.

"What did you want to say to her?" She asked in Norwegian, knowing Frido would understand.

"I don't know… just wanted to check in on how she's doing so far."

Before Ingrid could reply again, Alexia butted in.

"You need to tell her you're sorry as soon as possible."

"I just tried—clearly she isn't too keen on having me around, is she?" Frido snapped back.

The three of them stood in shock for a second, surprised at Frido’s temper. Usually she was level headed and understanding.

Alexia sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Keep trying."

With that she was off to change and shower, giving Ingrid a small smile as she left.

"Frido," Ingrid rubbed her arm to catch her attention. "Why don't we go get a drink tonight and catch up? It's been a long time since we went out, just us."

Frido contemplated it momentarily, not stupid enough to miss that Ingrid clearly wanted to talk about her mood. If she accepted, she was also accepting the fact that she had to open up to her best friend sooner or later.

"All right."

-

"I don't know what to do," Frido complained, tossing back the last dregs of her beer.

Ingrid sat across from her, her own beer nearly untouched. They were sat out on the balcony of some restaurant nursing the end of the night. They hadn't met, just the two of them, in a while, Frido realized. She wished it was under better circumstances.

"Can I be honest?" Ingrid asked.

Frido nodded. She expected no less from the Norwegian—though she was incredibly kind, it wasn't common for them to sugar coat things.

"You've got to go up to her and apologize. Sincerely. One on one. And you can't be sure she's going to forgive you."

Frido knew Ingrid was talking about apologizing for more than the tackle. She wasn't privy to exactly what happened between the two of you—even in your anger you hadn't told your teammates what was going on—but it was clear something unhealthy had been a staple between the two of you.

"Mapí showed me the video. I didn't want to see it at first, you know how I am with that stuff, so worried always that it'll be one of us. But I finally saw it." Ingrid met her eyes. "The way she went down, the way you hit her, she could've been hurt much worse than she is. And you just got up and left, didn't even check on her."

There was a hint of disdain in Ingrid’s voice that inspired nausea in Frido.

"Had that been any player in a match against Barcelona, imagine how any one of us would've reacted."

Frido knew, if she had seen someone do to you what she had done herself, it would've boiled her blood. To see you lying there unmoving, would've had any player on that field aching, because you were wonderful. You didn't cause fights, you forgave people, you smiled at the opposition after each game, you spent as much time as possible with the fans. And Frido had somehow broken that, gotten you to yell and scream and cry.

"We were together." She whispered, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. "Well, not really. We were sleeping together, I was at her place most days a week."

The waitress came by, and Frido ordered a glass of wine. She needed a bit more courage to fully get this out in the open.

"I didn't want commitment. I'm not… I didn't know how to be open about that with anyone. I was ashamed of it—she knew. She could sense it." Frido gripped the stem of her wine glass and took a sip. "She hated breaks because she knew I wouldn't talk to her until I was back in Barcelona. Right before I went back to Sweden for camp… we had a huge fight. She said she couldn't take it anymore, that I made her feel like a whore, that I tossed her aside whenever I didn't want her. And I said I didn't care."

Ingrid was silent.

"I didn't expect her to kick me out. Or to refuse to speak to me. I thought we'd fall back together, we always did. But it was different this time. And I hated it. I hated it so much it made my head spin."

Ingrid put a hand over Frido’s where it rested on the table.

"Frido, I love you. You're my best friend, okay?"

Frido nodded, wiping at a tear that was beginning to fall.

"You've got to make this right. Good people do shitty things. Really shitty things sometimes. But sometimes they're also forgiven, in time. And if you want anything with her, even friendship, you've got to apologize and explain yourself."

Frido nodded, meeting Ingrid’s eyes finally.

-

That night Frido found it difficult to get to sleep.

There wasn't any good reason for it: she had worked hard in practice all day and her body was exhausted. Her bed was comfortable, her apartment quiet. But it was empty. She had realized that she hadn't spent a week straight sleeping in her apartment for months. At least once a week she was with you, always.

But now you weren't speaking to her. You looked at her during practice, then avoided her at all costs. She hadn't even tried texting you, worried she would find her number blocked.

She contemplated calling someone to keep her company, though who would be up at one in the morning?

Eventually she fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She slipped away into unconsciousness, allowing her body to relax into the mattress.

Her mind, however, had different plans.

In her dreams she was in the hospital, unable to get to you. She stood at the door to your room, peering in through a small glass window. The rest of the girls were inside, holding your hand and stroking your skin as you laid in the hospital bed. Your eyes were open but you hardly moved. All she knew with certainty was that you did not want to see her. You wanted her gone. You've ruined my life, she heard you say, though your lips didn't move.

Another time you had simply disappeared. Her fault. You had moved far away, far from Barcelona, and far from her. You were happier somewhere else, with different people.

Once more you hated her. Refused to speak.

When she woke it was to a dark room and a sick feeling in her stomach. She was lonely. She wanted you next to her in bed. She wanted to see you smile and hear you laugh. She wanted to see you play great football and jump into her arms after a goal. And it terrified her to think she wouldn't get any of that again.

How was it that she could've treated you so horribly? It confused her, as if it had been someone else. How had she let her fear control her like that? And most importantly, how had she put your feelings aside so callously?

If she was going to fix anything she would need to apologize. Apologize for it all. Ingrid was right. She hadn't been there for your recovery and now it was all she wanted. The guilt of it all threatened to choke her. She thought of how scared you must've been lying on the field in pain.

Though it was only 4:30 in the morning Frido got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a scalding hot shower. She needed a plan for how to fix things between you two.

-

It began that morning. Alexia brought you to practice. You were still living with her for the time being, until you were one hundred percent cleared. You didn't mind it, in fact it was nice to get so much time with Alexia when she was normally busy.

You walked into the locker room, so pleased to be getting into your kit for the first time in a week and a half. Even if it was just for physio work, at least you were in the uniform once more.

Unexpectedly, sitting in your locker was a small stuffed cow with a card and one of your favorite protein bars propped against it. You picked up the plushie, pressing it to your face and enjoying the softness. You were a bit of a child when it came to stuffed animals: you loved them.

The card was written in very familiar handwriting, and your heart jumped into your throat.

This made me think of you. I'd really like to apologize after practice today. Perhaps we can grab a coffee?

Fridolina

The message was a bit stilted, but you could practically hear Frido’s hesitation on the page. She was nervous.

Just then the blonde came into the locker room to grab something from her bag. She glanced at you quickly, not sure as to your reaction.

"Frido," you called softly. You hadn't decided until that moment to try and forgive her, "I'll see you after practice."

Frido seemed shocked, but quickly her mouth transformed into a wide smile.

Practice seemed to fly by now that you were allowed to do something. The physio workers had you weight training and doing yoga to try and work your muscles that were tight from the pain you had been in. You felt like you were making progress, finally, after more than a week of sitting around.

-

The car ride with Frido was quiet. You sat in the front seat, fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone as she drove. She had music playing softly, some indie band you didn't know. It was bordering on awkward, though not quite there. You simply didn't know what to say.

Once Frido was pulling off the street to parallel park you spoke.

"I don't think I've been here before."

"I just found it a little while ago when I was wandering around desperately in need of some coffee."

The shop was cute. The outside was painted in chipping yellow paint and the shutters were open. There were a few tables outside, an eclectic set of guests seated at them. There was an old man reading the paper, a student on her laptop, and a mother with her baby. The smell of baked goods wafted from the entrance.

"The muffins are fantastic, if you want one." Frido offered cautiously.

You nodded and gestured for her to enter first.

You decided on a chai and a cinnamon muffin which did look incredible, you had to admit. When you were about to pull out your card to pay you felt a hand on your arm.

"I'll pay, please."

You allowed it, understanding that this was all part of Frido trying to ask for forgiveness. You were willing to see this to the end. It shamed you to admit but you had missed her deeply. It felt good to be near her, to smell her perfume and anticipate her ticks that you knew so well. What made you stay was the possibility that she had missed you too.

Frido carried your drinks and food to the table you picked. It was still warm enough to sit outside even with the sun setting. You tapped your foot and ate your muffin slowly, waiting on her to say something. You didn't want to speak first, but it seemed as though you might have to.

"So…" you started, trailing off to try and prompt Frido.

"I wanted to apologize. Really apologize."

You sat quietly.

"Just for the concussion you gave me?"

Frido hesitated.

"I'm still figuring things out—it's all jumbled up in my head. I was talking to Ingrid the other day and she made me realize I had to set things straight."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm not explaining this well—I wanted to apologize for hurting you. And I want us to be on better terms. I wish we could start over."

"That's it?"

Your chest squeezed painfully. You thought this was the chance you had to deal with the horrible ending to your relationship, but Frido seemed to have no interest in unpacking it. You couldn't help the way your anger flared in response to the hurt you felt.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm not exactly okay, Frido." You started to stand up. "I think it's better if I left. There's no hard feelings over the concussion, I knew it was an accident. Let's just forget about all of it."

Frido stood up quickly, reaching out to grab your elbow.

"Can I drive you back?"

You shook your head.

"I'd really rather walk. It isn't far to Alexia's."

Frido looked for a second like she would push further, but then she deflated and nodded.

"See you at practice, Frido. Thank you for the coffee."

-

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your face as you walked down the streets of Barcelona. Deciding to forget the whole thing was worse than being angry about it—at least then you got some acknowledgment. Now you felt as though Frido was telling you she just wanted to smooth things over and make nice. She wanted it to be as if this thing between you never existed—all the pain and attraction gone in one fell swoop. You wanted to scream.

How were you meant to play with someone who you had so much conflict with? Surely Alexia or Jona would begin to notice sooner or later. You knew it would affect the team chemistry. The thought just made you more upset.

The tears in your eyes began to fall faster. Not only was your relationship (whatever messy bleeding thing it had been) ruined, but there was a potential for it to impact your job, your team too. What would you do then? If it came down to you or Frido you couldn't imagine Barça picking you.

Alexia noticed you were crying the second she saw you, even though you tried to hide it.

"What's wrong?" She fretted, pulling you close to her. "What happened? I thought you were with Frido this afternoon? Why did she not drop you off?"

You just shook your head, burying it in your captain's sweater. She wrapped her arms around you, quietly shushing you.

"Come, let's sit down."

You felt like a child being led to the couch and leaning in Alexia's embrace. Deep breaths eventually calmed you down so you could speak.

"I'm sorry Ale, I shouldn't be coming here like this."

Alexia shook her head.

"Nonsense. Tell me what happened. Was it Fridolina?"

"It's my own fault, I let it get like this."

"Let what get like this? The accident?"

You shook your head.

"Not the accident. Frido and I have a…we have our difficulties."

Alexia looked at you, surprised.

"Really?"

"I don't think I can tell you…you're her captain I don't want to let it affect the team."

Alexia took your hand.

"I can separate work and personal life. I'm your friend too, and it seems like you need one."

"We were seeing each other, kind of. In secret." You sighed. "We weren't exclusive, she just wanted some fun I think. I didn't."

You felt defeated. There wasn't much more to do. You just had to accept your fate.

Alexia looked at you for a moment in disbelief. She had had no idea.

"You and Frido?"

"It was a mistake."

[kurakisses]

⟡ ⠀hope of devotion⠀⠀⊹⠀⠀ soshiro hoshina & you

gn reader. hurt/comfort, established relationship. reader is a soldier within the third division, no one knows about the relationship but mina. part two.

even though those lives tied to the past had slipped through your fingers unannounced- you would do everything you could do to protect those around you, those people so dear to you and even those you didn't know, now and in the future.

as a member of the defense forces, you knew all too well how ephemeral, fragile and weak human lives were.

yet, considering yourself part of humanity's shield against kaiju, you let your life dance closely to the fire

and the flames embraced you, calling out with greed and despair

because you were a prodigy in your generation, being able to release 86% of combat power during the tests alone.

all eyes were on you, all depended on you

and you would give your life in exchange for the protection of others.

so as soon as you were out of oxygen and your throat was covered by a metallic taste, it never crossed your mind to withdraw from combat.

and when you started to become part of the attire of a white bed, he would be with you

regretting not having arrived earlier.

you were fighting a honju on your own despite countless warnings; you took charge of evacuating the incapacitated soldiers from the area and protected those who supported you during the battle.

you took on the role of a defensive force as long as someone of higher rank could assist you— however, the wounded were increasing and you did not want to allow anyone on your battlefield to suffer serious consequences.

“it's one life in exchange for saving many.”

was what you thought as soon as your ribcage was pierced, debris greeting you on the heavy pavement.

and if it hadn't been for that probably several soldiers would have lost their lives.

the last thing you remember before you lost consciousness was seeing the vice-captain arriving on the scene, cutting the kaiju with agility and skill.

you smiled, weak and in immeasurable pain

for you knew that the soldiers would no longer be in danger, on their own and against such a strong monster.

from that moment on you began to wander in an endless limbo, aimlessly, among your thoughts and sound asleep on a soft mattress. you felt your body light, as if you lacked any kind of concern.

you did not know that you underwent emergency surgery, how you suffered from a serious lung injury and how many thought they would lose a strong bastion of the third division that night.

you were given oxygen by machine, and your vital signs were carefully monitored.

you had no family, so you never left the base and were allowed to rest in the base infirmary.

soshiro was the only person you could consider family.

he had an overwhelmingly busy schedule— but every day, after filling a cup of coffee and getting up at sunrise, he would come to see you.

it was a silent date that became a part of his daily routine.

he would intertwine your fingers with yours

he would watch you attentively

hoping you would wake up and give him one of your contagious smiles as usual.

it had already been a week since you were hospitalized

and he didn't dare to say it out loud, or think about it,

but he missed you— for to him you were much more than just a number among the soldiers.

“lately i see you coming into the infirmary more often.”

self-absorbed, he was unable to notice when ashiro entered the room

“are you worried about their situation?”

“they're part of the division, it's natural for me to see how they're doin'.”

he had told a half-lie

and it was just that his way of speaking retained that playful tone, despite his current position

“isn't there something else?”

mina looked at him with a face bordering near inexpressive, waiting for some kind of answer from him

you were his light, ever since you gave him a reason to protect, to fight for others and not only to feel worthy enough

he was devoted to you, only you

to the glow that you radiated every time your eyes fell on him

to the determination with which you trained alongside your colleagues, to surpass your own limits

to the warmth you displayed— like radiant sunshine

“i don't know what yer talkin' about"

he said it bringing one of his hands to the back of his neck, laughing with an almost unrecognizable hint of nervousness.

but ashiro could read between the lines

“they would have scolded you if they saw you in this state.”

she sighed, grabbing the door with the intention of leaving.

“don't worry too much. they are a strong person, i'm sure they'll wake up soon.”

and that is what hoshina longed for the most.

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

A to Z ⭒ James Hetfield (18+)

Ask He'll give you anything you ask for, although he enjoys teasing you until you're nearly begging for it. Lying in bed underneath him, looking up at him with tears forming on your lower lash lines, your eyes blown wide, your lips bruised and bright red. The sight of you would drive him crazy, and the sound of your broken and desperate pleas would be enough to make him end his playful denial and give you exactly what you want, and even more.

Bondage He isn't into bondage and restraining very much, unless it's a hand pinning you down, or him using his own to capture and hold your wrists above your head. He's more into you using your own body to accommodate with his and add onto both of your guys' pleasure, with your nails digging into his bare shoulders and your legs encircling themselves around his waist to match his thrusts.

Cunnilingus He absolutely loves going down on you, the taste of your slick and release nearly making him feel drunk every single time. He'd moan against you and grin against your sex with every mewl you'd let out from his vibrations, and continue until you're pushing at his head and attempting to scoot yourself further up the mussed and disarrayed bed to get away. Even then, he'd follow after you and encapsulate his body over yours, eagerly licking into your mouth to share the taste of you on his tongue with its original source.

Dirty Talk He would call you the usual endearing terms, from sweetheart to darling, to doll. But if he was in the mood for something more rough and you consented, he'd call you a slut and a brat, gripping onto your hair and forcing you to maintain eye contact with him until you both came. He'd calm you down afterwards and shower you with compliments and aftercare, gently rubbing circles into your sore scalp and praising you for being everything he's ever wanted and needed, craved.

Edging One of his absolute favorites, especially after a long and tiring day, or after a meaningless argument. He'd kiss every inch of your skin and purposefully miss where he knew you were the most sensitive, his amused laughter causing goosebumps to lie in the wake of his warm breath splaying itself against your trembling and bare skin. He'd promise he'll give you exactly what you want, only to turn around and back away as soon as he sensed you were going to orgasm. He'd only let up once you began to feel overstimulated and anxious. Then, he'd take care of you so well, and make you feel like you got everything you wanted since the very beginning.

Foreplay James' foreplay with you would be a gentle thing, even though it sometimes bordered on being playful and teasing. He'd start off with undressing you, his wide palms cascading themselves down your curves and longevity with awe and wonder each time, like it was his first time ever seeing you. He'd nearly kneel while he unbuttoned your jeans, shivers and chills wracking themselves through your upper half as he looked up at you and brushed his lips against your groin while he slowly pushed them down. By the time you were both in bed and nearly naked, you were flushed down to your breasts, and nearly coating your thighs with your own essence. He'd still nip at the skin surrounding your hips, creating hickeys and mouth sized bruises, only conceding and sliding down to your rapid pulse point once you began to tug on his hair and guide his face and awaiting mouth toward your sex.

Groping If he isn't singing, playing the guitar, in a meeting or in the shower, his hands are on you. Whether it's a simple hand half wrapped around your thigh, or a comforting cup of his calloused palm resting on the nape of your neck while you two lax on the sofa, he's always touching you. He feels discontent and half full when you aren't in his nearest vicinity, and it's the exact same when it comes to you two having sex. His rings dig into the flesh of your thighs as he hikes you up and fucks you back down on his shaft, his nails digging into your skin and creating temporary indentations in your forearms and waist, while you ride him and hold onto him like an anchor, needing him close to you as well. When he touches you, he feels complete.

Hickeys There isn't a single week that has gone by since you met James, where you haven't had a lovebite or a hickey bitten and sucked into your skin, unless he was on tour and you couldn't come with. Sometimes they'll be subliminal and well hidden, on the beginning of your groin and trailing down to where he knows you like them best. Other times they'll be glaringly obvious, displayed on your neck in red and purple hues, a light surge of pleasure flooding its way through you as people blush and glance away at the possessive and intended marks, and the slight pleasurable pain you felt when you graze your thumbs against the bruised flesh.

Intercrural If you're ever too sore or tired for a round, or another round, his second favorite place to grind and fuck against you is in between your thighs. He'd have you suck on his fingers until they're nearly dripping wet and fully soaked down to his third knuckle, before sliding them in between your awaiting legs and applying your spit to the soft skin of your thighs. He'd purposefully nudge his swollen cockhead against your clit if you were just tired, fingering you until you'd be close to cumming, before sliding home into you. But if you were too sore, he'd be mindful of his thrusts and thank you for allowing him to use you, satisfaction and satiation thrumming through him if you let him finish in your mouth.

Jealousy James rarely ever got jealous. But when he did, he got angry. The ugly feeling brewing inside of him made him want to lash out, but he'd calm down once he was able to acknowledge you politely declining other men's offers, and you instinctively making your way back over to him. If he was still upset afterwards, he'd take you back home or into another room wherever you two were at, and he'd hold your chin in a partially tight grip and make you meet his eyes in the mirror as he took you from behind. He'd have you repeat that he was yours and you were his, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he effortlessly brought you over the edge, the same eyes once again meeting his own later on while he apologized for his erratic and rough behavior.

Kissing It depended on the mood he was in, but for the most part, James' kisses are sweet and playful, always bordering on the line of inappropriate, even in public. He couldn't help it, his natural incline of always wanting to be near you bled into the way he wanted to kiss you as well. If it was a normal day and you two were greeting each other or parting ways, he'd swoop you in and caress his pair with yours, the rough graze of his facial hair always causing you to giggle. He'd take the slight part of your lips as an advantage, and sneak the tip of his tongue in to delicately and playfully run itself along the warm peak of your own. If he was adrenaline ridden and freshly off stage, he'd be erratic, his mouth incessant against yours and frenzied in a way that made you forget anyone else was around. If you two were alone, he'd take his time with you. Swallowing every single sigh of pleasure you exhaled out, and groaning into your inhale as you bit into his bottom lip to tug him impossibly closer, before switching positions and temporarily taking over.

Licking He's obsessed with the taste of you. Rather it be from your lips or thighs, or your pussy, he'd dive right in. Sometimes even playfully licking the side of your neck after tugging and tucking your hair back, your guys' matching laughter residing in the enclosed space of the room as you two register the groans coming from the other guys in the studio while they practice. Going back to him eating you out and him getting drunk off of it, he'd lap up your slick and let it roll around his tongue to savor the taste, before spitting it back onto you and attempting to eat you whole. He wouldn't be done with you until he either tired out, or you could no longer control your breathing and began to feel lightheaded.

Masturbation With James there with you, masturbation was the last possible thing on your mind. He fulfilled and satisfied you in every single way. But when he was on the road, you two enjoyed phone sex and mutual masturbation. You enjoyed hearing his cursed exhales and the shakiness in his tone as he whispered out your name, and he enjoyed hearing you slowly fall apart, the audible pop of your lips as they gaped around a silent scream, and the obscene sounds of the palm of your hand making contact with your sex as you rubbed and fingered yourself to completion. The hushed promises of seeing each other soon and you reassuring him of you already having bought a ticket and nearly being on the second to closest flight, and him knowing that even though he wasn't there with you physically you were still content and gratified, was enough to help ease his guilt of being away, and to help him fall asleep to the soft sound of your voice.

Non-negotiable There aren't many things James would say no to, but extreme rough punishment would have to be the biggest one. He found pleasure in spanking you and holding you down, edging you and overstimulating you, but the thought of harshly smacking you across the face and full on degrading you will always a pass for him. It wasn't that he didn't do or enjoy those things before or didn't do them to groupies and other minor flings in the earlier years of him being in the band, but the thought of him hurting you and you taking it personal and getting offended, made him physically recoil.

Orgasm James always enjoyed one upping himself, and making you cum and orgasm until you physically couldn't anymore, was something he considered that applied to. In a sense, your pleasure was, and is, his own. Every time he felt you convulse on top or underneath him, felt the warm and silky walls of your pussy tighten around his long and thick fingers, he felt himself nearly orgasm, his cockhead pearling with precum and pulsating every time like clockwork. The way your eyes would gloss over, and you'd nearly scream his name, the way you'd curl yourself against him from the force of your own climax, the way you'd milk him dry and manipulate your walls to contract and hold in his seed. He's always been an extremist, in life in general, and in the way he pushed himself musically, so of course he'd push himself to pleasure you too.

Positions Although you two enjoyed pushing each other to the limit at times and teasing each other, James' favorite position with you was missionary. With his hand curled around your throat, just present, and your legs draped over his broad shoulders. In missionary, he loved that he could see every single flicker of emotion on your face, and it was the easiest position for you to be able to grab ahold of him and keep him close, which is something you always love to do. He'd rest his forehead against yours as he fucked into you with reckless abandon, the irises of his eyes darkening as he stared into your own, and his free hand reaching down to rub it's middle and ring fingers harshly and adamantly against your swollen and hickied clit. He'd often grind his seed deep into you, before slowly pulling out to only lean back and slide his digits back inside, his kiss bruised lips raising into a lazed smirk as you would immediately tighten your legs and bracket him in as his fingers curled and massaged themselves against your spongelike and abused spot.

Quickie The adrenaline shooting through him after performing and being on stage for hours on end is unlike something most people would never be able to imagine or try to explain, so it's no surprise that after almost every single show you're present for, you two end up in a backstage room, or most likely than not, an abandoned bathroom or closet. The first time, you were terrified that you two would get caught and the band would get penalized, but after the few dozen, excitement fills you instead. You're nearly lifted each time and carried into one of the rooms, the roadies and managers and other band members looking away each time with hidden amusement and smiles, already knowing what was to come. You'd be placed in front of a mirror or on top of the sink, James standing in between your legs for easier access, before descending down onto you and taking you into his arms. Chilled glass would keep you in place as he ground himself against you, and if there was little to no barrier due to you wearing a dress or a skirt, he'd shove your underwear to the side and relish in the sounds you'd make as your clit rubbed and soaked through the denim covered zipper of his skin tight jeans. By the time you two were finished and nearly laughing at the absurdity of it, you'd both be panting, and the venue and backstage hallway would be nearly deserted.

Roleplay He loves when you pretend like you're a roadie, or a fan in the middle of the crowd. The knowing glint in your eye when you pretend to be lost or like it's the first time you two are meeting gets him every time. From the slow and hesitant touches, to the first touch of your guys' lips of the evening, to the confidence you two acquire once you both use your knowledge of each other's body to silently prove you both know exactly who each other are.

Sensitivity James loves the fact that you're overly sensitive in particular areas, specifically your inner thighs and the back of your neck. If there was a night where he felt like you teased him too much, or edged him, he would do the same to you, only in public. He'd innocently place his large and warm palm over the expanse of your bare thigh, and you'd think nothing of it at first. Only a small shock registering at the cool touch of his rings on your once and earlier covered skin. Your breath would begin to stutter, and you'd halt mid conversation, your eyes narrowing as you take in his wide smile hidden behind a casual hand tossed in front of his mouth, mirth and wild amusement dancing in the eyes you love to stare into. By the time you were finished with a few more sentences and your mutual friends were eating and partially distracted, your leg nearest to James would be over his closest to you, and his fingers would be grazing the outline of the tan fading near your bikini line, with his now unhidden and wide grin being pressed into the nape of your neck. "It isn't so fun to be teased, especially when you aren't expecting it, is it, baby?" He'd ask you, the only telltale sign of him being as affected as you are being the erection pressing itself against the back of your knee, and the slight strain in his usually steady and confident tone.

Threesome The idea of sharing you doesn't come easy to him, but if he were to think of the idea, he figures it would have to be someone you both knew well and were both comfortable with. It'd have to be one of the band members. The first one that comes to mind is Jason, since he's been known to be gentle and caring to his groupies and his past girlfriends. Kirk is next, since he's one of his best friends, and he knows that some of the things he's into, you'd be down to try as well. James also wouldn't be opposed to watching you get pleasured by somebody else, just so long as he was able to join in, and was the first man to make you cum. He eventually brings it up to you casually one day and laughs at the redness that evolves on your cheeks, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the expression he knows all too well on your face. He turns his head to the side and grins to himself, making a quiet reminder to ask them whether or not they'd like to join in on something special for your upcoming birthday.

Universal Everyone enjoys head. Whether or not they're giving or receiving changes that entirely, but luckily, especially for James, you loved to please him. He loved the way you'd grip him by the waist and hold him down, only to take him down to the hilt and brush your nose against his trimmed happy trail anyway. He loved the way you'd swallow around him and gasp at the feeling of him pulsating down your throat, as if you hadn't done this to him hundreds of times already. The way you'd twist both of your fisted hands around his shaft and paid extra attention to the long vein that traveled up from the base of his dick, all the way up to his tip. He'd force himself to keep his eyes open as you swirled your tongue around it to collect the translucent pre-ejaculate, only to use it as lubricant to swallow him down once again. You'd release your hands from around him to reach down and lightly massage at his ballsack, warmth filling your gut at the sounds he'd let out, some wispy and light, and some heavy and nearly baritone. By the time his seed and release made their way down your throat, tears were streaming down your face, spit collected around your lips, and your jaw was sore, yet you still managed to have a smile on your face regardless and in spite of it all.

Vibrator Toys weren't necessarily something that were brought into your guys' shared bedroom very often, but you ended up buying one anyway, as a surprise for James for when he gets back home from tour. By the time that you opened the front door to welcome him back home and inside, he had already bent down to kiss you. And by the time that you both neared the entrance of the bedroom, you two were laughing into each other's mouths and attempting to not trip on the tight bottoms of his pants. Tangled limbs make contact with the soon to be unmade bed, and you fix your expression to look innocent as James' back makes contact with the box you lied haphazardly on top of the blanket. You barely had time to explain how to use the toy and what it's use was before he had it unpackaged and ready to go. The sun was setting by the time you two were finished, the sitting vibrator nearly dead from the hour or two use, with your thighs and lower back on fire. Sweat clung to your neckline, and James carefully collects you in bed, before depositing you down next to him and wrapping an arm around your waist. You turn your head from the smaller spooning position and can't help but beam at the blissed out and worry free look on your boyfriend's face, his eyes already closed, yet the hand he has splayed out on your bare stomach still caressing your midsection. "Whatever idea you have next," he murmurs, his voice almost incoherent as he rests his head in the warm cavern of your shoulder and clavicle. "I don't care what it is. If it's as good as that was, let's do it. Twice."

Where Your guys' favorite place to have sex was in the kitchen, surprisingly. It was where you both broke in your home together, with you originally laid out on the brand new tiled island, with your hands sliding against the cool exterior, as James used your ponytail for leverage to hold you in place as he took you from the side. This time, you were both standing, you earlier being preoccupied by attempting to surprise him with a late breakfast in bed. James had made his way as quietly as he could behind you, breathing out a silent laugh in the extra space of his large shirt swimming on you, the warmth of his smile welcomed as a chill made its way through the opened window near the stove. You both had enough common sense to turn off the burner and move the half finished meal out of the way, before you spread your legs and arched yourself over the wide expanse of the counter in front of you. Before the cool air could shock you, James fisted his shirt and lifted it to rest near your shaking forearms, before beckoning forward and sliding into you. You let out a sigh of relief, thankful that you two had gone a few rounds the night prior, and he had worked you open earlier that morning. Sun rays bled their way into the opened window as you gripped onto whatever you could reach, your hips narrowly missing the hard impact of solidity as James drove himself into with finesse and ease. The only sounds making their way outside was his harsh pants and praises, and your enthusiastic, yet exhausted moans.

X Factor James' favorite thing about you was that you give him as much as he gives you. If he were to eat you out the night prior, you'd wake him up with a blowjob. If he was tired, you'd take the lead. If you were riled up and frustrated, he'd help you decompress. No matter the distance and circumstances, you both made time for each other, to keep the spark and interest alive, and to make sure that each other both felt loved and fulfilled.

Yes and No James was known to be the dominant one in bed. He was used to being on top, to guiding his partners into a sloppy session of head, to being rough. But he realized that while being with you, it still felt just as rewarding with you to take care of him and for you to sometimes take the lead. At first when it was first brought up, he wasn't so sure. Not because he wasn't interested, but because of the lingering thought and fear that you would think differently of him afterwards. But every time you rode him, you allowed him to control your hip movements. Every time you went down on him, you pleasured him as well as he pleasured you. Being with you helped him realize that although being dominant was in his nature, it didn't mean that it meant he always had to be rough and overly domineering. It took meeting the right woman to figure that out. To allow him to lead, even while relaxing and taking in pleasure at the same time.

Zip At times when you both needed to have a quickie and it was even less than convenient than all of the other times, you were forced to be quiet, both to your own and James' dismay. He loved the sound of your mewls and moans, the way your voice and tone would tremble as he took you apart and then brought you back together. But you both had quiet quickies so often as the studio and at the other guy's houses, that you two found a way to make it more exciting. Instead of just biting into one of yours' discarded t-shirts, James would instead place his fingers into your mouth, and the dual sensation of heat, both around his fingers and around his dick, was enough to make the quiet seem much louder. Spit would trickle down his wrist and make its way down to your breasts, and the glisten it would shine in the dimmed lights of the bathroom or nearest room somehow made it seem like less of a low maintenance fuck, and more of a heightened experience. It is true, what they say about experiences. It doesn't matter what happens, just who you have around when they do occur.

[hyukalyptus]

heyy could u do smthing like txt reactions to u using the safe word while at it????

omg of course!! i love this idea sm.

cw. use of safe word, all of them stop ofc, sex, rough bdsm stuff is not mentioned, soob is big and clumsy and reader likes pushing limits, gyu uses red/green/yellow system and likes pushing limits, pet names (baby), aftercare, tae's kinda vanilla and feels guilty, kai is kinky asf (but that's not discussed here; go check out lia's duality for that lol), cuddling, kissing.

smut(?) under cut!

yeonjun - omg honestly i think he’d be the absolute sweetest. stops in his tracks, lifts his hands off you, but stays inside you to wait for further instruction. doesn't apologize because you've ask him not to in the past (makes you feel guilty) and he's worked so hard to make sure you feel safe with him and that you're not hesitant using the safe word. he's so proud (but doesn't show it) that you feel safe enough to use the safe word with him. "what did i do? what can i do to make it better?” doesn't touch you until you say its okay. once you've caught your breath and have calmed down, he very cautiously and with your permission picks things back up, finishing you, but he doesn't finish himself. he can get off later.

soobin - he's the one that insisted on creating a safe word in the first place. he knows he can sometimes be just a bit too clumsy and a bit too big that he doesn't know if he's hurting his sex partners or if they're just playing into it. so he learned quickly that he needs to establish a safe word every time, especially since you like pushing the limits. things start getting a little too hot and heavy for your liking and he's getting a little too carried away. it feels so good at first, until he takes it just a bit too far. typically, you're usually comfortable enough to ease him down with body language and talking, but something was off today and you needed it to stop. he comes to a slow stop, relaxing his hands, loosening his grip on you and turning them into soothing strokes and caresses. asking and giving exactly what you need.

beomgyu - first of all, i see him as the type to use the red, yellow, green system. and can definitely see him pushing you into yellow a lot. and he loves it (as do you), but he's cautious. the second you say red, he drops everything. "was that too much for my baby? i'm sorry..." going to get you some water and sitting down to have an in-depth conversation about what was too far. "did you like the idea of it and i just went too far? did you want to try it again but slower? was what i did completely out of the question now? what can i do to make you feel safer next time? do you feel safe right now?" turns into soft and slow aftercare that eventually warms up to slow and sensual sex to make up for it.

taehyun - i think feels the most guilty out of them. he doesn't strike me as the kinda guy to be super into kink stuff, so i think he almost doesnt know how to handle it other than apologizing. asks a lot of questions, like, "are you okay? you sure? do you want me to finish you? i'd be happy to if you like." and you agreeing that you'd still like to come as long as he still wants to and is comfortable to keep going but as soon as he's inside you, "are you sure you're okay if i finish too?" maybe becomes a bit too nervous before both of you agree its better for both of you to stop completely and cuddle the rest of the night.

hueningkai - honestly i feel like kai's kinky asf and i will not be silenced any longer. he talks a lot about it with you beforehand anyway, so its rare that you (or any of his partners) get to that point because he knows all ur limits and how to push them and how to not push them too far. so you saying it is a bit of a shock, but he knows exactly what to do. drops everything, slides out of you, asks what you need from him. and when you request cuddles, he's the biggest cuddle bug ever. cheek kisses, whispers in ur ear about how perfect and beautiful you are. dragging his nails down ur arm. omfg i love him.

[vox-ex]

💘 for the ask game, please!

mutual pining ... post reveal…in which Kara and Lena both think it's best to keep the other at a distance ... but it does no good anyway so one of them just says fuck it

for @fabulousglitch and @kimmania who both had this ask..thank you both so much :)

----

Kara and Lena have always hovered just out of reach of each other. Two bodies drawn together in orbit, tethered but never quite touching. Pushing and pulling against each other at a careful distance. Always afraid of the collision. But they grow used to the spin. After all, at the surface, you can barely feel such things. 

But in fleeting moments, between Lena's war with herself and Kara's war with all her selves, they take turns with the chance they are wrong. Letting knuckles graze the back of hands as they walk. Letting bodies angle towards each other through the pinch of a crowd. But only just that much — always mistimed, always mismatched, always thwarted by some circumstance or another. 

So they keep spinning. 

Keep their distance.

Instinctively, Kara presses herself closer to Lena on the couch, their shoulders bumping as she sits down.

"Sorry," Kara mumbles, ducking her head. "I didn't mean to --"

"It's okay," Lena reassures her quickly. "I don't mind." Reaching out, letting her fingers tangle with Kara's for the briefest moment before pulling away. 

They collide anyway. 

All that careful distance is soon taken up again in the frantic rush of Kara's fingers closing around her wrist. Hands and bodies merge unpredictably—abruptly. It's hard enough to bruise. Hard enough that there can be no doubt of their intention. Kara lunges, pulls Lena towards her, lacking all her usual grace and just enough careful measure as Lena crashes against her chest. 

Kara's hands were everywhere; the back of her head, the base of her neck, the length of her back. 

Bits of plaster cling to her. 

Not her cape. 

Not her suit. 

Just flecks of white dotting the dark blue sweater that Lena loves. 

Lena can hear the scuffle of feet in the hall. 

Can hear the sound of siren's down on the street below. 

And fuck if she's not tired of it. 

And fuck if she doesn't miss being this close to Kara. 

She hooks a hand in the torn fabric of Kara's sweater, curling it around her fingers, trying to hold her in place.

It feels like all the gravity lets out instead. 

She bumps her head into Kara's as they meet in the middle of their fall toward each other. 

A breath, a beat, and then a laugh — at the universe, at herself.

"Would you stay still for a second?" 

"But…"  Kara is as close and as far as she can be. 

Still careful. 

Still worried. 

Still spinning. 

Lena reaches up, her hands framing Kara's face, wiping away the traces of dust and the crinkle between her brow.

"oh…but—"

"Just stay still for a second, okay?"

Lena feels the muscles under her hands tense and then relax.

"o-okay." Kara lets a little more of her weight settle onto Lena's body beneath hers.

The kiss comes like a collision of its own, but the spinning has already stopped, and when it does, it’s the the world that falls away, not them. 

[virune]

Oh oh story prompt!

"After a rather long day, two very tired hedgehogs find out they've been sharing a secret resting place"? Hope that makes sense, just two hedgehogs being like "oi this is my isolated sleepy spot-" LMAO

Sonic was bone-tired.

Eggman had really pulled out all the stops today. Droves upon droves of badniks, all powered by a chaos emerald that the doctor had somehow managed to get his mitts on. Then, if that weren't bad enough, he'd even brought Metal Sonic along with him, if only to add insult to injury.

It was all over now, at least: with the help of his friends - Tails' smarts, Amy's perseverance, Knuckles' strength, and Rouge's cunning, the doctor's evil plot had been sufficiently brought to an end, one destroyed badnik at a time.

"Wasn't expecting you to join the party, Rouge," Sonic had told the bat, smiling at her as she dusted off her immaculate clothes.

"Well, let's just say I happened to be in the area." Rouge's replies always seemed to be intentionally cryptic, Sonic noticed. "And besides, any chance I have to knock that rotten doctor down a peg, I'll take. He's a nuisance for all of us."

"Hah! Can't argue with that." Sonic rubbed his arm, and then reached out a hand just as Rouge was about to fly off. "Wait! I - can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Big Blue." There was a twinkle in the bat's eye, one that Sonic only usually saw when Shadow was nearby. Speaking of which…

"How come Shadow wasn't with you? Is he… on a mission?"

"That's right." Rouge's eyes seemed to glitter even more, as though she could sense his disappointment. "Very important business. I'm sure you understand."

Sonic offered a smile. "Yeah."

"Why, were you hoping to see him?"

"What - I - no! I was just curious! You two are friends, aren't you?"

Rouge's hand found a place on her hip, pinning Sonic in place with a gaze that seemed to be able to find anything it ever searched for. She had always been so incredibly perceptive - especially when it came to Sonic's little… crush.

"Of course," she said, her voice smooth and nonchalant. It made his fur stand on end. "Don't sweat it, hon. I'm sure you'll get to see him soon."

Before Sonic could babble out a flustered reply, Rouge took off at last, disappearing into the darkening sky.

Wow, was it that late already? Despite his frazzled nerves, Sonic found himself feeling tired, mouth stretching open into a generous yawn. Well, since Eggman had been taken care of, surely it couldn't hurt to grab some shut-eye.

Luckily for him, he knew a nice little spot. Somewhere quiet and undisturbed. And it wasn't too far from here - at least, not at the speed he was capable of.

And so, with a final wave goodbye to his friends, Sonic vanished up the mountain in a cobalt blue streak.

---

Someone was in his spot.

Even from up on the bank, Sonic couldn't miss the orange glow coming from the cabin windows, nor the smoke billowing from the chimney. It was getting darker still, and somebody had stumbled upon this place and made it their own.

But who?

This old cabin had been left, seemingly abandoned, up on a mountain. Surely nobody could find it under normal means. Sonic himself only found the cabin because he'd decided to take a detour from his usual running path, winding up the mountain until he was pushing open the door to look inside.

It was a nice little cabin, too. Nobody came back to claim it so Sonic decided to… well, make it his own little place, so to speak. He didn't have any qualms sleeping outside, but sometimes curling up in front of a warm fire was nice too. So what if he wanted to indulge himself from time to time? He thought he'd earned that at least, saving the world as often as he did, and as he continued to do.

So to discover that someone else had snuck in while he'd been distracted made him a little annoyed.

He didn't want to just barge in the front door - after all, if they were capable of scaling the mountain, Sonic couldn't underestimate whoever was inside. Was it Eggman? Had he found the cabin somehow? Had he followed Sonic there and set up a trap?

Whatever the case, Sonic had to be ready for a fight.

He approached as quietly as he could; stealth was never his forte, but if he wanted the upper hand, then he needed to be delicate. After all, he'd hate for his beloved cabin to get destroyed in an altercation. Maybe he could take down the intruder swiftly, or find some way to lure them out before they fought. Keeping the cabin intact was his main priority.

Sonic went to peek through the window, but he grit his teeth with some irritation to find that the curtains had been pulled shut. Damn. What now? The front door lacked any windows or mail slot. How could he get inside without being noticed?

He saw it then. On the second floor. An open window.

Hah! Had the intruder completely forgotten to close it? Sonic took a couple steps back and gauged the distance - he could probably climb up. A running jump would be too noisy. So, giving himself a moment to stretch, he braced himself against the bricks and began to ascend.

His fingers hurt, digging deep in the crevices between each brick, but he pushed on. The window was inches away now. He pushed himself up, brushing the windowsill with his fingertips and hoisting his body up. Slowly, silently, Sonic climbed through and into the bathroom.

It was dark. But it was also empty. A good sign. That meant he hadn't been caught yet. He closed the bathroom window behind him before he tried the door handle, opening it as carefully as he could to avoid making any sound. It was so uncharacteristic of Sonic to move this slowly, but he tried his best, because his favourite sleeping spot was in jeopardy.

He tiptoed along the carpet at the top of the stairs and peeked down over the railing to see if he could spot anything. The glow was brighter from here and he realised it was coming from the hearth in the living room. Someone was using up all the firewood! Oh, the nerve. If they weren't dangerous, maybe Sonic could convince them to leave.

The first step creaked under his weight and Sonic froze, expecting alarm bells to sound off, expecting a trap to spring, expecting badniks to swarm him. Anything. Instead, nothing happened. The fire crackled. The peace continued on.

OK, well, he wasn't in trouble yet. He still had time to figure out who the intruder was. Taking a deep breath, Sonic made his way down the rest of the stairs. He was standing near the doorway now. The living room was just around the corner. He could see the shadows of a figure dancing on the opposite wall; whoever they were, they'd made themselves pretty comfortable on the sofa.

Sonic squinted his eyes. As he focused harder, he realised that the silhouette looked vaguely familiar. They weren't moving - were they asleep? - but he couldn't deny that the stranger seemed to have quills that turned upwards at the end in a way that was so distinct, so unnatural for a hedgehog to have.

He inhaled again, and he caught the unmistakable scent of lavender in his nose.

It couldn't be.

He turned the corner at last.

"You!"

Shadow jolted upright, the book he'd apparently been engrossed in falling from his lap and thudding against the floor. His red eyes met Sonic's, burning brightly against the glow of the fire.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Shadow asked.

"What am I - what are you?" Sonic cried, incredulous. "This is my cabin!"

Shadow removed the green woollen blanket from his legs to stand up. "Don't be ridiculous. I found this cabin months ago."

Sonic balked. That couldn't be right. He found the cabin. He'd been coming here regularly for weeks - months, even!

"I don't understand. This is my favourite sleeping spot. I didn't think anyone else knew about this place…"

Shadow retrieved his book from the floor, dog-earing the page he was on and sitting back down. "That makes two of us."

"So, spill. How often do you come here?"

"Couple times a month. When I have a moment."

"So do I." Sonic stepped closer. "Listen, I had to deal with Eggman today. Rouge was there. Where were you?"

"Elsewhere," was all Shadow answered.

Sonic clenched his fists. He was always happy to see Shadow, although he'd never admit it, but he wasn't happy about this new discovery.

"Alright, well. I'm pretty tired, and I wanted to rest here tonight…"

Shadow stared at him. "So?"

"So!" Sonic fumbled, gesturing vaguely to the door. "Leave! So I can relax."

Instead of leaving, Shadow tilted his head to the side. "Why don't we both just stay here? I'm willing to tolerate it, if it's all the same to you."

Sonic's mouth snapped shut. His face was warm, and not because of the fire. Absolutely not. There's no way he could relax with Shadow, of all people, around. Especially not in such a… comfortable, domestic setting. It was too much for him. He'd rather run a hundred laps through a blizzard than cope with his stupid feelings.

A hand patted the empty spot on the sofa, breaking Sonic from his thoughts.

"Sit. I want to finish this chapter."

Sonic frowned, willing his heart to stop racing. He eased himself onto the sofa next to Shadow, staring straight ahead. For some reason he was afraid to look. Shadow was much too close.

"Rouge recommended this book to me." Shadow's voice was soft and deep and it all but made Sonic nearly jump out of his pelt. "I'm about halfway through now. She expects to hear my thoughts on it."

"Oh?" Sonic dared to look, then, if only because Shadow's attention was directed down at the book in his hands. He scooted closer, just a fraction, to see what the writing was like. The scent of lavender was much stronger now. "Is it good?"

"I'm enjoying it," Shadow admitted. Sonic caught the ghost of a smile on Shadow's face and decided that he liked it, and would very much like to see Shadow smile more often.

"Good," was all Sonic could say, quite hopelessly, as he willed himself to relax into the sofa cushion. His eyes drifted closed for just a moment, exhaustion setting in as he basked in the soothing warmth.

"Let's agree that this cabin is off-limits for fighting," Shadow said. His eyes didn't leave the book, but Sonic wasn't so sure he was actually reading anymore. "It's too nice to ruin."

Sonic's mouth suddenly felt dry, but he worked hard to get his voice back. "Y-yeah," he stammered out, feeling like an idiot. "I don't think either of us will wanna give it up, right?"

Shadow hummed in agreement. "We'll just have to compromise. That means sharing."

"Sharing," Sonic confirmed. Despite himself, he found himself smiling at the idea.

Basked in the firelight, he snuggled just a bit closer to Shadow, whose body was as warm as the fire. He could probably get used to this, he reckoned.

Before he knew it, Sonic fell asleep to the scent of lavender and an arm around his waist.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Hi 👋😁 I love the request you did for me with “Too Sweet” and there’s another song that I definitely feel like it’s Eddie called “Your Stupid Face”, I recommend it, and I was wondering if you could do a one-shot or maybe even a two-parter based on that song? Here’s a link to have a listen to it if you want so you know what I mean.

Request by @randomreader1999

♥️💌

God, you hate Eddie Munson and his stupid face.

He has doe eyes. And you're not gazing at him all love-struck or anything, (okay you totally are) but that's not the point, the point is you've always noticed that Eddie had pretty eyes but they've never made you feel this entranced before.

He's gonna notice you're gawking at him idiot you tell yourself and shit, that would be mortifying if he did notice. Fortunately, he's too wrapped up in taking to the rest of Hellfire, his hands gesticulating widely as he teases the rest of the group with what's coming up.

If Eddie did notice you staring then it would be bad, humiliation on a grand scale because you and Eddie? You absolutely do not get on. In fact, for a year you hated his stupid face, his overdramatic expressions and gestures, and the way he seemed to know how to push your buttons.

It had taken you a while to realise that you liked Eddie, and his stupidly handsome face and over-the-top gestures. That was something you refused to admit though as the two of you were like chalk and cheese at the best of times.

He had grown on you, like a fungus as Robin so unhelpfully pointed out.

When he wasn't around you were reminded of him constantly, all his little quirks. The minute you see him again it's like your whole body lights up. It was highly embarrassing.

You were taking that secret to your grave, there was no way that anyone was finding out how much you went all love-struck over Eddie freaking Munson.

💌

Eddie hated you and your stupid face. Okay, that was a lie, at least it had been for the last month or so. Annoyingly Eddie couldn't stop thinking of you and that was horrifying in itself. The two of you were complete opposites, went together like oil and water.

Or at least so Eddie thought. Turns out you had a sweet side, you were beautiful and feisty and sarcastic and Eddie liked all of that.

He also liked arguing with you and seeing your eyes burn with annoyance, the need to one-up him and get the last word. It really turned Eddie on if he was being honest, Jesus H Christ he was so screwed.

The rest of Hellfire took the piss out of him about it, Dustin and Gareth had clocked that Eddie liked you way before Eddie did. Though it might have been obvious because both of you couldn't stay away from each other.

When Eddie wasn't around you, he felt lost. He didn't like feeling like that. You obviously had more effect on him than he realised. Even his Uncle Wayne had noticed the tension between the two of you and that knowing smirk wouldn't leave his face for weeks.

"Boy, you got a crush on that girl or something? Could have sworn your cheeks went red just now"

Nope, nope. He was not letting his uncle tease him about that. It was bad enough that he was attracted to you in the first place, he didn't need all of Hellfire, Uncle Wayne and even that band kid Robin teasing him now.

His best bet was to avoid you until this crush went away. (Although if he was being honest he doubted that would be anytime soon)

...♥️

Fuck, you and Eddie had kissed. One minute the two of you were in some argument then the next minute the two of you were kissing.

It was a stupid argument. To be honest you couldn't remember what it was about. Just that Eddie was as dramatic as usual and you thought he was annoying and hot in equal measure.

Also, he had been avoiding you and that didn't help your traitor heart that ached when he wasn't around.

Then during the argument, he said something stupid and that caused you to rant at him, midway through your rant you noticed the awed look on Eddie's face and the argument died in your throat.

"You know you're beautiful when you're all bossy and shit?" That was the catalyst for the kiss the two of you shared. A hot, messy, perfect kiss.

And now he was avoiding you and you were sure it was because he regretted kissing you.

So as usual you traded insults and hated the bone-deep hurt that nestled inside of you when Eddie insulted you right back.

Maybe he really did hate you? you had fucked up by continuing the kiss that was just a mistake on his end.

God you hated him and his stupidly perfect face.

...

All you wanted was five minutes of peace. Just some time to yourself to process this strange week you've been having.

Of course, Eddie would never let you away with not seeing his dopey face for longer than a few minutes, he walks up to you and you feel tense, was he here to yell at you or use more barbed insults to hurt you?.

Maybe you should have picked a better spot to have some time to yourself than in the woods. Isn't this where he did most of his dealings and stuff?

You're braced for some form of an argument but soften when you notice how gentle his gaze is while on you.

"Why are you here Eddie?" You sigh and look up at the face you've grown to love, really love.

"I've been an asshole. Avoiding you and avoiding talking about the kiss, acting like it meant nothing when it meant everything, I've never felt like this before and it's scary sweetheart, especially because I've spent so long denying my feelings and thinking I hated you"

Oh well shit. You weren't expecting this.

"I haven't been a saint either, I've been burying my feelings and trying to go back to normal and insulting you when all I really wanted to do was kiss your annoyingly gorgeous stupid face" he smiles at that part. "And maybe even date you" you tack on at the end.

He gapes incredulous. "You still wanna date me?" he sounds so surprised that you snort, stand up and lace you're fingers through his.

"Eh, maybe I'm an idiot or something for agreeing to this but I get that you were scared Eddie. I've never felt like this either but I want to explore this, be with you, with the rule that we actually talk to each other about our feelings instead of avoiding them". Suddenly Eddie's grinning and he takes your free hand and kisses it, like a perfect gentleman.

"Request granted my lovely maiden" You roll your eyes but secretly like how sweet he is and kiss him gently.

"Come on Eddie, you owe me a milkshake or two"

And if Eddie followed you like a love-sick puppy afterwards well then that was something he would not repeat to anyone, he had a reputation to uphold after all.

Between the two of you though he admitted he missed you and your stupidly perfect face.

♥️

[letruyuread]

Little thoughts about about Twisted Wonderland characters and you (yuu)

Riddle loves having the first slice of tarts, strawberry ones especially. So I think that, for holidays or even if you're just feeling down, he gives you the first slice of his strawberry tart. No explanation, please don't mention it- you'll fluster the poor boy. But it means a lot to him, and he secretly hopes you understand that.

Yes, Ace is a teasing prick, most of the time, anyways. But the second anyone brings up how he might possibly feel for you? Absolute tsundere. Denying it to the high heavens. Insults you a lot, too. "How could I ever like the perfect?! They're so- so-" Yeah, no one's falling for it. Give him time. He'll get comfortable with the idea soon enough, and then you have a whole other problem.

Deuce loves to talk to his mom about you. Rants about you- the incredible magic-less human that stole his heart (No, get out of here Ace-). You don't even care that he used to be a delinquent! How amazing is that? His mom is overjoyed that her son met someone who sounds so nice and keeps trying to give him advice to ask you out. She also tries to convince him to bring you home during break- you're not even dating yet.

Cater, of course, posts about you on his Magicam. It's the usual- oh, they're so pretty today, look my partner gave me food 😍. But there are also things he doesn't post, surprisingly. He doesn't post the picture he took of you, laughing against the sunset. That one's private. Too perfectly you to be seen by everyone. No, that's just a moment for the two of you, he thinks.

Trey loves baking you things, baking with you, but he always finds himself flustered when you bake something for him. He taught you the recipe, he remembers, a few weeks ago, and here you are standing with a small platter of cookies. Some are burnt, some taste a bit salty (you didn't add the oyster sauce... right?) and yet he eats them all and loves them because you made them. For him.

Leona, I think, takes very good care of his hair. It was worse before he came to Night Raven, his attendants tried to take care of it, but he always managed to hide away (he was taking a nap). On the first day, though, Vil couldn't stand such a pretty face with such horrid care and taught Leona a routine. Leona now follows that routine strictly. He takes pride in it, as much as his smarts and strength. You know he's having a bad day when it's unkempt and tangled. You also know how much he trusts you when he teaches you the routine, when he lets you help him with it on those bad days or weeks or maybe months.

Ruggie gives you things. It's always random- a bit of his food, a dandelion in the field, a ribbon floating in the wind. He grew up with little- so naturally, he hoards everything he can get his hands on and keeps it for himself. One day he might need it, or his grandma, or the kids in his neighborhood. He's very protective of his growing stash. So when he gives you these things, it's him telling you that you're part of his family now. Ask for anything, he'll find it. Just like he would for the people back home.

Jack adopts a lot of cacti (I nearly spelled cactuses) with you- very silly, right? A lot of cacti. He waters them appropriately, a strict schedule for each, and keeps them at Ramshackle dorm. You have a whole room for them, very bright from large windows and only tables for the plants to be placed on. It's common in his family that you only have one person, your whole life, to stick by. He's hoping it's you- he's hoping you'll fall for him if he keeps coming around, day by day, taking care of your plant children (plant army).

(oh God there's so many but Im on a roll)

Azul, Azul... Oh boy. He really wants you to make a contact with him. Doesn't matter what kind- you want it, you'll get it (even if you don't agree to his offer, honestly). He always seems to want the same thing, though: (no it's not marriage) a friend. That's what he says, that's not really what's in the contract, though. The exact wording is 'companion.' Someone to talk to, someone to trust. Someone who calls his merform pretty and him intelligent. Someone who doesn't make him feel insecure.

Floyd. What do to with you? He's very touchy. Very touchy. Once, he skipped all his classes and just grabbed onto you, having you carry him around on your back and not letting you go. Yes, he put a spell on himself to make him light as a feather, no one could carry that tall of an eel. He's very clingy and doesn't understand how he feels about you. It confuses him, he has no clue what this is, he just knows he wants to be around you and why shouldn't he be?

Jade knows. You have weekly tea parties. Don't worry, everything's free of charge... Except that, you have to pay for that. Oh, you didn't bring any money? Well, a kiss would do, but... Oh, no, that was a joke. Please don't look so worried. Jade may know what he feels for you, but he's still working out how to deal with it. The twins kind of never thought this would happen.

Kalim is such a sweetheart! Give him all the love in the world, he'll reciprocate tenfold! Whatever you want. He can buy it, if not, his family has the connections to get it, surely. But don't be mistaken- he'll adore you if you make something for him. If he can, he'll always have it on him. Plus, he tries to make stuff for you too! It might look bad, or taste weird, but he's beaming at you and the thought is there!

Please give Jamil a day off. No, really- drag him as far away from Kalim and any responsibility as possible. Do everything. Cook for him, cuddle him, tell him he's amazing and smart and very very cool and it is HIS DAY OFF. Take care of him, please? He needs this. He needs you. He'll do the same for you, if you ever overwork yourself or have a bad day. Trust him, and ask him to trust you.

(I haven't gotten beyond book 4, so I don't know enough about the other characters to feel confident writing them. Maybe Idia, Malleus or Lilia, as I really like them and have done some research on them, but for now this is what I got. Enjoy?)

[riotwritesthings]

Blue - WinterIron please

hello I love you and I love this fic plz enjoy

(now taking prompts for pride month)

Shades of Blue

WinterIron - T, 1.3k - Humor

-

“Tell me you didn’t buy that.”

Tony doesn’t look over at Pepper as he says, “No, I just walked out of the gallery last night with a twelve-foot painting in my pants. Sure, people questioned it, but I just told them it was my-”

“Stop,” Pepper cuts him off, a pained look on her face as she steps up beside him in front of the massive painting. ”Why did you buy this?“ She asks, side-eyeing him, ” You don’t even like abstract art.“

”I might like it,“ Tony says defensively, shooting her a quick glare before his eyes are drawn back to the painting. ”I just… I like the colors,“ he finally says helplessly, “for some reason I feel like I could stare at it all day…”

His voice trails off as he once again lets himself get lost in the swirling and shifting blues that make up the entire painting. The longer he stares the more different shades he finds, his gaze tracing every brushstroke and the way they transfer from one shade of blue to the next. It’s almost familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on why…

”Really,“ Pepper says, so flatly that Tony almost looks over at her.

He can feel the pointed stare that she’s fixing on the side of his head, though, and finally he sighs out, “What?”

“You really don’t see it?” She asks skeptically, “Really?”

It takes a second for Tony to tear his eyes away from the beautiful blues so he can finally look over at her as he asks, “See what?”

Pepper raises a single eyebrow at him, like the answer should be so obvious.

“What,” he asks defensively, and then makes an impatient sound when she continues to stare at him. "Come on, just tell me, is it a magic-eye type thing? Is there a subliminal dick, what?"

Her eyes narrow, like she’s trying to figure out if he’s joking, and then she shakes her head as she sighs, “Never mind, I’m not touching this. You don’t pay me enough, and you couldn’t pay me enough to deal with this.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tony calls after her as she stomps out of the penthouse, “You can’t just say that and then leave! Pepper!”

She does leave though, still shaking her head and muttering to herself. As soon as the elevator doors close behind her Tony’s eyes are drawn back to the painting.

“What does she know,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

He tips his head from side to side, squints one eye closed, but he can’t spot whatever the hell made her react like that. It’s just an average too-big abstract painting, the kind Tony usually would have walked right by in his quest for more hors d'oeuvres, but the colors had pulled him up short.

Something about all the mixing and swirling blues still has his heart beating a little faster in his chest, even now. It feels… safe, but also exciting, almost hypnotic somehow, and Tony hadn’t been joking about his desire to stare at it all day.

JARVIS has to snap him out of his daze when it’s time for team training, and Tony hurries to the gym before he can get another lecture from the super captain.

-

Over the next week, Tony spends more time than he’ll admit just standing in front of the painting, staring at all the shades of blue. He’s almost late for two meetings, actually late for a third, and when Thursday rolls around Clint has to come find him for team movie night.

“Is this about your new painting?” Clint is already demanding loudly as he steps off the elevator, and Tony jumps guiltily.

“No,” he says quickly, even though he’s definitely just staring at the painting where it's still leaning against the fireplace.

“Wow, Bruce said you were being so weird about it,” Clint says with a laugh, “and he likes art, but this is just-”

His voice cuts off in a strangled sound as he steps around into view of the painting, and Tony looks over at him in concern. Clint blinks at the canvas, glances up at Tony, back to the painting, and then he starts laughing. Hard.

"Wh- What?" Tony demands in an angry sputter, “Why are you- Steve did the same thing, what the hell is so funny?!”

Clint wheezes out a couple of attempts at words around more laughter and then shakes his head, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.

"Just tell me," Tony pleads, trying to keep a whine out of his voice as he follows Clint back towards the elevator, “otherwise I’m going to think this is all a conspiracy and that nothing is actually funny about my new painting.”

“And you don’t even see it!” Clint crows, wiping actual tears from his eyes.

"See what?!"

“No, I’m not telling you,” Clint says with a happy sigh, slumping against the elevator panel and hitting a bunch of buttons with his shoulder, “this is too good, you are so dumb sometimes.”

Tony considers kicking him. He also considers just not dealing with this, skipping movie night and heading back upstairs to stare at his painting, but he knows he’ll never live that down.

“Conspiracy,” Tony grumbles, facing forward and glaring at nothing as the doors open on the gym floor for no reason.

-

He decides to do research.

Sam also finds the painting inexplicably hilarious, and Rhodey refuses to comment when Tony sends him a picture. He asks Natasha what she thinks and she stares at the canvas for several long minutes before fixing Tony with a look that’s somehow equal parts judging and pitying.

None of them will actually tell him what’s so funny though, and Tony jumps between being annoyed and extremely concerned.

He’s leaning more towards concerned at the moment, as he stands in front of the painting, hands on his hips.

It would probably be less weird if he would hang the thing somewhere, he can admit, but he can’t decide. And he likes the fact that with the painting just leaning against the fireplace, he can stand directly in front of it and let it take up his entire field of view. Nothing but gorgeous, shifting blues.

When the elevator doors open Tony looks over just long enough to see that it’s Bucky walking into the penthouse. He doesn’t think that he’s missing any team activities, or his and Bucky’s bi-weekly sci-fi night, but he has been pretty distracted lately.

“Hey Doll,” Bucky says in greeting, and for once Tony is too busy to worry about what the petname does to his chest, “Steve said you need to talk to me?”

“Do I?” Tony asks distractedly.

“You tell me,” Bucky says with a huff of laughter, coming to a stop beside the painting and glancing over at it. “Nice painting,” he adds easily, without a hint of laughter or teasing.

Tony jerks his gaze over to meet Bucky’s with a start, surprised to find someone else who doesn’t see whatever is so funny, and- oh-

Oh.

The blue of Bucky’s eyes somehow exactly matches every shade in the painting, familiar and almost hypnotic, and no wonder Tony has been so caught up in the urge to stare at it for hours. He really is so stupid sometimes.

"I’m a moron," Tony groans, dropping his face into his hands. How could he develop a crush and then project it onto a painting without even noticing, no wonder everyone has been laughing at him-

“What?”

“What?” Tony replies automatically even as his head jerks up and how had he half-forgotten that Bucky is here. His gorgeous eyes are fixed on Tony, the shades of blue shifting as his expression wavers between confusion and amusement. Tony’s heart starts beating double time in his chest, and somehow all he can think to do is blurt out, “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky says back, his voice fond as a warm smile curls his lips.

[mrsackermannx]

lies | ino takuma

tags: angry (argument) sex, intruder role play, unprotected sex, sorcerer ino/non-sorcerer girlfriend, degradation kink, soft ending, not beta read.

authors note: @p00pdev1l jazz i meant to send this to you on asks and then it got super long but i swoon at the thought of being ino’s non- sorcerer gf idk there’s something about it didbdksjsksj. ive not uploaded any writing for so long bc there’s sm different ways and things i want to write and idk how to start idk…this lowkey is it i suppose. i miss writing hehe been so busy but yeh ENJOY MY DEPRAVITY.

- - -

You love your life with Ino, and he loves his life with you. No matter what a curse throws at him, he knows as soon as he sees you at the end of the day that it’ll all be worth it.

But it’s one night that he comes home especially roughed up…

You’re watching TV, but you hear him shuffling into your apartment, carefully locking up behind him, taking off his shoes. “Hello pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice almost hoarse. He leans over you to kiss your forehead. “I'm off to bed, you should too…”

You’re tired of the whispering phone calls, the leaving you to run away god knows where in the middle of dinner, you’re sick of not being able to tell your friends what Ino does exactly?

All these lies, all this mystery. You call him out on it and it leads to a fight…

It’s your sharp, “I’ve been waiting up for you,” that hits him right in the gut.

“Baby, I tell you not to.”

“Tell me?”

“i meant ask, baby,�� his voice lowers, almost breaking from exhaustion. He's so close to snapping. Too close.“I mean ask—so-please, not now.”

His usually sunny demeanour is all gone. He’s working so hard for the recognition of so many people, you being one of them. He wants to be good enough, he wants to exorcise as many curses as he can. He has his own goals, his own vision of the future he wants you in. But he’s so fucking exhausted right now.

He’s not usually like this, he’s usually so reactive it’s almost unbearable. So you push and push.

“I don't even know what you do. What kind of guy are you? Who have I been dating-“

“What. What did you just say?”

You blink twice.

He’s never raised his voice at you like this before. It’s not that it scares you but it ignites something in you, stroking something dark and shameful.

He cages you against the wall, glaring at you. He smells like Ino, looks like Ino, caramel hair tousled and tucked behind each ear. As usual, so devastatingly, boyishly handsome, but his energy is sharper, his grin gone.

“Telling me you don’t know who I am? Huh? Then why the fuck do you let me inside you every night when I come home? If I’m so bad? If I’m this bad guy you don’t know? You let a stranger touch you? Huh?”

“Takuma-“

He gives you such a pointed stare your words escape you. One arm cages you below him whilst the other cups your chin. “You think I’m some kind of bad guy? Don’t you know me by now? Haven’t we been through enough?”

This is necessary communication, he knows it, you know it. But that doesn’t stop the suffocating tension crackling between you two any less bearable.

“I know you’re a good guy, in how you treat me, who you are, but I have no idea who you are sometimes and it’s— it’s, something that i-i…”

You’re getting choked up, but you’re also overheating. Ino is never like this, never so the opposite of himself, never so full of darkness and not his light.

But you guessed it was a good thing you weren’t afraid of the dark, or the man you loved so dearly in front of you.

“What?”

“-it scares me,” you blurt.

“But you like being scared.”

His voice is rough, teetering on the line between restraint and pure lust. He's neither asking nor stating.

“You like it when I come home in the dead of night.” He cups your pussy, your silk nightdress bunching against his palm, he clicks his tongue at the heat. “Sneaking in beside you, you practically baring your pussy for me to use, abuse and—fuck, until you’re begging for more, and more-“

“Takuma,” you whimper into his chest, he smells so like him, he strokes through your hair like he always does, so full of love. He’s holding your most intimate part of you like he owns you, you suppose he does. You suppose you’ve been in the palm of his hand from the moment you met him.

“Not so innocent then are you? When you’re taking my cock in your cunt in the middle of the night? Begging for it, begging for me to wreck this tight little-“

“Takuma! Please.”

He alternates pressure on your clit, over and over, feeling your drip down his fingers.

“I bet you’d like my mask too? Wouldn’t you?”

His hand wraps around your throat, contrasting the way his thumb was smoothing across your jaw. You always felt so special with Ino, like his lover, regardless of whether you were fighting.

“What mask?” Your voice was so shaky you barely recognised it. His hand mapped down his torso to his pocket. Then he slipped on a black mask with nothing but holes for his eyes. “So, this? This is who you are?”

He hated this. He hated you thinking he was some bad guy, some good for nothing criminal.

“Who do you want me to be?” he edged closer, his voice slow and dripping with something dangerous, something that made your pupils dilate, and your pulse run.

“How about tonight I be the bad guy you want me to be,” he drawled. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, admiring…staking their claim on what was beneath them.

“Take me, Takuma.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you?” he shoved his knee between your thighs, “Or take you?” He squeezed your neck until you moaned, “You and your control? Your body? Your soul.”

“Both.”

It was a blur before you processed that Ino had you flipped against the wall. That he was already brushing your entrance with his cock and then teasing you against it. The head of him almost slipped in, over and over. But he had you flailing and whimpering like a desperate mess instead.

“Shush now, pretty girl. I don’t care if your boyfriend comes home. I’m using this cunt as my own anyway.”

“Oh my—fuck.”

That was it. Your control, your pain, you let it all go. You let it free, you let the wild throbbing in your core take over. You would have fallen to the floor without the wall and Ino standing firm behind you. You gave into your sinful desires.

He trailed his hands down your body, then in a movement so unexpected you cried out as he tore apart your night dress. “Let's hope your boyfriend doesn’t come home to you getting fucked like this, angel.”

He thrusts into you in one brutal slam. “Fuck I love ruining good girls like you,” he sounded so undone that it had you close to breaking, moaning with every slam into your pussy.

“Your cunts are made to be broken into like this, waiting for every drop of cum, squeezing me so tight like that. Fluttering on cock that you’ve been craving so badly, you—pretty —little—slut.”

It’s a primal fucking, and Ino seems to take everything out on you, but you submit so easily you’re succumbing to pleasure you’ve never felt. The things he says are dark and twisted, but the way he holds you is anything but, he holds you like you’re precious, even if he calls you his slut, to him you’re his angel.

When you start to match his rhythm, bucking out your hips to take in more of him, he comes so powerfully you feel his tears slide your back. Panting and groaning out your name, “I love you,” his voice shakes, and he’s breathless as he locks you in his arms.

“You’re so precious to me. More than my own life. More than any goal. I’ll tell you anything, and everything.”

You’re overcome, reeling from your orgasm, but nevertheless you accept his embrace just as tight. “I love you, Takuma.”

“I love you,” he chants, for a while. Until you’re sleeping, bodies coiled together, his hand in your hair. And it feels good. Too good to have finally told you everything.

[saveugoodmadam]

lmao this has less than a day to be relevant and sorry for publishing it so late but @dedhumn here is a oneshot based off your desire for the reveal to be with red-eyed hyde!!!

Henry Jekyll was in agony.

His heart hurt in his chest- though whether it came from the waver in Robert's voice or the all-too-familiar smashing in his muscles he didn't know.

“Don't come in, Robert. Please,” he implored as that awful green goop bubbled up through his body and leaked from his face. Hyde was a constant movement, flitting from vial to vial as he babbled, high-pitched, panicked and incessant. In fact, Henry realised somewhat triumphantly, the only words Hyde hadn't yet uttered were ‘this is all your fault’.

He knew it was, though. Hyde passed through the reflection of another vial, its blue glass a reminder of less dire times. A dangerous glint entered his eyes as he reached a trembling, goo-coated hand for its neck.

“You idiot,” Robert Lanyon hissed through the door, pushing down his tears like the good little high society boy he had been trained to be. “Are you really shutting me out again? After everything we've been through?”

He was used to friends ditching him as they grew older. It was a fact of wealthy life he had been forced to become used to. Once they were too rich, or he was too queer or not pale enough for their tastes, he had always been cast aside. But Henry wasn't like them. From the first meeting, he had been kind and gentle and no, it hadn't always been perfect but it had just started getting good again and last night had been so good and suddenly words he'd tried so hard to swallow were spilling from his lips.

“Don't you know how much I-”

Just as soon as they had started to be said, they were cut off by a muffled yelp of pain.

As the transformation came over him, that familiar all-consuming pain, Henry tried his hard to muffle the wracking sobs and piercing shrieks he usually emitted. He and Hyde’s spirits swirled around like water and oil in a stirred beaker; infinitely close but distinctly separate. Their voices groaned as one as their body grew shorter and their hair longer. They were both vaguely aware of the door slamming open and a sharp gasp in a familiar voice, then the whirling feeling settled and Henry was left in charge of a body that was not his own.

Blinking his eyes open again, his eyes settled on the form of Robert Lanyon.

“Fuck. Not you,” he groaned in his best approximation of Hyde's demeanour. His heart thumped anxiously in his chest. The jig was up, after all of those years hiding it all. He could feel the sommeil de la mort swirling through his cardiovascular system and prayed it would set in before too many questions could be asked.

“Henry?” Robert gasped.

Robert could have sworn it was Hyde in front of him. Same hair, same height, same voice, same everything. Everything except the eyes. He had met Hyde before, and one of the man's most striking features were his eyes, those strange, glowing emeralds. Certainly not the deep, soft garnets staring up at him in a way that begged for mercy and affection like a stray puppy. Those eyes were deeply familiar to him, ones he had seen in every colour of light; from the soft glow of the golden hour to the sordid glimmer of a candle.

He knelt beside the smaller man and awkwardly patted him on the back, before some strange force in his chest puppeteered his arms to wrap around him and pull them close together.

“Why didn't you tell me, Henry, you numpty?” he asked softly.

“I- I'm not Henry! I'm Hyde! Henry's boring and… and likes paperwork and I like jumping off stuff!” the man in his arms declared in a poor pantomime of Hyde, his blinking somewhat sluggish.

“Henry, I can tell it's you. I'm not stupid.”

“But I look like Hyde. How could you say I'm Jekyll?”

Robert sighed, moving his head so his lips hovered just above Henry's. He could feel the erratic heartbeat just below his own chest, attributing it to simply nerves and the heat of the moment.

“Do you think I don't know you do well- don't love you so much- that I couldn't pick your eyes out from a sea of faces?” he murmured as their lips locked together. He could have stayed there forever, if Henry hadn't pulled back with a retch and a wheezing groan.

“What is it?” he asked, beginning to panic as he felt the arms wrapped around him grow heavier and watched as it got harder for those gorgeous ruby eyes to stay open. “Henry, please, we've kept secrets for too long. Just, for once, tell me something.”

“Robert, I- I love you. And I'm so so, so sorry,” Henry mumbled, his words slurring as he leaned his head into Robert's chest and shut his eyes.

“Why are you sorry, Henry? Henry, talk to me! Why are you sorry?” Robert begged, his breathing ragged as he pressed a hand against his oldest friend and greatest love’s still chest. There was no heartbeat.

Lanyon opened his lips and let a shriek tear from his throat.

[jamiedryssnail]

pls i need to know about quinn and that experience 💀💀😭😭

- replying to anon

Warnings- Smut!!!! Awkward Quinn!

LoveOfMyLifeAu

Rutger and Madi had been deprived of each other all week if you know what I mean.

Spending summers at the lake house got hard. Let’s just say there was never any peace and quiet. Especially right now as it was the peak of summer. With her having her three brothers and all there friends. There was always so much going on it was extremely chaotic to say the least.

They had not had time nor been left alone to have sex this week. Usually there 5 times a week kinda people so it has been hard.

Especially because rutger has been walking around shirtless all week and his biceps looking better than usual.

Rutger was no better. He love love loves mads in her bikini. Her tits pushed up in just the right way. Her piercings all visible accept for some ifykyk….

Oh my god and her ass just bounced perfectly as she walked around. He was honestly in disgust with himself. He had gotten a boner four times in the last week in front of everyone. He obviously ran of and dealt with it the way he does on roadies. Pulling out a pic of Stella out of all the ones she’s sent or he’s took. And going for it.

It was safe to say that we’re both so horny it’s all they could think about. So when everyone went out for dinner and they said they wanted a movie night what better time to do it. They both knew they were needing each other. They had played a movie getting out snacks as everyone started exiting the house in different vehicles. Quinn ending up having to drive himself.

Little did they know Quinn had lost a game of beer pong and had to pay for everything tonight everyone’s dinner. I mean it’s not like he didn’t have the money. Once he arrived at the restaurant he realised this and told everyone he’d be back soon and had to rush home.

Oh poor Quinn.

As soon as Quintin had left rutger had started to undress her starting with her sundress, then her bikini top, and bottoms. As she layed beneath him on the leather couch he started smothering her breast with kisses. Small moans left Madi’s lips as he pinched her sensitive nipples.

Rutgers lips kissing her cold pierced boobs. Rut didn’t think he could get any harder.

“Please Rut” Madi exclaimed breathlessly

“What baby, use your words” he said smiling down at her.

Madi having had enough decided to show him she slid herself onto her back as rutger watched. She started fingering herself rubbing soft circles on her clit as he watched. Load moans leaving her lips.

At this point rutger has had enough he needed her. But also being rutger he has to please her.

So without warning he grabbed her by the hips and started licking all around her wet pussy. Her aching core practically begging for his dick.

After a few minutes he needed to fuck her.

“Baby you ready” rutger whispered

“Yes, I need you in me” she moaned back

Rutger without a second thought started fucking her. It was like heaven to them or at least for the next minute.

The room was so filled with moaning and groaning they didn’t hear Quinn’s car engine come and stop.

Nor did they hear the door open.

“Faster Rut, Oh right there baby” Mads screamed.

“Oh my god baby your so tigh-“ rut was cut off

“ Holy Fuck, Holy Fuck, STOP OH MY GOD YUCK” Quinn’s voice echoed through the air.

Madison quickly covered herself up trying to hide under rutger.

“ omg are you stopping I need my keys what the fuck your just kids”

“Bleach my eyes”

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY SISTER, was the im going to bleach my eyes not enough”

“quinny we’re not currently fucking” madi said

“yea but you were and oh gross don’t use that words” he said

“oh wait oh yuck gross im getting flashbacks”

“Oh shut up and get out” madi said jokingly

And oh my god did he. He basically ran.

Honestly it should have ruined the mood but it didn’t they still did it. They did it hard ( ew wtf I just gave myself the ick )

Quinn handled it reasonably well never ever bringing it up again. Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen with Luke or his forbid Jack.

It Does…