#frustrated enough that he forgot he was hiding for a second

[dinogoofymutated]

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

    You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

    You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

    Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

    Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

     Maybe not.

    Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

    “Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear? 

    oh.

    Oh. 

    You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

    You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

    First thing you do? Go to the store.

    It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know? 

    So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is. 

    You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you. 

    You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

    It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

    Holy shit. 

    Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

    You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him. 

    You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway,  waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

    “Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

    “Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

    “What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

    “What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

    “Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing. 

    “Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

    “Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

    “It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield. 

    “Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

    “I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed. 

    “Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

    “Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it. 

    “No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

    “Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession. 

    “...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

    “Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

    “You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night. 

    He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

    “...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

    “Fuck”

    You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

    You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

    “Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed. 

    He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

    “Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

    “Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face. 

    “Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

    “Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit. 

    “Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so. 

    “Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it. 

    “Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

    “Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down. 

    You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

    “Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

    “...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

    “Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream. 

    “Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

    “I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

    “Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

    Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right. 

    Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

    “Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you. 

    “Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

    His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again. 

    You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

    Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

    “Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

    You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter. 

    Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

    “Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

    The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

    “Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

    “Tell you what?”

    “That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

    “Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

    “You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

    “You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

[vipetas]

hide and seek

Heart racing, you gently eased the closet door shut, nestling yourself deeper inside of it. With a hand pressed over your mouth to stifle your breaths, you strained to hear any approaching footsteps.

Silence enveloped the room, and you allowed yourself to breathe a soft sigh of relief. This was a good hiding spot, you thought to yourself. Surely, he’ll never find–

“Oh, darling! Where are you?”

Your hand instinctively shot back to cover your mouth. Shit, how did he know to look for you in this room?

You held your breath, listening intently. Before long, you heard it: the slow, deliberate approach of footsteps. Each one seemed to echo the pounding of your heart as you braced yourself for the closet doors to be flung open.

Yet, it never happened. Instead, three soft knocks on the closet's doors signaled his presence on the other side. You pressed farther back into the closet, trying desperately to remain unnoticed, but it was too late.

“There you are!” Alastor's voice rang out as he swung open both doors. As light flooded into the cramped space, you met his gaze, a mix of annoyance and amusement crossing your features

“Alastor!” you scolded in a hushed tone, careful not to attract further attention. “You cheater, how did you find me?”

With a chuckle, the Radio Demon grinned wider as he leaned against the door frame.

“Why, darling, I simply followed the sound of your beating heart. It led me right to you. Quite the delightful melody, if I do say so myself.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed any irritation you might've felt. “Alright, Romeo, fair enough,” you quipped as you stood up, brushing off your clothes.

Alastor responded with a playful wink, extending his hand towards you as an offer to help you out of the closet. You accepted, feeling a subtle thrill course through you as your fingers intertwined. It was a sensation that had become familiar, one that never failed to stir something within you. Just as you were about to comment on it, the moment was abruptly cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.

In an instant, Alastor swiftly pushed you back into the closet, joining you inside before you could even react.

The confined space of the closet felt even smaller with both of you squeezed inside, pressed close together to accommodate for the lack of room. In the dim light, your gaze met Alastor's, and he placed a finger to his lips, motioning for you to remain quiet. You nodded, your heart fluttering ever so slightly not just from the fear of being discovered but also from his proximity.

Still, you waited, holding your breath. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, but after a moment, you heard someone gingerly enter the room. It wasn't unexpected, but what caught you off guard was the sudden voice that shattered the stillness.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” Charlie called out, her tone carrying a playful curiosity.

Alastor, ever perceptive, sensed the gasp rising in your throat. With a swift movement, his hands slid to your sides, pulling you even closer to him. His lips hovered just inches away from yours, barely brushing against them as he whispered, “Stay calm, my dear.”

For a moment, you forgot about the game, about the risk of being caught. As Charlie's voice lingered in the air, Alastor's grip on you tightened subtly, sending a delightful cascade of shivers down your spine. The way he held your gaze was both unnerving and intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting as his fingers began tracing the curve of your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.

In turn, your own hands sought solace in the fabric of his suit, fingers curling around the material. As you leaned into his embrace, you purposefully brushed your lips against his again in an almost kiss, and a low, deep hum rumbled from within Alastor’s chest.

You could feel his frustration, palpable even with the scant distance separating you. It was a gap neither of you could ensure for a moment longer.

But reality came crashing back down as Charlie’s voice pierced through the silence again.

“Hello! I know somebody’s in here!” She said, her presence looming larger as she continued to search the room. Her movements became increasingly frantic as she searched behind curtains and under the bed, leaving you with the unsettling certainty that the closet would be her next target.

Glancing back at Alastor, you were somewhat surprised to find his gaze still fixed solely on you, seemingly unconcerned with Charlie's search outside. His hands suddenly left your sides, and you found yourself missing his touch. But before you could dwell on the absence for long, they found a new resting place, cradling the back of your head with a possessiveness that both startled and thrilled you.

Without warning, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that bordered on primal. It was a stark departure from his usual gentleness, leaving you momentarily bewildered by the sudden intensity. Yet as the kiss deepened, any thoughts of protest were quickly swept away by the overwhelming heat rising between you.

Eagerly, you opened your mouth for him, craving the sensation of his claim, and claim you he did. Pulling your hair back as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue brushed against yours, sending waves of pleasure that shot through your veins, setting every nerve ablaze with desire. Lost in the dizzying sensation, your body acted on its own accord as it arched into his touch, your bodies melding together seamlessly. Each curve and contour fit together perfectly, as if they were two halves of the same whole.

As the moment's intensity threatened to peak, you suddenly heard the soft creak of the outside door opening. Your heart lurched in your chest, and you instinctively pulled away from Alastor, eyes wide as you fixated on the crack of the closet door, where a sliver of light seeped through.

Alastor, however, remained unperturbed. His lips trailed kisses across your jaw, his hands returning to your sides with a firm grip that pooled your insides with warmth. Despite the interruption, you found yourself melting into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck as you surrendered to his desires, even as a part of your mind remained on high alert.

“Hey, did you find anyone?” Vaggie’s voice rang out.

The sound of her footsteps drew closer, accompanied by Charlie's response. “No luck yet, Vaggie. But I'm sure they're hiding somewhere around here.”

“Did you check the closet?”

The innocent question sliced through the air like a blade, catching you off guard. Every fiber of your being urged you to break away from Alastor, to regain control of the situation before it spiraled further out of hand. But as you struggled to gather your thoughts, Alastor's lips crashed against yours once more, effectively drowning out your protests.

“Alastor,” you whispered urgently against his mouth, your attempts to push him away met with stubborn resistance. Despite your efforts, he remained as sturdy as a brick wall, his fervent kiss consuming you with an intensity that left you powerless to resist.

“I didn’t!” Charlie gasped, and in the next instant, the unmistakable sound of their approach shattered any remaining pleasure you felt. Desperation flooded through you as you attempted to push Alastor away once more, but he only seemed to draw impossibly nearer, enveloping you in an almost suffocating embrace as his tongue boldly invited itself into your mouth.

This is it, you thought. You’d never hear the end of being caught in such an embarrassing situation. You could already feel heat rushing to your cheeks as you struggled between surrendering to Alastor’s intoxicating taste and preserving your dignity.

Bracing yourself for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

However, embarrassment never came. Instead, you felt a sudden shift, like being caught in a whirlwind of energy. Colors blurred and twisted around you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if your very essence was being pulled apart at the seams. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sensation ceased, and you found yourself standing in Alastor’s radio tower, his hands still resting upon you.

“You're such a cheater!” You playfully scolded, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge with your hand.

“Cheater? Me?” Alastor replied with mock innocence, his grin widening as he shrugged nonchalantly. “I merely... bent the rules to my advantage.”

With a shake of your head, you chuckled softly, finding it impossible to stay upset with him for too long. “Well, you certainly have a knack for bending them,” you commented with a smile.

“Would you prefer that I bend you?”

Alastor's remark sent your heart racing, your cheeks warming at the implication. Emboldened by the rush of adrenaline, you closed the distance between you, your fingertips lightly grazing his cheeks as you brought your lips tantalizingly close to his.

“Maybe I would,” you replied, the words barely a whisper. Alastor chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as his hand slipped to the small of your back.

“Well then, my dear,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Let's see just how much you can handle.”

[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | l. felix <3

a/n: another day, another soulmate au :,-) i listened to a lot of jazz while writing this, so i hope you get extra serotonin and comfort from it as a result! i truly cannot resist the precious energy of felix <3333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 1.4k | warnings: none! | pairing: soulmate!felix x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

your soulmate's birthday and birth time are written on your wrist.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

felix practically threw everything he was carrying the second he stepped through the door, desperate to make it to the kitchen. washing his hands, he glanced at the clock. he tried to calculate how fast he would need to move to finish the cake before midnight. of course, today of all days, his schedules would run over.

he let out a few frustrated noises but quickly gathered the utensils, dishes, and supplies he needed to make the perfect birthday cake. just as he was starting to relax, his hand felt nothing but air in the corner of the cupboard.

“oh no!” felix groaned, “we’re out of sugar!” 

doubting his reality, felix rummaged through the items he spread out over and over (and over) again. no matter how hard he wished, sugar did not materialize in front of him. what did materialize, however, was a cloud of flour. in his haste, felix had knocked into the bag, leaving a nice pile of the powder on the edge of the counter and a few streaks on his shirt. 

“is everything okay?” seungmin called from the doorway, slipping off his shoes beside jeongin.

“no!” felix rushed back out of the kitchen, racing towards the door, “i’ll clean that up later! i gotta go!”

the boys barely avoided a collision with felix as he put on his shoes and grabbed his bag in one fell swoop. felix almost crashed into minho at the building entrance, his apology flying behind him as he ran.

minho chuckled at the sight of felix’s hair whipping back and forth as a result of his fast pace, but then his face fell, “ah! we forgot to buy sugar!”

minho called out felix’s name to offer help. felix had already made it far enough down the road to be out of earshot. minho shrugged and strolled toward his home, curious if felix would reappear as quickly as he had disappeared.

the bell chimed as felix opened the store door, a calm sound clashing with his heaving breaths. he hadn’t the slightest clue how far or fast he had run, but the feeling in his body was reminiscent of how it felt to compete in variety show games. 

he caught his breath just enough to greet the store employee, trying his best to speedwalk to the baking aisle, rather than sprint across the store. when he turned the corner, felix swore he saw a halo around the bag of sugar. he nearly squealed from excitement and relief. it was the last one on the shelf, almost as though it was meant to be. 

at least, that’s what felix thought until another hand grasped the bag of sugar the second his fingertips brushed against it.

“ah, sorry! were you trying to grab this?” you lifted the bag of sugar in your hand, feeling both awkward and obliged to say something to the stranger in front of you.

“oh! uh…” felix shook the stunned look off his face, “yes. i’m so sorry, normally i wouldn’t even think to ask this, but i need that bag of sugar. i’m in the middle of a baking emergency, and i’m running out of time to finish the cake.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to hide your laughter. the person in front of you certainly looked like the poster child for a baking emergency. hair messy from–presumably–running, flour smatterings all over their shirt, and a very sincere look in their eyes when asking for a bag of sugar. they looked both silly and overwhelmingly cute.

you sighed, “now i’m sorry. i wouldn’t usually care about giving up a bag of sugar to someone in need. this time though, i need it. i’m trying to avoid a baking emergency of my own,” you paused, figuring out how to convince this frantic baker that you weren’t lying, “this sounds like a lame excuse, i know, but today’s my birthday. i can’t make myself my usual birthday treat unless i have this sugar, and i’d really like to have some of it before the day’s over.”

felix’s eyes went wide. his expression shifted from disappointment to confusion to deep thought to bewilderment to excitement in 20 seconds. you couldn’t even begin to comprehend what was running through his head, especially when you noticed that he was nearly vibrating with…excitement?

“today’s your birthday?”

you nodded.

“can i see your wrist?”

your brow furrowed, not sure why the first question was about your birthday and the second about your wrist. as your lips formed the word why? it clicked in your head. either in an attempt to conceal your hopefulness or out of disbelief, you stretched your arm out far enough to be in felix’s view. he bent forward, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his body. you held your breath, waiting for him to say something.

instead of a reply, giggles fell from felix’s lips. he offered his wrist to you, muttering something along the lines of please tell me this is your–i can’t believe this–just looking for the sugar!

his smiles and giggles infected you. both of you seemingly forgot about your time crunch, basking in the happiness you felt at the hands of fate in the baking aisle.

“maybe we can share the sugar? i was about to bake your birthday cake when i ran over here.”

you tilted your head in confusion, still smiling from felix’s gleeful demeanor, “you were baking my birthday cake?”

“yeah!” felix bounced while nodding, “every year since i can remember, i’ve baked you a dessert on your birthday. i wanted to get in as much practice as possible before we met, so i could make your favorite treat on our first birthday together! obviously, i don’t know what your favorite is. i’ve done a lot of different recipes over the years though, so i’m sure i can figure it out, even if it takes me a few tries. i promise i’ll perfect the recipe so it matches your taste exactly! ah, this is great! i can finally show you the recipe book i’ve compiled with everything i’ve tried so far! do you–” felix paused, cheeks blushing when he realized how quickly he was speaking, “sorry, i got a bit excited for a second, didn’t i?”

you laughed, looking at him with nothing but gratitude and fondness, “i love the excitement, and i would love to talk about my favorite treats with you. first though, could you tell me your name?”

felix’s jaw dropped. he couldn’t believe he had forgotten his manners. how could think to ask you about your favorite dessert before asking you for your name?

“yes, of course! i’m felix!” he smiled, eyes twinkling, “what’s your name?”

“i’m y/n,” you smiled back.

“y/n,” he repeated, savoring the way it felt to say your name for the very first time, “y/n, it is so incredibly nice to meet you!”

“it is so incredibly nice to meet you too, felix!”

the two of you stood smiling at each other until felix remembered the original mission that brought him to this store, “well, since it’s getting late, would you want to maybe…come over to my place…so i can bake your birthday cake? i understand if you don’t want to come over! i live up the road, and i would love for you to enjoy a treat that you don’t have to make yourself.”

the sweetness of the man in front of you melted your heart entirely, and you couldn’t resist the surprise of your soulmate making your birthday cake this year. you agreed, prompting felix to rush to the register to pay for the sugar. as he guided you towards his place, he asked you question after question about your favorite treats, how you like your baked goods decorated, what your normal birthday traditions were, and what kind of present you wanted. you matched the speed of his enthusiastic conversation as best as you could, giggling here and there at his passionate reactions to every word you said. it felt entirely surreal to be walking side by side with your soulmate, but here you were.

“oh, y/n?” felix faced you outside his apartment door.

“yes, felix?”

“happy birthday!”

beauty radiated off felix and warmth flooded your senses. while your birthday celebration was starting way later in the day than planned, there was absolutely no better present than this. standing beside felix, who giddily held that fateful bag of sugar, you knew that this would always be your favorite birthday.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[felinecyan]

I Still Believe

[Shota Aizawa and Student!Reader]

Synopsis: All it takes is one person. One person to tell you something you’ve done right. One person to believe in you when no one else will. And that one person could change everything.

WC: 1994

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic, Dadzawa✨

I thought it would be beneficial to start of my Aizawa route with Dadzawa. Hurt/Comfort tropes align with me AND him so well.

『••✎••』

The door of class 1-A's dormitories swung open, the wood and glass making a loud banging noise as it collided with the wall, a cloud of dust appearing and a small dent created in the plaster. Your head hung low, your body leaning on the door, as you stood there, panting, with tears streaming down your face.

You avoided everyone's eyes as you made your way to the common room. You tried to hide your body, pulling your hoodie over your face as you shuffled over, trying not to look at anyone as if they could see right through you. None of them noticed, too preoccupied by your classmate Bakugou's daily tantrum.

You slipped past unnoticed, walking over to the staircase. The class chatter turned to a dull murmur as you went upstairs, your feet taking you to your dorm without a second thought. It was only when you opened the door and looked around your dark and dingy bedroom that the weight came crashing down on you.

Your body crumbled, your knees falling from underneath you as your tears stained the carpet. Your body shook as you sobbed, your hands clutching onto the fabric beneath you as if you'd fall off the earth otherwise.

You knew U.A. was going to be hard; you came prepared, but nothing could have prepared you for this. You felt absolutely horrible. Compared to everyone, it was a slap in the face to say that you weren't good enough. You weren't smart enough; you weren't strong enough.

You weren't good enough.

Everyone in your class was so much better than you. Midoriya was a powerhouse; his Quirk was so powerful it would've made you laugh. Bakugou was a force to be reckoned with; his intelligence and his drive were unmatched. Iida, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu... all of them had amazing Quirks and were incredible at fighting, and yet here you were, at the bottom of the class, not even worthy of being called a hero.

Your parents were right. You weren't fit for this. They had warned you. They told you that even if you were in the top ten in the exam, you weren't meant for U.A., but you didn't listen. You wanted to become a hero; you had the opportunity, so why wouldn't you take it?

You should've listened.

The day was awful. Aizawa had kept his entire attention on you, watching every single move, every single mistake, like a hawk. Being outside the classroom, working on techniques, and using your Quirk was humiliating. The more he watched, the more frustrated he seemed, and the more frustrated he seemed, the worse you were. Even when you'd wake up at ridiculous hours, practicing until your muscles screamed at you, the improvement was not visible.

How would you be a pro if you couldn't even get the basics down?

You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. You were a mess. You couldn't even breathe properly; your head was pounding, and you felt light-headed. The tears were flowing down your cheeks like a river. Your arms shook as you tried to push yourself up. Your legs felt weak, and you were scared that you would fall again.

Then, a soft knock on your door. You froze.

"Go away," you croaked, your voice hoarse and scratchy. "Please."

The door opened, the hinges creaking softly. You looked over, trying to make out a figure in the darkness, and found yourself staring into two glowing red eyes.

Ah, shit.

You completely forgot about the roll call.

You quickly scrambled to stand, your legs wobbling beneath you as you struggled to stay upright. You tried to wipe away the tears and snot running down your face, not wanting him to see you in such a weak state, but he had already seen everything.

Mr. Aizawa stood there in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, a look of concern written on his face while those beaming red eyes stared into yours, preventing you from doing anything. Still, he said nothing, just waiting. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for an explanation. Waiting for an excuse.

The silence was suffocating. You hated the way his gaze burned a hole through you. The tension was almost unbearable, and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold it together.

"I... I'm sorry," you managed to say after a few seconds, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Your body began to shake as the tears started to flow freely again. You tried to hide your face in your hands, ashamed that you were showing so much weakness. You tried to calm yourself, taking deep breaths and wiping your nose, before looking back up to meet his gaze.

The red eyes dissipated, returning to their normal black color. The light from the hallway filtered in through the door and the window, and you were thankful. Now, you didn't have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"What are you sorry for?"

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure what to say because, truthfully, you had a lot of things to apologize for. You were sorry for your Quirk, sorry for not trying hard enough, sorry for being a disappointment, sorry for wasting his time.

"For... missing roll call." You figured this was a safe answer, the answer that he most likely wanted.

But, oddly enough, you could see a hint of annoyance flash across his face. His hands fell out of his pockets, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Oh, no. This wasn't the answer he wanted, and now you were really in for it.

"And why would that be a problem?"

"Because it's part of the rules, and it shows I'm irresponsible and disrespectful," you muttered, staring at the ground.

"That... might have some validity." He was clearly trying to be polite, but his words stung nonetheless. "However, that's not the real issue, is it?"

His voice was calm, yet it was firm and unyielding. He was expecting an answer.

"Well..." you started, not really knowing how to proceed.

"Do you want to be a hero?"

The question made you freeze, and you had to stop and think. Did you want to be a hero? Of course you did. That was why you were here. It was why you had left your parents, it was why you had trained so hard, why you had studied late at night, why you had worked so hard to be accepted into U.A.

But...

Did you deserve it?

No.

"Of course I do," you replied, nodding your head vigorously. "More than anything."

"Then why do you act like you don't?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression serious. "By your attitude, it seems as if you don't feel you belong here. As if you don't want to be here."

His words struck you harder than any punch ever could. The tears returned, and you fought the urge to sob. You felt so stupid. So pathetic. Here you were, crying when there were other students who had real issues, who had real problems, and yet you couldn't hold it together for a second.

"I..." You struggled to find the right words, the words that would convey just how much you wanted this. How much do you want to become a hero? How much it hurt. How much it killed you inside. "I don't know."

He frowned, his brow furrowing. "You don't know? What kind of answer is that?"

You shook your head, biting your lip. You couldn't bear to look at him.

"I don't... I don't deserve to be here." The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes widened, and your hands flew to your mouth. You couldn't believe you had just said that.

He looked surprised, but he didn't seem shocked. He seemed almost resigned as if he had expected something along those lines.

"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. You tried your hardest to read his expression, but his face was completely unreadable.

"I..." You hesitated, unsure if you should say what you really thought, but the stern look he gave you pushed you forward. "Yes."

He let out a deep sigh. "Why?"

You didn't want to answer. You didn't want to tell him that you were afraid, that you weren't good enough.

He waited patiently, his expression neutral. He wasn't going to leave until he had his answer.

"I... I can't do this," you admitted, tears blurring your vision. "I can't keep up. Everyone else is so much better than me, and I just don't see why I should even bother anymore. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I practice, I just end up disappointing everyone."

Aizawa's expression softened slightly, and he uncrossed his arms. He walked closer, and you backed away, not wanting him to see how weak you were—not wanting him to see how vulnerable you were. But he followed, moving closer and closer until he was standing in front of you, inches away from your trembling form.

That's when he bent down, and his hands cupped your chin, forcing you to look up.

"You don't disappoint me." His eyes were kind, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're trying. That's more than I can say about many other students in this class."

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "That's not true! You saw today, I—"

"I saw a student who is willing to do whatever it takes to be the best they can be," he cut in, his voice calm and steady. "That's all anyone can ask for. If you're not giving your all, then what's the point?"

"But... I'm not good enough," you whispered, your lip quivering. "I can't do it."

"Who said that?" His gaze was intense, and his hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. "Who told you that you couldn't do it?"

The only people who had ever told you that were your parents, but you couldn't tell him that. You couldn't bear to have him look at you with pity. You couldn't bear to have him look at you at all.

You didn't answer. You couldn't answer.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice dropping lower as he took note of your expression. "There's no such thing as not good enough. There's only enough. You are enough. More than enough."

"But-"

"Don't argue with me," he said, shaking his head. "I know what I'm talking about. If you weren't enough, if you weren't worth it, you would've never been accepted into U.A. to begin with. But you're here, and that means you're more than enough. You're worth it. Never forget that."

His words were like a knife through your heart, and the tears flowed freely now. You couldn't stop them even if you tried. You felt so overwhelmed. He was saying all the right things, all the things you had wanted to hear, and it was too much.

You let out a strangled sob, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. His hands ran through your hair, and his voice was soft as he murmured in your ear.

"I've seen potential in you from the start," he said, his words filling you with hope. "I still believe in you. I still see that potential. You just need to believe in yourself, and then you'll start to see that progress within yourself."

You clung to him, your face buried in his chest. His arms were strong, and they felt so safe like nothing could ever hurt you. Like you could never disappoint him.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. It was all you could say.

Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for not giving up on me.

Thank you for being the first one to tell me I was good enough.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 11)

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Your heart could very well have stopped beating and you’d be none the wiser.

By now, you’ve experienced fear in all its varietals. The stomach churning and the latent, the languid; the swift moving silverfish slipping out of your grasp. The monstrous rising beast of it the day you turned around to find the master of the house turning the lock on the door and trapping you in with him. Then the delayed panic in the aftermath of bringing the bust down over his head and hearing his skull crack under its weight, the blood pooling around his body, almost aureole-like. Pondering the miraculous like, well, isn’t that just the devil of it. A halo for a man intent on your ruin.

 The fear washing over you now is entirely new though. Like a rapid exhalation. Of course you were right all along . Right to expect the devil showing up on your doorstep. The weeks of silence had imbued you with a sense of confidence. An arrogant, undeserved confidence that whispered in your ear to let your guard down. 

But you know now that the world is not large enough to hide in. It is a wasteland of false prophets and false directions. There are no second chances.

The only consolation is the silence from the man behind the counter as he studies the warrant. You imagine him standing there giving it a good once over, his face maybe scrunching up as it calls to mind the woman that just walked through his door. You wonder if they thought to add a sketch of your likeness, whether there’ll be a woman on the warrant that looks an awful lot like you. 

You stay put behind the shelf though, not risking so much as a peep. 

“Any information you might have would be much obliged,” Graves says, trying to coax an answer out.

After a few more seconds, the shop attendant answers with a rueful, “Can’t say I have, sir. You want me to leave this with the sheriff?”

Graves breathes out through his nose in frustration. “Now, are you positive about that? Take a closer look—I don’t mind waitin’ a bit longer for you to sift through your memories. I’m sure a town as big as this must get passersby from time to time.”

“No. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m certain. Never seen a woman fitting this description or name. Couldn’t even tell you the last time we had a stranger come through town and stay longer than a day.”

“I see.” It’s hard to tell whether Graves takes him at his word or not. The aura of menace that the man exudes suggests that anything said to him might rouse his suspicions. That they’ve already been roused, in fact. It makes even you second guess the man behind the counter, wondering if perhaps he knows and simply stays his tongue. 

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Still want me to pass this along to the sheriff?”

The floorboards creak under his feet when Graves takes a step back. “If you don’t mind. Been having the darndest time tryin’ to track down the man and, frankly, I’ve got other obligations. I do appreciate your time though.”

You stay hidden behind the shelf, listening to the sound of the spurs on his boots rattling as he leaves. The chime on the door jingles when it slams shut. You flinch at the sound. For a minute after his departure, you wonder if the door will burst back open and he’ll come crashing in, heading straight for the back to haul you out by your hair.  

A minute passes and nothing happens. The floor beneath you still feels like it might give out at any moment.

When you take your first step, the nausea comes rushing up. 

“Mrs. Price,” the shop attendant says, perking up at the sight of you coming out from behind the shelf. “I forgot you were still here.”

You feel like an automaton or a ball-jointed doll, your movements stiff as you approach him. Morbidly curious as to what you’ll see on the warrant spread out on the counter separating the two of you. When you look down, your breath comes shuddering out. 

The sketch on the paper does bear a passing resemblance to you, but only if you squint. Nothing that anyone could point to and claim with certainty that it depicts you. Underneath the sketch, you balk when you see your real name. It’s jarring to even look at. Though you’ve gone most of your life answering to it, the past few weeks have disabused you of any connection to it. Now, you feel permeable, malleable—a substance that has been reshaped into something new. That girl on the warrant is gone now. Done and dusted. So detached from memory that even the sketch of her depicts someone else, proves false. 

Still, you’re shaken by how close he’d gotten. Supposing Graves had come in while you’d been within sight. Supposing he’d looked you in the eye and asked you directly, and you’d stuttered under his sharklike gaze and drawn further scrutiny. You almost can’t believe how close it’d grazed you. The sharp edge of fate like a blade now sheathed again. 

“Would you mind taking this to the sheriff?” he asks, not realizing the gift he’s given you. “I’m a bit tied up minding the shop.”

You nod wordlessly and take the folded up warrant from him.

It burns red hot in your hands when you step outside. You glance around nervously, unsure as to whether Graves had stuck around to question more people. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were still within earshot. 

You waver in the street with the folded piece of paper tucked in your hands. A horse pulling along a cart laden with firewood creaks as it passes, rousing you from the trance you’d fallen into. You flinch, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. It’s blinding suddenly. A clear sky, the clouds long since taken away by the wind. 

John could be anywhere at this time of day. Despite the fear curdling in your belly, you can’t help the knee jerk reaction to go to him. That’s precisely what you don’t want to do though. You don’t want to be around the county sheriff on the day a bounty hunter came into town looking for you. 

A crow sitting on the roof of a building across the street caws and flaps its wings, taking off into the sky. 

You want to be anywhere but in town waiting anxiously for John to come find you. You don’t want to lay eyes on him and see that he’s found you out. The thought of John finding out about the man you killed back east is beyond contemplation. It nearly has you keeling over in the middle of the street. You can hardly bear the thought. How could you bear to live a moment beyond that, withering under his disapproval? His contempt? 

You don’t think you can.

Every shadow fills you with dread. A barmaid comes out to toss a bucket of dirty water in the alley and you flinch like you’ve been caught. You keep your head down as you walk, eyes straight on the ground. Someone calls out your fake name and you ignore them. 

Your instinct, as usual, is to run. Abscond from the scene of the crime. Even if the thought hurts. Even though you’d let yourself begin to hope that the times of trouble had passed you by. That perhaps you could’ve made a home out here in the middle of nowhere. You should have known that those dreams were just that. You should have known better than to want. These days, it is dangerous to long for anything.

It’s better if you fade from memory like a bad dream, you think when you spot Buttercup fixed to the post outside the sheriff’s office. Better if they think of you with a bad taste in their mouth and nothing more. A girl that came and stole their sheriff’s heart and his horse and then vanished into the night. 

When one of her black eyes fixes on you, you still in your advance. A horse can’t possibly read your intentions, but you feel like she does somehow. Like she knows you intend to take her and flee. She shifts, hooves coming up and back down, and you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly, nerves taking on. You won’t let yourself be ruled by them though. There are bigger things to fear.  

“Come on, Buttercup,” you whisper, hesitating before smoothing your hand down her nose. You flinch when she nickers. “I just—I need you to help me, okay?”

It’s an outrageously bad idea. Even to you that’s obvious. You don’t have nearly enough experience riding solo or even with John trailing behind you on another horse to help offer correction if you falter on your own. You’re blinded by fear though, practically shaking as you undo Buttercup’s lead from the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

You’re clumsy trying to hoist yourself up onto her without John to boost you up and hold you steady. It takes a couple of tries before you manage to swing your leg over, and you curse under your breath when your dress bunches up around your waist, exposing the bare flesh of your legs. There aren’t many people roaming the street, fortunately for you.

Buttercup resists at first when you tug lightly on the reins to guide her away. She stomps her foot when you try again, giving a light whinny. Panic seizes you, a coil in your belly. You’ve only ever ridden her before with John at your side; you wonder if she’ll even listen to you in his absence or if even she can tell you’re about to do something foolish and wants nothing to do with it. 

“Please, girl,” you beg. “I promise—I’ll figure out some way to get you back.”

On the third attempt, she finally listens. The way she abruptly breaks into a fast trot nearly sends you toppling over. You catch yourself by clutching the horn, tight enough that your knuckles ache. Your forehead breaks out in a nervous sweat. Buttercup covers ground fast, and without John sitting behind you like a silent sentinel, you feel control slip out of your slippery hands, clammy with sweat too. 

“Whoa, girl,” you breathe, trying to calm her by stroking a hand down her neck. 

It does precious little to calm her down. You remember something John once said about animals smelling fear. They know it like your name. 

You lose control of her fast. Almost in the blink of an eye, you go from steering Buttercup towards John’s house to holding on for dear life. Your body rocks with hers and you’re forced to tighten your thighs around her midsection when she breaks into a gallop, your hands still clinging tight to the reins. Her hooves kick up dust and dirt in her haste, sending it flying behind you. 

“Slow down!” you shout, but the words are swept away by the wind, already behind you. 

Not once have you ever ridden a horse at this speed. Your direction seems like more of a suggestion to Buttercup, and not one she’s inclined to take. The town rapidly vanishes behind you, the vegetation sparse for the first few hundred yards, arid scrubland scorched by the sun and fed off of by the horses and mules coming in and out of town. The sun beats down hot on your head, no hat to shield you from the heat.

You can’t imagine you would’ve been able to hold it down though, you think wildly, mind still in a flurry of panic. It would’ve flown right off ages before. 

Your breath comes out in hitched pants as you clutch with all your might to the horn of the saddle, your hands soon transferring to her mane for better purchase. Buttercup moves like a rogue wave beneath you, like something sailors only speak about in hushed whispers. She takes a wide arc around John’s property, heading towards the mountains instead, and no amount of trying to steer her with your legs seems to work. 

Your head whips back to watch the house pass, the dark shape of it sailing past you, and it nearly causes you to lose your balance. Looking back in front of you only makes it worse. Panic courses through you when you stare ahead only for the world in front of you to spin. Bile creeps up your throat. You swallow it back, but only just.

The half-formulated plan you’d had in mind is long gone. All you can focus on now is remaining astride the horse beating dirt under you. Any thought of bringing her to a halt dissipates. Even the thought of escape evaporates into thin air. 

Only when you feel Buttercup slow to a trot do you peel open your eyes. The breath you let out as you look around is short, panic still churning in your guts.

Over the weeks since John married you and took you home, he’s taken you through the mountains a fair few times, familiarizing you with the land to the best of his abilities in such a short amount of time. But the wilderness stretches far and the terrain beyond John’s homestead is rough, treacherous. 

When you look around, you realize that you don’t recognize this part of the mountainside. 

The trail Buttercup takes you down is cut haphazard into the landscape—a crude, handmade path, not one seared into the ground from frequent travel. It feels distinctly wilder than where you’ve been before. Your head swivels around as you try to look for something that might jog your memory. The striated mountainside tells you nothing. The trees out this deep into the mountains are thicker and older, gnarled root systems bursting up from the earth and coiling around the nearby rocks like snakes winding around their prey. 

You sit up a bit straighter, still shaking when you rub your hand down Buttercup’s neck. “You know where we are, girl?”

She puffs out a breath.

That tells you nothing, but she keeps going down the same path deeper into the woods. No amount of squeezing your thighs or patting her neck gets her to stop. You should be thankful that she’s at least no longer sprinting, that you can actually sit up and catch your breath now, but the fear from earlier is but a paltry shadow compared to that which is brewing in you now. 

Every crick and snapping twig makes your head spin round. You stare intensely past the treeline, searching for the barest hint of motion. You don’t know much about these parts, but you know that this is no place for a woman by her lonesome. Even a man on his own out here might feel jumpy. This far out of the way, only cougars and bears take refuge, and the odd band of outlaws making camp for the night and taking advantage of the relative isolation this far out west. 

“Come on, girl, we can’t be out here,” you whisper, leaning closer to Buttercup to hopefully muffle your voice. Even as low as you speak, it still seems to echo.

You don’t know where you’re meant to go though. In the flurry of panic that had come over you at Graves’ arrival, you’d bolted without thought. Without a compass or map, you’re as good as lost in the unsettled land deep in the mountains. 

As that reality dawns on you, you realize that you haven’t had a drink of water in quite some time. 

An hour must pass with Buttercup stubbornly refusing to listen to your commands to turn back. Maybe longer. She resists even when you pull on the reins. In truth, you don’t blame her. Your commands come feeble, no strength behind them. The fear of being bucked off her back makes you soft. John would be gruff, unyielding—you can’t imagine him giving into fear.

That somehow upsets you even more. You can’t help but wish more than anything that he were here with you. 

The temperature drops as the sun begins to set. Without the sun beating down on you, you shiver in the cold air. There’s nothing to keep you warm other than the clothes on your back. Your lips smack when you part them, parched after hours without water. You haven’t stumbled across a river or stream in the hours since starting down this path.

Then, from behind you, you hear it. 

The name that isn’t yours. You don’t catch it at first until it comes again, louder this time. When you look over your shoulder and down the path behind you, John’s furious face stares back at you, his lips worked into a flat line. 

The way you gasp must spook Buttercup, because she abruptly breaks into a gallop, forcing you to hunker down and hold on. You want desperately to look back, torn between relief and distress, but you stare ahead instead. 

The black horse he rides gains on you fast, legs pumping beneath its massive body. It’s not a horse you’ve seen before. Maybe borrowed in his haste to chase after you. You don’t let yourself digest that thought though, too concerned with remaining astride. 

Despite its size, it collapses the distance between you two quickly, nearly on you now. Instinct has you leaning into Buttercup, trying to get as low as possible and let the air glide around you. Her gallop quickens into a sprint. You’re just holding on now, facing straight ahead, no chance of being more than a passenger on this trip. 

John shouts at you from your rear to bring Buttercup to a stop. You squeeze your lips together instead of shouting back that you can’t. If you open your mouth, you think your stomach will come straight out. 

Your body jostles around on top of your horse, on the verge of slipping off with every passing second. When she takes a turn too quickly down a trail leading up into the mountains and you slide a bit to one side on the saddle, only your foot in the stirrup catching you, your heart stops. Fear is ice inverted; poured over you. It drenches you in another layer of sweat that dries rapidly in the air whipping around you. 

Hot and cold. The ground seems to come towards you every time Buttercup’s legs kick up. Always on the verge of falling and breaking every bone in your body. You suck your tongue to the roof of your mouth so it doesn’t get caught between your clacking teeth and bitten right off. 

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the cacophony of stomping hooves. 

A glance to your right finds him close enough to graze with your fingertips. Your heart jumps in your chest.

“Pull up!” he shouts again, but all you can do is stare uncomprehendingly. 

You don’t know if he can see the terror in your eyes. It must be splayed clean across your face. He has to see the way his words mean nothing to you. Your panic effaces any meaning; all you hear is noise and anger pouring from his mouth, and trampled dirt and labored breath. 

When his horse pulls up alongside yours, he gets close enough to lean over and snatch the reins out of your hands. He pulls firm, tugging Buttercup’s head back until she almost rears up and you scream, hands fisting in her mane. 

Your body lurches forward when she comes back down, slumped over the saddle horn. It digs hard into your stomach. There’ll be a bruise there come morning, but nothing like the bruises that’ll bloom between your thighs. Even now the ache radiates down your body. You look up at the sound of John’s breath panting out like a bull, and he glares down at you with undisguised fury, the angriest you’ve ever seen him. 

“What in the blazes were you thinkin’?” he booms. Even the horse he sits astride shakes its head at the sound. “There’s nothing out here but outlaws and predators!”

The hand fisted in Buttercup’s reins pulls her closer, and he guides both horses into a slow trot and then to a stop. You can feel the way Buttercup’s ribs expand and contract under your legs. 

“Stop it— don’t touch me!” you snap when he reaches for you, smacking his hand away.

“Darlin’, if you get off that damned horse—” John warns, but you’re already swinging your leg over the saddle as the words come out of his mouth. 

You almost trip over the stirrup when you slide off Buttercup’s back and take off on foot. You fist the skirt of your dress in both hands to lift it as you run, letting it swish around you with the force of your strides. A curse and grunt come from back behind you. The sound of John’s boots hitting the dirt is loud, and when he chases after you, his boots pound into the earth.  

It’s a desperate last move, but all you can think is that you’d rather be anywhere else but in his arms. You’d rather take your chances with the wolves and bears in the woods, or with the bandits and brigands on the trails leading to the next town. 

You barely make it past the next tree before he barrels into you and takes you both to the ground, the world spinning as you fall down. He angles his body to take the brunt of the impact, but you still cry out when your hip hits the ground hard. The way he pulls you into his chest just barely keeps your head from slamming into a rock. 

“Goddamn it, woman,” John spits. “Where d’ya think you’re even going? There ain’t nowhere to run out here!”

Your head spins. When you open your mouth, all you can taste is rust and salt, sweat dripping off your upper lip. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back and he doesn’t give you a chance to gather your bearings before hauling you to your feet, tugging both of your arms behind your back. 

“Let me go!” you scream, trying to wrestle out of his hold to no avail. 

You know he doesn’t understand, but you can’t help the way you try to fight your way out of his hold. There’s no explanation that’ll make sense to him other than the truth, which you clamp tight in your chest. There's no telling if he already knows, if maybe Graves finally tracked him down or if someone else brought their suspicions to his attention, but you won't go spilling the truth yourself. 

He’s a solid mass behind you, breath labored from hours spent tracking you. You wonder if he noticed mere moments after you took Buttercup and left or whether he came back to the sheriff’s office only to find the two of you gone. 

John holds your wrists in one big hand at the small of your back and gives you a mean shake. “I don’t know what’s got you so riled up, but you better fix this attitude of yours and explain yourself before we get home or so help me God, I’ll take my belt to your ass.”

The mention of him belting your backside makes your hands go clammy, but you must have abandoned your common sense a mile back because your mouth keeps running. “I’ll gut you like a pig if you touch a hair on my head!” 

“We’ll just see about that,” he grunts, and you can hear the raw edged smirk in his voice and the anger behind it. 

When he leads you stumbling towards the horses waiting in the middle of the trail, you realize that capture had always been an inevitability in your mind. Maybe it even comes as a relief to know that the jig is up. 

You just hadn’t realized that it would be someone else hauling you back by your hair.

[anadiasmount]

along with you - jude bellingham x reader.

GIF by anchyxsblog

quick sum: when giving him a taste of his own medicine, doesn't work out the way you planned... frustrated with your sudden change, jude is faced with his biggest fear, when all he wants is to be along with you.

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hiii!! seems like the theme on here is angst to fluff, so here’s a fic!! also my lovely @judethluvr has wrote a fic similar to this so please check it out here! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“you’re stressing me out jude! please all i'm asking is five minutes in peace!” you yelled, covering your head and walking away from an agitated jude. “y/n you started this? what are you talking about? all i’m asking is why you did come to today's game?” jude followed behind, talking with his hands.

“why would i jude? it’s not like you even wanted me there,” you laugh sarcastically, crossing your arms and facing a confused jude. “i heard what you said in your stupid interview yesterday and today. i’m not going to a place i’m not wanted or invited!” you stressed, feeling tears wanting to run down you’re cheeks.

it had been a rough start for you, not for jude. top goal scorer in the league, back to back man of the matches, top of the group table in the UCL. he had no trouble quickly adapting to a new city and country. while you had it different, the language barrier, your new school, and job, friends. you had no one here besides jude.

it was easier in germany where you could easily travel to him by train or plane. it was closer to england, and your home. where your family and friends were. you could spend the weekend there and come back for school and work. when jude asked you to move with you were estatic, more than grateful to have a partner like him who respects and values you always.

madrid was interesting start. the move was easy and finding the home was better. spending constant nights on the single couch and eating takeout because his and yours stuff from germany had been delayed. when jude became the new sensation, you didn’t expect the constant stalking, digging into your private life, crowds everywhere you went together even if you had tried to hide from them.

you could never get used to it, and it was becoming difficult when jude started to feed into that attention. spending more nights out with his team than at here with you. he constantly forgot about events you had, when you never forgot any of his. always there when he asked and said. you just wanted jude here. your jude.

“what are you in about? what did i even say?”jude tries to defend him, coping your movements by crossing his arms. “you know exactly what you said. i refuse to be treated like a plate for a second table. if you think i can’t be enough for you tell ME not the whole world?” you say, looking at the floor.

“all i want is for you to start being there for me. i missed one game jude, one game. you missed so many of my events since we moved here because you’re so focused on what’s ahead instead of what’s and who’s around you, living life in the moment. i’m tired, i’m tired of you acting selfish.”

you had said it. you always spoke your truth. if they wanted to listen, you’d speak until you felt the need to stop. you were humble and honest, which jude loved. but right now he felt his head would explode from anger and disappointment in himself. his chest tighten at how your words stung and told him to face reality.

“i’m being selfish? it’s my job y/n! i have to think of what’s my future, how i can better in myself and help my teams! just because i missed your events doesn’t mean you should do the same!,” jude stunned you, looking at him with wide eyes. sadness disappearing and now fury filling your veins.

“you see what i mean! this! this whole new persona and attitude! this wasn’t the jude from a year ago who always cared for those around him. this jude is to stuck, sticking his head in the wrong places. afraid to make any mistakes, because oh god forbid he can’t make them,” you say, voice laced with venom as you’d told up straighter.

“what am i supposed to do y/n? you hardly go out anymore, you’re always here or at work or uni. moaning and always tired, getting to our home late. what about the times i need you here? here with me to spend time with each other? to be there for you along with you?”

jude had finally caught up to the taste of his own medicine. it took him nearly three months to realize what you were doing. he did the same, so why couldn’t you? make him feel what you felt. what he was putting you through.

“excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. i’m always here, you just don’t care enough anymore to see that. i’m done with you testing my patience and limit, jude. if you can see or at least acknowledge where i’m coming from then we should think of our future. since your so good at that these days,” you say shakily, becoming afraid of what his next words would be.

jude saw you. you were standing here begging him, at your most vulnerable and sensitive state. your eyes pleading him to understand. you rarely got like this, and when you did, it absolutely drained you. your muscles felt lose, throat sore, eyes puffy, and head hard at steel. you hated fighting, or even have the smallest arguments, but if they didn’t happen, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.

“maybe i will y/n…” jude said angrily. he felt angrier at himself than the situation. you knew you had your reasons to not go and that was fine. he didn’t expect you to attend always but he needed and wanted you there yesterday. it was hurting him but he knew you were just telling him the truth. the truth that needed to be said the moment he started to change.

“if you feel like that jude, i won’t waste your time any longer. just say the words jude,” you test him, tears falling down your cheeks as you approached him pointing to the floor with your index finger as you spoke. jude tensed, clenching his jaw and swallowed heavily.

you took his silence as an answer, shaking your head as you began to cry and go upstairs. you felt torn and confused at where you two laid. it wasn’t easy. making a choice like that, let alone saying it out loud. your eyes felt red and dry, cheek having stains if your makeup and tears, heart dwelling to make things right even though it shouldn’t be you.

your heart was beating faster, and it didn’t stop the entire evening as you got ready for bed. we’re you really prepared to let him go just like that? just because of miscommunication and wanting to be petty? just because you were asking from his part when you did yours? it wasn’t fair, he was never like that before. he didn’t make you question your every move or word nowadays.

you attempted to fall asleep next to him, but you just couldn’t. your head raced at every interaction and touch with him. tears continued to fall from your eyes as you stared at his back facing you. why did he feel like a stranger all of a sudden? someone you couldn’t read anymore? someone who felt distant and cold? he was your boyfriend!

you couldn't stand it anymore... the distance, the argument, the pain, the confusion. you quickly grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. you were careful with your movemntst and noise not wanting to wake up jude who desrved his sleep. he overworked himself, and the last thin you wanted was to wake him and him be angry at you again.

once settled in, you tucked yourself into the sheets. you went into a fetal position, tears continuing to fall down your face and landing on the pillow softly. when they rolled down slowly, they tickled your skin. you were super sensitive and when you cried, you cried like your life depended on it. you didn't even feel yourself fall asleep, eyes slowly closing and went complete dark.

jude was still puzzled and disappointed in himself. he sat on the kitchen island left wondering why the hell he isnt fighting for you and make you feel wanted, to fix and do what you were asking for. jude knew you were having trouble adapting here, but he was wrong for thinking you'd get over it. you were right, he was thinking of himself and him only.

he can't even remember the last time doing something for you when you asked. you always agreed with no hesitation, no matter how tired or unsure you were, you were there always. why couldn't he do the same for you? why did he let himself be this naive and selfish and think about him only?

the future he had in his head was getting married, having kids, owning a couple of pets, and traveling to give you the world. jude knew he wanted and needed you here in Madrid, he thought it would be best for both of you, a new chapter, which is why he asked you. you left a whole country, friends and family, your old life for him. and here he was acting ungrateful over a stupid game you didn't attend?

the images of you crying and looking lost at him triggered and were marked in his head. the way you slowly let out a breath of disbelief at his silence before rushing upstairs to lock yourself into the room, jude should've given you the space when you asked but he was eager to know and wanted to listen to how you felt, he should've never pushed or made assumptions about you.

jude couldn't sleep either, overthinking how the situation went. his body was drained from the game and how even he let out a few tears when he was left alone. how he had given the impression he had given up. he blinked rapidly, biting his lip anxiously at how he should approach you or apologize.

"y/n?" jude turned over, panic running up his body as he propped himself up at the sight of an empty bed, sheets ruffled and no pilllow there. he ran into the bathroom, then down the library you use to study, all empty. he walked downstairs figuring you may have gotten a glass of water. but nothing was there. he looked in the final place which was the guest room.

he knocked on the door, met with silence. "y/n? my love are you in there?" he knocked again, a bone inside him telling him you were there just choosing to avoid him. "please y/n..." jude landed his forehead on the wooden door, facing the fact whether to go in or go to sleep. he picked the first option, immediately nervous at the sight of you laying on your side.

you had woken up, your throat felt dry and your eyes even drier than before. you felt the bed sink in, jude lying close to you as you faced the window, eyes following the trace of lights outside caused by the moon. you yawned, closing your eyes and trying to focus on what he would say.

"i know i don't deserve it, but you know i can't sleep when you're not next to me..."

"i'm so stupid y/n... you were right. all along i've thought about myself and stuck my head in place it should've never been. all because i have this fear if i don't do what they say, i will fail. when in the ned i failed you, my sweetest y/n..." jude said softly, mimicking your moves and laying on his side where his chest made contact with your back.

"i should be able to make those mistakes and learn from it, it's a part of being human. one mistake can't define my whole career and life. you and i know i'm better than that. which is why i won't make the mistake of pushing you away when i know i should fight for us." jude kissed your bare shoulder. you could feel your chin tremble and your chest hot as tears threatened to fall again.

"i can't make the mistake of giving up on someone who moved a whole new city for me. make the mistake of walking away from the person who will drop what they're doing just to hold or talk to me. make the biggest mistake of leaving the person i can call home and be safe in. i can't and i refuse to let you go when you belong along with me..." jude cried, his words coming out shakily as he cried as well.

"i'm so sorry y/n. you didn't deserve anything in what i put you through... for how i made you feel? for how i treated you? not anything that was caused by my idiocy. i should've have listened to you, cared for you, maybe even helped you to try and find a solution," jude continued to let out, stopping every now and then to peck your shoulder and neck. showering you with the love and touch you craved.

you hadn't moved, your tears silently killing you from the inside and out as you heard his pleas and cries. your inside burned and you almost felt suffocated at the world for how they threw things at you when you least expected it. "whatever it takes, i will make it up to you. be there for you like you always have been for me. to love and care for like i promised to you that day."

you turned over slowly, meeting jude's brown eyes bloodshot red. you brought your hand to wipe his tears away, kissing the tip of his nose, watching how his eyes fluttered in a relaxed manner. you hugged him, your head finding home in the nape of his neck as you cried. "just hold me, please jude..."

and he did just that, nails raking against your bare back and hand smoothly running up and down your spine as he held you close, afraid to let go. jude knew it was a start and it would take a while for you to fully accept his apology. but he was willing to take anything you wanted or asked for.

"i'm glad you're prepared and know what you want because to me that means security and trust. that i know were on the same page and i won't be afraid of telling you what i want. just please jude, don't ever push me away like you did just to satisfy yourself and others around you..." you demanded, your forehead resting against his.

"i promise princess. you have my word."

your lips were centimeters apart, and with a final push, you closed the distance. jude hummed in delight as you kissed him with pure love and urgency. not pulling away until you giggled and pushed back. "now let's go to sleep, but in our bed, because staying in here is starting to freak me out..." you say laughing. jude picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked out into the stairs.

"couldn't agree more. let's go to our bed, where i can finally sleep peacefully knowing we're okay..."

[iliketangerines]

lord please may i request tomas getting pegged by afab (not female) reader 🙏 mostly after they been teasing him (prob by wearing the strap under their clothes 👽) bc i just love a little frustration. i need him carnally

frustrated pleas

a/n: i lowkey forgot how to write for a moment, and i was just giving my computer the lead paint stare for a hot minute

pairing: tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pegging, blowjobs, overstimulation, praise kink

you walked up to Tomas, hugging him from behind, and he let out a soft chuckle as he felt your familiar hands wrap around his slim waist

he was at one of Johnny’s parties, something to celebrate one of his movies getting an award, but you couldn’t really care, not when Tomas looked to handsome

he was gorgeous tonight, face free of stress and smiling bright, and he turned around in your hold to wrap his arms around your neck and sway to the music

it wasn’t really slow dancing music, no the beat was loud and obnoxious and fast-paced, but still, the both of you swayed slowly as he smiled softly at you underneath the blinking lights

you rest your head on his shoulder, turning your head to leave lazy open-mouthed kisses on his neck, and Tomas grows warm underneath you but welcomes the kisses

for a second, it’s just you and him in the room, holding onto each other gently, and then you pull away and give him another kiss before leaning in and saying you have a surprise for him when you both get back home, grinding your hips into his

you’re sure he can feel how the strap bulges in your loose bottoms, and how it presses against his thigh thick and heavy

he looks at you with wide eyes and then it crinkles into that familiar smirk of his as he whispers to you that he can’t wait

you let go of him, fingers lingering for just a moment on his hand before you disappear into the crowd once more to give your greetings

for Tomas, it feels like hours have passed, but the clock only says a few minutes have gone by

he can’t stop thinking about the promise you gave him earlier, and he shifts uncomfortably in his spot as he thinks of you pressing against him

hoping that the dim lights hide his flushed face, he converses with the others at the party and laughs at their jokes and dances alongside them

after about an hour, you find Tomas again, sipping on his drink in the corner and watching the crowd go wild as Johnny sprays champagne all over them

he spots you and perks up, eyes lighting up and shoulders straightening at the sight of you, and you smile a bit to yourself as you walk over to him

you give him a quick kiss on the lips, asking if he’s ready to go, and he lets out a relieved sigh and says that he thought you would never ask

the both of you give a quick goodbye to a plastered Johnny, a somewhat sober Kenshi helping him stand up, and the two of you leave quickly

the ride is quiet as you drive, one hand on the wheel and the other squeezing Tomas’s thigh, and he clenches his fists in anticipation

finally, you see the familiar entrance of your hotel pop up, and you park as quickly as possible before dragging Tomas out of his seat and into the lobby

the both of you are laughing and giggling, face flushed and eyes filled with something heady, as you push the elevator button

you stumble into the elevator, too excited to get him back to bed, and Tomas fumbled in with you

neither of you can wait, and you press Tomas into the elevator wall and kiss him, grinding your hips into his hardening cock

he groans against your mouth, having missed the taste of your lips, and his hands can’t stop tracing you, unsure of where to put his hands

he wants to put them everywhere on you, unable to get enough of your skin, and you can’t seem to decide either with how your lips travel from his lips to his neck back to his lips

your hands are gripping onto the collar of his button-up shirt, and he whines into your mouth as he feels your thick strap pressing firmly into his thigh

the doors ding open, and you quickly pull away, grabbing onto his hand and dragging him through the hallways

you almost drop the keycard in your hurry to get back to the hotel room, but finally, you enter and close the door behind you

Tomas can’t seem to wait either, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you in close as he smashes his lips against you

it’s a treacherous journey, walking to the bed when your eyes are too focused on drinking each other in, but eventually you both fall into the bed, the sheets pluming around you

the neither of you notice as you take off his shirt, kissing the lengths of exposed skin and humming into his skin

Tomas moans low, hands dripping onto your shirt and bunching it up between his fingers as he watches you through lidded-eyes

you don’t relent in your kisses as you slide lower and lower, kissing his chest then his stomach, and you unbuckle his pants and slide them off of him

you can see how his cock pushes against his underwear, begging to be freed, and you obey, pulling his underwear down

his cock slaps proudly against his stomach, tip flushed and leaking pre-cum, and you tease him a bit, saying that he’s already so eager

Tomas, somehow turning even redder, just bites his lip, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him as you finish undressing him

you’re still fully dressed, but you don’t seem to care as you lean between his spread legs and press a soft kiss to the tip of his dick

it has Tomas stifling a small moan as you start slow, just licking the length and slowly pumping your hand around him, and you swipe your thumb on the tip to spread the pre-cum along the shaft

it’s slow, purposeful with how you tease him, and he can’t help it as his hips buck up into your hands, looking for more friction

you look up at him with a teasing smirk and finally wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, sucking on it and pressing your tongue into the slit as your hands continue their slow torturous pace

Tomas fists the sheets, whimpering as he watches your lips stretch around the length and slowly bob lower and lower

you keep a steady pace, his cock heavy and hot against your tongue, and you’re sure there’s tears in your eyes as you try to control your breathing

but the sound of his small whines and moans kept you going until he hit the back of your throat, and you refrain from gagging as you keep on going

one of your hands go down, massaging his balls, and Tomas keens, his hips bucking unexpectedly into your mouth, causing you to pull off and cough

he apologizes, hands going to your head to cradle your face and make sure you were okay

your lips are shiny and coated in spit, and you look up at him with wide eyes, placing your hands over his and reassuring him it was all okay

besides, it was his turn now, and you stand back up and sit on the bed, pulling off your bottoms in one swift motion and revealing the thick strap that sat between your legs

Tomas gets off the bed, falling to his knees slowly, and you spread your thighs a little wider to allow him better access

his shoulders still manage to spread your legs even wider as he shuffles toward you, and he looks up at you with wide eyes before concentrating on the task in front of him

he places his mouth on the tip, suckling on it gently, and you bring your hand up and hold onto his hair, nothing too tight or rough, just holding it there as he slowly took your length

it’s a slow process, him concentrating on how his breath moves through his nose as he took you deeper and deeper into his throat

but as he looks up at you, with that pleased smile on your face and those gentle coos telling him he was doing so well for you, it was all worth it

he whines around your strap, the steady sound of him bobbing his head up and down further and further into his nose was buried into your pelvis had him grinding into the sheets for more friction on his weeping cock

so desperately did he want you, need you in him, and you pet his hair gently as his vision blurs with tears and as he keeps your strap buried deep in his throat

finally, you gently tug on his hair and pull up his head, and he gasps for air, face a mess as drool drips down his lips and his eyes are wet with tears

he asks you please in a hoarse voice, and you oblige, pulling him up to kiss you

you’re so sweet and beautiful, and he can still taste himself on your tongue, pressing his own further into you to try and taste you more

he really couldn’t get enough of you

finally, you pull away, breathing heavily, and then you tell him to get on his knees

Tomas quickly follows your orders, getting on his hands and knees for you, but then you press your hand firmly between his shoulder blades and push him down

he relaxes his arms and sinks his face into the sheets, back in a deep arch, and you praise him, telling him he was a good boy

he can see you getting off the bed and rummaging through the drawer for some lube, and you come back and disappear from his vision again

he wiggles a little bit, impatient and pleads with you, but you just give his ass a playful squeeze and tell him to have patience

he can hear you open the bottle cap and then close it after a moment, and then he whimpers as he feels the coldness of it spread on his hole

you shush him, murmuring for him to relax and be good, and you just trace the rim of his hole for a few seconds, getting him used to the feeling

Tomas takes in a few deep breaths, thick fingers gripping onto the sheets and tries to empty his mind, and you hum in content, finally pushing a finger in

he moans quietly at the feeling of you slowly thrusting your finger in and out, and he rocks his hips backward to get you to go deeper

you just keep going at the slow pace as you slip in another finger, spreading your fingers to really stretch him out for you, and Tomas lets out a choked moan at the feeling

your fingers are slow, careful, prodding around inside of him and looking for something specific, and then a shock of pleasure shoots up his spine, making him shiver

he moans into the sheets as you laugh and repeatedly bump your fingers into that spot, listening to his pitiful whines and whimpers

his hips can’t stop moving back on your fingers, unable to stop chasing the pleasure, and he lets out a frustrated plea as you retract your fingers

he’s so desperate for you, and you tell him soon as he hears the bottle cap open again

the slick sound of you applying lube to your strap has Tomas squirming in excitement, and when he finally feel the tips rest against his entrance, he bucks his hips backward excitedly

but your tight grip on him keeps him going far, and you tell him you need to go slow, to avoid hurting him

Tomas whines, smushing his nose into the sheets, but he listens to you, not wanting to disappoint

you push in slowly, letting him adjust for every inch, and by the time you’ve bottomed out, Tomas is breathless and crying

he felt so full and exhausted, like he’s run a marathon, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to use his arms to support himself because he surely would’ve collapsed by now

but you’re slow, rubbing your hand against his lower back and his ass and soothing him

Tomas breathes, telling his body to relax, and finally he does, starting to whine and move his hips to get you to fuck into him

you chuckle but oblige, hips thrusting in and out of him at a slow pace at first, and your slick hand goes to wrap around his cock, pumping it slowly

the sensation of you fucking into him while your hand wrapped around him had Tomas gasping and moaning out your name, crying out for more

and you were never one to disappoint your lover, and so you quickened your hips, setting a brutal pace as you matched it with your hand

it was all so much the pleasure, your moans of pleasure and the praises you showered him with, and Tomas hiccuped as he came in your hand so quickly

it felt like forever as he kept on cumming, staining the sheets with his release and you pumping him for the entirety of it

your hips never stop moving, and you adjust your position, making his head reel with pleasure as the tip bullies his prostate

you coo at him, rubbing his cock back to full standing, and Tomas cries out as the overstimulation set in for him

but still, even the pain was pleasurable and he found himself rocking his hips back onto yours, needing you deeper than you were

you just kept one hand on his cock and another on his hip to steady him as you fucked into him, whispering for him to cum again for you, to be a good boy

Tomas let the tears slip from his eyes as he came with a loud keen, cum only pathetically spurting out to join the stain on the sheets

it’s much shorter than before, but still you praise him all the same, telling him he did so good, and you slow your movements until you’ve stopped

slowly, you pull out of him, rubbing his backside and tilting him to lay on his side and relax, and he feels so tired

you lean down to give him a quick kiss on the side of his temple, telling him to let you take care of everything

he nodded, staring at you through bleary eyes as he watches you clean everything up, wiping up the stain as best you can with some tissues and cleaning yourself and the strap up

but finally you cuddle into his warmth, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and he wraps his arm around your waist and draws you in close

you nuzzle into his chest and tell him he did so well, and he hums, thanking you in a tired voice before he drifted off to sleep

[lenaellsi]

I've never understood what people mean when they say that Crowley is hiding the truth of Heaven and God's cruelty from Aziraphale to protect him or spare his feelings. That's like...the complete opposite of what Crowley does.

Crowley spends all 6000 years of their time on Earth together making snarky comments about Heaven and God at every opportunity. It's his opening line in Eden, and even before Eden, he meets Aziraphale and two minutes later goes on a rant about how unfair it is to end the world before it’s really started. "What's the point of making an infinite universe if you're only going to let it run for a few thousand years?" He's been forcing Aziraphale to grapple with God's plan literally since the moment they met. Those moments make up like half of the S1E3 intro, and it happens again in every single S2 minisode. "Same God that wants me to whack the kids?" "Tell her that poverty is ineffably wonderful and life is worth living. Go on!" "That's the trouble with you lot. You tend to see things in black and white." Like. Crowley's not trying to hide anything! He thinks Heaven sucks! He thinks God is playing a fucked up game! He tells Aziraphale that all the time!

Crowley sharing or not sharing the minute details of Aziraphale's failed execution is, honestly, a nonissue, and it's kind of frustrating to see it constantly brought up. We don't even know for sure that Crowley never told Aziraphale exactly what was said. Crowley says Aziraphale "doesn't remember it either," when he's talking to Jim--not that he doesn't know, just that he doesn't remember, because he wasn't physically there. But regardless of whether Aziraphale knows the exact words, he absolutely knows that Gabriel "tried very hard to cast [him] into Hellfire and destroy [him]." And he already knows Gabriel is an asshole. That's not news.

And I'm unconvinced that Crowley wouldn't have shared what he learned in Heaven about the Second Coming and Gabriel's trial over breakfast at the Ritz if things hadn't gone completely to shit. Here's my hot take: in the fifteen minutes he and Aziraphale had alone after he got back, he had other things on his mind. Would it have been helpful for Aziraphale to know? Eh, maybe. But honestly, Aziraphale is already aware that Heaven 1) is fully on board with the end of the world, and 2) has no problem punishing angels who try to stop the end of the world. Because, you know. They tried to kill him about it last time. And regardless, I don't think this is an issue of Crowley hiding things--I think he genuinely just forgot, because he was busy getting broken up with. If he'd thought about it, you bet he would have weaponized that to get Aziraphale to stay. And he kind of did! "When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it."

And then there's the Fall, and yeah, fair enough. Crowley probably hasn't shared what the Fall looked like for him, and I think that's information Aziraphale could benefit from. Aziraphale clearly doesn't understand it--if he did, I can't imagine that he would have asked Crowley back to Heaven.

But that's still not Crowley trying to hide the truth about Heaven to protect Aziraphale's feelings, or whatever. He just doesn't want to talk about it! Because it fucking sucked! Crowley's communication problems stem entirely from his reluctance to grapple with his own emotions, and his reluctance to be vulnerable. Bitching about Heaven doesn't make him vulnerable; talking about his Fall really, really does.

Crowley has never once shied away from telling Aziraphale exactly what he thinks about Heaven, or the archangels, or God. He's constantly challenging him, forcing him to consider the people hurt by policy decisions like the Flood, the Crucifixion, Job's trials, or the "virtues of poverty." That's a huge part of their dynamic. Sure, he sucks at telling Aziraphale about himself--he doesn't communicate why he wants holy water, or that he's been living in his car, or anything at all about the Fall (as far as we know)--but when it comes to God? He is painfully honest. That's why Aziraphale is so unsettled by him. Crowley is generally very good to Aziraphale and conscious of his happiness, yes, but he's also not afraid to push him. It's baffling to me that people think that all he does is coddle him when we spend about half the show watching them bicker over this exact issue on screen.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Love Sucks VI. The Kiss

Vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

He’s just a gloomy, little guy.

The Masterlist 🩸

It had taken Steve a long time to garner control over his new body, his teeth. The razor sharp canines that cut and sliced his gums when he was hungry, when he was tired, angry, overwhelmed. It took time to learn how they worked, how to conceal them, how to override the reaction, to keep them hidden under his lips. Months, years, maybe centuries - Steve had forgotten.

But eventually, it became a little easier and they didn’t hurt as much and Steve stopped cutting himself on them, sliced fingers a thing of the past. But Steve had never kissed someone, not like this, not with them.

Not dead.

He’d know you for months now, the time ticking over like a new kind of season, one he felt like he hadn’t seen in so long. You were like summer, warm and soft and sweet and achingly pretty. You smelled like honey, like citrus groves in the sun, like the melancholy scent of sunscreen rubbed on freckled shoulders, like chlorine and pool days. Steve thought he’d never loved someone as much as he loved you.

He wanted to show you. He wanted to do more than bring you pocketfuls of flowers, he wanted to more than hold your hand. He didn’t want to hurt you though. So when you say on your knees in the middle of your bed one day, just as summer turned into fall, your eyes earnest and shy, Steve wasn’t sure what to do. You were leaning in close, lashes fluttering, nose almost brushing his own and Steve forgot all about the book in his lap.

He gulped, swallowed thickly and clumsily and his mouth watered at the sight of you so close. He could see the tiny marks upon your skin, freckles and silver scars, a blemish you’d tried to cover with a little concealer, the shine of your lip balm on your mouth. He could smell the citrus groves on you, sunscreen swapped out for a cocoa butter lotion, like cinnamon and oranges.

His fangs split his gums, tongue tasting like pennies - just for a second - and he groaned, backing away from you until his shoulders hit the wall and he was shying into the corner. Steve saw the hurt in your eyes, the rejection shining there. He groaned again, this time much more frustrated than before. He licked at his gums, shuddering at the catch of his fangs. More blood, a drip, drip, drip.

“It’s not— it’s not you, it’s not like that—”

You sniffed, waving a hand between the two of you, between your watery eyes and his feeble words. “It’s okay, Steve, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I want to kiss you,” Steve blurted, his words fumbling, desperate. “I do. I want to kiss you. A lot.” He swallowed again, metal going down his throat, iron on his tongue. He pointed to his teeth, a fingernail napping against one, white and sharp. “I just don’t know how.”

You smiled, relieved, the sting of rejection fading the same way the sun did. “Let’s talk about it then, yeah?”

It’s how you ended up on the boy’s lap, as innocent as the position could be. Your bedroom was darker now, a faint glow from your lamp casting Steve’s skin in a pink-peach glow. He looked more alive than he’d ever felt. His hands were chaste, curling around the tops of your knees and he nodded as you moved a little closer, your nose brushing his and Steve held his breath in anticipation. His fangs cut a little more, stretching from his gums until they ached and he was sure the pain would only lessen if he got his lips on you.

A peck. That’s all it was. A quick, two second press of your lips against his own, closed mouthed and fleeting.

Steve could taste fireworks, he was sure of it. Colour and smoke and fire and glitter. Maybe it was in his chest, maybe something inside of him had burst. Maybe it had given him a new heartbeat.

“Okay?” You asked, your word barely a breath and you’d pulled back enough to glance down at Steve through your lashes, your own heart racing and you were sure the boy would hear it. “Was that okay?”

Steve nodded furiously, unable to hide the excitement in his eyes, the faint lilac-rose flush on his cheeks. His gums were stinging but he moved his hands from your knees to your waist, squeezing there. “Mhm,” he hummed. “Keep going.”

So you grinned and leaned in again, lips brushing his again, once, twice, bottom lip grazing over his top and Steve let out a gasp, a sigh. He parted his lips, eager to taste you a little more and you hissed when one fang caught you. Just a little, just slightly, no more than a drag but Steve froze.

You shook your head, desperate to keep kissing him, to keep feeling him. You let your hands cradle his face, fingers tracing along his jaw and you murmured sweet nothings, soft nonsense that you hoped would calm the boy. “No, no, hey, it’s okay. Steve? I’m fine.”

You let Steve drag his head back, only just, his wide and panicked eyes scanning your face, your mouth. No blood. No cuts. He blew out the breath he’d been holding, squeezed at your waist again.

“Again?”

The boy nodded.

[bbina]

"took you guys long enough" sungchan comments, standing up from the hood of his car. he was waiting for a while at the convenience store you three always go to.

you let out a huff as you get out of the car. "tell that to this jackass over here who decided to take the longer route" you throw your thumb back at eunseok who was ranting about he didn't expect to run into a traffic jam caused by a car accident

shortly after arriving you three buy your usual stuff inside the convenience store before settling at the parking lot, just talking about sungchan's current dilemma

"she just suddenly broke it off with me today while on a date like?" sungchan starts, pausing to chew his ramen. you stare at him with wide eyes. so it is true, that he and yujin are now over. for good

"all i did was say hi to wonbin and y/n since we were in the same restaurant" sungchan continues, eyebrows beginning to furrow as he recalls what happened

eunseok lets out a chucke and pokes the side of your head, "so it's your fault why they broke up" he jokes

you felt yourself heat up. instantly, you smacked your older brother in the chest. eunseok makes an "oof" sound before choking on his food. sungchan panics and gives him his drink

"what the fuck, y/n?! take a joke!" eunseok manages to choke out

"you didn't cause the breakup, y/n" sungchan hurriedly says, afraid that you'd avoid him longer if you had the assumption that it was on you (when it kinda lowkey was because of you)

sungchan burps before continuing

"as i was saying, she always had a problem with y/n and i'm not really sure why? like obviously she's my best friend but she kept making weird assumptions between y/n and i"

your heart drops. did sungchan's girlfriend figure you out all along?

"why can't she understand that y/n is just a friend" eunseok scoffs, in disbelief that his girlfriend was that insecure of you, his sister

sungchan throws his hands up in the air to show his frustrations

"exactly! no matter how hard i reassure her that it's just platonic she just puts words into my mouth.." sungchan huffs. he suddenly turns to you with sad eyes

"i'm really sorry for what i said that night y/n. i didn't mean for it to sound like that. i just couldn't believe that you're with wonbin and you didn't tell me"

you held in your breath as you take in his apology. right, you were with wonbin. for a second there you forgot about your situation

"i can never stay mad at you forever, jinsu" you say with a small smile, leaning in for a hug. sungchan doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you. finally you have your best friend back

"hey! what about me!" eunseok complains as he engulfs you and sungchan into his embrace. you let out giggles as eunseok easily had you both in his arms. how you missed this, how you missed hanging out with the closest people around you.

between the lines ★ for my eyes only

⤷ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

 ˗ˏˋ prev | next  ˎˊ˗

★ notes .ᐟ double update like i said <3 anyway more drama 🤩

★ taglist .ᐟ @callanton @annswwa @renjuneoo @pinkraindropsfell @lecheugo @ilovejungwonandhaechan @ahnneyong @haechansbbg @snowyseungs @sseastar-main @odxrilove @leeknowarchives @onlywonb @wonychu @leehanascent @jaeyunsb @au-ghosttype @revehosh @keilovr @kyusqult @dreamyyyz @ether-yeol @yangasm @qwonbani @starwonb1n @ffixtionista @daegale @scrumptiousloser @seunghancore @marksluvs @wonbinfiles @ohmykwonsoonyoung @reenfluffmarshmallow @bunni @artstaeh @yizhoutv @sie17136 @koeuh @07yujin @poollabug

[asunflowerana]

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

"Unbelievable. You couldn't even stop for one minute to check the weather? Heck, it's not that hard to just look at the sky and realize that it is getting bloody grey!

You huff, crossing your arms and maintaining your gaze to the car's window: it wouldn't be of any use meeting Kiyoomi's outraged eyes. He's been giving you a lecture since picking you up from your work building, the pouring rain and crazy wind making you wet from head to toe, even though you took less than a minute to get inside the car.

The fact that you forgot your umbrella didn't help you either.

You know that he means well by his words, but it doesn't lessen how they sting inside your mind, tired of being reminded of something you're already beating yourself up for it. He sounds just like your parents whenever you did something foolish for lack of attention. It's annoying, the repetition and "i told you" tone mixed up into a painful monologue that you need to endure the whole drive to your home.

What you don't know, though, is the reason why your long time friend is mad at you. Unlike what you think, there's nothing to do with you wetting the leather of the passenger's seat; rather the fact that you were still at work by 09:00 instead of resting on your couch.

He told you already that your new desk neighbor was a nuisance, trying to take advantage of your kindness and making you stay late at work to finish his demands. And it's not that you're not frustrated about it, but he's new and young and insecure and you can't help but lend him a hand whenever he seems to freak out since he's still getting used to the routine.

You keep saying yes, but you can't see how bad that boy has been using you to do something he was hired for. And that makes Omi go nuts.

"Let me guess, that moron had a "pet emergency" again?" He taunts, gripping the wheels a bit tighter after remembering your dripping state all alone at your work entrance. "What a goof. Couldn't even wait a minute for you to leave."

"Omi, I told him to leave. It was way before it started raining."

"But he still left you alone, didn't he?" He doesn't take any, glaring at you for a moment. "He left you alone while you were putting yourself in danger and staying late trying to save his butt from being kicked. How can you not see the guy's a freaking bastard?"

"Alright! I get it, okay?" You blurt out, looking in his direction with worn out expression. You can't take more of this. "You were right, the whole time. That guy's stupid and I'm even more stupid for trying to help him. Now, can you please stop putting salt on the wound?" You take a moment to breathe, sensing the tension between you both. The back of your head falls on the headrest with a soft tud. "... I'm really tired, Omi. It wasn't a good week and... I'm really sorry for making you come all the way here for my dumbness." You sigh.

It takes a few seconds of silence, helping cooling off the air, before you feel his gaze on you again. This time, it doesn't make you want to hide from it.

"Don't say sorry for that. You know you can count on me, whatever happens." He assures lowly, a certainty inside his voice. He's feeling almost offended that you even considered you're a bother for him. "I only worry. That's all."

You know you won't receive an explicit apology from him, but you know the meaning behind his words, matching the shamed glance he offers you. He knows he's wrong. And when Sakusa realizes he failed, he tries his hard not to repeat the same mistake.

You hate how even without a proper "sorry", he makes your heart swell with fondness.

"Did you cut your hair?" You ask, also trying to change the conversation to something more light. You try not to openly check him out as you appreciate his new short bangs look.

"This morning. How's it look?" He slows down, stopping the car at a red light.

"Nice enough." You'd never admit what you're really thinking. Neither the way your hand is almost aching to touch those black short locks of his.

The corner of his mouth still lifts, though. You were never good at deceiving. "Only nice enough? C'mon, I saved you from desolation and a severe cold."

"Don't push it." You send him a playful glare, making him snicker while moving his hand to squeeze your knee. You smile in return, never getting tired of this intimate banter with him.

Omi might not be the most docile company in the world, but after driving you home, cooking you some pasta and making sure you stayed warm enough before he left, made you realize that you don't want him to change.

You fell in love with who he is. And he's more than perfect that way.

a/n: hey darlings!! thank you for reading this work. this will be part of my small new series "Things I hate about you", starring Omi and other characters. Let me know if you wish to be tagged!

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved

[6okuto]

I LOVE YOU (NOT IN A CLICHÉ WAY)

akaashi x gn!reader | a love letter from him to you! i forgot i wrote this for myself as a supposed birthday surprise so. i guess that worked out for me

the thing about clichés is that at some point, you stop feeling anything at the sight of them.

yearning, infatuation, love so tender and whole that it wrapped around someone completely and sunk deep, deep, deep into their skin and bones, into their veins where they felt it was the same as the oxygen already flowing through—i need you like i need air to breathe.

the same idea repeated over and over until the point of akaashi’s current existence—where he sits, favourite blue gel pen in hand, with at least seven crumpled pieces of paper in the bin next to his desk and the light of his lamp more of a headache than anything—until it no longer feels like enough for whatever he feels for you.

he curses every film and novel for making oxygen too little, too mundane of a comparison for how fundamental you are to his existence.

five hours. five hours he’s been sitting here, reading poetry and writing drafts and bullet points of what he wanted to say, utterly failing at writing a single coherent paragraph. but he couldn’t afford to fail, not this time. this birthday was more important than any other before—it was the first of your birthdays together as a couple.

definitely not the first together, period. keiji thinks if he didn’t meet you when he was thirteen, he’d have turned out to be someone completely different.

and after so many years, everything about you came naturally to him. it was to the point that other friends and acquaintances had come up to him before with questions about gifts for you. you already had a mug with that design, you weren’t a fan of the shirt’s texture, and you could be picky about art of that character, but he could send some of your favourite artists for reference. the person who knew you best, second to no one but you, was akaashi keiji.

he has been since you were fifteen years old.

so the fact that he’s sat here for hours, failing, is a blemish on his record.

he refuses to call it a phenomenon because that word makes it seem so grand, when in reality his situation makes him so incredibly frustrated it was more of a curse. it was an ugly, annoying, unbelievable stain on his identity and soul because for fuck’s sake, shouldn’t it be easier now as your boyfriend?

not only does he know your different laughs and the way your lips wobble while you try to hide it, now he knows how it feels when you try to stifle the noise in the crook of his neck, a smile pressed against his skin. he knows the feeling of your fingers intertwined between his while walking through the farmer’s market, and raking through his hair after he’s showered while it’s soft and fluffy the way you adore. he knows the taste of your favourite lip balm against his lips, what it sounds like when you hum or giggle as you’re pressed against his body and your arms are wrapped around his neck. he could pick you out in a line up of people blindfolded if asked, just by the way you hugged him.

it should be easier for him than anyone else, because you weren’t just his oxygen—you were part of him.

but even that was another cliché.

keiji lets his head hit the desk, hands coming up to pull at the roots of his hair while a loud groan escapes his lips.

“should i learn how to bake?” he mutters to himself before grimacing. “watch me bake a cake and give the love of my life food poisoning. incredible plan. what the hell is in a cake? what would i even put on it? awful cursive lettering?”

no one talked about the pressure that came with the first birthday in a relationship. why is this not a more pressing specific situation for newly dating people? why did no one tell him he’d feel like a heavy rock rested on his chest at the thought of disappointing you not only as a friend but as a boyfriend. he thinks he could die.

he can’t, won’t, die, but you’ll get home from your friend’s place in only a couple of hours and he’s running out of time (not really. he’s doing this a week early, but he set a schedule for himself and it’s the principle of the thing.)

“fuck it,” he murmurs. “whatever, whatever. let what happens happen, and if it’s bad i’ll just…internally die.”

resolute, keiji puts his pen to the page and starts writing before the ink can bleed.

hi.

i’ve written drafts of this too many times already. maybe i shouldn’t tell you that so it seems like i’m a natural romantic, but it probably doesn’t surprise you that i’ve crumpled up a lot of paper in the last couple of hours because i tried avoiding being too cliché. but if i’m being honest i love you so much it feels like a cliché in and of itself. so i guess i’ll just lean into it and write whatever comes to mind.

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you.

i love waking up to you every morning. i love cooking breakfast with you. i love wearing the “kiss the chef” apron kuroo gave us so i have an excuse to ask for a kiss on the cheek, even though i know you’d kiss me without it.

i love listening to you talk about your day and seeing the photos you took with friends. i love when you send me pictures while you’re out and ask what i think about your outfit. sorry i’m bad at knowing what to say, i’m really not lying when i say i think you always look nice. i know that isn’t super helpful when you’re being indecisive, but i hope i’ve gotten better over the years? i feel like i have but if you want to disagree i guess i’ll accept since it’s your birthday.

i love when you ask if i want to go out somewhere with you. i love sending you places and things i think you’ll enjoy. i love seeing how excited you get and i love surprising you with them a few weeks later. i love seeing our gifts for each other and souvenirs around the apartment every day i come home.

i love taking care of you, even when you think i shouldn’t, when you think you’re a burden for me. i’ll do the chores when you’re tired. i’ll get in the bath with you and wash and dry you, no matter how long it takes. i’ll dress you if you ask me to, let you steal my bracelets and slippers when you want them. i’ll make sure the bed is cold but the blanket is warm so you can cuddle beside me. i love being the person you come home to, and i hope i make it worthwhile every time.

you’ve always been there to remind me you love me, even when i think you shouldn’t, that it’s impossible that you do. so i hope you know i feel the same way about you, that i’ll love you despite what your head might say, and even if the world would end because of it.

i love being with you. even after a decade together, i only love you more and more.

and i do need you like oxygen. i need you like plants need the sun. you’re my favourite person, you’re my safe place, you’re my home. you’re my better half and your own person that just happens to fit with me. you’re my soulmate and also someone i was just lucky enough to meet. you fit every possible cliché and trope i can think of. every single one is true, which makes me think maybe you’re the kind of person old poets and writers were inspired by. they’re not around though, so i hope i can be enough.

happy birthday :) i’d say i hope we only get to spend more together, but at this point you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. (please don’t try though i’ll cry.) so instead, i hope every birthday is as warm and bright as you. i hope you remember i’m here with you, and always will be. every midnight you get a little older, all the way until the end. as cliché as all of this might sound, i love you forever,

keiji writes your name especially careful, making sure it sits perfectly on the line and each pen stroke is clean. then he draws a little heart beside you before signing off with his own name, and letting out a deep breath. his fingers tremble a little when he finally puts the pen down.

there’s blue ink on his hand, and he thinks there might be some on his temple from forgetting to unclick his pen. but it’s a problem for nightly routine keiji to wash off, not him now.

the letter would sit in a gift bag for another week, but then it would be in your hands. it wasn’t proofread—he could have spelt his own name wrong at the end and no one would know until then. but he can’t bring himself to reread it this time. maybe because he’s tired or doesn’t want to feel cheesy, maybe so it feels more romantic, more raw. maybe because at the end of the day, whether you loved the letter so much you framed it on your bedroom wall, or you accidentally spilled water and rendered every word illegible, he’d have you anyway. and you’d have him.

and he’d just write another one, once again filled with clichés and an embarrassing amount of i love you’s, as long as you’d let him.

pleak pretend this letter really is for u. it's half of this post come onnn it's for u now. happy birthday! i love u i love u i love u i love u (4 so it isn't a cliche) mwah

[feralforfrank]

siimon riley x fem!reader

like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

one

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....

[guiltyasdave]

are you ever dreaming of me?

series masterlist • this is part IV

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: This got very dark very quickly, but it had to be done. It’s basically just one big love letter from me to Dave and his character. I know Dave’s behavior in the last chapter has been a little frustrating but I hope it’ll make more sense now (it’s still frustrating though ngl). I also know this is not as smut-heavy as the other chapters, which might come as a disappointment to some. Stay with me here, more filth is coming soon, I just had to get emotional for a second. <3 (also, please be nice because I lowkey hate this, actually)

word count: ~3.1k

summary: Dave’s side of the story.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, age-gap, mentions of killing people, mentions of death, mentions of rough sex, power imbalance, able-bodied reader, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dubios morals (Dave is cheating on his wife… kinda), idiots in love, this whole serious is still very much 18+ only, mdni… did I mention angst? (As always, please tell if if I forgot something!)

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Dave York isn’t a good man.

He isn’t a good man and he hasn’t been in a long time. He probably had been, once, when he first joined the military, when he still thought that he was doing the good thing, the right thing. Before he killed his first man. Now he’s living in shades of gray, where nothing is as simple as right or wrong.

He knows that what he’s doing is not right, but then again, the people that he’s killing aren’t good men either. He’s doing what he’s good at, what he has been trained to do for years. He doesn’t really know what else he’s good at. If there even is anything else.

He makes enough money to provide well for his daughters, the only thing in his life that he really cares about, the two girls that he loves more than anything. He loved their mother too, once, when they were both young. They were high school sweethearts, got married quickly simply because that was the thing that you did, only to realize later that adult life with each other wasn’t what either of them had imagined.

He’s never told Carol what exactly it is that he does, trying to protect her, which then led to her not understanding what was going on when he came home feeling cold and empty, a void inside of him that nothing could fill. They both grew distant from each other, not sharing any real connection anymore, just living aside one another. It works for him; their daughters are still the top priority for both of them, and they’re going to do everything in their power to give them the best possible childhood.

He suspects that Carol is seeing someone else, with the way she’s sometimes working late for no good reason, sliding out of the room to answer her phone at odd hours, the way he occasionally finds a position on their shared credit card bill that he doesn’t have an explanation for.

Dave knows that if he cared, he could easily find out every little detail about it. If he cared, he would probably be angry at how she’s not even making an effort to hide it. But the thing is - he just can’t bring himself to care. Has never done the same thing either, neither out of spite, nor because he had any desire for it.

Until he met her.

Sitting in a hotel bar, two seats over from him, when he’d just gotten a job done and figured that a quick drink might help him fall asleep easier. The whiskey’s burn in his throat didn’t ease the coldness that felt like it had permanently settled into his chest, not that he’d expected it to.

He had just decided to retreat to his room and get out of the city first thing in the morning when she sighed loudly and downed her own drink abruptly. He had noticed her when he walked in, the way he always clocked every person in any room he entered, and every possible exit route. He had absentmindedly noted that she was attractive, then dismissed the thought immediately. Probably here for a date, much younger than him, not paying him any mind. Not a threat, and therefore not important.

Not important at all, until he found himself turning to her and offering to buy her another drink before his mind had even caught up to his actions, learning that she had just been stood up for what would indeed have been a date, noticing the glint of interest in her gaze as she eyed him up and down, feeling a kind of longing that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Getting her to go up to his room with him had been easy. A mutual understanding of wanting each other, the desire to turn a shitty evening into something else, something that he doesn’t think either of them understood at the time.

Kissing her for the first time had been easy, too. Touching her, feeling her hot skin under his fingertips, her entire being so much softer, lighter than he was, felt easy. It felt right, like something that he hadn’t known he was missing right until that moment. He wanted to devour her, make her his, get her as close as he possibly could, before he inevitably had to give up this fleeting moment of something that suspiciously felt like happiness, and happiness never stayed within his reach for too long.

Sinking into her for the first time, hearing her gasp, her breath hot against his neck, felt even better. This was never gonna last, things this good never did. The way she clenched around him when he first slapped her ass and her whimper of “harder, please” turned him feral in a way that he hadn’t known before. How she gave up all control to him so willingly when his entire life had felt out of control for so long - it was addicting. He had known that he would come back for more again and again before he had even spilled himself into her for the first time.

He hadn’t planned for her to stay the night. Hadn’t planned for the way she kissed his lips in the morning, acting a little shy, like she was worried that he might send her away, but so clearly showing him that she wanted more of him, if that was what he wanted. And god damn, did he want to give her more, give her all that he had to offer, if only it wasn’t for the fact that any more of him would be enough to scare her away for good.

So, he didn’t give her more. Made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, told her about his marriage, told her that they couldn’t be a thing. She was quick to hide her disappointment, but not quick enough for him not to notice. He half expected her to walk out then, that this wasn’t something she wanted, but instead she scribbled down her phone number, gave him a flirty smile and told him to call her “whenever”.

He knew he was being greedy, that he should have kept it a one time thing that he could keep a fond memory of, but of course he called her. Kept making stops in her town before flying back home, started spending weekends with her, the feeling of being around her too good to let go of.

He knows that it’s not right, that he’s probably taking advantage of her in some way. Of course he sees how badly she wants to please him, how she looks at him like he’s hung the moon for her. She has never denied him anything, no matter what kinds of depraved things he’s wanted to do with her. Hesitated, yes, but she has never said no. Never called red, never asked him to stop. Not when he first told her to call him “sir”, not when he spanked her for the first time, not when he’s edging her until she’s barely coherent, not when his fingers tightened around her throat for the first time. He could leave her a crying, shaking mess on the floor, and by the end of the night she’d still look up at him with those wide eyes and thank him.

It’s addictive and he can’t stop, always comes back for more when it feels like his whole life is spiraling out of his control again, when the darkness around him is threatening to swallow him whole. She’ll let him grab at her with rough hands, mold her body into any shape he wants, let him spit filth at her and let lose until he feels grounded again, until some of the darkness around him has dissipated.

Lately, work has been weighing on him even harder. Maybe he’s just getting older, maybe he has finally reached his limit, he’s not sure. With the whole week off, an incredibly rare occurrence, he knew who he wanted to spend it with. She had seemed stressed lately, like she needed a break too, so it was easy to convince himself that he was doing this for her. That it wasn’t just a selfish plan of his to spend more time with her.

Because somewhere along the way he has come to enjoy the time with her way too much. He enjoys lying in bed together, both of them catching their breaths, laughing about a stupid joke, the little tidbits from her life that she shares with him, the rare occasions when they’re walking around her neighborhood. The way she shyly grabbed his hand the first time, like she was scared that he would pull it away. The smile that she tried to but couldn’t hide when he didn’t.

This isn’t right and it’s not going to last, he’s well aware of that. As clear as he has been about his intentions, he still feels like he’s leading her on sometimes. But it feels too good to stop, to let go of one of the few comforts that he has in life.

The past few days with her have been heaven. He hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy spending so much uninterrupted time with her, how good it would feel to be around her the entire day, just watching her be herself and listening to her talking. And he has been talking as well, the feeling of speaking to someone without an ulterior motive, of someone listening to him just because they wanted to, more meaningful to him than he could put into words.

And all throughout, she had so willingly bent to his every wish, put all her trust into him, secure in the knowledge that in the end, he would take care of her.

So, Dave had let his guard down. Relaxed. Then the dream happened.

Last night, he had come home to find the girls slaughtered in their house, their small bodies soaked in blood. It’s a recurring nightmare, a fear that he can never entirely shake off, that haunts his subconscious every couple of weeks. He’s being thorough in his work, never leaving loose ends, keeping his private life concealed from the world that he moves in. The risk that anything could happen to them is as low as he can push it, but it’s not zero. Never zero, and it’s eating at him. Usually, he wakes up alone, gasping for breath, the sheets soaked with sweat. Him and Carol haven’t slept in the same bed for a long time.

Last night, it had been different. It had been different because she had been there beside him, shaking him awake and holding him in her arms until he calmed back down. It had also been different because she had been part of the dream. Just as dead, just as blood-soaked as his daughters.

She had been so sweet when he woke up, and it broke his heart. He wasn’t a good person. He was endangering everyone around him, he was endangering her by not being able to end this thing with her, and yet here she was, oblivious, comforting him.

He had always thought that eventually, he would be the one to break things off. But what if it was her? What if she figured out what a pathetic excuse of a man he was, that he couldn’t give her anything? Not a real relationship, and no future. He couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her see who he was. What he did, what he was afraid of - and just how realistic those fears were.

He couldn’t even bear to picture the look on her face if he ever told her. The betrayal, the disgust, and eventually the fear. He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. But how could he go on with this, knowing that every minute that he spends with her, he puts her in danger? Someone could find out. Someone could find her.

So does what he does best. Makes a plan. Suppresses his emotions until he’s sure of what to do. How to keep her safe. The logical part of his mind arrives at a solution pretty quickly: She’ll be safest if she stays away from him.

The emotional part of him, the part that he tries to keep shut down, doesn’t approve of this idea.

He has to tell her. Sooner rather than later, while the dream is still fresh in his memory, while he can still see her dead body when he closes his eyes.

Because he obviously knew about the dangers of being with him when he first laid eyes on her. When he kissed her for the first time, texted her for the first time, walked up to her apartment for the first time, when he booked this damn vacation because he’s unable to stay away from her. Unable to think straight when it comes to her. There’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t be with her and yet, he always finds a reason not to quit.

He tells himself that he’ll speak to her as soon as she gets up. Then once he’s done with his phone call. Maybe after they’ve had breakfast. At the end of the day, when they’re back in the room. He never does. He can’t.

The tension has become unbearable at that point. He knows that she’s confused, that she has questions that he doesn’t have answers for. His life feels out of control once again, so he tries gaining it back in the only way that he knows.

He half expected her to refuse him, but she seems just as relieved as he feels when he tells her to get down on her knees. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel better. Possibly hates himself even more.

He can tell that she’s off afterwards, and he’s battling himself to comfort her. This is not what he should be doing. None of this is what he should be doing.

Usually, she tucks herself into the space between his shoulder and his chest before he can even say a word. Not tonight. Tonight, she had her back turned to him before he had even switched off the lights, the “good night” that she normally breathes against his neck nothing more than a murmur from her side of the bed.

He stares at her backside in the darkness of the room, the way she seems to be curling in on herself, and he has no idea what to do. What they just did seemed like what she wanted, she had appeared eager, enthusiastic even, but maybe he read her wrong. Shit, he hadn’t even asked for her color once.

It’s quiet for a long time. He finally feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when her hears her sniffle. His eyes fly open again. It’s only minimal movements, but he can see her tremble ever so slightly. Fuck it, he thinks to himself as he reaches out towards her.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

You tense at his words, at the fact that he’s apparently awake. Has probably been the whole time. You try your hardest to make your voice sound normal, even though you know that it’s pointless.

“Nothing.”

It comes out even weaker than you had anticipated. You keep your back to him and feel him shuffling closer, his hand gently pulling at your shoulder to turn you towards him. “Baby. Talk to me.” His voice is soft in your ear and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. Baby. He has never called you Baby before. You feel a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes and shake your head but let him turn you around until you’re facing him.

His eyes search your face in the faint moonlight that’s filtering into the room and his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs gently running over the skin under your eyes. The worry that’s so evident in his expression right now makes you want to break down. You’re exhausted, and confused, and you don’t understand the man in front of you and his contradictory behavior at all. So far you’ve been crying silently, but you can feel your bottom lip trembling as you try to suppress the sobs that are threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Did I- shit, was I too rough, did I hurt you? You didn’t say anything, but I never asked- I should’ve checked, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you whisper, cutting off his frantic rambling. He didn’t, not in the way that he’s referring to, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?” he pleads, his hands still on your face, “Talk to me.” You inhale deeply. You really don’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it’s best like this. Rip the bandaid off, make it quick.

“Do you want to leave?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. He stares at you for a beat, his eyes wide. “Do I- What?” You shrug, unable to bring yourself to ask a second time. One of his hands slides down to your shoulder, holding you there. He doesn’t speak, his eyes boring into you.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer, your eyes dropping down to his chest instead. “You’ve been… weird. Today. I thought- I don’t fucking know, that I had done something or that you’ve-” a sob breaks free and interrupts you, “that you’ve had enough of me. That you don’t want to go on with… this.” You gesture helplessly between the two of you.

You’re certain that now you’ve said too much, that if he hadn’t had enough before, he definitely has now. You’re supposed to be fun, a distraction, not someone who’s clinging to him, but you’re feeling too exhausted, too raw to keep pretending like this thing between you doesn’t mean something. To you, at least.

“Fuck,” Dave mumbles, and you gaze up to see the anguish in his eyes before his arms envelop you and he presses you against his chest, speaking into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a minute as you’re inhaling his scent, trying to calm yourself down, when something occurs to you. “You didn’t say no,” you whisper into his chest, “you said that I didn’t do anything, but… you didn’t say that you don’t want to leave.” Dave freezes for just a second, searching your face, then he sighs heavily. He sounds defeated, you think.

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

let me know if you wanna be added, also no hard feelings if you wanna be removed! 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

series masterlist

[littlemissomega]

Malyshka

alpha!Wanda x omega!reader

Summary: Y/N joins the Avengers thinking she’ll be able to hide being an omega. Wanda bursts her bubble.

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, mating, biting, penetration, omega heat, fingering, knotting, pet names (malyshka, baby, luv, luvie), Bucky’s an asshole, a kinda maybe spark better Bucky (I can’t write fight scene without banter), scenting, scent blockers

Sorry if I forgot anything

Author’s note: This request for this was so sweet! I finally made myself sit down and finish this over the weekend :) I also marked where the smut starts if that's what you're here for

Edit: Just realized I posted this the first time with 'Emily' instead of 'Y/N'. I write my fics with a different name for the reader cause it flows easier with I brain, I just forgot to change it later. Please ignore 🤦🏻‍♀️

“Okay, everyone, this is Y/N! She’ll be joining the Avengers,” Tony voices.

Y/N fiddles with her bracelet as she gives the group of strangers a small smile. The overwhelming scent of alphas smacks her in the face, making her feel shyer than normal. She prays her scent suppressants and beta scent perfume are strong enough.

“Who decided that?” a brown haired man asks.

“I did. And I think you all will agree when you see what she can do,” Tony responds.

“It would have been nice to be consulted right, though,” a blond man points out.

“Well, I do bank roll this team, so…”

Y/N’s cheeks flush as the good discuss her like she didn’t there.

“Guy, don’t be rude! Ignore them. I’m Natasha,” the red haired woman smiles, “That’s Bucky, and that’s Steve. Steve is only agreeing with him because he wants to get laid later,’ “Hey now, ‘Tasha!” Steve laughs. 

Natasha shrugs at him with a smirk.

“That’s Clint,” a man dressed in all black waves at her, “And that’s Thor,” Natasha finishes, pointing at a man with long hair.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Y/N smiles, finally finding her voice and feeling awkward and meek around the group.

“Am I the only one who wants to see what the little lady can do?” Thor asks.

“I agree,” Bucky nods.

“Okay! I guess she can spare you, Buck. Show you guys what she can do,” Tony smirks.

“Gladly,” Bucky smirks back, shrugging off his jacket.

Y/N ties her hair up and pushes her sleeves up, trying to compose herself.

I can do this! Mr. Stark believes in me, so it can’t be that hard!

“Here’s the rooms; No cheap shots. We’re all big kids here. No weapons. If the other person says ‘yield’, you win and everyone stops. If the other person is pinned or down for 30 seconds or more, then the other wins. And don’t kill each other,” Tony explains.

“Remember that word, beta,” Bucky voices, getting in a fighting stance.

Y/N ignores his taunts, focusing on the energy bubbling up in her core. She imagines it spreading through her body and resting under the skin of her hands. Her hands start glowing with lavender purple energy, and Bucky’s cocky expression cracks for a second.

“Begin,” Tony announces, leading against the wall.

Bucky lunges forward, but doesn’t get far before a stream of glowing lavender energy shots from Y/N’s hands; wrapping around Bucky’s foot and pulling him to the ground. He lands with a grunt but doesn’t stay down long. Natasha’s laugh rings through the room.

“A little warning would have been nice, Tony!” Bucky calls as he swings his metal arm back to punch her.

Y/N’s glowing hand makes a shape like she caught his fist (she’s not actually touching him), and his hand stops. Her eyes start glowing a faint purple as she turns her hand to the side, and Bucky’s arm goes with it. He lands on his back. A frustrated groan slips from his lips, causing the corners of Y/N’s to go up.

Bucky rolls to his feet and jumps forward. Right before he grabs her, Y/N teleports to the other side of the room. He stumbles forward, but regains his balance.

“The f-”

He starts towards her again, and Y/N’s wills the water in a cup to the side to rise, turning into a disk of ice. It shoots towards Bucky, but he catches it with his metal hand and throws it back at her. The ice evaporates before it reaches her.

“Okay, no more magic, kid. Why don’t you level the playing field and beat me fair and square?” Bucky asks as he lunges toward again, panting slightly. Y/N side steps him and teleports behind him. She kicks him square in the back, causing him to go down.

“And why would I do that? I’m just using my resources wisely!” Y/N points out.

“Oh, so you don’t think you can beat me without your little party tricks! That’s okay, not everyone is strong enough,” Bucky eggs her on.

“You’re kinda an asshole, you know that?” Y/N shoots back, “How ‘bout this; I don’t use magic for 60 seconds. Give you a little head start. If you can beat me in that time, then great. If you can’t…”

“Deal,” he growls, kicking his leg out and sweeping her feet out from under her.

Y/N tumbles to the ground, landing hard on her ass. Bucky pins her to the ground, but she elbows him in the nose, causing his grip to loosen enough for her to slip away. She makes it to her feet before he makes his next attack. He swings a punch at her, but she douges it, dunking under his arm and elbowing his side. Bucky lets out another growl and Y/N shivers. 

“You scared, beta?” Bucky chuckles.

“No, I’m just getting a little cold from how little I have to work! And my name’s Y/N,”

Bucky wraps a hand around Y/N’s throat, and she tucks her chin while bringing her other arm around and breaking his grip. She grabs his arm and spins him around, putting him in a choke hold. Bucky’s hands fly up; trying and failing to break her grip around his neck. Y/N wraps his legs around her waist to stabilize herself as Bucky starts slamming her into the wall. She lets out a grunt as the air leaves her lungs.

“You smell…sweet?” Bucky points out, his voice muffled from his lack of air.

Shit, Y/N thinks. She realizes she’s started to sweat, which must be causing the scent blocker to wear off faster.

“I think you’re hallucinating, Barnes,” Y/N huffs as he slams her into the wall again, “And, your time’s up,”

Y/N teleports away right as Bucky slams against the wall again, causing him to take all of the blow. She kicks him in the stomach and he crumbles against the wall. Purple bands of light wrap around him, pinning him down. He struggles against them, but they don’t break.

“And.. Y/N wins!” Tony announces as the 30 seconds is up. The bands of light disappear immediately, and Bucky stumbles to his feet.

“Good match,” Y/N smiles, sticking her hand out to shake Bucky’s.

Bucky begrudgingly shakes her hands. Y/N thinks he’s being a good sport until he jerks her forward, dipping his nose down so it brushes the scent gland on her neck. Y/N gasps and stumbles back.

“Interesting,” Bucky chuckles softly.

“Did you just fucking scent me??” Y/N asks, shocked.

“Whoa, that’s too far, Bucky!” Natasha scolds, shoving Bucky.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bucky responds, the smirk not leaving his face.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah! Yeah..it’s whatever,” 

“He’s just grumpy cause he lost and wanted a reaction. That was pretty badass though, newbie!”

“I agree! That was hardcore!” Thor laughs, slapping Y/N on the back. Y/N jolts forward a little, but laughs it off.

“Hey, has anyone seen Wanda today?” Steve asks. He’s holding hands with a still slightly fuming Bucky.

“I’m right here!” a voice calls from the door.

Y/N turns to see a beautiful woman with dark ginger hair that falls in soft waves and blue gray eyes. She’s dressed in red and black leather, and Y/N struggles to keep her eyes on the woman’s face instead of the curve of her breasts. Her scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon hits Y/N like a freight train, causing a whole different heat to grow in her core. She can feel her own scent growing stronger.

“Hey, Wanda! You missed the show!” Natasha laughs.

“Did I?” Wanda asks, looking at Y/N, “What’s your name, malyshka (babygirl)?”

Y/N opens her mouth, but no words come out. Natasha quickly covers for her.

“This is Y/N! She’s joining the Avengers and she just kicked Bucky’s ass!”

Wanda’s eyes don’t leave Y/N, causing her to squirm a little. Y/N pulls out her phone, and looks at it, pretending to see a notification.

“Oh, I have a missed call, so I need to go call them back! But it was nice meeting y’all!”

Bucky smirks and gives Y/N a knowing look as she runs from the room. She fainting hears the other calling bye.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Y/N mumbles as she slams her bedroom door shut, rummaging through her stuff for her scent suppressant. She swallows two of them dry, then douses herself in the beta scent perfume.

Flopping down face first on the bed, Y/N reminds herself that joining the Avengers is a good thing. Her stupid omega pheromones just need to get their shit together. And Bucky keeps his stupid mouth shut.

Two weeks pass, and Y/N starts to settle into her new life. She trains with Natasha and Steve during the day, and they go on missions. She and Bucky continue to bully each other and have ‘friendly’ competitions. And Wanda. Oh Wanda.

Wanda has been so kind to Y/N, showing her around the compound and taking every chance to talk with her. But she also takes every chance to touch her. From putting a hand on Y/N’s shoulder when passing to letting their legs touch on the couch, Wanda has taken every chance. And Y/N hasn’t minded. Not at all.

Y/N hates how shy she gets around Wanda, and the almost gravitational pull she feels to her.

A knock on the door snaps Y/N from her thoughts.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Natasha asks through the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Y/N voices, rolling over.

“Okay! Well, dinner’s ready! You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a second!” Y/N responds, glad to be included in the group.

Y/N quickly takes her hair out of the ponytail, fluffing the top of it. When she opens the door, Natasha is waiting for her. She smells of fresh sheets and leather polish. She’s an alpha, but her scent isn’t as overwhelming as most.

“What’s for dinner?” Y/N asks as they enter the kitchen.

“Chicken noodle soup!” Wanda responds, “How’d your call go?”

Gods she looks so pretty

“I-It was good! Just a friend,” Y/N voices, nervousness pooling in her stomach.

As they make bowls, Y/N realizes Bucky and Steve are missing.

“Where are the others?” She asks, carrying her bowl to the table.

“Oh, I heard Bucky and Steve arguing earlier, so they’re probably fucking by now,” Natasha laughs.

“My room is next to theirs, and you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard,” Tony voices, “Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since they mated,”

Y/N blushes, staring at her bowl. It’s always amazed her how some people are so open about sex. She picks up her spoon and takes a bite of the soup, almost moaning as it hits her taste buds.

“You like the soup, malyshka?” Wanda asks with a grin, sitting down next to her.

“Yeah!” Y/N nods, swallowing, “It’s really good,”

“I’m glad you think so,”

“Sorry, what does malyshka mean? Is it a different language?” Y/N asks. Wanda has taken to using the nickname with Y/N, and she had never asked what it ment. 

“It’s Russian for babygirl,” Natasha explains with a small, knowing smile.

“Oh,” 

That’s all Y/N can say as her face turns bright red. She coughs a little and takes a gulp of her water. Wanda’s shoe brushes against her calf.

“Don’t choke, princess!” Wanda chuckles.

Princess? Babygirl? This woman is going to be the death of me.

Y/N sets her cups down and focuses on eating without embarrassing herself. Halfway through, Steve and Bucky show up. Steve is limping significantly.

“Nice of you to join us,” Tony snickers.

“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky responds with a chuckle, “You’re just jealous you’re not getting any cause Pepper’s on a business trip,”

Y/N grimaces as pain shoots through her abdomen and lower back. She grips her spoon harder; her knuckles turning white. Natasha taps her foot under the table and mouths ‘You okay?’ at her. Y/N nods, relaxing her grip on the spoon even as the pain continues. The intense need to bury her face in Wanda’s chest and sit in her lap fills her.

It doesn’t help that every breath she takes is overwhelmed by Wanda’s rich scent.

Is she doing that on purpose? Y/N wonders. She can feel herself starting to sweat and takes a sip of water.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Steve asks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Yeah! O-of course!” Y/N responds, trying to sound normal.

“You look pretty flushed. Are you warm?”

Steve you’re very sweet, but please shut the fuck up. Y/N begs in her heat.

“A little! It’s just the soup. I think I’m actually gonna turn in for the night,” Y/N decides, grabbing her bowl to put in the sink. Wanda stops her.

“I can get that!” Wanda voices.

“No, that’s okay! I can-”

“Leave the bowl, malyshka,” Wanda voices, dominance seeping into her voice.

Y/N sets the bowl down and rushes up the stairs.

“What’s up with her?” she hears Tony ask.

“I wouldn’t bother her for the next week,” Bucky responds, sounding arrogant and almost condescending.

“Why not?” Natasha asks.

Y/N doesn’t wait to hear Bucky’s response. She quietly closes her bedroom door and uses the lavender light to create a barrier around the room. Now, no one will be able to scent her or hear her.

She stumbles over to her desk and opens her computer, looking at her heat calendar. It isn’t supposed to come for another 2 weeks!

“Go awayyyy,” Y/N whines as the cramps continue and a different type of need fills her. She changes into a soft, silk shorts and tank top set before climbing into bed. She nuzzles her face into the only blanket she brought from home.

Y/N tosses and turns for hours, kicking off the blankets as her body temperature goes up. A fine layer of sweat settles on her skin and pain shoots through her. She can feel herself growing wetter, and her mind keeps straying to how bad she wants to be knotted. 

  —--Spice starts here—----

She tries resisting, but she can’t help but kick off the shorts and slip her hand in her underwear. Y/N dips a finger in her dripping hole and moans. She drags the finger up to that hypersensitive bundle of nerves as draws gentle circles on it. Her moans float through the room.

A knock at the door causes Y/N to groan.

“Y/N, are you in there?” Wanda asks through the door.

Her brain is too foggy to form words.

“Y/N, open the door right now,” Wanda orders. Y/N whimpers at the dominance in her tone.

The door burst open before closing again. Y/N turns her head to see Wanda standing there, eyes and hands glowing a faint red color. Her scent is intoxicating. She’s wearing a cropped tank top and a pair of low rise pajama pants. The large bulge at her crotch is unmistakable. 

“Oh baby. Did you get your heat?” Wanda croons.

Y/N nods, burying her face in the blankets. She jolts in pain as another cramp rips through her and rubs another circle on her clit, hoping to help ease the pain.

“Y-you should go Wa-Wanda! It’s not appropriate,” Y/N struggles to say, finally pulling her hand from her underwear.

“But you don’t really want me to do that, do you?” Wanda asks, her voice getting closer. 

Y/N looks up to see Wanda right next to the bed. She sits down and lowers her face closer to hers. Wanda gently grabs her china and forces her to make eye contact. Y/N whimpers and her core throbs.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, malyshka. And I know you feel it. The bond. Begging for us to solidify it. You’re my mate, and you know it,” Wanda voices, grabbing her hand and bringing it to her mouth.

“W-what?” Y/N stutters.

Wanda eases Y/N’s slick covered finger into her mouth and sucks gently. Y/N and Wanda moan as she releases it with a pop

“Awww, you’re such a dumb baby omega! Thought you could pretend to be a beta and everything!” she brushes a stand of hair from Y/N’s face condescending, “No, you’re my mate and I’ve known from the second I saw you,”

Her eyes go wide as Wanda dips her head down and brushes her nose against Y/N’s scent glades. A small growl slips from Wanda’s lips and every hair on Y/N’s body stands up, causing her to whine.

“I’m going to burn whatever fake scent you use. And it you ever take a fucking scent blocker again, I’ll spank your pretty ass ‘til you can’t sit right for a month,” Wanda growls.

“Y-yes ma’am! I’m sor-sorry!” Y/N squeaks.

“You will be,”

Y/N lets out a shriek as Wanda picks her up and throws her over her shoulder.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Y/N asks, her tone sounding meek.

“Going to wash off that fucking beta scent! I wanna smell your scent when I pump you full with my pups,” 

“Mommyyy,” Y/N moans, her grip tightening on Wanda’s shoulders.

The tile in the bathroom is cold against Y/N’s bare feet. Wanda presses her against the wall; her lips a breath away from Y/N’s.

“I’m trying so hard to restrain myself, because I wanna fuck you for the first time in a bed, but you’re making it really hard, malyshka,” Wanda whispers, her lips dipping to hover over the scent glad on Y/N’s neck. 

Y/N lets out a breathy moan; squeezing her thighs together as Wanda’s nose nuzzles against her scent gland.

“Your scent is finally pecking through those damned scent blockers,” Wanda voices, “Now let’s wash the rest off,”

The cool air chills Y/N’s skin as Wanda pulls the shirt off her, leaving her bare. Her nipples pebble into stiff peaks and the shorts quickly follow the shirt to its place on the ground. Y/N wants to touch her so bad, but doesn’t want to anger her. Wanda’s eyes don’t leave her as she turns the shower on.

“Listen carefully,” Wanda turns her fingers up Y/N’s arms, barely touching them, “You’re gonna get in the shower and get nice and clean, and I’m gonna go get a few things. You aren’t gonna touch yourself of put on any more scent blockers, then you’re going to dry off and go wait in bed,”

“Do-Don’t want you to leave,” Y/N pouts, practically shaking with need.

Wanda gently rubs her thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip before connecting them with hers. Y/N melts into the kiss; hands coming up to brace herself on Wanda’s shoulder. She whines when Wanda pulls away.

“I’ll be right back. Be a good little omega and do as your told,” 

Wanda leaves the door cracked behind her and Y/N lets in a shaky breath from getting the shower. The cool water is a shock to her system and she quickly washes her body. Her skin is hypersensitive and she struggles to hold back whimpers as she washes her scent glands.

After turning the water off, she dries off with a fluffy towel Wanda must have left for her. Y/N wraps the towel around herself before tip-toeing back into the bedroom. The room is empty and she sits on the edge of the bed, apprehension building in her.

The temporary relief Wanda’s calming pheromones brought disappears and the intense pain continues. Y/N leaves back in the bed, gripping the sheets and pressing her feet into the mattress. Her whines fill the room and all she wants is Wanda’s knot deep inside her, breeding her.

“Fuck, malyshka, you’re so beautiful,” Wanda practically moans from the door.

Wanda’s holding a bundle of different sweatshirts, blankets, and t-shirts.

“Wh-what’s that?” Y/N asks.

“I brought you a few things for your nest, baby,”

“Want you now though, Mommy,” she whines.

“One second, luvie, I gotta get your cozy nest set up,” Wanda explains, arranging the different things on the bed.

Y/N bucks her hips and moans at the intense scent of her mate around her.

“Mommy hurryyy need you so bad!” 

“All done, baby,” Wanda soothes, straddling Y/N’s hips. Y/N’s shaky hands come up and tug at Wanda’s pants.

“Need you now, Mommy!”

“I know luvie, but Mommy’s just gotta taste her sweet baby first,” Wanda croons, sliding down her body.

Wanda growls at the sight of her omega’s dripping pussy. She licks fromm her dripping whole to throbbing clit.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have waited so long to do this,” Wanda groans, “You’re such a good omega, you would have spread your legs for me that first night, wouldn’t you have?”

“Uh huh, Mommy! Just for you!” 

The vibrations of Wanda’s chuckle ripple through Y/N and cause the knot in her core to grow. Wanda lips attach to her clit and her moans fill the room. Her hands fly down, lacing in Wanda’s hair and presses her further into her pussy.

“Oh my god that feels so good Mommy, so sensitive!” Y/N moans.

Wanda doesn’t give any warning before slipping two fingers into her, filling her to the brim. Y/N bucks her hips up, desperate for me.

“Mommy pleaseee, need you in me so bad!”

“What part of me, malyshka?” Wanda asks innocently, “My fingers? My tongue? Or is there something else you want? Use you words,”

The fog in Y/N’s head grows with how desperate she is, and she struggles to form the words.

“Fuck, Mommy, need your cock! Need your cock in me so bad! Need you to bread my and knot me and fuck me so good!” Y/N blabbers.

“Good girl,” Wanda croons, her eyes glowing red. Her clothes disappear and she straddles her again in a second, her hard cock lined up with Y/N’s dripping entrance.

Y/N wrapped her legs around Wanda’s hips, bringing her lips up to suck on one of Wanda’s perky, hard nipples. Wanda moans and thrusts into Y/N a little too fast. Y/N whines at the intense stretch and sucks harder.

“I know, malyshka, Mommy’s cock is so much bigger that your little baby omega pussy,” Wanda croons condescending, “You’re gonna take every inch like the good little girl you are, though,” Y/N give’s Wanda’s hair a little tug in response.

By the time Wanda is halfway in, Y/N is squirming and quivering. She finally lets go of Wanda’s nipple.

“Want your pups so bad, Mommy! Want you to breed me!” Y/N cries, spasming with pleasure and need.

“I know, baby, Mommy’s gonna fill up your pretty pussy so good; gonna make you all pretty and round!” Wanda voices, thrusting her hips forward so another inch goes in, “You aren’t so shy anymore, are you baby? All you needed was Mommy’s cock stretching you out to start talking!”

“Mommy,” Y/N whimpers as Wanda bottoms out.

“I know,” Wanda repeats, dipping her head to the crock of Y/N’s neck.

Wanda inhales deeply and moans.

“Can’t believe you hide your scent from me for so long, malyshka! You smell heavenly. Like fucking carmel and chocolate,” Wanda moans, licking Y/N’s scent glad. Y/N mewls at the sensation, squeezing around Wanda.

“Gonna cum, Mommy!” 

“Cum for me, baby,”

Y/N falls over the edge, stars dancing in her vision. Her chest comes off the bed and the sounds she makes are unrecognizable. A scream escapes her as Wanda’s fangs pierce her neck. Her hands move to Wanda’s back, digging in and drawing blood. Wanda sucks on the tender wound and continues thrusting her hips as Y/N comes down from her high. The solidified bond is overwhelming. Wanda’s scent becomes even more overwhelming and Y/N can feel the pleasure she’s feeling, making her even more sensitive. 

“Mo-Mommy?” Y/N stutters weakly, her orgasm still stringing out.

“Yes, my luv?” Wanda responds gently.

“Want you to cum, Mommy! Please cum in me,”

“Oh baby,” Wanda moans.

Every vein and ridge sets Y/N on faster as Wanda’s thrust quickens, hitting every sensitive spot in her.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Y/N sobs, tears of pleasure slipping down her cheeks, “Fuck, feels so go-good!”

“Mommy’s gonna cum down, malyshka,” Wanda pants, “Gonna fill you up so good,” Wanda’s knot starts growing, stretching her mate out even more. 

“Can fe- ohhh feel it, Mommy!” 

Y/N’s wall squeezes around her, and that’s all Wanda needs to fall over the edge. Her hot cum warms Y/N and she can feel it in every inch of her body. Wanda can’t take her eyes off Y/N’s absolutely wrecked face though. Her head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth in an ‘O’ shape. Wanda lowers her head and kisses her check, then her lips, her other check, each eyelid, her forehead, and makes her way back down to her lips as Emiy comes down from her extended high.

“How are you feeling, malyshka?” Wanda asks softly.

“Warm…and full and so good” Y/N sighs contently.

“I’m glad, luvie,” Wanda smiles, gently flipping them so Y/N is on top.

Y/N moans softly as Wanda’s cock shifts deeper with the new position. Her alpha strokes her back.

“I love you, Mommy,” she mumbles dreamily.

“I love you too, malyshka,”

Taglist:

@liidiaaag

@flourishandblotts-inc

@aagn360

@smromanoff

[mellowcherryblossomblaze]

Trolls: Band Together TV Series (Idea) Part 3

NOTE: NOTHING HERE IS OFFICIAL, JUST SPECULATION, FEEL FREE TO WRITE ANY OF THESE IDEAS AS FAN-FICTION IF YOU WISH TO DO SO.

Trolls: Family Harmony: Season 3

Back To The Beginning: In a special 30-minute flashback episode, we get a glimpse into BroZone’s earlier days before Branch was born, and how they first came together to perform as a band. Meanwhile, a young Princess Viva worries she’s too weird to make friends with other Trolls, but eventually finds reassurance after crossing paths with Clay for the first time.

Cloud-Guy Support Group: After Viva becomes the latest victim of Cloud Guy’s annoying antics, Branch introduces her to the United Council Against Cloud Guy. They encourage her to vent her frustrations, but Viva still has trouble being open about her feelings and tries to avoid getting angry over it.

The Hard-Rock Life: Tired of getting ‘The Pity Treatment’ from every new Troll he meets, Floyd decides to take part in the Hard Rock Tribe’s annual Shred-Cathlon, hoping it will overshadow his experience in Mount Rageous and prove he’s not just a sensitive Pop Troll.

Not-Too-Sad Book Club: At a Sad Book Club meeting, one of Clay’s members suggests that they read a book from a fantasy scrapbook series, but Clay turns it down because it’s ‘not sad enough.’ But after taking a look at it while recovering from a cold, he becomes hooked and desperately tries to hide his new hyper-fixation from his friends.

Turning Tiny: Tiny Diamond is still insisting that he’s a grown-up and begins acting out at home, leaving Guy at a loss of what to do. He accompanies Poppy and Branch to Vacay Island, hoping it will be a good chance for them to reconnect, but is dismayed when Tiny prefers to hang out with Bruce and his kids.

It’s Snow Day Again?!: Both Branch and Poppy’s families have all come together to celebrate Snow Day, with John Dory and Viva especially hoping to make up for all the ones they missed while they were gone. When things don’t go the way they planned, they find themselves repeating Snow Day over and over again, trying to make a perfect Snow Day for their siblings.

Happy Mom-urday!: Once a year, Trolls have a special day to spend time with their mother’s called Mom-urday, but Viva gradually becomes annoyed by the festivities, preferring not to think about her late mom at all.

A Little Less Space: Floyd discovers he has developed claustrophobia after spending two months in a diamond bottle with no way out. Annoyed by this revelation, he tries to conquer this fear before word gets out, enlisting help from Synth and Laguna.

When Clay Met Viva (Again): Clay and Viva explain to a curious Poppy and Branch about how they met, retelling the story of how a young Clay stumbled upon Putt-Putt Village and met a young but traumatized Princess Viva for (unknown to them) the second time.

Someone’s In The Kitchen With Bruce: Brandy injures her hands and is unable to cook, so Branch offers to help Bruce keep up with orders in his restaurant by helping out in the kitchen. Bruce is surprised by how skilled his brother has become with cooking, and the brothers get a chance to bond as Branch begins to recall fond memories of helping Bruce cook as a child.

What’s Today?: Branch wakes up after a long day of working around Trollstopia, and is surprised to find all of his brothers in the bunker for breakfast. Afterwards, he quickly darts out once he realizes he never finished his checklist from yesterday. He becomes deeply confused, however, when most of them seem to have been taken care of already and his brothers keep popping up to do other activities with him. Branch wonders if he forgot about a holiday occurring that day, and eventually learns that he passed out from over-exhaustion the previous night and his brothers have just been trying to help him relax and remind him that he’s not alone anymore.