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#but i hope it is at least in part coherent
alien-ally · 11 months
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Dude. The actual extent to which my parents unsuccessful marriage has contorted my moms views about marriage. According to her, it might as well be the worst thing that can happen in your life, after which you'll be totally stifled and sentenced to a hoard of responsibilities. That the best part of life is the first quarter but people should probably get married anyway when they get older (30ies) so you don't end up alone in a far later stage of life. With that said, life will also get reduced to an adjustment once you're married so never hurry it or ever think about it until you're 30.
Making this post after the talk my mom gave my brother who's actually nearing this age (27) and happened to make a confession (that he has someone he likes, like as in like to marry them someday) which he just happened to make during an offhand convo about upcoming marriages of my dads friends kids. Sat through the whole thing with a constipated smile on my face while my brother kept throwing me glances with a matching (or more indulgent should i say) smile on his face and timely humms. That's just what's left. Incredulous smiles. The rest of the things we feel, they'll be felt in peace, in secret. There's never anything we can say to make a difference. Ig one advantage of living in a make-do marriage is you learn all the things you must never do. At least we'll grow healthy i guess.
ourgh it's going to be so good when i come out. when she finds out that I'm going to be just what she wants in the most ironic way. that i am in fact NEVER going to get married. even if she doesn't understand what the terms mean. but yk sometimes i wonder if my mom is aspec. legit. she just doesn't know perhaps. but AHEM anyways what was I saying again-
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hinamie · 5 months
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Do you work on multiple art projects at once? Or do you have to finish one before starting another? If you do work on multiple at a time, how many is too many......... asking for a friend (ME, pls god help me)
Hi anon! The vast majority of the time I'm only working on one thing at a time :'> I find that what happens when I try to bench one project to work on another is I lose the motivation to come back to it entirely. My working theory as to why this happens revolves around the fact that I feel like each drawing Teaches(?) me something and shifts the expectations I have of myself--so if I put one piece aside to start and finish another, by the time the second one is done I feel like I've already surpassed the me that felt comfortably challenged and satisfied while working on the first one . So by that point if I /do/ want to try and salvage or finish the first one I feel like in order to clear the new bar that's been set I'd need to either a. redo the majority of it or b. start over entirely orz
Occasionally I will juggle multiple pieces (usually out of necessity on account of deadlines) and that's fine if it needs to happen but as far as my own workflow and Drawing Experience go i definitely don't prefer it :') If the stars could always align and I could guarantee that I would be equally enthused and motivated about all my ongoing wips then maybe things would be different but alas I have maladaptive perfectionism and hyperfixate on One (1) project at a time until I cant stand the sight of it anymore
All that being said, I'm not sure I can give a definite answer as to how many ongoing wips is too many ...? for me personally probably like 2-3 but I imagine that number is probably different for everyone . ANYWAY GOMEN this got long but I hope your friend (you) is doing ok with all your projects !! i will manifest Productivity and Inspiration but make sure not to burn yourself out ghjdsgsj <3
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Sorry all my opinions on guilt, punishment, redemption, apologies, and associated concepts are all taken from or building on my knowledge of Teshuva but it's not my fault Judaism is sometimes so correct it's the reason I started hyperfixating on it long enough to realize that it's where I belong for unrelated reasons <3
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sentient-cloud · 1 year
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Ugh plans for disability pride month include I have a doctors appointment and maybe I’ll finally bring up my pain (horrifying, especially as a fat person and especially with a doctor who still hasn’t put me on my adhd meds I previously had yet. Maybe I’ll also ask about those because help.) trying to get a therapist and also. Making that phone call begging the state to not cut my assistance benefits and to believe me when I say i don’t work due to health + mental health reasons at the moment (negative hopes)
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ruvviks · 2 years
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summary >> following vincent and vitali's full recovery after the arasaka chapter, a new threat takes the stage in night city; the broker, a powerful fixer who targets other fixers and seems to have vitali lined up in their sights warnings >> brainwashing mention, death mention, family, injury mention, torture mention, violence
It’s April 2078. Vincent has made a full recovery from Soulkiller and Vitali is no longer under the influence of Arasaka’s brainwashing technology. Following the very stressful events of all of 2077, he had to get surgery on his leg, and as a result has to walk with a cane for the time being while he recovers. Business has gone back to normal and he’s picked up his duties as a fixer full time now, and Vincent works for him as a mercenary.
However, this all changes when one of Vitali’s cargo transports is under attack, leaving his mercenaries injured and his cargo taken. They manage to trace the attack back to the Broker, a fixer who has been around for a while already and has been busy targeting other fixers; however, they now seem to have targeted Vitali specifically, as this is not the first violent encounter with their mercenaries.
To top it all off, the Broker’s mercenaries seem to have connections with Vitali. Many of them used to be part of Vitali’s network, but left when he skipped town with Vincent to find a cure for his condition after getting rid of Johnny Silverhand. It worries Vitali, to now see them with the Broker instead; but there is not much he can do about it, and instead he decides to focus on revealing the fixer’s identity.
Soon enough, yet another attack happens- on Vitali’s office no less, in his absence. Mikhail is taken by Edward Keizer, better known as Ravager, an ex-Maelstrom mercenary of the Broker. Mikhail is tortured by Ravager’s people and rescued by Vitali and Vincent after a couple of days, but the whole situation leaves everyone shaken. Vincent voices his concern to Vitali and urges him to make a move, but Vitali rather wants to focus on keeping his friends safe and uses an example from his past to explain to Vincent why acting too rash won’t get them anywhere.
But Vincent can’t sit still. Two weeks pass in which he, behind Vitali’s back, looks into Ravager and ends up launching a solo attack on his factory. It backfires and Vincent is captured, after which Vitali attempts to free him; but it ends up being a trap and many of Vincent’s friends end up captured as well. They see each other again when the Broker’s right hand man, Ivan Dupoint, enters the scene; he challenges Vincent to a rigged game of chess, with his friends at stake.
Vincent wins and his friends walk free, but he himself is forced to stay. After a few days he’s rescued and Vitali manages to capture both Ravager and Dupoint as well, and he brings them to his office for further interrogation.
However, Vitali’s interrogation attempts soon turn sour when the remnants of Arasaka’s brainwashing technology begin to act up again. It puts him in a passenger seat in his own body, leaves him running on autopilot until he snaps out of it; and most of the time he is unaware of what happened while in that mode. He is desperate to figure out the Broker’s identity, still convinced it will make the situation easier to deal with; but his fear of losing control again and once again fully being under Arasaka’s control instead leaves him terrified and exhausted, to the point he starts having nightmares.
Another problem he is dealing with at this point is the Council. The collaboration of fixers was created to keep the innocent people of Night City safe and he has been part of it for a long time now; though they continue to see this as a city-wide issue rather than acknowledge Vitali is being singled out, and only a few of them take the Broker seriously. Vitali is starting to run low on resources following all the raids on his office and his cargo transports, and especially now that most of his other business with clients has been halted; but despite it all he keeps going, refusing to let any of it get to him.
Dupoint ends up giving Vitali a location and Vitali pays it a visit with Huxley and Lauren. They find what seems to be an empty mansion, but while investigating the Broker’s office, a woman enters the room; Nadya Dobrynina, Vitali’s mother, effectively confirming to Vitali that his father, Matvey Dobrynin, is the Broker.
Vitali knows exactly why Matvey is angry. After Vitali was fired from Arasaka some years ago, apparently Matvey and Nadya were fired as well; Arasaka no longer wanted the name Dobrynin to stain their ranks, and Matvey ended up blaming Vitali for losing his job. He became obsessed with his son, to the point he became a fixer himself and picked up Vitali’s mercenaries the moment Vitali left for Arizona; only to then turn them against him, and attack him like he’s been doing with other fixers (to bring order back to Night City, as he claims so himself) but now singling him out.
After coming face to face with his mother, Vitali runs away and gets drunk in a club somewhere, then somehow finds his way to Viktor’s shop and he breaks down here. Viktor briefly speaks to him and then brings him home to Vincent and Mikhail.
The next day, Mikhail returns to the mansion to investigate further; it is empty now, but they find evidence of Vitali’s sister Roksana having lived there as well- and for some reason, they find a picture of Mikhail in her bedroom, much to everyone’s surprise. She has always been weirdly obsessed with Mikhail ever since they were all younger and Mikhail would often be around to hang out with Vitali; but neither of them had expected her to still be like that.
Vitali once again interrogates Dupoint and the man tells him he will bring Vitali to his father. They thoroughly plan their attack on the Broker’s hideout, but once they execute it everything goes wrong; and Vitali comes face to face with his father, who mocks and belittles his failed attack and then promptly fires a gun in Mikhail’s direction. The bullet misses him, but it could have easily killed him; and after that, Matvey allows them to leave.
Vitali returns to the hideout the next day, though unsure why. He feels horrible for what has happened and begins to spiral very quickly now, no longer knowing how to deal with the situation and not understanding why his father didn’t just kill him when he had the chance. He interrogates Ravager again, looking for answers, but all he ends up with is more questions when the man suddenly drops Nadya’s name in the conversation; Vitali has never mentioned her around Ravager at all, and he wonders how he knows about her.
Vitali believes he can still talk some sense into his father and decides to reach out to his brother, Daniil, who seems to have nothing to do with the situation. Daniil visits Vitali’s office and they have a conversation about the Broker and Daniil’s history with Kang Tao; but none of it matters, since Daniil refuses to help Vitali like he has always done and ends up leaving. It at least confirms to Vitali that Daniil has nothing to do with any of it, and in a way it gives him closure with his sibling; something he hadn’t been able to get before, since he had left home aged 18 and had not been able to reestablish contact with his family members.
Not long after his brother’s visit, tragedy strikes once again. Matvey has unleashed his mercenaries on Night City and they’re wreaking havoc in the streets, attacking fixers and mercenaries alike- and some of them have already ended up dead. Vitali is still desperately trying to convince the Council it’s the Broker’s doing, but they once again refuse to listen to him or help him.
Vitali suits up and joins forces with Viktor and Vincent to confront Matvey, in an abandoned warehouse that seems to be used as a temporary safehouse. However, upon confronting him it is surprisingly easy to get him to stop the attacks, and the three meet up with some of Vitali’s mercenaries at a rendezvous.
Here, it finally becomes clear what Matvey is after. Now that his mercenaries have hit the news, the Council is finally looking into the source; but they’re tracing the attacks back to Vitali considering many of the mercenaries used to be part of his network, and especially considering his history with Arasaka this is not looking good for him.
Matvey claims Vitali took everything from him; and in return, rather than killing him, he is trying to take everything from Vitali too.
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Following the city-wide attack, some time passes. Vitali reaches out to the Council and attempts to convince them once again he is not behind all of this, and for now they seem to believe him; though it will take more to fully get them back on his side.
Weeks go by and Matvey seems to have vanished off the face of the earth for the time being. Vitali is not complaining and uses the time wisely to pick up some business and get his office running again. He allows his mercenaries to take some rest and tries to do damage control where he can, while also taking it easy himself for a bit.
With this new knowledge about what his father is trying to do, Vitali has a much clearer view of the situation he’s found himself in. He is still unsure how to handle it; at the end of the day Matvey is still his father, and especially considering how he had acted in their last encounter Vitali finds himself having hope, still, despite it all.
He starts to feel better, no longer plagued by nightmares or constantly on the brink of either passing out from exhaustion or being put in the passenger seat in his body again. He has realized that trying to control himself by letting out his anger in the way he’s been doing thus far isn’t helping him anymore and in fact only makes things worse; instead, he is now trying to focus more on the people around him and talking to them, or asking for help when he needs it. He has always acted out of love and out of care for his loved ones; by focusing on this rather than his anger towards those who have wronged him, he can control himself a lot better without the risk of going on autopilot.
Vitali knows he finds himself in the eye of the storm. Matvey is still out there, as well as his mother and sister; and he still hasn’t figured out their role in all of this, and he still hasn’t figured out a way to stop it all from happening. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Matvey strikes again and he is staying as alert as he can, waiting for the Broker to make his next move.
And about halfway through July 2078, an unexpected visitor shows up at Vitali's office.
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pikachu-deluxe · 2 years
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so. i had a dream some weeks ago
i was a pikachu, and i remember this dream vividly mostly because i experienced some kind of microagression (also because i was a pikachu)
no idea how to express what the whole experience of it was but i'll try
for context, the world was like normal except with pokemon. i just happened to be a pikachu
in part of the dream, i went into a restaurant, but i remember once i was there, the staff didn't want to let me in with the people eating there because i was a pokemon
they said i had to have an id (like on a collar or something) to prove i was domesticated or something like that
if i didn't have one they wouldn't let me in, but i saw that there were no pokemon in there
there was a separate room/division in the restaurant for pokemon. like, a small section to the side while everything else was for people
the pokemon that were eating over there looked either annoyed, bored or just sad, and there were some people outside the area with i think houndooms to make sure the pokemon there wouldn't cause trouble for some reason
it made me so irrationally angry to see that. i was seething there, that they'd treat us like pets at best, and did some things that made the staff have to throw me back outside
so i just ran back to the streets as soon as they let me go
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slttygeto · 1 year
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MORNING LOVE — GOJO SATORU
content warning: pwp, pussy whipped gojo is my favorite gojo, sex in the kitchen, very light spanking, dirty talk, hint of cnc.
word count: 0,6k
note: this is a follow up to this piece right here. i hope you enjoy it :)!
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if there was anything you learned from dating satoru, it was the fact that he was all about touching you. whether it be a hand resting on your thigh, or his lips pressed to your cheek as he drills into you from behind--the man couldn’t get enough of you.
you tried to stop him, tried your best to tell him to wait at least until you were done with breakfast before touching you. but the man was on a mission the moment he saw you dancing in his shirt in the kitchen. and you dare ask him to wait?
“toru--the pancakes,” you cry out the last part, his big hand reaching over to fondle with your boobs. he was incredibly touchy, always all over you like you could escape at any moment (you obviously couldn’t with his massive weight on top of you). 
you feel a little guilty to be doing this in the kitchen and over your counter, but his cock was drilling into you so well. you didn’t know why you were so sensitive this morning, perhaps you were ovulating and so your body felt like putty the moment satoru put his hands on you. 
he didn’t even bother taking off your shirt, simply pushed it up and let out a ‘fuck’ at the sight of your ass. this made you push back on him, whining when he delivered a harsh smack to the skin.
“later baby--fuck, I promise.” he was out of breath, hands roughly grabbing your hips to keep you in place. he loved having this much control over you, to see you trying to run away from his cock. only for him to hold you in place and force you to take it, force delicious sounds out of your throat. 
he grins lazily when you try to look back at him and your eyes are glossed over, lips parted and face contorted in pleasure. you look like you’re trying to say something, but the pleasure consuming you wiped every coherent thought out of your head.
“oh baby, you’re so pretty,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the back of your ear, chuckling when your breath stuttered. you were always so weak, so easily breakable when he had his dick inside of you. 
“oh god--satoru!” you cry out when his hand travels down, rubbing at your clit all while his other hand lets go of your hip to press on your stomach. his pace is unforgiving, a string of curses leaves his mouth when he feels you clenching around him as you approach your orgasm.
“that’s it baby, come on, come on,” he hisses out, his chin resting on your shoulder to peek at your face. he especially loved how fucked out you looked when you coated his dick with your juices.
“that’s right, give it to me. all of it, I can take it. take all what your pussy gives me--shiit, you feel so good,” it’s his turn to whine, his forehead resting on your shoulder when you finally reach your orgasm. your pussy felt like heaven, it was a miracle that he held in for so long. 
his orgasm washes over him soon after yours, and you’re both left a heaving mess. satoru refuses to pull out even when you whine at him to do so, only presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and hums.
“if I pull out, it will be a mess,”
“then what should we do?”
“the paper towels are right there, lemme grab some.”
“...you’re unbelievable.”
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2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.
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ilyhaitanii · 2 months
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haiii aku ;3 hope u are well bby <333╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
can we get yr input on darling who’s struggling to take sylus’ cock in her cunny or butt :p he would be so sweet but condescending abt it me finks ….!
ps.. i still haven’t played l&ds because i cant STAND the long download at the start .. but i see ur rbs ever so often about ur boy sylus nd i’m starting to grow a liking!!!! ;D
mfhehdeosndnd ive been DYINGGGG 4 someone to ask me abt this !!!! i hope yr doing well too honey <333
mdni 18+ (mean-ish sylus, size kink, use of darling, sweetie, kitten, and slut, what kind of aku fic wld it be if there was no clit play or finger sucking!!!!!!! ++ darling is an implied virgin) mmm i think thats it :3)
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trying to fit sylus inside of you is… exhausting to say the least. he’s so mean yet so sweet at the same time it somewhat gives you whiplash. one minute he’s cooing at how much your thighs are trembling, attempting to fit his cock inside of you but you can barely get past the stretch of just the tip.
he’s never really ever fucked you fully. always saying “it’s too much for you” or “that’s not something a sweet girl like yourself should worry about.” any other day, you would argue with him about it, but when his tongue is buried deep inside your cunt and his nose is rubbing against your clit, it’s pretty hard to come up with a coherent reply.
“need any help, sweetie? it’s admirable to admit defeat, you know?” sylus remarks as his nails gently tickle your sides. you flinch, squealing at the sensation. you squeeze around the head of his cock making him groan. he chuckle in a low tone, crimson eyes glowing with desire.
you’re the one who wanted to ride him, finally have his cock inside you. and with much begging (and a lot of his cum down your throat) you finally convinced him to let you try. keyword: try.
sylus enjoys playing with his food before eating it though. he watches the way you struggle to slide your knees down further, unsure as to how much pressure to use. your inexperienced hand placement as well has him reeling. there’s something beautiful about the way you shyly try to cover yourself, yet are spread wide on top of him as his cock is inside you. that gives him whiplash.
“shut up!” you say, cheeks flushing a darker red. you huff, trying to push your knees further down,
“slowly, kitty. no need to rush.” but you just can’t get him to fit inside you! he’s far too big for you. even after being stretched out with three fingers! you let out a soft cry, frustrated. sylus hums, swirling hearts into your clit,
“there’s so point in punishing yourself, sweetie. let me help, hm?” he lets out a soft rumble when your hands finally place themselves on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath your palm contract. sylus’s other hand cups your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips.
“i can do it,” you argue back, sliding your knees down further. however, you lose you balance and slide all the way down sylus’s cock in one go. there’s a loud yelp that escapes your lips when your hips meet sylus’s. tears brim in your eyes at the stretch and this foreign fullness in your tummy.
with your chest pressed against his, sylus places his hands on your hips, sliding you back up.
“poor thing. you really do need my help, hm?” and finally you admit defeat. with little pearls falling down your cheeks you nod your head, sobbing into his neck. “my sweet little girl,” sylus murmurs into your skin as he lays you down in the mattress.
“this is the appropriate position for your first time, sweetie. what you were doing was far too advanced for you.” he chides, pinching your cheeks. sylus slides your knees up, parting your legs. he gets a good look at your weeping cunt and swollen clit. he lines up the head of his cock with your entrance and pushes forward. you try to push him away, but sylus takes ahold of your wrists.
“ah ah, none of that. be a good girl and lay still for me.” his voice is stern, yet the husk of his voice makes your brain feel dizzy. everything about him makes you feel light headed— his scent, his frame, his hands, his cock.
your adorable little mewls and heaves has sylus sinking his cock in further. the stretch is tolerable, but it burns in the best way possible. you can’t explain how the pain feels good. (you don’t have to worry about explaining how you feel, sylus will take care of it!)
“sy!” you reach out for his hand, crying. sylus holds your smaller hand in his, pressing kisses into your knuckles.
“easy there, sweetie. we have all the time in the world, no need to rush.” but your so desperate for him to fill you up, you just can’t take it. sylus watches your pout form as you push your hips against him.
sylus uses his elbows to press your knees to your chest, causing your eyes to flutter open. his thumb strokes your swollen clit as he pushes himself deeper and deeper. time to time, he slides himself all the way out and then fills you right back up. he allows you to adjust to every new inch.
the feeling is unlike any other. sylus’s too brushes against your most sensitive spot, white flashes clouding your view of him. his silver locs covering his eyes. you reach up to brush his hair away, but you feel his cock at a whole new angle.
“ah! sylus!” you moan our, holding onto him. you’re almost there, so close to taking him all the way. before you know it, sylus is fully inside you. you can feel him just below your belly button. the sight of his bulge in your tummy makes him weak. his balls tighten— he could just cum at the sight of it.
“easy there. see, it just took some patience, kitten.” sylus rubs away any tears with his thumb before peppering bites and kisses along your breasts and shoulders.
“you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” you nod your head along to his words, sucking on his thick digits when they’re slid onto your heavy, sticky tongue.
“not a single thought in your head besides taking my cock, huh?” sylus whispers, watching the way you whine and clench around his cock. he cocks a brow, “oh? did that make you wetter?”
sylus slides his cock out slightly before ramming it into your sweet spot. you clutch onto his wrist, eyes retreating into the back of your skull. his free hand takes one of your ankles and places it on his shoulder. sylus gazes down at you with spit drooling down your lips.
“look at yourself. you’ve gone stupid on my cock and i haven’t even fully fucked you,” he leans in closer, pressing himself deeper. “this is why i was avoiding this. afraid of turning my sweet girl into a stupid slut.” you can’t understand why his words are making your tummy feel tight or why you feel yourself gushing around his length, but again: that’s none of your concern.
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© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize
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— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ pt.2
pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader
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summary: after lord eros' silly little trick, you're now forced to deal with the consequences— more specifically, in the form of a lovestruck luke castellan.
warnings: tons of corny pick-up lines
genre: still very much a romcom
part 1
note: thank you, thank you! all your support for pt.1 means the world to me! really, i couldn't be more grateful 𖹭 i hope you think this brings justice to the first half 𖹭
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
“What do you mean you can’t do anything?” You suppressed the urge to shriek, settling for gritted emphasis instead. You crossed your arms across your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floorboards of the Big House.
“Exactly what it means.” Chiron responded, looking at Luke with more amusement rather than concern.
“But he's under a spell,” You reasoned in disbelief. You might have spilled over your words while you explained the rundown to Chiron, but they were coherent enough to at least get that point across.
“It’ll wear off eventually, kid.” Mr. D downed an entire can of diet soda in one go before procuring another one in his outstretched hand. He snickered at the intent puppy eyes Luke was giving you. “That type of love magic won’t last long. Best to let it run its course than tamper with it.”
“But–” You wanted to argue before Mr. D stopped you. He pushed his feet up on his desk.
“Look, at least this proves that your boyfriend actually loves you.” He gave you a pointed look. What does that even mean? “Now, leave.”
You huffed indignantly, but decided against speaking further. You begrudgingly turned around and pulled Luke up by his arm, guiding him towards the narrow hallway that led to the foyer.
“When did I become your boyfriend?” Luke huddled closer to you, whispering as you made your way to the front door.
“You didn’t.” You told him plainly. You shook your head. “You aren’t.”
“Yet.” He responded, his tone a bit mischievous but his gaze sure and determined.
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
You leaned your elbows against the table of the crowded Arts and Crafts Center, your chin resting against the pad of your thumbs. You studied Luke with a contemplating gaze.
“I hit you with one of Eros’ arrows.” You told him. This was hardly the proper place to have this conversation, but the rest of the Aphrodite cabin practically hauled you to the building to begin Valentinkering? Valenmaking? (whatever in Tartarus they decided to call it this year).
“Well, I guess you could say I’ve been lovestruck by you.” He said, giving you a stupid little wink as he mirrored your posture.
“Gods, Luke. That was corny as hell.” You flushed almost as crimson as the container of beads in front of you. “Also, I’m serious.”
“And who said I wasn’t?” He challenged. He smirked against his fist, wiggling his eyebrows.
You snorted. “The fact that you’re under some valentine voodoo makes all your intentions questionable.”
“You wound me.” He feigned offense, pouting as he clutched at the fabric of his shirt above his chest. “To be fair, my train of thought has always been questionable when it comes to you.”
“Again: unimpressed.” You buried your face into your hands, the second hand embarrassment of his poor attempt at flirting was overwhelmingly potent. Besides, it was difficult not to react when he looked at you so intently, like he was trying to memorize every minute detail of you.
“On a more serious note, I do remember the whole arrow thing.” He told you, his lips pursed. “I don’t blame you; it was a complete accident. It just feels… odd.”
Your ears perked up, worried. “You feel odd?”
“No,” He shook his head. His expression was perplexed, maybe a bit incredulous too. “That’s the thing. I feel completely normal.”
“That is weird.” You agree. You wrap the string in between your fingers around his wrist, measuring it to his size. "Maybe it was just a prank?"
“No. If anything, it’s more like I can’t hold my tongue.” He shrugs. “I can’t help but say what I think.”
“Would that explain the flirting?” You tease. All cheeky, but with a hint of curiosity hidden beneath the humor.
He leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You stare at him, tilting your head. He returns your gaze just as intensely, brown eyes fixed onto yours. He raises an eyebrow as if to question your silence. There was something magnetic between the two of you, pulsing and pulling you closer— maybe not physically, but definitely in other ways unbeknownst to you.
“Woah!” Percy exclaimed with an accusatory edge to his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and his palms raised as if to distance himself from you. “Respect for the children, maybe? Consider shielding my young impressionable eyes from this trauma?”
“Percy!” You squeaked rather uncharacteristically. Annabeth trailed behind closely, pushing a leg over the bench to sit beside you. You smiled at her, tugging her closer by placing your arm around her shoulders.
“Annabeth,” Luke called. “Trade places with me.”
Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “No.”
“Come on.” He persisted. He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “You know, the Stoll brothers have an extensive archive, and I think I may have heard word of them having that Rem Kolhaas book you've been raving about."
Annabeth stopped to consider the offer before ultimately conceding. She stood up from her seat. “That’s a big bribe for a small favor.”
“Know what prices to pay to win your battles.” Luke muttered as he sidled up next to you, grinning triumphantly. His fingers played with the hem of your weathered camp shirt. “Sacrifices aren’t much in the face of victory.”
“Did you just use a bad battle strategy as a flirting tactic?” Annabeth scrunched her nose in distaste. “Gross.”
"Done." You finish tying up the ends, letting the red bracelet dangle in Luke's line of vision.
"It looks so pretty, baby." He compliments you, holding out his wrist. You proudly put it on for him. "Not as pretty as you though."
You scoff. Both Annabeth and Percy imitate gagging noises.
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
The only time you ever truly left each other’s side were the few moments of reprieve before dinner where you’d returned to your cabins. The older campers insisted on making the meal a whole affair, complete with a romantic candlelit set-up and a string quartet to serenade everyone. Chiron decided to indulge the request and sent everyone back to freshen up.
“Have fun with your boyfriend?”
“Christ!” You jumped in your spot, turning around to see Eros laying on one of the bunks. His arms were tucked underneath his head, his smile suggestive and knowing.
“Lord Eros,” You bowed.
“That is not your shade.” He tutted, pointing to the tinted gloss in your hand. “Too summery for your complexion this time of year. Go for the pink one. He’ll go berserk.”
“Thanks.” You muttered, facing your vanity once more. You dabbed the product against your lips. You sighed as you inspected your make-up. Once more, he was right.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He shifted to his side, looking at you expectantly.
“Yeah, I guess.” You grumbled. You looked down, pretending to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. Luke refused to leave your side the entire day— his fingers hooked around the belt hoops of your skirt in one way or another. He made a whole spectacle of it too: his big brown eyes tender, his wistful sighs, his shy grins, his playful winks.
“Good.” He clapped his hands. “Gods, the boy has had a crush on you for forever, you know. It was torture watching him pine over you. I can only take so much longing.”
You froze, staring at him through the mirror. He stared back at you.
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” He sounded shocked; he was shocked. “You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, how could you not know?! That's like our thing!”
“Well, he hasn’t been obvious, has he?” You rebutted, flicking your wrist.
“Sis, I don’t know what reality you’re living in,” He sat up on the bed, “But that boy wouldn’t know subtle even if it hit him in the face.”
“But surely it’s just because of the arrows.” You rationalized.
“Nuh uh.” He wiggles a finger in the air to deny the accusation. “The arrows you used just accentuate pre-existing feelings. Not make new ones.”
A knock interrupts your conversation. You hurry to fix your hair, brushing it out of the way. Your hands begin to shake with giddy excitement. You feel your heart thrum strongly against your chest, almost wanting to burst out from the confines of your body and find its other half in Luke. Your smile eventually becomes hard to contain.
Eros beams at you, his pupils dilating into hearts again like it did this morning. He opens the door for you and pushes you out. “Have fun with lover boy. Mother sends her regards.”
Luke spins around at the sound of the squeaky hinges. He can't help but pull a hand out of his pocket, his palm lightly grazing his chest. He whistles. “Call me favored by the gods because I think I’ve just entered Elysium.”
“You’ve been with me the whole day.” You responded pointedly, breathless and in love.
“And yet you still manage to take my breath away.” He gasps when you rush into him, wrapping your arms around his nape.
“This is new.” He looks down at you, your noses touching. His hands fall naturally to your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of your dress. “But definitely welcome.”
You gaze into his eyes before pressing your lips against his. They felt pleasant and pliant against your own. You tugged Luke closer, your fingers twirling through his curls. His hands squeezed your skin. The kiss burned sweetly, almost as if it’s been waiting in anticipation to happen.
When you both separate for air, Luke gently grabs your hands from behind him. He wraps his fists around yours, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “I’ve been waiting so long for that.”
“So I’ve been told.” You hum. “I figured I might take the first step.”
“Don’t worry.” He presses another kiss against your lips, short and sweet. “I promise to match your pace the rest of the way.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺
taglist: @ace-spades-1 @patitotodd @fandomthings-blog @bugcuti3 @liv1104 @mindflay3r
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nickfowlerrr · 9 months
Text
so inviting, i almost jump in.
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pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: fluff. pining. idiots in love? fake dating...kinda lol. a lil bit of angst but not too much.
words: 4.5k
notes: happy new year! i tried so hard to finish this last night but just couldn’t do it lol. this is part of the ciwywt universe, but i think it can be read as a standalone, too.
also - coherent, consistent timelines? sorry, don’t know her. idk where this fits in their story but it does bc i say it does. 😌 i really love these two and i hope you enjoy this lil fic as much as i do. thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome, and so appreciated! 💞
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"Ow,” you wince, “damn it," you grumble to yourself as you set your eyeliner pencil down, blinking rapidly to quell the tears you could feel about to form in your eye. You huff and turn to look down at the cause of your distraction, your phone ringing loudly as it lays on the counter. You see the caller and preemptively roll your eyes. Not this again.
You swipe to answer the call and his voice immediately floats into your ear, giving you no time to even utter a 'hello'.
"Before you say anything-"
"No," you state firmly, annoyance clear in your tone as you stop him before he can begin.
"Doll,"
"Bucky, I said no," you cut him off again. "It's a no. No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen," you continue despite his pathetic huff sounding on the other end.
"I know you said no..." he says before trailing off for a second, "but, doll, I really need you."
Damn him. You sigh heavily into the phone, putting a hand to your forehead to stop the headache you know is coming. He's really trying to pull on your heart strings... unfortunately for him, it's not gonna work.
"You don't need me, Bucky. You're gonna be fine. They're your friends, if you just tell them what you told me, they'll understand. You have nothing to worry about."
"That's not," he huffs, stopping himself, and you can almost hear him shake his head, "Will you at least try to come by?"
You know you won't, but you don't want to upset him any more than he already is.
"Yeah, I'll try. And stop worrying so much. You'll have a good time, I know it," you smile, the thought of him and his friends enjoying their New Year's Eve tugging at your lips.
"Yeah," he responds, sounding a little unsure. "Okay, well, I'll see you later?"
"Mhm...maybe," you say.
"Doll," he groans, causing an unbidden laugh to slip from you at his dramatics.
"I said I'd try, no promises! But I do have to go now, so, talk later. Bye," you finish, hanging up on him before he can try and talk you into making a promise you have no intention of keeping.
You sigh heavily as you set your phone back down, returning to your almost finished makeup. Just because you aren't going out doesn't mean you can't look good.
You're still so surprised he asked you to be his fake date to his New Year's Eve party. Both because you were surprised he was hosting a party to begin with, and because he needed a fake date.
But that was just it, he didn't need a fake date. He wanted to get his friends off his back with the constant set ups and double dates they'd plan for him. What he really needed to do was tell them the truth, just like he told you. He didn't want to date, at least not right now. He said his mind was on other things. That was understandable, so you weren't sure why he couldn't just tell them that...
A part of you feels bad for not helping Bucky out, but the other part of you knows you'd feel like a total outsider at a small party being attended by the avengers.
Like, the real-life superhero team, The Avengers.
That was an immediate 'no thank you'.
You were content to spend the night alone; just you, your grapes, and some apple cider to cheers to the new year.
--
The television plays on, another episode of a show you've seen ten times before just starting up, as a knock sounds at your door.
You furrow a brow as your head shoots in its direction. It only takes a second for you to come to the conclusion that it must be Bucky. You set your drink down and stand from where you were sitting cozily on your couch.
You fix your dress, and for no reason at all, check yourself in the mirror before you near the door, making sure your makeup isn't smudged and your hair still looks nice as you do.
There's another knock as you get to it and you open your door with a bit of attitude at his impatience.
"Bucky, how many times-" you're stopped short as you quickly see that the man before you is, in fact, not Bucky. "Oh, uhm, sorry, can I help you?" you ask.
"Yeah," the man laughs, "I'm here for the party. This is the right apartment, isn't it? Bucky Barnes?" he asks, looking at you quizically.
"No," you answer, "no, wrong apartment. He's just," again you're cut off, but this time by the door right down the hall opening, none other than Bucky peeking out to look down at you and - oh my god wait...is this - this is - holy shit you're talking to Captain America. Your eyes round as you look from Bucky back over to the man before you. "Oh, gosh, you, you're,"
"Sam Wilson," he smiles brightly at you, extending a hand. You shake hands as he continues, "and you must be-"
He is cut off from saying your name as it comes out of Bucky's mouth, almost frantically. You look from Sam back over to Bucky, your eyes still wide.
"I know you're still getting ready, but would you come here for just a second," he nods at you. You look once more between Sam and Bucky, your eyes narrowing as they land back on your own personal pain in the ass. What the hell is he up to... You and Sam go to walk over to him but Bucky speaks again. "Not you, Sam. You stay there," he says in a fuss. Sam puts his hands up, a look of confusion clear on his face at Bucky's demand.
You continue toward him and as soon as you're close enough to touch, he pulls you to him, turning you both so Sam can't see what you're saying. It's a hushed conversation, a whispered argument, really.
"You have to come over."
"No, I really don't."
"You do."
"I don't."
"You're staying."
"No, I'm not."
"You're staying. I'm not letting you leave," he says, trying to corral you into his apartment as you swipe at him, a back and forth of swats ensuing between the two of you.
"Bucky!" you finally whisper yell, stopping the battle as you ball your fists, almost stomping like a toddler in your annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I lied."
"Huh? To me? About what?"
"To all of you. But mostly them. I told them you'd be here. Because I thought you would be. But then you said you weren't coming, but I couldn't tell them that or they'd think I was just making up another lie about you..."
"Another lie?"
"I...may have... told my friends that we're dating and have been for a few weeks," he murmurs under his breath, so quiet you can barely hear his confession.
"You what?" you balk, trying your hardest to squash the stupid butterflies that are fluttering around in your stomach now at the idea of not only dating Bucky, but of being someone he brings up in conversation to other people.
"Alright, love birds, cute as this is, are one of you gonna invite me in or am I just supposed to stand here awkwardly in your hallway all night?" Sam interjects, walking to you both as you turn your heads to look at him.
Bucky turns entirely, moving closer to you, slipping his arm behind your back and resting his hand on your hip, "Yeah, welcome in. Steve said he'd be here with beer in a few minutes," Bucky says, an annoyed edge to his voice as he lets Sam through the door. Sam raises a brow at you and you force a smile. As soon as he's inside, Bucky snaps the door shut behind him, leaving you both in the hallway still.
"What the hell," Sam says, loud enough for you to hear through the door.
"Look, it started as a lie to get out of a date, but then I just kept using you an excuse to not go to things I didn't wanna go to. And ya know, more than half the time I wasn't really lying because I was with you," he tries to excuse himself.
"Are you insane?" you ask him plainly.
"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need you to be here tonight, please," he begs, his puppy eyes starting to get to you.
"You had only asked me to be your fake date."
"Yeah, once you said yes, I was gonna work the girlfriend thing in," he smiles wryly, rubbing the back of his neck in his anxiousness.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"Is that a yes?"
You roll your eyes before acquiescing, "Fine. But you've gotta come clean tomorrow. You can't start the new year with secrets, it doesn't bode well for anyone."
"Deal," he smiles his real smile this time. Then his eyes drift down to your outfit and you warm, like you always do, under his attention. "You look good," he says softly, sincerity in his voice.
"Thanks," you accept quickly. You will not let him fluster you so easily. Not tonight.
--
More of Bucky's friends arrive soon after you get back from your apartment, your bag of grapes and bottle of unopened cider in hand. Bucky introduces you to each of them and you're now unsurprised that they know your name and exactly who you are. And you, for your part, are in awe of each and every one of them. Though you like to think you don't make it obvious.
And it's surprising how normal it all feels.
You for sure thought you'd be a nervous wreck around these people, but, especially with Bucky by your side, you've never felt so calm and comfortable, and at a party of all places. Though you suppose it helps that you're already so comfortable around his apartment. Still, it's nice. They're nice. And fun!
Card games are played, karaoke sung, and stories told as you all snack and chat the evening away.
You're all laughing as Sam talks about how everyone was sure Bucky had been making you up like a summer camp girlfriend after the fifth time he claimed you were sick or out of town so you couldn't show up to the events they had invited you to. Of course, you had no idea about any of them, but you do know where you were each and every night they brought up.
You were here.
With Bucky.
So, he wasn't completely lying. You smile and look to Bucky who stands right next to you. Your eyes instantly meet his, a smile of his own already gracing his face. You look back down, bashful despite yourself.
The night has passed so quickly and it's already nearing midnight. You're about to go get your grapes ready, but Steve's voice stops you, catching your attention.
"Ya know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you look so happy, Buck," Steve smiles as he looks at the two of you. "I'm really happy for you, both of you,” he adds. “It's obvious how much you two care about each other. It's good to see."
You don't know what to say, and you're too scared to look at Bucky. You just force another smile, feeling a bit sad more than anything. Because this isn't real. Whether you'd like it to be or not. It isn't. You have to remind yourself of that.
Bucky's hand squeezing your waist, and the feeling of his admiring gaze on you as he pulls you closer to his side, doesn't help. It just makes that pit in your stomach grow deeper.
This is easy for him because it means nothing.
This is killing you because it means everything. It’s everything you never give yourself permission to dream about. Everything you want. And it’s what you know isn’t for you. It couldn’t be.
Just a few more minutes, you breathe, and then you'll go back to normal. No dating, just friends...just friends? Whatever it is you are to him...
You're lost in thought as the conversation continues around you, Bucky's hand never leaving you and his gaze never wavering. Even as he engages in the conversation, his attention is solely on you.
"Oo, countdown is going!"
The yell pulls you out of your head as your eyes snap to the television. What the hell! How did you just lose eight minutes? Damn Bucky always taking up your thoughts and distracting you.
You don't have the time to get to the fridge for your grapes as the kitchen is crowded, flutes of cider and champagne being passed out among the group.
You tsk, oh well. At least you have on your red underwear.
As the count gets lower, Bucky gets closer, and you mindlessly lean back into him as you watch the live broadcast from Time Square. Ten seconds hits and you all count along, Bucky's other arm comes around as he holds you from behind. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Bucky turns you around in his arms, catching you off guard as you look up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.
Two.
He leans in, and you're frozen. His nose brushes yours, as his lips brush against your own. Oh.
One.
"Happy New Year," he whispers against you, cheers and exclamations of the same sentiment shared all around the living room, between everyone else.
"Happy New Year," you whisper back breathily before you unthinkingly press closer to him.
His lips meet yours as he leans in ever closer and kisses you, so softly. Your eyes flutter closed as you return his affection, kissing back harder than you intend before you break away. It feels like magic, it feels like home. And you want nothing more than to do it again. To lose yourself in him so delightfully…
You remember yourself then and almost shy away completely before Bucky takes your face in his hand, turning you back to him. You lock eyes once more and you feel like you can't breathe at what you see in his. You don't have time to think on it before his eyes flick down to your lips and then he's kissing you again. His lips press harder against yours, still moving just as gently but somehow it feels much more intimate. Sincere. Real.
You deepen the kiss and then suddenly the whooping and claps around you both bring you back to reality.
You pull away, taking a sobering breath, blinking away the haze of longing as Bucky's delicate touch remains on your cheek. You gingerly reach to take his hand, slowly pulling it off of you. You hold it for a second, squeezing his hand before letting it drop.
The celebration continues all around but you need to get yourself together. Alone.
"'M gonna use the bathroom," you whisper to him, knowing he can hear you even through the din.
You exchange 'Happy New Year' exclamations with everyone you pass on your way to his bathroom and bid goodnight to the people already getting ready to head home. A lot of them have early mornings at the tower, so you get it.
There are only a few people in the living room with Bucky as you look back before you escape to the bathroom, taking your time to decompress.
Sam, Steve, and Nat were talking with him, but his eyes were on you when you looked at them.
You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you'd get caught up in the fantasy. And somehow, he still got you to do it. You curse yourself in the mirror and then notice your smudged lipstick.
The thought of your lipstick staining Bucky's lips right out there has you in a flurry of emotions...
He kissed you. Twice. That actually happened. But did it really mean anything?
Your heart twists as you refuse to believe it could have. You just need to... God, you don't know what you need. All you know is right now you can't stop thinking about Bucky's hands on you. You can't stop thinking of how soft and supple his lips are. And how damn good of a kisser he is.
You look at yourself once more in the mirror.
Fucking hell. What are you gonna do? You sigh, eyes squeezing shut before you shake your head at yourself.
You turn back to the door, opening it right when someone's knock hits.
You're somehow surprised, and yet not at all, to see Bucky staring back at you as you pull it open wider.
"Hey," you say, raising a brow and shoving every fuzzy feeling threatening to strangle you back down.
"Hey," he started. "Everyone left. I just, uh. Wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Yeah, I'm good," you nod.
"I'm sorry. About kissing you."
"Oh," you utter - sounding more dejected than you wanted to. "Yeah, no. Don't, don't even worry about it." You muster a shamefully see through smile.
His stare is near invasive as he really looks at you, analyzing you. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, instead giving you a tight lipped smile in return.
He nods, then looks to the floor, "Okay," he accepts.
You nibble your lip, crossing your arms as he still stands in front of you.
He notices and moves out of your way, offering a small sorry and a huff of a laugh.
You walk back out into the living room as he follows.
"Wow, this place is a mess,” you breathe a laugh, hoping to keep the subject change.
"Yeah," he agrees, "I'll be having fun tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" you question. "Are you busy now?"
"... I guess not."
"Then grab a garbage bag, Barnes. We've got work to do."
He laughs, "Oh, yeah? You're gonna stay and help me clean up?"
"What are friends for if not clean up?"
He smiles at you as his mind replays his conversation with Sam, Steve and Nat just minutes ago.
He told them the truth about you, and their reaction wasn't what he expected, but definitely what he needed.
"Wait, sorry, you're not dating her?" Nat asked, puzzled.
"Yeah, I'm confused, too," Sam added. "You guys act more like a couple than most couples I know."
"And she's cute, you seem perfect together."
"Well, we're not. Not, not perfect together," he amended, "I mean we're just not together. We're friends. Nothing more."
"Looks like a hell of a lot more, if you ask me..."
"So," Steve finally chimed in, "you spend all that time together, you talk about her constantly, and I saw the way you kissed her at midnight, Buck, but you're telling us it's nothing more than friendship?"
Bucky didn't know what to say. But he knew Steve knew what he was really feeling. He knew exactly what he wasn't saying.
"Do you want it to be more?" he asked. "Because from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you have everything with her but the label."
"I..." Bucky looked around, making sure you hadn't snuck back out of the bathroom yet, "yeah. I do want it to be more. She's, fuckin' perfect," he breathed a laugh as his thoughts, as they always do, strayed back to you. That familiar warmth that fills his chest anytime you're near, or hell, anytime he so much as thinks your name, returned to him. And suddenly his thoughts went back to the softness of your cheek as he held you close earlier. How pliant and perfectly your lips moved against his as you kissed him back. Not once, but twice.
Even still, he thinks back to when he told you why he was so reluctant to go on the dates his friends kept setting up for him. It was a lie when he said it was because he didn't want to date right now... well, partially. He really didn't want to date around. And his mind was focus on other things.
Other things, of course, being you.
When you nodded and told him you got it, that you felt the same way, his heart felt like it deflated by ten.
He was getting ready to finally make his move and ask you out, for real this time. But how could he do that now? He didn't want to be another guy you had to swat away, he couldn't be another one of your rejections. And you gave out plenty, always to his selfish delight if he was being honest. In fact, he can't remember the last time you actually went out on a date. It's been months...
Most of your nights are spent together. Just the two of you. But if you weren't wanting to date anyone right now, and he asked you, he couldn't be sure what you'd say. More importantly, where it'd leave you.
Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf. He had every confirmation he could ever want that you liked him the same way he liked you. But he didn't want to chase you away by pressuring a relationship, especially if that's not what you want.
"It's clear she likes you, too, ya know," Steve pointed out what he thought was the obvious.
"I know, I just. I don't wanna push her away by moving too fast. I don't think she's looking to date anybody right now,"
"If you don't ask, you'll never know."
He knew they were right. He needed to just bite the bullet and ask you outright. And he would.
But as he watches you glide around his kitchen, so at home, putting things back in their rightful places and throwing away the random garbage left behind, he thinks maybe not tonight… He doesn’t want to ask a question that might make you leave. But then again…what if it makes you stay?
"Chop chop, supersoldier," you admonish him as he continues to watch, staring dreamily at you. Your back is to him so you can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.
Bucky follows your lead, tossing away the empty cups and putting away the leftover food and drinks while you wipe down the counter.
It really wasn't that much of a mess, but you're glad to get it cleaned now, so you won't have to worry about it tomorrow.
Wait...why would you be worried about it tomorrow? This isn't your apartment. God, you really are always over here, aren't you...
You turn to Bucky as he ties off the bag of trash.
You just look at him for a minute. Admiring him from mere feet away while he does the same to you. It's quiet between the two of you, but you can feel the charged silence as it brims with words unsaid.
You know what you want to do right now. But you do what you think you should instead.
"I guess I'll head out, then."
"Oh," he breathes.
"Oh?"
"I just, uh,” he shakes his head, "Never mind."
"No, what is it?" you prod, now entirely curious.
Bucky's bright eyes flash back up to yours and you see him search for what to say instead of saying what was on his mind.
"Your grapes," he remembers, turning to the fridge to get them for you, "you didn't eat them."
"Oh, yeah, well, too late now," you laugh softly.
"What's your resolution?" he asks.
"That's not how the grapes work, Bucky."
"Come on," he goads. "What's your resolution? I wanna know."
"Hmm. Well, good question," you think for a moment, watching him as he rinses off a bunch, then pulls two grapes from their stems. You mindlessly purse your lips as you think. "I want to be less scared," you start quietly, eyes meeting his intent gaze, when he looks back at you, "More confident," you add with a little nod.
"You, more confident?" he asks. "You're one of the most confident people I know. And I know Thor," he adds, getting the laugh he was hoping for from you.
You shrug, "Fake it til you make it." You give a soft, almost sad smile. It physically hurts him to see that hint of sadness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to do whatever he can to take it away. He hands you one of the two grapes and you raise a brow as you take it.
"And you?"
Your heart rate kicks up as he steps close, invading your space and standing right before you.
"I…would like to communicate better."
You huff a laugh, tittering, "Yeah, that's a good one."
"Let's both start right now," he says, holding up his grape.
"Okay. Let's," you hold up your own grape, bumping it into Bucky's as if you were toasting before you both pop your own grape into your mouth, stupid smiles on both of your faces.
As you finish, Bucky takes a step closer, surprising you as you look up to him. A bit of deja vu coming over you as you swallow hard. You wait a long breath for him to say something. And then he finally does.
"So. This is me, trying to communicate better: I'm not really sorry that I kissed you. Either time. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'd really like to kiss you again right now."
You're stunned silent and you think you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you blink up at him.
It takes you a moment before you think you can respond, but Bucky speaks again before you do.
"But I'm not going to do that. Because I want to do this right. In fact, I've been wanting to do this right for months."
"Bucky?" you murmur quietly.
"Doll, will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner and a movie this Friday?" he asks sincerely.
Your mouth is dry and you have to force yourself to swallow hard again so you can speak. "We always do dinner and movies on Fridays," you point out.
"I mean as a date," he clarifies, holding himself to his resolution.
You stare at him, unsure of what to say. Well, that's not true. You know what you want to say. You know what you want to do. You want to say yes, and you want to lean into him again and indulge him in one more kiss, because you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you. But that terrified voice in the back of your head is currently telling you to make a run for home as fast as you can. You want to fight the fear, really you do.
Bucky is keeping his resolution already, you're just not sure if you can do the same.
"Uhm," you drone awkwardly.
He laughs that nervous laugh you rarely get to hear...the one you love.
"Is that a yes?" he asks with a hopeful wince.
It takes you a second and then your mouth moves before your brain does as you respond to him.
You stand there, a bit shocked at your own answer, and not entirely sure where to go from here...
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2K notes · View notes
inazuman · 2 months
Text
i hope you find what you're looking for
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☁  blade x f!reader s.mut, honkai: star rail ☁  reader is afab and goes by she/her. alpha/omega dynamics. blade helps you out during your heat, calls you “girl” “sweet girl” “baby”, consent is sexy and blade is very adamant about it. reader is jing yuan’s assistant. ☁  A/N: i cannot get sweet gentle blade off my mind after that car scene and this fic is what happened ☁ 5k words
“Watch where you’re going, miss.”
His hands fall to your waist as your back crashes against his front, attempting to blink away the frazzled state you’re in. Despite his warm hands, his touch feels like the first gulp of ice cold water on the hottest day.
Alpha, your head wants to reel. It’s sickening sweet, the way your slick pools at just a whiff of his scent.
It’s even worse when you turn around and realize who it is. Even with the mask and the sunglasses (does he really think that helps?), your heart drops.
Blade. The Stellaron Hunter who escaped from the Shackling Prison less than an hour ago.
Aeons, this really is the worst day to be getting your heat, isn’t it?
Blade immediately retracts his hands when he realizes your state. He’s been alive too many years to need to run away before his body starts reacting, but he’s still — at least partially — human. Your scent is sweet, almost needy, has his biology wanting to follow you wherever you go.
You whine at the loss of contact, your hand immediately slapping across your mouth as you come to terms with what just happened.
“I-“
“No need to apologize, it’s perfectly natural.”
This little alleyway is only used by those working with the Divine Foresight, and in the middle of a work day, nobody is walking through it. Nobody was supposed to walk through it. Maybe you should’ve figured a long lived, previously acclaimed man like him would’ve known about it and used it.
That thought would’ve been way more helpful when you were trying to track his movements earlier.
Blade’s in no rush. He hasn’t been for a long time. The time will pass anyways, after all. Elio makes no mistakes in his script, so he’s sure whatever happens here won’t affect the later situation. It’s whether you’re in the right mind state to know what’s happening, that’s his biggest concern.
“You’re-! You know rightfully, I should cuff you and bring you back to the Shackling Prison.” You try to be stern, but your core turns, causing you to buckle forward. Blade swiftly reaches across to hold you up.
“I… can help you get close to a medical bay. If your mind is still clear-“
“My mind is perfectly coherent,” you snap, and then your face immediately winces with regret. He might be a so-called criminal, but it’s not like he’s hurt you personally, and Jing Yuan strangely but oh-so-kindly asked for your understanding of him. “It only started today. My mind won’t fog until at least tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Hold up. You’re a criminal. On the run. And you want to help me get to a med bay? Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, running away?”
“All will come to be as it should.”
You roll your eyes. It’s like when Jing Yuan tells Fu Xuan that it’s “not her time” with some fancy words.
Blade rephrases. “I have nowhere to be, as of right now.”
You feel your knees threatening to buckle, wincing as your hand squeezes Blade’s shoulder tight. If it affects him, his face doesn’t show it.
“Fine. Since you’re the nicest criminal looking to be a Samaritan, please help me get home. It’s not far from here.”
~
Blade is surprisingly patient, even bothers to remove his shoes before coming into the house, gracefully placing you on your sofa.
“Thank you, wanted criminal.”
He scoffs at that, but nods politely. His sunglasses and mask are tucked somewhere away now, no need for them since you know exactly who he is.
There’s a beat of silence. He should leave. He’s done his job. But you’re an omega in distress, alone. And the worst part is, you’re not doing anything.
You’re not grabbing items to make a nest, or calling an alpha, or taking any medication. Are you waiting for him to leave? You likely would’ve said something, given your clear ability to clip back. Your scent most certainly tells him to stay, but he knows better than most what it’s like to be a prisoner to your own physical body, in more ways than one.
All you do is grip at the edge of the sofa and stare at your coffee table, like an endangered animal with nowhere to go.
Maybe it’s his biology talking, but he somehow feels like he should do something.
“Is there anything else you need?”
It’s your turn to scoff, doing your best to shake off your mind. “Wow, you really are nice.” You remove your shoes, slotting them under the couch for later. And then your eyes narrow. “Or were you just looking for a pretty little omega to fuck, hm?”
If this were any other situation, he would’ve taken this opportunity to turn on his heel and leave right out the door, but something about the situation prickles at the back of his neck.
“Is this your first time handling a heat?” He asks directly.
You wince at that, wrapping a throw blanket over yourself. “No… Is it that obvious?” You sigh, bringing your knees towards yourself and pressing them against your chest. “I’ve been on suppressants for a long time.”
Blade gives you your options sincerely. “There’s an app. For those in your predicament. Otherwise, you might want to consider a nest. If you have painkillers on you, that could help too. I’ve heard it’s not much help, but it’s better than nothing.”
You breathe. “Nest. Right.” Your eyes scatter around, holding the blanket around you tight. You look like you want to get up and then you don’t, mind volleying between thoughts and decisions that end up leaving you nowhere. Blade’s chest can’t help but tighten at how lost you look.
“May I?” he asks for permission to step further into your home.
What a criminal, you want to remark. But the way your heart is pumping both from the stress and the heat within you just has you nodding. He opens your bedroom door before walking back towards you and carefully picking you up, slowly, like he’s giving you every chance to interject. To your surprise, you let him, the omega inside of you feels like it’s almost cooing at his embrace. He places you down on the armchair in the corner, washing his hands in the bathroom before taking your blanket and bunching it up in a circular motion, propping up your pillows around it.
“Okay. This is a good start. Add things that bring you comfort around you. If you like soft toys, or something like that. If you’re up to it, it would be ideal for you to shower and get into something comfortable.”
Your scent peaks, making him turn around. Your knees are tucked close to you once more, your eyes glassy. You can feel yourself descending into something, more quickly than you realized.
“Whilst I’m still coherent… I would…” you swallow, your throat feels like you’ve drunken something sweet and forgot to drink water before falling sleep. “I would appreciate if you stayed. Since you said you’re not doing anything. Not that I’m pressuring you. Your scent is…” you feel your face get hot, but Blade just nods.
“I’ll be just outside.”
~
It’s perfectly normal.
Okay, that’s not the right word. Maybe more like, it’s perfectly natural. To ask an alpha to stay with you during your heat. There’s apps for that. That’s what Blade said, right?
The shower water beats over your skin as you lightly scrub it.
Definitely not embarrassing. Or strange. Even if he is a wanted criminal. What was it, something like 8 billion credits? Would Jing Yuan even give you that if you turned him back in?
You press the edge of your palm against your eyebrow. His scent, like the woods and bergamot and faintly of incense. The wanted posters did not do him justice.
~
Blade presses a hand to his pants the moment he closes the door.
Your scent, sweeter than any sin, the glassy look in your eyes that you were so desperately blinking away, the way you gripped him as you gasped into his touch… He is not someone who struggles with self-control, but he can’t deny the way his member hardens.
He desperately tries to think. What do omegas need again? Medication. Something soft. Water.
He hears you enter the shower, the thought of you naked passes quickly in his mind, but has him gripping your doorknob tight all the same. You said something about his scent too, didn’t you? He removes his outerwear, shuffling back into your room to place it on the armchair. Just in case.
He spots your laundry hamper on his way out your room, and forces himself to look away before he gets carried away.
~
As he places a jug of water and a couple glasses on your bedside table, you chuck your hand holding a towel into his field of vision.
He doesn’t take it, instead curiously arches an eyebrow at you.
“Okay, fine, I’ll say it, since the shower cleared my mind. I am aware that you are a big bad criminal. And we’re both aware I’m in heat. But you’ve been nice. So this is my official invitation. Stay with me during it.”
“That sounds more like a demand.”
You push the towel into his hands, and this time he takes it. “We both know you’re perfectly capable of leaving here if you wanted.” You stomp back to your nest, courtesy of the handsome man in front of you, and wrap yourself into your blankets.
“The jacket gesture was nice,” you add, “but you’ve been in the Shackling Prison. Aeon knows what’s down there. So shower, and come back here.” Maybe he’s right. This does sound like a demand. “Is this arrangement… okay with you?”
The corner of Blade’s mouth upturns just a bit, but he steels himself for what he’s about to say. “I’m one of the most dangerous men the IPC has a bounty on. You’re clearly under the influence of your heat, which means we can’t be perfectly clear of your consent.”
“My mind is clear. I’m Jing Yuan’s assistant. You might be strong, but I can take a fight too. Also…” you flush with embarassment, “I have no idea what I’m doing. You clearly know more than me, and I’m guessing I’m about to get worse. Also… Jing Yuan may have told me to be nice to you even though you’re a criminal.”
Blade laughs at that, a warm sound that hits straight to your core, your hand pressing against your stomach.
“You trust the General’s words that much?”
“There’s a lot going on right now! Just take the goddamn shower!” You chuck a pillow at him, which he catches with ease and throws back.
A closer whiff of your scent has him swallowing a noise in his throat. He rationalizes that he surely can’t leave you in the hands of a random Alpha who might take advantage of your lack of knowledge, especially not someone so close to Jing Yuan.
~
“Alphas can act more… barbaric, shall we say, the heavier an omega’s heat gets. You have to fight and say it straight if you don’t want anything, you understand?”
Maybe you should’ve thought this through a little more before, because now you certainly can’t. Blade is wearing nothing except the towel you gave him wrapped low around his waist, his muscles clear and evident, scars littering his body like streaks of comets. He’s stunning.
He watches you ogle him, sighing as he cups your face gently in his palm, forcing your gaze to his face.
“Did you hear me, girl?”
And oh, maybe that’s a mistake on his part, because the moment you make eye contact with him, his breath catches. Your lips are still slick with the water you’ve been drinking, your pupils widened and full of lust. That blank look that is clearly only thinking of him. How long has it been for Blade too, since he’s had a moment like this with someone else? Centuries? Your omega scent fills the air at the skin-to-skin contact, and it makes him feel like you’re a siren pulling him in.
He can see your mind working, doing your best to force your brain to think. “I’ll tell you. I will.”
It’s only then that Blade sits in your nest with you. He notices the way you lean into him, until your head rests against his shoulder, breathing his smoky scent in.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Blade chuckles. “My only concern is being able to control myself through this.”
You reach for him, press your face closer to his, until your noses are touching. He lets you lead, wants you to lead, so that he knows exactly what it is you want and what you’re okay with.
And you do, your mouth pressing against his, getting the first drink of what he has to offer. He thinks he could drown in you like this. His hand moves to the small of your back, his lips gentle and slow as they move against yours.
You wrap your arms around his neck, and then you’re pulling him in, and it’s like a dam that breaks open. He’s careful not to rest his whole weight on you, one hand propping himself up against your headboard, even as you squeeze your arms tighter. You didn’t realize heats could feel like this, having someone with you to hold as it sinks you in deeper. You bring your nose to the scent gland at his neck, kissing it lightly, and your scent that fllls the room in return has him making a noise akin to a growl as he presses his hand into your waist.
“Careful, girl,” he warns, but you don’t care. God, you don’t care. You feel your heat settling into your body deeper, slick pooling between your legs as you wrap them around his waist. You’re sure he can smell it, especially from the way he tries to still you.
“Mm, a little fast, don’t you think?” His teeth nips at your ear as your hands trail down his chest, over his back, the bumps from scarring only making it clearer to your heat-addled brain that he’s strong, a strong alpha.
“It’s your-,” your words die down before you can say them. It’s your job to keep us in check, you want to say. But your body starts to warm uncomfortably. Blade runs a hand up and down your torso, thumb pressing circles against your waist. Your eyebrows cinch together, kicking of the sheets yet wanting the comfort of them close to you.
“It’s okay, sweet girl. It’s called a heat for a reason.” He kisses your cheek gently, like a lover. You chase his lips, bringing him in for another kiss.
“You don’t feel hot,” you tell him as you break away, confused. Strangely enough, Blade’s body doesn’t add to your irritating warmth. If anything, it feels like the only relief. His body is warm, but where he touches you tingles softly, staving off the heaviness.
“Mm, that’s because I’m taking care of you,” he presses a kiss to your neck, dangerously close to nipping at your scent gland, before descending down your collarbone. His hands move under your shirt, a reprieve from the sweat that’s starting to sheenson your skin. You want to beg him like he’s a god to release you from the cage your heated body has become. Instead, you remove your shirt, pulling him into you once more, his skin against yours like a reverence.
He continues to kiss at the skin he’s been given access to, one hand moving to your breast, cupping it from below and pinching at your nipple. You arch into his touch, and his mind immediately goes to the thought of you arching your back as he presses his member into you.
He wants more. He wants so, so much more.
Does he dare let himself indulge? His thoughts flitter away as you release him from the death grip your arms had him in, allowing him to descend his mouth down to your breasts, to kiss at the skin, teeth scraping lightly over a nipple, his hands skating over your stomach and to the waistband of your pants.
You’re sobbing into him now, somehow he’s skin to skin with you and it feels like it’s not nearly close enough. Your head feels full of cotton, his body and the feeling of his wet tongue lapping at you, lips wrapping around your nipple, encompassing you so fully you sometimes forget to breathe.
You tap his shoulder as he kisses down your stomach, and he looks up at you with curious eyes.
“Can’t- can’t take it,” you heave, hands stroking his hair. “Take me now,” your thighs tighten around him. “Need- I need”
“No.”
His answer is so clipped that it shocks you, and you’re almost distracted by him removing your pants from you, leaving your soft panties for his view.
“Wha- Blade,” you sigh his name, you meant for it to be a scolding, but then he’s kissing right above the waistband of your panties and you feel the air rush out of you all too delicately. “You- don’t you want-”
“This is about what you want.”
“I just told you what I want!”
“You’re not ready.” His words are almost a whisper now, voice gruff between your legs, his hair tickling the inside of your thighs as he presses his nose to your clothed core and breathes you in. God, he feels like an animal, his member hardening at just the scent of your slick. Don’t you know he’s already holding back? Don’t you know the way you’re beckoning him to give it to you now is more torture for him than it is for you?
“What? Blade, you can’t be serious.”
He grunts. “I’m serious.” His saliva coats his mouth, gripping your thighs a little tighter. “May I?”
“God, Blade, yes. Do whatever you’re gonna do since you’re not gonna-”
He relishes in the way your breath catches and the words fall out of your mouth the moment he laps his wet tongue over your clothed core. The sound you let out is a wrecked thing.
You distinctly hear a ripping sound, the material giving way against your skin and chucked somewhere behind him.
“Blade!”
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he groans, and then his tongue is pressed against your folds and oh, it’s like heaven’s greatest sin, so close to the relief you so desperately want. He doesn’t sound any better, moans falling from his lips that are pressed against your core, purposefully wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing them towards his face so he can have you all around him, your skin and scent and sweat only adding to the way he has to grind his hips into your bed.
You intertwine your fingers with his, gripping tight, and he can’t help but feel his heart lurch a little at how cute the gesture is. You know exactly who he is, but the way you’re gasping his name asking him for more, more makes him feel like less of a monster and more like a lover, your lover.
He swallows every drop of pearly wetness you afford him, his suckles over your folds slowly growing more desperate. He wants to breathe you in, drink you up, give you all he can. He settles with splitting your folds with his tongue, flicking your clit over and over again, gripping your thighs tight, and mumbling into your skin about how “you’re so pretty like this, wanna watch you make a mess on my face” between breaths.
He doesn’t have to wait long, your grip on his hand gets tighter with each lather of his wet muscle, your core tightening as you try your best to tell him that you’re close, so close.
“Yeah, baby? You’re gonna give it to me?” he whispers against your skin, lips glistening as they delve back in. “Go ahead then, show me how pretty you look when you cum.”
He watches you as you cum, letting out a broken moan, your thighs pressing against the sides of his face impossibly tighter, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. You sob as your hips thrust into his face, his hands never letting yours go, tongue working you through every shock of your orgasm. He does his best to savor every drop. It’s for him, because of him, after all.
You’re shocked he’s still going when you come back to, your thrashing going from intense pleasure to overstimulation, your hands pushing against his in an attempt to get away from the way he’s still sucking on your clit.
“Too much! Blade, I’m so sensitive, it’s so much, oh, gods.”
“Mm,” he acknowledges you, but doesn’t let up, still holding your legs tight against himself. He’s not done, doesn’t want to be.
“Blade, BladeBladeBlade, I can’t, I really can’t, wha-“ Something shifts inside of you, and the feeling is like being choked, your lungs out of breath and desperately trying to take in air as the pain gives way to pleasure. Every wave feels like a drug, so quick to become putty in his hands as he drags you to another orgasm. This time it’s slower to build, but so much more intense, your body uncontrollable as it tenses harshly, gripping his hair, and you come undone on his tongue once more.
“Blade, holy, what-“ you try to catch your breath, desperate for each gulp of air you take in.
He groans in satisfaction, his grin carnivorous as he swipes his tongue over his lips, wiping the excess with the back of his hand.
“Good girl. Came so well for me, didn’t you?” His smirk is evident, canines pressing down just slightly against his tongue. He peppers kisses against your inner thigh.
“Gods, Blade. Just-“ your legs shake as you attempt to reel him in, grabbing his hand with yours, and this time he lets you, kissing you deep, his tongue grazing against the back of your teeth.
You lay your hand flat against his abs, sliding them down until your fingertips reach the towel, haphazardly pulling it off. He draws in a sharp breath at the feeling of the cool air on his member, pressing his hand down to your waist. His mind reels with just the thought of having you, the thought of his cock sliding into you, lubricated by your slick and his spit.
When he pulls his lips away from yours, you finally get to look at him, your hand wrapping around his dick as he exhales a soft ‘mm’.
You pump your hand up once, twice, before he’s taking your hand in his and putting it away.
“Blade, please. You’re so hard,” you’re sure between your legs is shiny with your slick and his spit. He doesn’t falter anymore, pressing your thighs back towards your chest, lining himself up with his cunt, gritting his teeth as the sensitive head catches against your folds.
“You’re-,” he grips your thighs a little harder, steeling himself against you. “Stay still, girl.”
“Please.”
“I’m getting there*.”*
“You’ve been teasing me for hours-”
“You’ve cum twice. Don’t make me show you what teasing really looks like.” He finally presses himself into you, a short intake of breath passes through his teeth as the head slips in. He plays with you, he has to be, sliding in and out of you, giving you just a little more each time.
You’re gripping his shoulders, pulling his body close to yours, his grunts so soft you might almost miss them if his mouth wasn’t against your ear. You’re faring no better, pressed chest to chest against him as he sinks into you.
“Oh,” you gasp, and he grunts in return, his forehead pressing against yours so he can watch and feel your every reaction. His hand grips the headboard, the wood creaks as if it’s about to give in to him, trying his damn best not to slam into you like he knows he wants to. He sheaths himself in whole, finally, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. It feels downright cruel, the way you grip around him, your pretty whines against his ear.
“Are you-”
“Please,” you beg him, because nothing has ever felt so right and you think you might die if he doesn’t give it to you.
He huffs. “You’re not gonna die, baby. I’ll give it to you.”
“Well hurry up with it or I might,” you tilt your hips up, trying to move under his weight but he’s heavy, pinning you down and yet it’s exactly what you need. He moves off of you slightly only to bring his hands behind your knees, pressing them to your chest, and there’s a moment where you’re not really sure where he’s going with this until he-
“You’re so tight,” he grunts, and then he’s slamming into you hard. “Wanted to make this easy for you, ease you in, but you just had to go and be a brat.” You think your mind bluescreens from the pleasure-pain of his cock sliding all the way out to the tip only to press back into you, ramming against your cervix with every other press of his hips against yours, your heat coiling like a serpent in your core, like the slow drip of syrup through your body.
He brings his hand down between your bodies, fingers tapping against your clit. “Taking my cock so well, aren’t you?” His voice is low and heavy, and all you can do is say his name in return. “You’re a good little omega, aren’t you baby? Good girl, good fucking girl.”
You thought he’d be quiet, but something about his cock inside of you has the words tumbling out of his mouth. You can both feel his knot starting to swell, the heat of it making him sweat, the way it widens right at the base. It makes his hips stutter, more desperate, prevents him from sliding out all the way like he was before so he fucks you faster.
“Wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Your legs are over his shoulder now, one hand running circles over your clit, the other making its way around your neck. He doesn’t choke you, doesn’t press down, only holds you there as a show of power, but something about it has you arching your back into him.
He thinks it’s dangerous, makes him feel like you belong to him.
“Wanna cum around your cock,” you whisper to him in return, and he grunts.
“Yeah?” He smirks, but it’s gentle, almost like a smile, a soft upturn at the corner of his mouth. “Been aching for an alpha’s cock inside of you, haven’t you?”
“Just yours,” you tell him, your fingernails scratching at the nape of his neck. The confession has him pressing his teeth right next to your scent gland, making a mark where you can’t hide.
“This pussy belongs to me now, then,” he says it like something between a demand and a prayer. You gasp yes into his ear as you get closer to the edge, teetering off it. “Show me how my pussy cums for me. Cum around my cock, baby. You’ve been aching for it, haven’t you?” You can feel the pulse of his knot, his adam apple jumping as he swallows, mouth dry. “Go ahead and cum for me then.”
It’s your alpha’s order, your body follows like it responds only to his demands, it feels like it’s being ripped out of you as your chest presses against his and your mind goes blank, your slick gushing around his knot. He’s only seconds behind, spilling into you with a groan, his face in your shoulder, his nose against your scent gland so he can memorize the sweetness of you right at your peak.
It’s with a deep intake of breath that you both relax. He’s careful to position his body next to yours, to make sure he doesn’t crush you, even as his cock stays inside of you, his knot still slightly swollen. He swipes your hair back, thumb tracing over your hairline as he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then presses his lips against yours for something saccharine sweet. You let him, drinking him in.
“Stay,” you tell him, and he chuckles, because it’s still more of an order than a request.
“Still got attitude,” he holds you close, rolling both of you over so you’re lying on top of him. “Not going anywhere, baby. Relax.”
“For my whole heat. Take my number too, while you’re at it.” Your words slur together, but the genuinity shows in your eyes.
“I’m a wanted criminal.” He says frankly.
“Oh yeah? Should’ve- fuck- should’ve told me that earlier. It’s almost like there’s a wanted poster on every street of you.”
“It doesn’t look like me.” He rakes a hand through your hair, his other massages the soreness in your thigh.
“Why’d Jing Yuan let you go anyways?”
“You wanna say another man’s name with my dick still inside of you?”
“Ah, sorry, so possessive. I think it’s going down now.” You lift yourself off of it slowly, and Blade watches with reverence as his seed slips out of you, milky white. He catches it on his fingers, pressing it back.
“S-Sensitive,” your nails press into his chest, and he kisses your shoulder in apology.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Can’t move.”
“I’ll carry you.”
“We just showered.”
“Just a rinse. Then I’ll add your number, okay?”
“Okay.”
870 notes · View notes
mariasont · 21 days
Note
hiii! I read your last spencer one shot AND I LOVED IT! IT WAS SO SWEET AND YOU'RE SO TALENTED!! Would you write something about post prison reid and shy reader? I was thinking of her as the media liaison (in my mind she is old-fashioned in music and clothes I'd wear skirts everyday, her emotional intelligence makes her good at her job, despite her shyness). Maybe she's clumsy, especially when she gets nervous and more especially (I don't even know if that's grammatically correct) when she's around Spencer.
Thank you so much for reading this, you're doing an EXCELLENT job, your works are a masterpiece!! 💕💖💝💓💓💖💞💕💖💓
Make a Wish - S.R
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a/n: eekkkkkk post-prison spencer reid has me in a CHOKEHOLD! thank you so much for requesting, i'm so sorry for the delay! i hope i did your request justice!! I LOVE LOVE YOU!
masterlist
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pairings: post prison!spencer reid x shy!reader
wc: 0.9k
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You had been meaning to give the reports fastened in your hands to Spencer for give-or-take two hours now. Each time you gathered the courage to approach him, just one glance, one simple stupid glance from those piercing eyes set your nerves on fire and sent your brain in overdrive.
As the new media liaison from the narcotics unit, you were warned about the BAU's intimidating figures, particularly Rossi and Emily. However, no warning came regarding Spencer Reid. They mentioned his tendencies for long-winded explanations and awkward social interactions but not the aura of intensity he exuded. Whenever he entered a room, you instinctively started looking for an exit, not because of his criminal record, but because you found yourself hopelessly mesmerized by him.
He was perfect in every sense of the word—brilliant, compassionate, selfless, and an exceptional agent. At least, this is what you had observed from afar. A part of you was scared that any real interaction with him would shatter the idyllic image you had crafted in your head, and you weren't confident you were prepared for such disillusionment. However, you needed to give him these damn papers, dreading the alternative, which was getting summoned to Emily's office.
"Hi."
You did it, okay, first step complete. You opened your mouth, determined to get out the next part you had practiced a little over twenty times in your head, but the words seemed to dissipate into a misty fog in your brain.
"Um, these are for you," you said, rocking back onto the balls of your mary janes, placing the report on his desk. "It's the Henderson lie detector test transcript?"
"Is it?"
You realized you had said it like a question.
You paused, the part of your brain stuttering for a second, trying to flip over the thousands of scenarios you had rehearsed in your head for this interaction. None of them had included those words.
Just a little off script and you felt your fight or flight kick in—nails digging into your palms as you avoided eye contact.
"Yes." A little more confident this time, not by much, and it quickly deflated as you second guessed yourself, stepping closer to peer over his shoulder at the document. "At least I think."
"I'm just messing with you, it is." He said, eyes flickering down to the document, then to you. "You okay?"
"M-Me? Okay? Yeah, of course." The words were stumbling out of your mouth at a rate that was hard to keep up with. "Do I not look okay?"
"No, of course you look okay," he responded, brows knitting together as his gaze traveled down your body, no doubt dissecting your every thought. "You just seem... a bit nervous."
You opened your mouth, aiming to articulate a coherent thought, but it fell short and was quickly interrupted by Spencer.
He suddenly leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "Wait, hold still; you have an eyelash."
He was so close, you swore you feel his breath on your cheeks, instantly warming them. Your body was in overdrive, trying to recalibrate as his finger grazed the area under your right eye. You closed your eyes, almost unwillingly, relishing in the unexpected touch.
This was weird. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, and you balled your hand into a fist, attempting to mask the way you were shaking.
The sound of your name snapped you out of your daze. Your eyes followed suit, meeting Spencer's prying eyes. His finger was raised, your eyelash perched on the tip. Your face could have been a furnace, flames of heat spreading from your neck to your nose.
"Do you want to make a wish?"
He looked at you expectantly, eyes darting from your face to his raised pointer finger.
"Okay."
You closed your eyes, forming the wish in your mind before blowing on the lash. You watched it float to the ground, settling gently on the toe of Spencer's shoe. 
"What did you wish for?"
"I feel like I'm not supposed to tell you that," you say, pulling at the ends of your hair.
He was undeniably good-looking. It wasn't like you were just realizing it; you had eyes and you were only human. But up close, you could see every detail—the dark circles under his eyes, the rough stubble under his jaw.
"I think you're right."
The sudden intimacy of the moment made your heart skip a beat. You stepped back, nodding at his words and also nothing in particular.
"Anyway, yeah, those are the papers—," you began, turning to walk away. As you did, you bumped your hip into the desk beside you, hissing under your breath in response.
"Christ, are you okay?" His hand was on your hip as the words came out of his mouth.
The touch only seemed to intensify your embarrassment. You stepped out of his grip, dropping your phone as you did which you quickly bent down to pick up.
"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine, just forgot I have a meeting with Emily, so I'm just gonna—," you pointed towards her office, quickly making your escape from Spencer as you tried to catch your breath.
Once you were a distance you deemed safe enough, you allowed yourself a quick glance back at him. He was smirking, and you felt that all familiar heat rising into your chest once again.
You really hoped that wish would kick in soon.
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corroded-hellfire · 9 months
Note
I am humbly requesting Eddie wearing a shirt that says “nerds make the best lovers” and then proving it to bookworm!Reader.
Your request is my command. I hope I have done your idea justice!
Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight choking, soft dom!eddie, public sex (kinda?)
Words: 2.2k
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Eddie struts into your first period English class with Ms. O’Donell, late as usual, and she doesn’t even glance away from the chalkboard she’s scribbling vocabulary words on to acknowledge his tardiness. On instinct, you smile at your boyfriend as he makes his way to his seat near you, but as your eyes scan over his shirt, heat blooms in your cheeks.
“Nerds Make the Best Lovers” his t-shirt claims in bold, gothic-style red lettering on the black tee. Eddie gives you a brazen wink and by the sound of all the snickering coming from students around you, you know other people have read the clothing’s pronouncement as well. Mortified, you bury your face in your hands, only peeking out to see if O’Donnell caught a glimpse of her least favorite student’s shirt. Luckily, O’Donnell gave up reading whatever shit his t-shirts said after her twentieth time or so sending Eddie to the front office for dress code violations. 
Eddie plops down in the seat next to yours and he shoots you another wink as if you hadn’t seen the first one he gave you when he walked in. Refusing to encourage any of this behavior, you don’t look your boyfriend’s way once the entirety of the class.
Once the period ends, however, Eddie won’t let you get away from him that easily. He jogs down the hallway to catch up with you and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders.
“Where’s the fire, baby?” he asks. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”
You shake your head in non-response and keep walking down the hallway, not sparing him a glance. Eventually, you come to a section of hallway that’s mostly emptied of people and you turn to face him, your shoes squeaking against the white linoleum floor beneath you at the tenacity of your spin.
“What is with that shirt, Eddie? Are you trying to embarrass me?”
“Embarrass you?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. “Baby, I’m just stating a fact. Nerds do make the best lovers. And I’m more than happy to give you a reminder…”
He trails a finger up your arm, and it sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. Any irritation or annoyance instantly melts away at his touch. Your resistance was already futile but Eddie putting his hands on you always seems to shut off any coherent part of your brain.
“A reminder, huh?” you coo, ensnared by his flirtations. 
“That’s right. I’ll show just how good this nerd can make you feel.” 
You decide to hell with it; there’s nothing particularly important going on today. Nothing that you couldn’t afford to miss, anyway. And even if there was? Eddie’s body pressed up against yours is worth a detention or a missed test.
“Should we head out to your van for this demonstration?” you ask. The number of times his old, beat down van has been out in the school parking lot, rocking back and forth from the two of you, is too high to count. Most of the times being while school is still in session.
“No, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.” Eddie tugs you by the wrist, leading you down the hall in the opposite direction. He comes to a halt in front of a familiar door and pulls you into the drama room. It’s abandoned and quiet as Eddie locks the door behind you. There’s some D&D paraphernalia scattered around the room, a few D20s that were left out on the table.
“Hmm, so the ultimate symbolism of your nerdiness, huh?” You tease as you sit yourself down on his throne at the head of the table. The seat is cold beneath you, but you refuse to let it show. 
Eddie stalks over to stand before you and rests a hand on either arm rest of the throne. He lowers his head to meet your gaze with his own challenging one.
“I suppose you think I’m going to kick you out,” he says, referring to the seat. “Not today, my lady. Today…” he lowers himself down to his knees. “Today you just sit back and enjoy my throne while I make you feel good.”
He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties off and tosses them somewhere behind him. A strong hand grips each of your calves and spreads your legs wide open, Eddie wasting no time before he’s licking a stripe up your folds.
“Oh, fuck,” you whine, fingers digging into the sturdy arm rests at your sides. 
Eddie smirks against your pussy as he begins to flick his tongue against your clit. He knows every one of your little tells and knows just the right speeds and pressures to apply to your bundle of nerves to get you just where he wants you to go.
Your fingers scramble to find purchase on the chair as pleasure floods your body, so Eddie laces one of his hands with yours to ground you. His mouth keeps working against your pussy and you do your best not to grind your hips up to meet his tongue. It’s so tempting but you know it will only draw out Eddie’s teasing in the long run. 
With his free hand, Eddie delicately trails one ringed finger around your entrance, going round and round, never breaching it though. The delicious whines spilling from your lips only encourage him on.
“Shit, you taste so good, baby. God, I love your pussy,” he murmurs from between your legs.
“Eddie,” you whimper desperately, eager for him to use his fingers already. Being a nerd might not necessarily make him the best lover, but being a guitar player does make for a magical experience when he fingers you.
“Mm?” he hums against your core.
“N-Need your f-fing—holy shit, yes.”
Eddie knew what you needed before you even said it. The two of you work so well together, both mind and body, that you’re like separate pieces of the same machine, headed towards the same goal.
Two thick fingers stretch you out, at your request, as Eddie raises his head slightly to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and gently brushes over the spot that he knows makes you see stars. Your own fingers tighten on the arms of the throne and your legs tense around Eddie’s head.
“Shit! Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!”
Eddie smirks against your clit as he helps you ride it out, with both his fingers and mouth. He loves watching you as you come down from your high; all out of breath and dewy from a thin layer of sweat. 
The loss of his fingers as he slips them out of you is quickly made okay as you watch him pop them in his mouth as you try and catch your breath. His cocky facial expressions would annoy you if you weren’t feeling so amazing from his damn mouth.
Once he’s licked you from his fingers, he reaches down and fumbles with the handcuff buckle on his belt.
“Made you feel so good and didn’t even take my cock out yet.”
“Wipe that…smirk off your face.” You try to sound assertive, but it falls flat in your blissed out state.
Eddie chuckles and leans in, wrapping one hand around your throat; not tight enough to restrict air, just enough for you to feel the pressure.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. “Pretty sure you’d let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now, won’t you?” Both of you know the answer to that, but when you don’t give a verbal response, Eddie tightens his grip on your throat just slightly. “I said, won’t you?” he growls.
“Y-Yes,” you squeak out.
The sound pleases Eddie, and he smiles deviously as he releases your throat. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek that’s a stark contrast to how he was just handling you.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, smugness clear in his tone.
He grabs your hands and yanks you up out of the throne. An involuntary yelp passes through your lips as he spins the two of you around and backs you up until your bare thighs bump into the table.
“Shirt off. Bra too,” Eddie orders.
You do as he says, Eddie’s eyes taking you in like the prey that you are to him with every move that you make.
Once you’re completely naked, Eddie presses his index finger right in the middle of your chest and gives just enough force for you to get the hint that he wants you to lie back.
The moment you get your ass on the table, large strong hands grab behind your knees and pull you towards the edge, so your back falls flat against the surface and your legs are able to wrap around your boyfriend’s lithe body. He pushes down his black jeans and boxers enough to line himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t push in just yet.
“Say my fucking name, sweetheart,” he says as he leans over you.
“E-Eddie.”
“Louder. I want anyone walking by to know who’s in here making you feel so good.”
“Eddie!”
The man’s grip tightens on your legs and his cock just barely slips into you.
“I said louder. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or what?”
“Fuck, Eddie!”
He smirks in triumph at the way you scream his name.
“That’s my girl.”
He finally pushes inside of you, agonizingly slowly, his body towering over yours as he thrusts. Each time, he goes a little deeper, his eyes boring right into yours as he moves his hips. 
Your jaw drops open and small gasps escape your lips. You’re not sure what’s hotter: how Eddie’s pounding into you or how he’s staring into your eyes, not once breaking contact. 
Eddie groans as he finally bottoms out.
“Jesus Christ,” he swears. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”
No words whatsoever fill your mind as you lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie inside your walls. Your boyfriend notices this as well and another arrogant smirk grows on his lips while he stares down at you.
“Aw, already cock drunk, princess? Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”
You want so badly to refute it, but you don’t have the words to do so–only further proving his point.
The cool table feels nice against your back as your skin becomes sticky with sweat. Your hands slide from Eddie’s arms and your fingers grip the edge of the table.
Eddie notices the movement and doesn’t want you holding on to anything that isn’t him, though. His hands slide up your body and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.
“Eddie,” you whine.
“Oh, she can speak,” Eddie coos.
“Eddie.”
“What is it, my love?”
“C-Close.”
Eddie holds both of your wrists in one hand while the other one snakes down and presses his thumb against your clit.
“Come on, baby,” Eddie goads. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”
“W-Want you to…with me,” you pant out between labored breaths. 
“Don’t worry,” Eddie says with a wry chuckle. “I’m right there with you.”
Eddie might be a complete menace sometimes, knowing exactly how to drive you crazy, but you know him just as well and know how to bring him to the brink. 
“I-Inside,” you pant. “Need you to cum inside me.”
“Jesus,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back.
“Please,” you beg.
“Well,” Eddie huffs with a laugh, “since you asked so nicely. Come on, princess. Let go.”
The twitch of Eddie inside of you and the feeling of him filling you up has you arching your back as sparks fly behind your eyelids and ecstasy radiates up your body.
“Eddie, yes.”
“Louder,” Eddie manages as he fucks his load into you.
“Eddie!”
The blissed out feeling from his orgasm and your shouting of his name puts a big, dopey grin on Eddie’s face.
“Shit, princess,” he says with a chuckle as he buries his head in your neck. You giggle as he presses kisses and nips at the skin there.
Eddie doesn’t make a move to get off of you, which you don’t mind one bit. You tangle your fingers in his frizzy locks and press kisses to the side of his head.
“So?” he eventually mumbles against your skin.
“So what?”
Eddie picks his head up and looks at you.
“Do nerds make the best lovers or what?” he asks, eyebrows waggling.
You can’t help but laugh as you nod your head in affirmation.
“Yes, Eddie. You have proven it to me.”
“Mmm, good,” he hums before he goes back to kissing your neck.
“What’re you doing?” you ask as the kisses become more and more intense.
He pulls back to look at you again.
“You really think the best lover is only going for one round?” He scoffs and goes back to kissing your neck.
“Thank God for nerds,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed.
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dimity-lawn · 3 months
Text
So I have some potentially big news, at least in my world: After over a year of desperately longing for something I thought impossible, I am now on the waiting list for a ticket to the Discworld Convention!!!!!*
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This happened about this time yesterday, and I still haven’t fully absorbed this information. I have yet to think one complete coherent thought, because my thoughts keep being interrupted by new ones. Last night I was too excited to sleep, and, as you might expect, the lack of sleep isn’t helping matters. And while I’m thrilled by this, I’m also kind of in a state of “oh no, there’s so much to figure out and do and so little time!”, including several sewing projects, especially my scaled up to adult size reproduction of an 18th century pocket in the collections of the V&A, because if I’m going to Birmingham for the convention, I’ll have to go to the V&A.** I’m afraid of getting my hopes up, but 🤞.
Rattle your drawers for me!
*Yes, five exclamation points is a sure sign of an insane mind, but in my defense, reread the part before the five exclamation points. **This project has reached a surprising and ungodly extent of procrastination.
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ohgeezlya · 1 month
Text
WEDDING VOWS | Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader
Summary; When someone needs an important hug.
“Old and tired or young and restless”
Warning; angst, intoxication/drinking.
A/N: Sorry that I can’t post that much now since classes started but I want to say that from now on I’ll post on Fridays or Sundays. Will depend on my mood and workload.
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Five was a mess, staggering around the place—his walk wobbly because of the amount of alcohol he’s drank. Apart of him thinks his mysterious concoction he made was a terrible idea, that getting drunk was a terrible idea. Although, he is leaning to the other part of his brain that thinks this is one of his greatest ideas.
He can’t be so sad about the kugelblitz if he was drunk. This, however, was a lie because all he can think of is how they’re all about to die.
‘I need another drink’ Five thinks, finally able to form a coherent thought throw all of his pitty. Five staggers his way to the bar, accidentally lugging his abdomen into the bar table which makes him wheeze a bit.
“Please, don’t throw up while there is a wedding” You chuckle at him. Five wips around to you making himself motion sick. You go to help him, pulling him away from the bar.
“Waitt, noo-“ Five whines, trying to get back to the bar, a nice Picante was calling his name despite that he doesn’t like summery drinks.
The partygoers plus the bride and groom pay no mind to Five’s tantrum as you lead him away and out of the ballroom.
“Lets get you cleaned, and if we’re lucky sober…” You mumble the last part, hoping that Five didn’t hear you so you didn’t have to deal with fighting.
But he did.
“What? No, I don’t wanta-I need another vodka bottle” He blinks away, making you panic.
“God-fucking damnit Five,”
You searched for him, he’s thankfully not at the bar and not in the boy’s hotel room. Until you found him in the corner of the elevator, seemingly passed out.
He’s slumped near the rail the left of his face mushed on the wall, his tie loose and his blouse somewhat unbuttoned, with bottle of red wine sitting between his legs, one of his hands gripping the neck tightly.
You tsk, shaking your head.
You walk in and sit next to him, struggling to take the wine from him—but you do. You pull it up to your mouth but only droplets spill out.
Huffing you toss the bottle into the corner, tilting your head on the wall.
You genuinely can’t believe it, all this fighting and stopping the apocalypse was for nothing. It will always follow this family, you wanted retirement as much as Five did.
You wanna live your life, you craved the mundaneness of humanity. Envious of the lives you’d see on the infinite switchboard; school, work, dates, family, and dying.
You can’t say you didn’t get what you wanted, least you’d die with your found family, something you never thought you’d have, in the commission is always seemed out of reach and pointless.
You look at Five, noticing how some of the red wine stained his white dress shirt, his hair swept to the side so you can see his face.
You don’t regret helping Five, helping his family. So, you can die happy with the knowledge that you tried.
You jump, startled by Five groaning, moving his head into the wall for a sense of comfort and grounding, one eye looking at around dazed before landing on you.
He smiles, but it slowly goes down. His smugness leaves his body in place of… sorrow and guilt?
“M’ sorry” He mumbles. You know what he’s saying.
“I…I wanted to save them, you. I wanted to keep my family safe…” Tear prick your eyes at his words.
Five is blaming himself.
“No, Five don-“
“Please, don’t say that I did my best, if I did we would be back home with no apocalypse in sight.” He glares at the floor, his body still wobbly probably flushing the alcohol still.
“I just wanted to save my fam-“ You cut him off, arms wrapped around his neck, pushing his head to your shoulder, he’s in shock.
The first apocalypse he didn’t have anyone besides Delores, he hasn’t been one for physical touch since he came back—it was typically overwhelming but right now, in this moment.
He accepts it. Shakily bringing his hands to your waist—gliding them around your back and hugging you tighter.
“You did try, so damn hard. Thank you.” Your whispers in his ear makes him tear up, streams run down his face.
You don’t know if you’ll somehow get out of this alive, probably not, but you don’t mind spending the last of your moments embracing each other in mutual appreciation, respect, and grief.
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matryosika · 2 years
Text
Hyung Line: Love Languages and Sex
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Wordcount: 5,467 words.
Genre: Smut, partly head canons and scenarios.
Includes: SKZ Hyung Line members, female reader, brief discussion about food in Minho's scenario, curse words and dirty dialogues. Smut warnings below.
Author's note: Long time no see! I just randomly thought about this yesterday, and I had a couple of scenario/drabbles I wanted to write about regarding this topic so here they are. I thought about uploading them individually, but I don't know. I'm currently working in the second part of this, so yeah. Thought I would just put this out there for now. I hope you guys like it! Please remember that english isn't my first language and this is not proof-read so I apologize for any mistake in advance.
If you like this, please consider supporting me by reblogging, leaving a comment or sending me an ask. If you wish to support my work further, please consider buying me a coffee! ☕
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Smut warnings (varies from scenario to scenario): Masturbation (f. receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, praises, use of petnames, established relationship, foot massage (for Minho's part), public sex (for Changbin's scenario), body cumshot (for Hyunjin's scenario), vaginal penetrative sex, unprotected sex, implied creampie (for Changbin's scenario).
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Chan: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation
“One more?”
When you told Chan you were feeling stressed, you didn't exactly expect him to try and cheer you up like this —face buried in your sweet, throbbing cunt, and hands intertwined with yours. You have been going at it for hours on end, with no signs of Chan ever wanting to stop —not even after your third orgasm.
“Channie…” You want to tell him it's his turn, that you also want to make him feel good. That you need to help him releasing the tension between his legs, make him come just as much as he has made you tonight.
But you can’t even begin to deliver a coherent sentence, or at least not when his nose is applying the perfect amount of pressure to your clit while his tongue laps messily on your slit, his spit and your own wetness creating a sticky, awkward sensation that reminds you of all the time Chan had spent working on your cunt in the past hour or two.
“Mhm?” He knows you’re too fucked out you can’t even speak, but the devilish grin plastered on his face tells you that he wants to listen to you. Or at least your babbles. “What is it, baby?”
“Chan,” you latch your hands onto his dark locks, pulling them harshly and earning a hiss from him. “Chan, please!”
You don't have to tell him exactly what you want for him to know. The way you grind your hips against his face sells you out —Chan knows you need more than just his mouth, and he is more than happy to comply.
If you ask for it, of course.
“Greedy,” he laughs under his breath, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your cunt. “Come one more time for me, and I’ll consider giving you what you want”.
A fair exchange, you think. But when the ravages of over-stimulation start hitting you painfully than before, you highly doubt you can fulfill his plea.
“I can’t,” you gasp with shortness of breath, hands leaving Chan’s to clinge at the bedsheets underneath you. “Chan, fuck, wait!”
The last thing you want is for Chan to stop, but the words fall from your lips faster than you can process them. So he withdraws from your pussy and stares at you with half-lidded eyes, swollen lips and chin glistening with your arousal.
“No! Don’t- don’t stop, I’m sorry”.
You’re not making any sense, and he loves it.
“Am I hurting you?”
You shake your head eagerly, swallowing hard while you take advantage of the break to take a breath. “No, it’s just- I’m- I want to please you”.
Chan smiles.
“I have to take care of you first,” he mumbles, lips attached to flesh of your inner thighs. “Want to make you come enough until your mind is completely empty”.
“But I-”
“Tonight isn’t about me, okay?” he drags his words lazily, humming and slightly whimpering them when he rubs his nose yet again against your clit. “I need to make sure you’re not feeling stressed anymore”.
You plop down onto the bed again, hands gripping his curls while unconsciously bringing him closer to your core.
“See, I know you can come one more time,” Chan whispers against your pussy, two of his fingers spreading your folds while he coats them with your previous arousal, “you’re always good to me like that”.
You buck your hips when he unexpectedly thrusts his middle and ring finger inside you, walls welcoming and clenching around them so tightly Chan almosts come right in his pants.
“3 orgasms are not enough for someone like you, hm?” he fucks you delicately, enjoying the wet sounds your cunt makes every time he sinks his fingers inside you, “you still want more”.
You cover your face in shyness, only letting out small whimpers and moans every time he curls his fingers.
“Don’t,” his available hand, which he has underneath your right thigh and the curve of your ass, reaches out to pull both your arms, causing you to uncover your face, “I want to see you when I’m talking to you”.
He grabs both your wrists with his available hand, while the other works wonders on your cunt. From where you lay, the sight is heavenly —you can catch a glimpse of his flexed shoulders and back, along with his bare face and messy, dark curls. You could reach your fourth orgasm just by that alone, but Chan has other plans in mind.
“You’re so sweet,” he’s practically groaning his words, licking remains of your orgasms from his lips, “I don’t ever want to go a day without tasting you, ever”.
You moan at his words, heart racing faster than it was before. He has always had a way with words —ever since you two met, he has always known exactly what to say to have you at his feet, mercilessly.
“Channie,” you cry out loud, head falling back as your back arches in pleasure. “Chan!”
“Come on,” he drags his swollen lips against your hip bone and the side of your tummy, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin while the room is filled with wet, lewd noises, “I can feel you’re close, I know you can take one more”.
There’s no point in trying to hold back, so you start letting yourself go.
“All day I’ve been thinking about your sweet cunt,” the more he talks, the rougher he fucks you with his fingers and the closer you get to your release, “you’re all I fucking need. I don’t want anything else but you”.
You melt with love, tears threating to spill from the corners of your eyes. There’s something enticing about the contrast between his words and his touch, how he can say the sweetest, purest and loving things while his fingers keep on fucking your pussy with no tenderness, exactly how you like it.
“I just want to show you off to everyone,” Chan continues, feeling the wetness around his fingers starting to increase, word by word. “Want to tell everyone how pretty you look like this, how proud I am to have you with me”.
“F-fuck,” you’re coming, he can tell. The way your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your hips spasm against his hand sells you out.
“That’s it,” he moans, the raspiness of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Give it to me, I know you can”.
He continues fucking your cunt through your orgasm, not daring to stop even when drops of your arousal wet his hand and bed.
“Stay still, baby,” with his available arm, he holds you down and pins you against the bed, preventing you from closing your legs or get away from his touch, “make a mess, I want to lick it clean”.
Minho: Acts of Service and Physical Touch
Minho is naturally a giver.
Sure, he does love being on the receiving end from time to time, but really nothing gratifies him more than taking care of you, in every way you should be taken care of.
Whether it’s taking a chore off your hands when you’re exhausted, running an errand to save you time on a busy day, or picking up take out and medicine when you’re feeling down, one of Minho’s ways to show you love it’s by performing acts of services.
Hence that, you’re not surprised to come home tonight with a full home-cooked dinner, with dessert and all.
“Hope you’re starving,” your boyfriend welcomes you, still wearing an apron on top of his work outfit. Black, formal pants and a white shirt with rolled sleeves, “It’s your favorite, by the way”. 
Earlier today, he called you to ask you for a quick grocery shopping list, in case you had some things missing from your fridge. Apparently, he was going to be released early from work, so he had some spare time before meeting you at your place and he could stop by for the things you needed..
“My head is all over the place,” you admitted, hands brushing through your hair in frustration, “I’m sorry Min, I completely forgot to leave the grocery list you told me. And I’m not even sure what’s missing- probably the whole fucking fridge is empty”.
He could tell how busy and exhausted you had been over the past few weeks, so he came up with a plan.
“I can come to your place and do the list myself,” he proposed by the phone. “Then I’ll go to the supermarket and pick the food and stuff you need, yeah? I’ll return to your place at night, and we can unwind together. Is that okay?”
You thanked him, probably a million times, before hanging up and going through with your day.
When he sits at the table with you, you finally get a taste of the dish. As expected, is more than just delicious. It’s a whole fucking experience, especially because it was made just for you.
You two eat together and help each other cleaning the kitchen afterwards. When you're done, with a comfy outfit and while having another glass of red wine, Minho suggests he does a massage on you because you look tense.
“What a nice, elegant sex proposal,” you laugh, extending your legs on top of his while you are sitting in the couch.
“I never said anything about sex,” Minho tiltes his head, the tip of his digits grazing against your skin. “So who’s proposing that to who?”
“You know, I could use a massage,” you leave the glass of wine on top of the coffee table, and let your body slowly slide into the couch. “I’m not sure about the sex part. I don’t know if I could ride you with how fucking sore my legs are, but I can make it up to you during the weekend”.
Minho laughs, a genuine, heart-warming laugh.
“We don’t have to fuck tonight,” his hands and digits trail an immaginary path from your feet, to your ankles, to your knees and inner thighs. The touch is enough to get you wet, and you curse him mentally for that, “but I still want to make you come, at least once”.   
Sometimes, you really can't begin to comprehend how Minho is all that. Attractive, smart, hard-working and just… perfect in every aspect, including sex.
“I’m so embarrassed,” you admit, moaning softly when his hands start working on the soles of your feet. It’s certainly not a massage massage, but rather a compilation of soft and lustful touches, “I really want to make things up to you but I’m a mess right now, there’s a lot going on at work and-”
“Hey,” he interrupts you, caressing the sides of your feet while working on them. “I’m not complaining nor asking for anything in return, am I?”
He isn’t.
And he is also not the type to expect some sort of payment for a favor.
Minho loves like that¸ without expecting absolutely nothing in return except for your satisfacion.
“But-”
“Am I?”
“No,” you softly reply, more as a whimper than an actual response. He is still massaging your feet and ankles, slowly growing harder at the series of moans and hisses you’re letting out.
“Why don’t you tell me where you keep your vibrator?” You love how it’s a casual question, how you no longer grow timid when he asks stuff like that. You are a couple, and he knows way more about you and your private life than anyone else. “Let’s put it to use tonight, hm?”
“Nightstand, second drawer,” you immediately sigh, losing the warmth of his body when he stands up from the couch to go to said location —the nightstand, second drawer.
He comes back not even 2 minutes later, holding the hot pink item to his hand. He sits right next to you, inviting you to spread your legs for him while he pushes your underwear and pijama shorts to the side.
A proud smile peeps out of the corners of his lips, knowing he did absolutely nothing but you’re still dripping wet, underwear and clothes sticking to your folds.
“You weren’t sure about the sex part?” he hums in content, caressing your slit with the tip of the toy. “Honey, you’re body is begging for me to fuck it”.
You arch your back unexpectedly when he turns on the toy, digging it further against your clit. He motions for you to take care of the toy, guiding your wrist to it in order to have both of his hands free and available to caress you, grope you and kiss you as he pleases.
“It’s really good,” you moan, masturbating for him while his hands reach out to your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples. “It’s not as good as your cock, but it does the task. I should get a better toy”.
Minho laughs against your skin, tongue latched to one of your hardened buds. His right hand wanders along the side of your body, caressing your waist, hips and thighs as much as he wants.
“You know nothing compares to me,” Minho whimpers against your skin, his hips grinding ever so slightly against your spread thighs. “But it’s cute that you’re still willing to try and find something that could compete against me”.
You bury your right hand onto his dark hair, pulling him closer to you, if possible, while your left hand holds the wand against your cunt.
The more he touches you and kisses you, the closer you get to your orgasm. And pathetically close, at that, since you’ve only been doing this for roughly 3 minutes.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed your body these days,” Minho groans, peppering kisses on your chest and neck while his hand sneaks between your ass and the couch. He squeezes and gropes it harshly, making you move your hips a bit up to give him better access. “Just want to cover it all with my kisses, lick it and touch it how you like it”.
Minho buries his face on your neck, and starts kissing your skin sloppily while his right hand is still groping your body. He doesn’t care about being messy —in fact, that’s exactly what he is going for tonight.
“Don’t stop,” you babble, grinding your hips against the toy while Minho’s lips and hands are all over you. “Don’t stop, Min, please, don’t-”
When you’re just a second away from your arousal, Minho places his hand on top of yours and presses the vibrator against your clit more, forcing you to orgasm faster. “Don’t worry,” he groans near your ear, face still buried in the crook of your neck, “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied”.
Changbin: Words of Affirmation and Gifts
“What do you think?”
Changbin has to take a full minute in order to arrange his own thoughts. If he had to say what he actually thinks of that dress, he would earn a couple of disgusted faces from the rest of the people at the boutique.
“Good,” it’s all he manages to say, slyly leaning forward to hide his bulge, “let me pay for it and let’s go home”.
“I’m still not done, though,” there’s a bunch of clothes you wish to try, and you know that doesn’t impatient Changbin –he is a great shopping partner. But judged by his lustful gaze, you think he has changed his plans, “I’ll be quick, I promise”.
He isn’t mad, nor wants to rush you, but Changbin wonders how long it’s going to take for him to lose his sanity before he gets to fuck you in the very same dress you just tried on. It hugs your body just right, allowing you to show just the right amount of skin to drive him crazy.
“Shit, I don’t know about this one,” you murmur from inside, just a long curtain separating you from Changbin, who is currently sitting at a small couch placed strategically in front of the fitting rooms, “I don’t think this is my size”.
Before he could ponder the situation, the pros and cons of demanding a small, modeling catwalk from you, he asks you to show the dress to him.
“It’s too tight,” you complain, struggling to zip it up, “one wrong move and I- I’m going to flash everyone in here”.
“Let me see it,” he asks again, impatiently looking forward to watching the curtain slide back, revealing you.
“I don’t- I look weird,” the dress is not your style, nor it’s something you would wear out on any occasion. You thought it would be fun to try it on, see if you could get out of your comfort zone, but it escalated too quick. “It’s too much, it barely covers anything”.
It’s not intentional, but you’re practically edging Changbin with your words. The longer you drag it out, the whiner he gets.
“Alright, alright,” you finally exhale, your hand pushing the curtain separating you from his gaze out of the way, “but don’t fucking say anything”.
Even if he wanted to say something, he can’t even speak. His throat is dry, aching just as much as the throbbing pressure between his legs that demands for his whole attention.
After some excruciating, awkward moments in silence, you speak again.
“Okay, say something,” the lack of words from him is making you feel unsteady, because he is just staring right at you quietly. You can’t possibly now what’s going on in his mind. “I told you it doesn’t fit and it is too damn expensive, and the fabric is -”.
“Get that one too,” it’s not a question, nor an advice –it’s an order.
“It’s too exp-”
“I don’t care,” the pent up tension is making it seem as if he’s angry, but you know he isn’t –he is just too damn horny, and needy, and desperate to get home and fuck you in every position possible.
“Alright,” you nod, feeling your heart skipping a beat when Changbin’s intimidating gaze falls up on you, basically begging for you to be done. “I’ll just… take it off and we can- go home, yeah?”
You go back to the fitting room with a wet sensation between your legs, feeling your folds sticking to your underwear while you relentlessly try to take the dress off. It had been hard to put it on, but you underestimated how difficult it was going to be to take it off on your own.
“Bin?” you ask, “is someone there who… could help me?”
Changbin looks around, but there’s no one other than him. Not even the lady who manages the changing room and checks which clothes people are trying on is there.
“There’s no one here,” the dark-haired replies, standing from the couch with more confidence now that he knows no one can spot the bulge in his pants, “what do you need?”
You shyly push the curtains to the side yet again, revealing the now messy dress after your failed attempt to take it off. “Can you help me?”
You turn around, putting the back zipper on display for him. It’s rather an easy task, he just needs to pull it down.
But how easy can it be when all he can pay attention to is your ass, and how good it looks underneath that tight dress? The clothes are so tight he can catch a glimpse of the silhouette of your underwear, buried in the flesh of your arse.
“Please?”
He doesn’t helps you unziping it and, instead, pushes you inside the fitting room again, closing the curtain behind him as he is sure the area is completely empty, except for the two of you.
“I can’t,” he breathes, turning you around so that your hands lay on his chest. “I don’t want you to take it off”.
“I have to if you want to buy it for me, silly,” you’re teasing him, acting oblivious to his sudden reaction. “Quick, don’t want anyone to catch us together in here”.
“I want to fuck you while you’re wearing it,” he confesses, his lips so close to yours you can actually feel his breath caressing your chin. “I want to fuck you right here, so you can see how pretty you look”.
You would be lying if you said you’re not turned on, not even in the slightest. But your hardened nipples and wet underwear speak louder than you can.
“Please,” he begs, hands moving slowly from your waist to your ass, groping it while pulling you closer to him. “Please let me fuck you”.
The more he pulls you towards him, the more you can feel his throbbing, hard cock against your body. You are probably going to regret your decision, but you still give in.
You need him more than he does.
“If someone catches us…”
“They won’t,” Changbin groans, lifting your dress up with one hand while the other unbuckles his pants with a swift motion, “just keep your pretty mouth shut and I’ll take care of the rest, yeah?”
It seems like he isn't asking for a lot, but he is. How can you possibly keep your mouth shut when his raw cock is about to stretch your pussy?
He turns you around, your palms resting on the wall for support while his nimble hands place you in the perfect position for him: back arched, ass up and legs open. Really, how can you possibly keep your mouth shut when the tip of his thick cock slides against your slit?
He knows time is running out, so he doesn’t waste it –he sinks his hips against yours delicately, only to pick up the pace when he feels you getting used to his cock.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he groans against your shoulders, leaving wet, sloppy pecks that soon turn into love bites. “You’re just- too pretty- can’t keep my hands off of you”.
You moan at his words, sounds that are quickly muffled by one of his hands against your mouth.
“So- fucking beautiful,” his words come out choppy, but he manages to keep the volume of his voice down, unlike you. “You're just too good to be real and mine”.
The sound of your muffled whines, Changbin’s soft groans, skin hitting skin and the wetness of your cunt around his cock is what fills the whole fitting room. You’re wondering if someone can hear you two, but you really don’t care anymore.
 “You’re so tight,” he can’t get himself to stop. The urge to praise you and compliment you is the exactly the same as coming inside you, he is really desperate for both and judged by the way you squeeze his dick everytime he speaks, he knows you like it too. “Perfectly made for my cock”.
The rougher he pounds himself inside you, the more you lose balance and control of your own body. Your cheek is against the wall, your weak arms barely doing anything to support your body, but his grip around you is what keeps you stable.
“I’m going to fill you up, yeah?” he is not that far from his arousal, and neither are you. “I want to show you how much I love you”.
You nod eagerly against his palm, drooling all over it. One of your hands leave the wall to rub your clit, the new stimulation provided pushing you to the edge.
“Come with me, pretty,” he pants, barely speaking with shortness of breath. “Give it to me, let me know how much you love the way I fuck you”. 
His words have never failed to make you lose it. Not even once.
Hyunjin: Physical Touch and Gifts
You’re his muse.
You have been since the day he met you, since the very first time he laid his eyes on you.
Whether it’s for a poem, a drawing, a painting or a sculpture, you’re exactly where he finds his inspiration at. Hyunjin would rather die than looking at someone else, would rather stop making art before immortalizing another body that isn’t yours.
And besides being his muse, you’re also his lover. His partner, his accomplice, his everything. He trusts you more than he trusts himself, cares about you more than anything else. He wants to share all of himself with you, from his anger and sadness to the things he can’t say out loud, his filthy desires that he knows only you understand.
To be honest, you share a lot of the same. Especially your preferences, like and dislikes.
“Isn’t it pretty?”
A set of laced lingerie, your favorite color.
“What’s the occasion?” you ask him perplexed, carefully folding the wrap around it.
“Saw it on my way back to your apartment,” he is standing right in front of you, smiling softly at your excitement. “I thought you were going to like it, so I just couldn’t not buy it for you. It’s too pretty for you not to have it”.
Hyunjin is like that, always.
If he sees something he thinks you’d like, or if there’s something he wants you to have, he buys it and gives it to you as a gift. There doesn’t need to be a special occasion for Hyunjin to shower you with gifts —whether it’s a painting of yourself, a small hand-made bracelet, a new coffee mug or a whole expensive set of lingerie, Hyunjin always makes sure to get to your apartment with his hands full.
“I love it,” you reassure him, your fingertips tracing the lace of the underwear. “I’m going to try it on for you”.
He smiles widely, his eyes turning into crescent moons when his muse promises such a thing —he’ll get to see it on you, on your naked skin that always tempts him into touching it.
You come back faster than he expected you, only wearing the set of lingerie and nothing more.
“Oh,” it’s all he manages to say, his body freezing in its place.
“It looks good, hm?”
Hyunjin makes a mental note to go back to that place and buy all sets of lingerie available just to gift them to you, as soon as possible.
“You’re a fucking goddess”.
His compliment gets you shy, but you still walk towards him as he is sitting on the edge of your bed. Right next to him you spot some of his arts supplies –a sketch notebook and some other utensils.
“You want to draw me?” you ask him with a smile and the warmest tone of voice. Like pure honey and sugar.
“I wanted to,” Hyunjin murmured, looking up to you, “but I’ve changed my mind”.
“Why so?”
The position you two are at is perfect for Hyunjin to embrace your body –you’re standing right in front of him, between his spread legs. His mouth is at the level of your torso, and his hands can explore your whole body easily.
“I just want to admire you,” he sighed, leaving a single, quick kiss on your tummy. “Kiss you and touch you, remind myself that you’re all mine”.
You giggle softly while latching his fingers to his hair, something that earns you a subtle moan from him.
“You know I’m yours,” you sigh when his mouth and tongue becomes bold, licking and nibbling at your flesh while his hands caress the sides of your body, “don’t need to remind yourself something you already know”.
“Sometimes I can’t believe it,” Hyunjin whispers, grazing his plump lips against the lace fabric of your underwear, “that you belong to me”.
You arch your back slightly when his tongue licks a trail from your pubis towards your chest, the trace of his saliva looking better than any texture or color Hyunjin could paint, ever.
“I do,” every time it gets harder to hold your sighs and moans, his skilled mouth making you feel impatient for his touch, even when he is all over you. “I belong to you. I’ve been yours ever since the day I met you”.
He inhales deeply the scent of your skin, the way the tip of his nose brushes against you sending shivers down your spine.
“Let me mark you,” Hyunjin whispers, doe eyes staring up, right at you. “Don’t need that sketchbook when I have your body like this”.
He guides his lips to the side of your hips, nibbling at the skin and sucking somewhat harshly, only stopping to soothe the skin with soft kisses and kitten licks.
“You’re going to cover me all in love bites?”
“If you allow me to,” Hyunjin smiles, admiring the print of his teeth against your skin. “I want everyone to know you’re all mine, in every way possible”.
He guides his hands from your ass to your lower back as he stands up, pressing his body against yours.
“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper, hooking your arms against his neck. Your touch makes him shiver, but he conceals it well. “Please?”
You don’t have to tell him twice before he is already laying with you on his bed, taking his clothes off on the way.
“Can you leave this on?” he asks you when you’re about to unhook the top part of the underwear. The idea of getting to fuck you in something he gifted you is riling him up, so he prays for you to agree. “Want to come all over it, so everytime you wear it you can remember me”.
You just smile and nod, impatient to feel him deep inside you.
“You’re so warm,” Hyunjin hisses when his fingers push the lace underwear to the side, revealing how ruined they already are. “So fucking slippery”.
“I’m always like this when I’m with you,” you admit, “especially when you have your hands all over me. It drives me insane”.
You’re both more than ready for each other, as usual. It’s a magical thing, how it only takes you a few words, touches and gazes to receive each other’s body.
“Relax for me,” he whispers when the tip of his cock stretches your entrance, “like that”.
He holds your hand and you squeeze it hard as he enters you, sinking it into the mattress right next to your head.
“Shit,” a gasp escapes your lips when he bottoms out. And, slowly, he pulls away only to repeat the same movements of his hips against yours, “so- good”.
Hyunjin leans down to kiss your forehead, and then your cheek. He then finds your lips, and synchronizes the brushes of his tongue with the thrusts of his hips.
“Faster,” you plea when he releases your lips to let out a quiet whimper, pressing his forehead against yours while his body moves on their own. “Fuck me faster, Hyunjin”.
And so he does. All to satisfy you.
Every time he bottoms out, his pubis brushes against your clit and gives you the much needed stimulation to reach your climax, so you’re getting closer every time he slams himself inside you.
Hyunjin notices it, by the way your walls clench around him, so he continues steady with his movements. He hasn’t let go of your hand and he doesn’t plan to –he loves feeling you squeeze it, telling him with your touch what you can’t put into words.
“Hyune-”
“I know,” he groans quietly with shortness of breath, “let yourself go, I’m right here”.
Your orgasm hits you right when your gazes meet, and Hyunjin can feel it from how wet and slippery you’ve become, and how hard it is to maintain a steady pace when your hips are practically begging for his release.
“Come on,” he encourages you, not wanting to pull out before fucking you through your high, “give it to me”.
You arch your back and let go of his hand to hook both of your arms around his neck, violently trembling against his body while trying to get away from the stimulation he is providing you with.
But only after you’re done he does so, with a swift movement he pulls away from you and strokes his cock two or three times before coming all over your body, the set of lingerie getting paint with his orgasm.
And as he jerks of the remain of his high on top of you, Hyunjin realizes no painting he has ever gifted you has done you any justice.
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