#having a full inbox makes me want to answer questions faster but if i answer too fast the inbox will empty and then

[lycankeyy]

Me actually being interested in the art fight theme this year is forcing me to confront the fact that the ask blog is actually as overly stressful as I thought it would be even though I tried to convince myself I was overthinking it,

[ipegchangbin]

...your nerd chan inbox answer is fucking *chefs kiss*. let me know if you have anywhere i can send a tip for a pt 2 thanks<3

-staysinbloom

♡ … part 1

@staysinbloom youre lucky i run this thing for free! i accept tips in the form of love and reblogs. without further ado heres the sequel

🏷️ sub!nerd!chan, dom!gn!reader, edging & overstim, phone sex

chan almost stumbles over on the bed when you finally turn your video on in the call. he’s mesmerized but also desperate at this point.

he could just cum to the sight of you.

his cock is extra angry now, frustrated in every single way — his balls are firm and full of unreleased cum, his curved shaft’s veins keep pulsing, and his tip is the most sensitive it’s ever been in his life. chan could only imagine how much it would hurt if you were just physically there with him to tease him even more.

“oh, look at you. getting so antsy over me,” you smirk, “how about you straighten your body for me?”

chan gets up from his hunched position and shows himself to you, kneeling on the bed.

“wow. what a big boy,” you coo through the phone screen.

he’s red all over with more tears in his eyes. there are drool stains on the sides of his mouth from your previous teasing. he bites his tongue back from begging, pleading, and wailing like he was earlier to just cum.

you wouldn’t want a disobedient boy after all.

“now do as i say and don’t cum.” your voice alone sends shivers down his spine, abdomen clenching from both need and attraction.

your smirk turns into a gentle, unassuming smile. “fuck your hands for me, channie.”

chan doesn’t question your commands one bit. he immediately ducks his head to look at his raging cock and cups it with both hands.

it hurts, it aches. the moment his hands touch his dick, his whole body trembles and he has to bite his luscious bottom lip to stop the whines from escaping his system. he’s so sensitive, one rub of a thumb on the intersection of his tip and shaft making him want to burst immediately.

when he cums, he knows he’ll cum a lot.

“is it wet enough?”

“real wet, y/n,” chan responds with a worried look on his face.

“hmm, but i want to see it dripping.” the sheets are already drenched in his sweat and precum, but you don’t care.

“spit on it.”

he desperately wants to ask why. it’s likely to tease him and make him feel how much of a mess he’s making — how much he’s already made. chan’s aching to relieve himself though, and he spits right on his cock.

the added wetness along with the feeling of his own spit hitting his dick makes his thighs shiver. he lets out a shaky groan, the lewd sounds resounding like droplets of heaven through the call. he feels humiliated like this — as if he wasn’t already — and the way his leaking cock, spit, and sweat mix together bring him closer and closer to an orgasm.

but he can’t.

“now fuck your hands.” your voice is so stern and you shift out of the bed. he wonders where you’re going before he thrusts by instinct, leaving him closer to cumming.

he keeps going, sounding oh-so pretty like this, bucking his hips into his hands and moaning as if he’d never felt anything like this before. he doesn’t let his rhythm down, accelerating his strokes, going faster and faster, and it doesn’t seem to—

a load of cum shoots out of his cock. surprised, chan stops bucking and groans loudly.

“did i tell you to stop?”

he’s panicked. “n-no, no! y/n! i came!”

disobedience is something chan loathes. he doesn’t know what your punishments are. he doesn’t know if you’ll get as angry as he thinks. the poor boy simply sits on his legs as he kneels with cum all over his fingers, himself, and his sheets.

“i’m sorry! i couldn’t help it, i—”

“i said, did i tell you to stop?”

you sound so strict.

chan ducks his head in…guilt? embarrassment? he isn’t sure what to feel at this point; you’re breaking him past the point of thought. his head is spinning like crazy and he’s still cumming. it feels good, that’s all he knows, and he loves you all the more for getting him like this.

a disgusting thought washes over him and overrides all his senses.

while one hand strokes his cock, the other takes all of the cum dripping out of his hole and slides it down his entire length, including his balls. it makes him shoot out even more, the thick and creamy substance making its way all over chan’s most sensitive parts. he massages it all through.

before fucking his dirty hands, takes a lick of his cum-stained finger. he tastes so savory. his chest blushes along with his ears at the taste of himself, his dirty actions spurring him on even after cumming accidentally. and you didn’t tell him to stop.

thrusting and thrusting, chan fucks his hands again with no intention of letting his rhythm die out, even if he simply doesn’t stop shooting loads. you can see his cum burst out as he goes, laughing through the call at how thoroughly you’ve broken this nerd of a boy.

a voice then speaks up, quietly.

“ch-channie’s…a…g-good boy…” he stutters to himself.

isn’t that so cute. chan repeats himself with no shame left in his system, calming down and praising himself just to keep him going.

“aren’t you such a good boy. good channie,” you praise, watching his priceless reactions through your phone screen.

at this point, you turn your camera off and watch him peacefully. he relishes in your praise, bucking his hips into his creamy hands as if it were a filled asshole. he tightens his grip around himself. his abs flex and relax, repeating your words; “i-i’m so good. i’m a…good boy…good channie, good channie…”

after finishing his orgasm, he only feels the sensitivity rising again, ready for a second orgasm. he feels so broken, his senses mixing up everywhere until his mind is blurry and hazy from all the sensations. even his cute ass clenches, ready for release once again.

that is, until the call ends abruptly.

“y-y/n? y/n? oh god…” chan panics.

he doesn’t know what’s going on. he doesn’t know what to do. he’s made a mess of himself and his sheets. he grabs his glasses and frantically checks his phone for any sign of you.

that is, until the doorbell rings.

“hey, channie!” your voice blares through the halls of his apartment.

“i’m here.” holy shit, you’re there.

chan doesn’t give a shit about his clothes, running for the door naked with an abused cock hanging out. he doesn’t care as long as it’s you, as long as you’re finally there for him.

he answers the door and is greeted with your big, beaming, sinister smile.

“let me help you, channie.”

[velmoura-if]

UPDATE + ADDRESSING ISSUES:

To those anons who wanted the game to be gender-customizable, I'm really sorry, but for now, I can’t give you what you wanted.

Originally, this book was meant to be gender-customizable, since the siblings’ genders were an important part of the plot. If you chose a male MC, you’d get a sister; if you chose a female MC, you’d get a brother. But I’ve decided to scrap that.

Mainly because... I just can’t write a male MC. This is my first IF game. I’ve written short stories before, but only in my native language—so writing in English is already a challenge. Adding gender customization would only make it harder.

That said, removing that option made the story’s outline a lot clearer to me. Everything flows more naturally now, and ideas come to me faster. Another reason is that I’ve always wanted to publish a yuri or queer romance IF game. I haven’t seen many games made just for girls—especially ones that center on wlw stories. I know there are gender-customizable ones out there, but it feels different to create something that’s dedicated to the wlw and queer community. 🩷

This story not only focuses on wlw love, but it also explores the MC’s journey of self-discovery—whether that means embracing her identity as a lesbian, questioning her gender, or figuring out who she is beyond labels. These realizations won’t happen instantly, and that’s okay. They’re part of her growth, and the answers will come naturally over time.

I also want to address something, since my inbox has been flooded with a lot of hate asks lately. While I expected some backlash, it’s still disheartening. I didn’t think it would be this intense. I had already prepared myself for the worst, knowing that this wouldn’t be what some of you wanted. I understand it’s an “interactive” story, so some of you expected full customization.

Still, some of those messages really discouraged me from continuing for a while. That’s why the blog’s been quiet—I needed time to reflect.

Also, English isn’t my first language, so I do struggle with complex words sometimes. But other than that, I’m doing okay!

I’ve been working on the character profiles too, especially important ones like the MC’s brother. (Shout-out to the anon who wanted more facts about him—I see you! 👀)

You’ll get them! I just need your patience. I’m also working during the day and renovating my house, so... yeah. I hope you understand. I’m getting there! As for the coding part—it’s going slow, as usual 😂

But I’ve already confirmed where I’ll upload the game! It’s going to be made with ChoiceScript. I know a lot of people say Twine is great because you can fully customize the UI and all that. But it also tends to have more bugs, especially if you’re not that confident with coding. ChoiceScript just feels less stressful when it comes to fixing things, so I’m sticking with that. 👀

That’s it for now. Have a good day, everyone! xx

[ilguna]

last one!! so sorry for clogging ur inbox i hope its okay 😭 could i please request supply run with the second aisle prompts #4 #7 and #21, for clarke griffin!! preferably her helping injured reader :D (ofc doesnt have to be word for word) and! congratulations!!!!! 3k is so impressive and you totally deserve it!!! your writing is amazing! <3

☼ wanheda (Clarke Griffin) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture mention, blood, ehh gore, kinda the beginnings of a panic attack?

wc; 2.5k

prompt; 4. "Can you walk? I'd be happy to carry you." AND 7. "You can hold my hand." AND 21. "Just look at me. Forget everything else."

notes; spoilers for end of season 2 and beginning of season 3.

--

“Hey, is Kane in there?” You ask Bellamy, motioning to the room at the end of the hall that he’s coming from. “I’ve been looking for him everywhere.”

“Yeah, he’s in there with Abby.” He nods, pace slowing. “Hey, a few of us are going into Sector Seven, do you want to come with?”

Your face twists, “No, I’ve got other plans. Who’re you going with?”

“Octavia, Raven, Monty, Jasper, and Miller.”

“You’ve got a full crew.” You wave your hand. “It’ll be crowded if I go. You guys be safe, though.”

“We’ll try. What are your plans?”

“Sneaking out.” You grin. “I’ll catch you later.”

You turn away, walking down the rest of the hallway. When you glance over your shoulder, you find that Bellamy is gone, moving much faster than you. You stop outside of the room, raising your fist to knock on the door to announce your presence, and then Abby speaks.

“I was dreaming we were on the Ark.” Abby pauses. “Before we sent the kids down.” She must get up, there’s a sound of feet shuffling against the floor. She sighs, “Maybe she’s in Sector Seven.”

You close your eyes, picturing the map that was drawn out to mark the territories of the different Grounders. A large portion of it belongs to Azgeda, with Sector Seven being on the bottom right, where Trikru is. It’s not entirely dangerous, but with how close it rides next to Azgeda, it’s not a place you want to be.

“We could send out another search party.” Kane suggests.

“They wouldn’t find her, not unless she’s ready to be found.” Abby says. “(Y/n)’s been trying for weeks, she’s made no progress.”

A man clearing his voice makes you jump out of your skin, head whipping to see where it’s coming from. Sergeant Miller is coming down the hallway, lips pressed together, head tilted disapprovingly.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to talk to Kane and Abby but I just answered my own question.” You tell him, which isn’t a complete lie. 

You were seeking them out to talk about Clarke, and they managed to answer your question without ever knowing it existed. You wanted to know if they were ready to send you—or anyone else—out again. The answer seems to be no. That doesn’t matter to you, you were planning on leaving either way. You just needed to figure out if you had to sneak through the fence or walk out the front gate.

With that, you flash Sergeant Miller a smile, walking away before he can respond. You navigate your way out of the building and out into the open. Arkadia is crawling with people, especially guards. They don’t seem to be on edge today, which might help you later when you come in through the front.

You walk to your tent, which is tucked snugly off to the side, right next to the fence for easy departure. You were told by Abby that you should be staying inside of the building, sharing a room with someone, whatever. You’re no stranger to a tent, when you landed on the ground, you opted for one, for the sole reason of the fact that you don’t want to share a room.

Besides, there won’t be anyone to tell on you.

You flip the flaps open, ducking in as you enter. It’s a fairly small space, holding the essentials. There’s a cot that takes up half of the room, with a pillow, a sleeping bag, and a blanket neatly folded on top. The other side has a table that you may or may not have stolen, a chair, and a lamp. That’s where your backpack sits.

It’s already packed with the necessities, all you have to do is throw it over your shoulder and pull out the knife stuck in the table’s wood. You leave the tent, no one bats an eye in your direction, making for a quicker escape. You pass your backpack through the fence, and then carefully move through it, yourself. 

It’s usually electrified, but recently they’ve been knocking it back to preserve the energy.

You take your sweet time escaping Arkadia, not caring whether or not someone sees you, because they know better than to send someone after you. They tried that once before, you managed to lose them in the forest in less than fifteen minutes. By the time you were done and coming back, you retrieved them and brought them home.

It was funny. Well, it was funny to you. Abby and Kane weren’t very happy. You got a lecture and then made a false promise that you wouldn’t do it again. And you haven’t had to, because now people know not to follow you outside of the fence.

The moment you’re hidden in the treeline, you relax some. You set your bag onto a rock, digging through it to pull out your knife. You tuck it into your belt to keep it in range to grab. After you zip your bag up, you start in the direction where you believe you’ve caught Clarke’s tracks the most.

She’s clever, and she’s usually very clean with her area, but sometimes the dirt is squishy enough to be considered mud, and you’ll find a boot print. She’ll leave scraps of food, twine, and broken objects behind. She makes an effort to hide them in the bushes and ferns, yet you’re still able to find it.

It might have something to do with the fact that you’re actively seeking it out, therefore making it easier to find. Of course, it could belong to anybody, but there aren’t really nomads around here. There’s the Grounders, who each have their colony to stay in, and then there’s the people of the sky—your people. And you all stay inside your camp and walls.

You know you’re coming close to Clarke, there’s been a few times where you could’ve sworn you were on top of her. She moves too fast, making it difficult for you to actually nail her down. Clarke doesn’t want to be found. As much as you respect that, it would be safer if she stayed in Arkadia, or with the Commander. Being out by herself is a recipe for disaster, especially since she’s not exactly loved by everybody.

There’s a lot of controversy surrounding Bellamy and Clarke. When they pulled the lever, they killed hundreds of people inside of Mount Weather, but ended up saving just as many by ending it there. However, Jasper’s girlfriend was included in the mix, since she couldn’t bear the radiation.

This would make him crucify Clarke. Bellamy didn’t get the same treatment. If he had, then Jasper wouldn’t be agreeing to go with Bellamy to Sector Seven. Then again, at this point in time, Jasper doesn’t care much about anything. He spends most of his time drunk, with Monty taking care of him. You’d bet your favorite hair tie that he was intoxicated this afternoon.

And also, Clarke and Bellamy have handled their guilt differently. Clarke ran, she couldn’t stand to see the faces of those she loved. She didn’t like being called a hero, when she had to kill so many people. She wanted to solve it in a better way. Bellamy stayed, obviously. He’s straightened out, as far as you can tell, just a little rough when it comes to the topic.

You try not to talk about it to anyone who isn’t willing to. You avoid it, pretending like it didn’t happen, even though you were one of the many teenagers that had been ‘saved’. One of your biggest regrets is not listening to Clarke when she told you that you needed to get out with her. 

If you had, you wouldn’t have been tortured by Cage. 

You’re still having nightmares about being strapped down on the table, being stood over by them, a needle in one hand, a saw in the other. The thought, even now, makes goosebumps rise over your arms. You watched the procedure happen to three people before it was your turn.

After walking for a couple hours, you decide you can break into your water. You swing the bag off one shoulder, halfway pulling it in front of you. You unzip the largest pocket, shaking the water out of the bag to keep any miscellaneous from falling out while you do so. When you’re done, you close the top halfway, before uncapping the lid.

You press the cool metal to your lips, tilting your head back as you take another step.

A loud snap fills the quiet air, followed by a blinding pain hitting just above your ankle, pulling you down to the Earth. A scream leaves your lips as you fall to your knees. The water canister is gone, thrown several feet away from you. You watch through tear-filled eyes as the water gushes out, soaking the soil and dry pine needles.

“Fuck!” You scream through gritted teeth. “Oh, fuck!”

A wave of nausea hits you before you look at what has your foot trapped. You twist, turning to sit on your butt, allowing you to see the bear trap. Its teeth have sunken into your skin, stinting the blood flow a little. It pools in the puncture wounds, carefully drawing lines down your skin.

This is when your hands begin to shake. Uncontrollably. You reach for your bag, being careful not to jostle your leg. You rip the zippers open, digging through what’s inside, and quickly come to the realization that you didn’t bring a walkie. A habit that you started because of the Azgeda troops that patrol around this area, and their disregard for the truce.

“Oh.” You breathe. You reach for the trap, but you stop when knives begin to get stabbed in your calf, moving up to your knee. “No, no, no.”

You dip your head, clenching your jaw as you wrap your fingers around the teeth. You count down from three in your head, and on one, you try to pry the teeth open. Except, they don’t budge, all they do is move inside your skin, and send streaks of white across your vision.

The lightheadedness is no joke.

One second you’re upright, the next you’re laying on the ground, grass blades tickling your face. You blink, trying to come back to life, but your eyes roll to the back of your head, taking you out. 

The feeling of needles in your muscles jolts you up, actually awake this time. There’s a girl leaning over your ankle, her long red hair slightly matted on her shoulders. She lets out a sigh, shakes her head, and reaches for your bag.

“Hey.” Your face twists. “Get out of that.”

She stops, fingers pausing over the pocket where you keep the emergency medical supplies. How does she know where to look? She slowly turns her head, familiar blue eyes landing on you, eyebrows raising. There’s a long moment that passes between you two, as you decide whether or not you’re hallucinating.

“Clarke?” You sputter. “What are you doing out here? Why’s your hair red?”

“Hunting.” She tells you gruffly, turning her back to you once more. “This is going to hurt.”

She doesn’t leave you any time to comprehend, much less prepare, for her popping the bear trap open. The pressure relief is immediate, but so is the aching pain that hits you like a truck. You groan, holding your breath, watching your vision coat with stars.

Clarke goes back to your bag, rummaging through to pull out what you have. 

“Where have you been?” You ask. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I know.” She says, voice hard. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” You shake your head. “I care about you and your wellbeing. I want to make sure that you’re safe.”

“I am.” She tells you.

She pours a small handful of alcohol onto a clean rag. When you suck in a breath to ask her another question, her hand ‘slips’, dumping it into your open wounds. You choke, reaching to grab onto anything to hold yourself steady, but you just pull out a handful of grass, instead.

“You can hold my hand.” Clarke says, a look of remorse on her face. She holds out her palm, and you find it surprisingly clean. 

The same can’t be said for her face. She’s got black coal smeared into symbols on her face, which you can’t identify. From a distance, you’d say that she’s dirty and hasn’t bathed herself. There is no smell to accommodate that assumption.

You take her hand, squeezing her fingers. She takes her time dabbing around the several wounds. You watch as the blood doesn’t stop, the way your skin moves, allowing you to see inside of your body. Every time she presses too hard, the alcohol will find its way inside of one of the bite marks.

Before you know it, you’re breathing heavily, picturing the damage this is going to do to your leg. The way you’ll have to clean it, a task you’re not up to doing. You passed out due to pain, this won’t be any different.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Clarke pauses, face twisted. “Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

“That’s hard.” You say shakily. “Because you’re cleaning out my leg.”

“I know.” She looks off to the side. “How about you ask me a few questions?”

“Are you sure?”

“You came all this way.” She murmurs. “Go ahead.”

“Why’s your hair red?” You ask.

She hesitates, “It’s blood, from my hunts. I did it to hide myself.”

“You don’t wash it?”

“I don’t want to risk being caught.” She shrugs. “You can ask me anything, and you decided to start with my hair?”

You laugh, and then wince, “Fine, when are you coming back?”

Clarke doesn’t say anything for a while, and then it extends beyond a minute. You’re afraid that you’ve ruined the conversation, so you keep quiet. She sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Have you been thinking about it, at least?”

“Yes, but it’d be better if I didn’t right now. It’s not safe.”

“Why?” Your face twists.

“Just…” She shakes her head. “Reasons, I can’t explain them to you right now.”

“Clarke, you know you can trust me.” You tell her.

“It’s not the right time.” She says back. “I’m going to bandage this for you. We shouldn’t stay out here for long, it’s going to get dark.”

She leaves no room for argument, taking her time with the sterile white bandages, breaking it off and tucking it into itself. She pulls you up and onto your feet, where you lean against a tree for support. You can’t put any weight down on your ankle without a blistering pain going through your whole leg.

“I won’t be able to make it back on my own.” You tell her.

She zips up your bag, swinging it onto her free shoulder. “I know, I’ll bring you as close to the gate as I can. Can you walk? I’d be happy to carry you.”

“I’ve got it, I just need you for support.” 

Clarke closes the gap between you two. You put a hand on her shoulder, gripping it tightly as you take each step. “Thank you, Clarke.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/n).”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!!

[youwouldntlietopapa]

Oooo if still taking prompts, #3 with Papa Copia! Doesn't matter who has the golden retriever energy cuz I think it would be great either way! <3

I am! And there are more prompts a lil further down too. My inbox is lonely, guys.

And this is another very fluffy, silly one. Because I'm in that kind of mood, apparently.

___________________________________________________________

Papa Primo was standing in the big Abbey kitchen when you spotted him, looking rather perplexed. As a man keen enough to know everything going on, even before it happened, it wasn’t a look you’d seen on him often. But, there he was, staring at a baking pan on the counter and tapping his chin with a long finger.

“Is everything all right, Papa?” You call from the doorway.

“Hmm?” He looks up from his pondering and smiles gently. “Not really wrong, Sorella. Only… a mystery.”

“I do love a mystery.” You smile in return and walk over to take a look. The pan is full of Papa’s special brownies. The warning you were given early on was however much you think you can handle, take half. Primo only grows primo. And this pan is missing a decent sized piece from the corner. “… I take it you didn’t have a taste already.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “It would take more than only that to make me forget eating at all.”

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

Again, he shakes his head. “Ah, no. I fear not. I like the big oven, bakes more even and faster. So when they’re done, I set it here to cool. And I go to use… eh… the little Papa’s room.” He winks. “When I come back, I find this.”

“Maybe one of the Ghouls?” You suggest.

“No, no. They have their own snacks and I warned them about stealing my brownies. Siblings too, they all have other things. No one comes in here at night. Another reason I bake in here. No interruptions.”

“Hmm… that is a mystery.” You take up his position of looking at the pan, perplexed, and tapping your chin with a finger. “I wonder… maybe someone got peckish and happened to be walking by. They do smell very good, Papa.”

“Grazie mille, Sorella. But, the question remains. Who?”

You suspect they won’t be terribly hard to find within a short while based on the size of the piece missing. Looking over at the two entrances to the big kitchen, you think over the hallways on either side and where they lead. If someone was wandering around in the evening, maybe there’s a clue in where they came from. One hall leads past the communal dining hall and on to the private quarters. The other runs along behind the hall, past the chapel, and down to the library.

Primo raises a brow, seeing the thought blooming. “You have a suspect in mind?”

You nod quickly, eyes widening with a mixture of amusement and alarm. “I think I should probably go check on that hunch, Papa. If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. And, if you’re right, I hope you two have a very enjoyable evening.” He chuckles good-naturedly. He quickly slices a much smaller piece, wraps it in a napkin, and slides it over to you. “Can’t let him have all the fun, eh?”

Giggling, you take the gift gratefully. “Thank you, Papa. If I’m right, do you want me to tell him he’s in trouble?”

He waves off the thought. “No harm done. I don’t mind to share. And I think maybe he learns a lesson about sneaking treats without asking why they’re left here.”

You laugh and hurry out the door, carefully clutching his gift, trying to imagine what might be waiting for you when you get to his quarters. At least the door is closed when you get there, that’s a good start. And you can tell the light is on. The soft sounds of the television are muffled by the door but there aren’t really any other sounds from inside.

A soft knock first and you call out for him. “Cardinal, are you in?”

No answer.

“Copia? It’s me. May I come in?”

Nothing. Oh dear.

You decide, under the circumstances, to try the handle. The latch pops open with little resistance and the unlocked door starts to cement your superstitions. A few lights are on, as is the tv, but there’s no sign of him in the main room. You even walk over toward the bed to see if he’s managed to obscure himself in the pile of unmade blankets.

“Copia, I’m actually starting to worry. Where are you?” The napkin wrapped brownie gets set on the bedside table just as you hear some rustling from the small kitchenette just off his Cardinal’s quarters. His head pokes around the corner looking more than a little out of it, splitting into a grin at the sight of you. “Oh thank Lucifer!”

“Amore!” He says, oblivious to anything you’ve said so far. Hurrying back into the room with an armful of snacks, he promptly drops them into the first available chair.

“Sneaking brownies from the kitchens after work, hmm?” You giggle.

“Did I?” He pauses, thinking hard and then giving up on a question he only half remembers anyway. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

It’s incredible he doesn’t land on his face in his rush to get over to you. But somehow he manages to avoid every tripping hazard waiting for him, bounding over looking adorably like a puppy having his first experience with anaesthetic. Before you can stop him or slow his approach, Copia’s thrown himself bodily at you in a hug that is more of a tackle, landing you both on his bed.

“Amore!” He beams, showering your face and neck with sloppy kisses while you giggle helplessly pinned beneath him. “I spent all day with such boring work and all day I think if only my beautiful love were here with me… I wouldn’t get a fucking thing done.” Copia dissolves into a fit of giggles, still eagerly trying to kiss every available inch of bare skin.

You can’t help laughing with him. He’s ridiculous all on his own and being high off his tits has apparently not dampened that at all. You cup his cheeks and kiss him properly, enjoying the unrestrained moan it gets in response.

“You see? How could I work on dusty old books with you kissing me like that, eh?” He grins and looks at you lovingly through heavily lidded, red eyes. Trying to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and only managing minor success. “or sinning in other ways, no? Such a devoted Sorella, amore mio.”

“If I’d known you needed entertainment, I would have been there in an instant. You know I can never resist you, Cardinal.” You tease. Something about using his title when you’re sneaking some private time during office hours always gets his full attention. “If you’re back in the Archives tomorrow, perhaps I’ll have to come save you from your boredom.”

“Really? You would do that? For me?” He looks at you with big puppy dog eyes and it’s a struggle not to laugh. He’s always so sweet and so sincere.

“Of course I will!” You kiss him again. “I need you too, my love. You know that, don’t you?”

Copia buries his face in your shoulder, wrapping himself as tightly around you as he can manage. “You are too good to me, tesoro. Always.”

Your hands rub gently over his back, enjoying the warmth and the affection. “Do you want me to stay the night?”

“Every night, amore. Every night.” He insists, kissing your neck.

“Mmmm… then how about this – I’ll eat the piece of brownie Papa so graciously gave me, borrow one of your shirts to change in to, then you and I can have some snacks, and put on a movie?” The napkin is within reach and you snag it before Copia can dose himself twice. Still a bit warm from the oven, the first bite is absolute heaven.

“And we can snuggle?” He asks eagerly.

“Of course.”

“In bed?”

“Absolutely.

“….. more than snuggle?”

You snort and kiss his shoulder. “Definitely.”

“….. will you give me head scratches?”

He is definitely in a mood to be loved. You make a mental note to ask Papa Primo about a recipe for the next time you both want a very nice night in. In answer to his question, however, you run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching your nails over his scalp. Copia practically melts at the sensation and the noise he makes is absolutely obscene.

“You may have however many you want, my darling.” The last of the brownie slice vanishes quickly and you leave the napkin on the bedside table again. “And anything else your heart desires.”

He nuzzles your jaw with his nose. “You, amore. All I want is you…” Copia lifts his head and furrows his brow, thinking very hard.

“And a grilled cheese.”

[in1-nutshell]

Guidelines for REQUESTS

Guidelines will update if needed

Most requests are welcomed on this blog. That being said, not every request will be written if I do not have enough knowledge/ prior knowledge on the subject and if I do not get the request before it gets erased.

There will be a character limit of 5 max per request

If characters are not specified they will be randomly selected from the continuity. If you have specific characters in mind, please let me know in the requests.

There will no smut, explicit things, or darker themes

I do not write for that kind of request.

Have a continuity in mind when doing the request

It is okay if you don't have a specific continuity if you are not familiar with the fandom. That being said, it does help me in writing out your request so it is highly suggested. Please choose one from the welcome page. If you do not have a continuity I will randomly select one (this might affect the characters you have chosen).

If you want a specific request for any 'Buddy' explain it

If you want something specific for Buddy to do or a Bot to do write it down. Be as detailed as you'll like!

If you want Buddy the be like a character from a different show, let me know what show

In the case that I am not versed in the show or do not watch/read it, there is a good chance I will not do that request. In that case feel free to request something else in its place.

If you want to request something for "Mixed Generations" the continuity max is 5

If you want to request something from different continuities please remember the max is 5. Also be a bit specific on what you want from the continuities as some may differ based on their universes rules.

When the REQUEST says its closed its closed

I always change the request from close to open when the inbox is empty and I am ready for more request. I will also send out a post saying when requests are open and when they are closed. It can also be seen from the 'Welcome' post that is pinned. Now, I do take in some requests that are a bit late to the closing time. But for the sake of getting to everyone's request faster and working on future projects, do not request until the next time the inbox is open.

Any request submitted a day after the inbox closes will be deleted.

For now, any requests that arrive after the day that I close the inbox will not be done.

This is not because I don't want to do them, it is so I don't get too overwhelmed in trying to make sure everyone gets their piece done within a timely manner. Any ones that I do get after the day will most likely get deleted as to not overwhelm the inbox and myself.

This is so I can get the inbox open quicker.

Nutshell summaries are allowed to be asked as long as its short

The idea of a 'nutshell summary' is to ask any quick question about fics or Buddy. These are not like the regular length of the things I usually write, they are much shorter.

Sometimes I do look back on certain summaries and do full writings for them. But if there is a summary that you do want to see as a full length writing then you'll need to request it when the inbox is open.

Specific Buddy requests are max to 3 per writing.

Any Buddy request, whether it be crossover/ what if scenario etc... and has more than 1 Buddy will be maxed at 3. No more than that.

Why do some Buddy's have names and other don't?

I do not name ever single Buddy I write for. I name them if they meet any of the following criteria:

Have been in at least 3 fics (The only scenario this will bend if when doing the request, they appear more than already written. For example there are two written and posted pieces on Wonder Buddy but there are 2 more request that have yet to be written. I can introduce a name in the next writing)

Are in a crossover with other Buddy's

The requester has requested a name for them in the request

If you want to suggest a name for a Buddy with no name, feel free to let me know!

What happens when your request doesn't get answered?

Most likely your request had been erased from the inbox. I can't explain why it happens, it just does here. I do my best to get every request in and written before they get erased.

What do the colors mean?

For the Transformers lists, Blue mean bot buddy, Red is for human buddy, Green is for the daughter/child related pieces, Purple is techno organic buddy, Black is no Buddy involved.

For DC and Marvel lists, Red is for human buddy, Pink is for mutant buddy

When asking for DC and Marvel requests make sure to have a mini description of the characters you want

This means if you have a character you want (ex: Deadpool, Spiderman, Batman, Bane) leave a bit of a description on what the character is like. I have a good knowledge of both DC and Marvel but there are times that I may have limited facts on the character or never heard of them. The description helps in writing the pieces better.

If you have doubt about what is okay to ask, feel free to ask if it is okay to request.

Most importantly... be kind and have patience with the requests!

[finnacecommands]

"Skyrocket Your Business Success: The Ultimate Guide to Leveraging ChatGPT for Maximum Impact!"

Let’s face it, running a business in 2024 is a bit like juggling flaming chainsaws while riding a unicycle on a tightrope over a tank full of hungry sharks (or maybe that’s just my Tuesday). There are a million things to do, a never-ending inbox, and enough marketing jargon to make your head spin.

Enter ChatGPT, the superhero with a cape made of words and a utility belt full of artificial intelligence. Now, I’m not saying it’s going to solve all your problems (although it can probably write a pretty convincing apology email to your angry supplier), but it can definitely be a valuable asset in your business arsenal.

What in the World is ChatGPT?

Imagine having a super-powered intern who never needs a coffee break, never complains about bad office lighting, and can whip up a catchy slogan faster than you can say “procrastination.” That’s kind of what ChatGPT is. It’s a large language model, which basically means it’s a computer program that’s really good at understanding and generating human language.

So, How Can This Super Intern Help My Business?

Here’s the fun part: In a surprising number of ways! Let’s break it down:

Stuck staring at a blank page for your next blog post or social media caption? ChatGPT can be your brainstorming buddy. Give it a few keywords or a sentence about your product, and it’ll churn out ideas, outlines, and even full drafts (although you might want to add your own personal touch). Just think of it as a way to overcome writer’s block without resorting to staring at cat videos for an hour (not that there’s anything wrong with that… maybe).

Need catchy headlines, product descriptions that sing, or email subject lines that get opened faster than a free pizza coupon? ChatGPT can be your secret weapon. It can help you craft compelling marketing messages that resonate with your target audience. You know, the kind that makes people say, “Wow, this company really gets me!”

We’ve all been there — dreading the never-ending stream of customer emails. ChatGPT can help you answer frequently asked questions, draft responses, and even power basic chatbots that can handle simple customer inquiries. This frees you up to focus on the more complex issues and, let’s be honest, avoid that feeling of wanting to hide under your desk whenever you see the email notification light blink.

Sometimes the best ideas come from the most unexpected places. ChatGPT can be your brainstorming partner, helping you generate new product ideas, marketing campaigns, or even solutions to your most pressing business challenges. Think of it as a way to tap into a wellspring of creativity without having to wear those goofy brainstorming hats (although, hey, if that gets your team going, who am I to judge?).

Wait a Minute, Isn’t This Just a Fancy Chatbot?

Well, not exactly. Chatbots are great for answering basic questions, but ChatGPT can do so much more. It can be creative, generate different writing styles, and even understand context. Think of it as the difference between a pre-programmed answering machine and a really helpful (and slightly sarcastic) assistant who can actually understand what you’re asking for.

Is There a Catch?

Of course, there’s always a catch (just like that time you bought those miracle weight-loss pills online). ChatGPT is still under development, so its outputs can sometimes be inaccurate or nonsensical. It’s also not a replacement for human creativity and critical thinking. You’ll still need to edit its work, make sure the information is accurate, and inject your own brand voice. But hey, that’s what makes you the boss, right?

So, How Do I Get Started with ChatGPT?

The good news is that ChatGPT is readily available online (with a free tier to test it out). There’s a bit of a learning curve, but there are plenty of resources and tutorials to help you get started.

The Final Word: Your Not-So-Secret Weapon Awaits

Look, ChatGPT isn’t going to magically solve all your business problems. But it can be a powerful tool to help you save time, boost creativity, and streamline your workflow. Do note that it can not completely replace human efforts. So, ditch the flaming chainsaws, ditch the unicycle, and maybe put the hungry sharks on hold for a bit. With Chat GPT by your side, you might just find yourself feeling a little less like a circus performer and a little more like a business rockstar. Just remember it.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) on ChatGPT

What is the cost of ChatGPT?

ChatGPT offers a free tier with limited features. They also have paid plans with more capabilities, depending on your needs.

Is ChatGPT safe to use?

Though generally secure, it’s vital to keep in mind that the data ChatGPT creates may not always be reliable. Verify information again and refrain from disclosing private information.

Will I lose my job to ChatGPT?

You are not being replaced by ChatGPT, so relax. It is a tool, not a replacement for your current employment, to help you operate more efficiently and quickly.

Is ChatGPT coder capable?

A programmer is still required even if ChatGPT can generate basic code snippets. It is incapable of handling complex coding tasks or understanding the logic behind the code.

Does ChatGPT support several languages?

Indeed! Languages can be translated by ChatGPT, which can also produce original text forms in a variety of languages.

Can personal projects be completed using ChatGPT?

Without a doubt! ChatGPT is a creative partner that can help you with anything from crafting a standout CV to coming up with ideas for your next book.

My tech skills are lacking. Can I continue using ChatGPT?

Although there is a learning curve, ChatGPT is quite user-friendly. Don’t worry, you can get started with a ton of online lessons and tools.

[halcyon-writings]

"I'm not going to pet your tail, I promise." With Gorou please 😌

after 84 years, i finally work on something in my inbox. and it is for everyone's favorite dog boy /lh (also apologies for the wait emmy fjkjkfs)

now time for something a little more lighthearted in comparison to a few of the recent posts.

nav.

Gorou's pointed stare makes you look down at the patch of dirt in front of you. Only when you feel his gaze leave you, do you look back up and watch as his ears twitch due to the occasional droplet of rain that fall onto his head the further you both traverse in the camp.

Now that the war was over, there was a decrease in recruits needed to be trained, rather the remains of the Watatsumi army only trained for more guarding purposes than outright battle. Gorou was still in charge of training regimen which is how you both ended up caught in the rain as it began to downpour.

"Well," you try to sound optimistic, "At least there's only rain."

And in a comical fashion, the sharp crash of thunder makes you both jump in an alert manner, the rain beginning to fall even faster. You can't help but cough into your fist awkwardly.

"You had to jinx us?" Wringing out his clothing of the rain water to the best of his ability.

"This is not my fault! Maybe the Raiden Shogun is having a bad day. Or it's just a random coincidence," You sniff in fake offense.

(Somewhere, Raiden Ei sneezes.)

At this, you hear a snort, before Gorou's shoulders begin to shake with full on laughter, and you crinkle your nose.

"Ah yes, laugh at me, at my misery," But there is no real heat behind your words. In fact, you attempt to cough to try and hide your own beat of laughter. Especially more so at the fact that you both look like crazy people laughing under a small tent beneath a current downpour/thunder storm.

Then a thought occurs to you.

"Hey, Gorou?"

He blinks, "Yeah?"

"This is a random question but, if you were to get soaked with rain or just soaked with water in general, would you dry off with a towel or would you shake the water off..?"

He stares at you again, "...Shake it off?"

You nod your head, "Yeah! Shake it off like, you know-" And you attempt to show him the gesture by shaking your head side to side, akin to how a dog would shake water off of its own body.

"I am not answering that."

"The people want to know!"

"You want to know, only you," He shakes his head in exasperation.

"And what about your tail? Would it get all fluffy after doing that?"

He seems to become guarded, his hands bringing his tail closer to himself protectively.

"I'm not going to touch your tail, I promise!" You cross your finger over your heart to emphasize your promise to him.

And yet later when you’re fluffing his tail, you hear no protest.

"What happened to promising to not touching my tail?" He whines, but you see the slight flush to his cheeks when you you brush out a small knot on his tail.

"But this isn't me touching your tail to just grab it like the soldiers did for luck," You answer smugly, "This is me helping you with some self care." Your own towel is draped over your sleep clothes, while your hair, still damp from bathing after returning home and getting out of the rain, was wrapped up just a little bit.

"Besides, I don't see you complaining with your tail wagging a little," You point out. And he flushes further while you grin in victory.

[sjytify]

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF UR DESIRES

ABOUT ME 🔮

εї my name is jasmine, 20, u can call me dita, jas, jasmine, hera or any other cute nicknames! i use she/they pronouns !!

εї i’m southeast asian

εї i knew abt law of assumption on october 2021 (i was a law of attraction person before 😬 but now we don’t do that around here!)

εї i’m a certified centillionaire, have my dream house, together w my sp, living my lavish fun dream life n building an empire ✨

εї i like kpop (snsd, nct 127, itzy, aespa, rv, mamamoo n more), chocolate, spicy food, me cus i’m perfect 💋, the color pink!!!, i like anime too (pls recommend me good ones!) n horror movies (pls recommend too)

if u would like to know more pls send more in the inbox luvs!!

ABOUT THIS ACCOUNT 🎀

fun fact i actually never thought abt using this account at first but following law of assumption accs got me really inspired to make one so i decided to make one! this was a reading acc before hehe.

in this account, we’ll talk about:

◜🍓｡◝ manifesting (law of assumption only we wont talk abt law of attraction!)

◜🍥｡◝ questions abt law of assumption related topics

◜🍰｡◝ honestly just talk n interact w me ! i can get really bored fr haha so i need someone to talk to </3

◜🐚｡◝ I WILL NOT BE ANSWERING ASKS ABT SHIFTING! top reason is that i know little to no knowledge abt shifting n personally, i don’t have any interest in shifting (this doesn’t mean i hate shifters i do think it’s interesting but i am not interested in it) but if u would like to talk abt ur experience, i would love to hear it!

◜🌷｡◝ everyone is welcomed here from any race, religion, anything! except if u’re homophobic, transphobic, don’t respect other’s beliefs, don’t believe in the law n u’re just trying to spread hate everywhere then PLEASE LEAVE THIS ACC RN. i want this account to be a safe place for everyone regardless of who they are (ꈍᴗꈍ) n if i did / say something wrong, don’t be scared to talk to me abt it or call me out !! 💗

MY SUCCESS STORIES 🧸

getting accepted to a fancy middle school

my old classmate i used to have a crush on dmed me

SUCCESS STORIES from amazing ppl 💭

manifested a $370 Tiffany & co pendant

manifested a weight loss

manifested anime type body

manifested a full mark on an exam

manifested new bt21 slippers

manifested a necklace as a bday gift

manifested a package to arrive faster

manifested an iphone 13 pro max, glow up n etc

manifested an ipad air, airpods n etc

manifested a job

manifested £2.000+

manifested celebrity sp how did they do it? short story

manifested from being 5”2 to 5”5

manifested cancelling classes

MY POSTS 🍣

not getting results from subliminals? (kind of a rant)

stop wondering abt ur desires!

it is a law. that’s it.

self-concept (?) affimations

pretty baddie whispers

4D is the reality.

TAKEN ANONS: 🧝🏽‍♀️ anon, 🪶 anon, tulip anon 🌷 / celeb sp anon, 💃 anon.

CURRENTLY PLAYING. . .

ASKS: OPEN! SUBMISSION: OPEN! DMS: SELECTIVE!

[ask-keahi]

{“Hi there! I'm Keahi, you can ask me questions and I'll try to answer them whenever I can! Or if you want to talk, that's fine too!"}

“Um, Hello..? I’m Ushio.. I guess you can ask me some questions.. or maybe talk to me.. idk..”

Rules

The mod is 20 years old

You can absolutely rp with this blog, especially if you're also a genshin impact rp blog or ask blog, just specify who you want to talk to!

Please specify who you wanna ask/talk to, thank you.

Keahi is deaf, so they'll basically sign their answers in the posts, to show this, these will be used at the start and end of sentences Keahi signs: { }. For example: {"This will be how I talk here."}

Keahi and Ushio don’t know each other, so asking them questions about the other will just confuse them.

Just like my other 2 text ask blogs, there won’t be any drawings to use for the answers, just text. Maybe there might be drawings here and there, but I can’t guarantee it.

Other characters (mainly canon characters) may or may not show up in the ask blog, as it’s mainly focused around Keahi and Ushio, but they’ll definitely be mentioned in the answers if the ask involves them a bit. However, Meraxes may show up in some of Keahi’s parts from time to time in some answers that involve her.

There will be some OC x canon shipping involved (basically Keahi x Venti stuff and Scaramouche/Wanderer x Ushio), so if you're a Venti and/or Scaramouche/Wanderer blog and don't mind engaging in this ship in rps, I'd appreciate that! But if not, that's fine too! (Although, Keahi only has a crush on Venti at the moment, so it may take some time while Ushio also still only has a crush on Scaramouche/Wanderer at the moment too).

Flirty asks are fine. (Especially if you’re a Venti and/or Scaramouche/Wanderer ask blog or rp blog, but I’d appreciate it if Venti flirty asks go to Keahi while Scaramouche/Wanderer flirty ssks go to Ushio)

NSFW rps are allowed, but only if you’re a Venti and/or Scaramouche/Wanderer ask blog/rp blog (Only if Scara and Ushio have gotten to a point of having a emotional bond) (there will be an NSFW tag placed (#🔥//NSFW), so if you’re a minor, block the tag)

Please don’t spam the inbox, you’re allowed to send as many asks as you want, but I’d prefer that the inbox isn’t filled with short and not well thought out questions.

Please do not make any LGBTQIA+phobic, racist, sexist or any hateful comments, and especially do not attack anybody or make any offensive comments.

No political asks, so no drama.

I’d appreciate it if you would please be patient for your asks to be done. Texts are faster but there may be times where I’m dealing with irl stuff and other artworks.

I have played most of Genshin Impact so far, but have not completed the full story yet, so some story elements from the game may be told in this blog, so if you haven't played Genshin Impact and don't want to be spoiled, I recommend playing the game first.

For Keahi, this will take place in the Mondstadt, and this is will mostly talk about stuff that has happened in Mondstadt, but there may be times where events from the other regions may be said. But for Ushio, it will take place in either Inazuma or Sumeru.

More rules might be added in the future

if you want to know more about Keahi before asking, you can check out their ref and bio in my Toyhouse here

This is what Keahi looks like (and Meraxes in her snake form, but I will post a human version of her in the future):

if you want to know more about Ushio before asking, you can check out their ref and bio in my Toyhouse here

This is what Ushio looks like:

Ships involved:

- Keaven/Venahi/Ahiven (Keahi x Venti) (mainly with @/wwindblumee)

- Scaramouche/Wanderer x Ushio (no ship name yet)

And if you want to, you can check out my main account where I post art of all different kinds of stuff: @fennekin123

[itstheimpossibledream]

Homecoming

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count:1990

Warnings: Smut,DaddyDom!Henry, Oral (female reciving)

Summary: Henry takes you to his hometown but, you become slightly jealous of the attention he recieves. Please do not repost my fics without my permission but, we always love a reblog ! Inbox& Requests always open!

You stepped into the hotel room, immediately taking off your jacket and throwing your purse to the floor. 

"What the fuck Henry?" you asked as you whirled around to face him. The beach day date of his hometown was his thing, it was supposed to be planned so that the two of you could finally spend some free time together. But, the entire day had ended up with Henry signing autograph after autograph; being hit on by a waitress here, asked out by a bartender there, and he's just taking it as though it is completely normal. You had spent so much time choosing your outfit, ordering clothes for the weekend. It had been so weird to be in his hometown. His parents had been entirely shocked Henry even wanted to come visit home again.They were on a vacation somewhere, Henry  spared no expense on their travel it was the one thing the job actually made easier. He was used to the money being able to satiate everyone else in his life, that when it failed to impress you, he had no idea how to go from there. It shocked you how thoroughly and completely he had outweighed telling you what he's feeling. The one thing you wanted more than anything was for Henry to let you in. To just explain his emotions and say what he was thinking. The brooding charm was sexy, and it had no doubt gotten you home from the club that night. But, as boyfriend material he was wearing you thin. 

"Why can't we just get one moment together?Or does that not matter to you anymore? We came on this trip in an attempt to be together yet the whole time we have never actually been together. In Fact, I think I've spent more time in your apartment during filming than at your actual home. I'm trying to get to know you Henry, I am but I can't do it if you're constantly flaunting yourself for people.”

"Flaunting?"he asks " You wanted to see my first job, I took you there.That wasn't flaunting.That was me trying to let you in, and the second the waitress compliments me you get upset."

"Compliment!..... Henry? Compliment?Fucking really ? She told you she and the other waitresses had a bet on how big your dick is!" you exclaimed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, partially running a hand through your hair .

"Yeah but I didn't tell them !" he fired back "Look, (y/n) I am trying here. You have to meet me halfway.This is what people are like around me. I want this to work , I -I want this to be something " He slowed his speech down looking directly into your eyes,so piercingly blue. " I also need you to promise me that you're going to try. I-darling I need you to try." he kneeled on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look into his eyes. His eyes pierced your soul, he always knew what to say to keep you from walking away. You sighed,removing your hands from his, finally committing to taking down your ponytail and letting your curls frame your face. 

"You are beautiful. I'm sorry people reminded me more today of that than they did of you,  you need to hear it just as much, if not twice. You deserve it......Everything about being with you makes me feel lucky."

You looked down at him and took notice of the fact that you usually never looked down on him. Seeing the top of his head was a virtue. He was being vulnerable. You also noted the cologne he had on, not overtly strong but,enough of a scent for you to notice. His eyes looked strong, so serious and eager to please you. You gently leaned in and kissed him. You laughed as you felt him smile into your kiss. He reached a hand up cradling the back of your head over your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek. He steadies you, leaning further in. You felt safe, in this room in your little love cocoon. The salty smell of the sea water wafted through the window and you hated yourself for ruining what was meant to be a beautiful time.Waves of emotion washed over you as you inhaled him deeply.

"So you like to argue don't you?" you felt Henry's smile turn into a smirk as he ran his other hand along the up the curve of your thigh, to the edge of your shirt. He played with the hem of the shirt denying you the contact he knew you desperately craved. You pushed your hips further in, closer to him and he exhaled into you. You knew he could feel the heat reverberating from your core, and you were sure his jeans were tightening by the minute. Hooking an arm around his neck you pulled yourself up and into him. He situates his hand on the side of your face slowly dipping his thumb into your mouth. You pull off his baseball cap and toss it behind you. So much for him being disguised during the date. You couldn't get away from the fact that seeing that passion from him, that honesty had moved you.On the other hand he was an actor, that's what they were supposed to do right? say the right thing?

"You know, next time instead of getting jealous" he mumbled in between kisses  you could just tell me to follow you to the bathroom. I could be extra loud when I cum too, so they know I belong to you." he lifted you up by your ass and threw you onto the bed. 

"aren't you always extra loud when you cum?" You asked wriggling out of your vest and shirt beneath him.

"Isn't that what you like?" he retorts, trying to ignore the fact that he was slightly stuck inside his shirt. Yes he was perfect at saying the right thing but, he was still a person,still real, still riddled with insecurities like anyone else. It just didn't help that the rest of the world rarely saw it. That first night you met he had stood near you in the club for a little shy of an hour before saying anything at all.

He tugs harder on his shirt and you watch as the stretch makes the muscles in his sides more visible, the outline of his ribs below the expanse of hair on his chest that you had never particularly been into, yet on him seemed masculine and mature. Trailing down to the V. His abs and hips meeting in this perfection of symmetrical musculature was enough for you to understand why any woman would swoon at the thought of him entering a diner and crossing his toned legs at the table even with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes. 

"Now you're getting shy." He jests at the fact that you had not answered his question but proceeded to take him in.

"Tell daddy what you want." he encouraged, his voice barely a whisper. God, when he said things like that, it made you unable to respond. So, you decided not to,grabbing his hand and moving it down into your sweatpants, to your core pressing it hard against your clit. He began to move his hand slowly as he smiled down at you; The smile lines at the corner of his mouth, playing games with your heart. 

"Is that it then ? You just want me to touch you?" his warm hand inched lower and you could feel him lightly dip a finger into you. You moan to your own surprise, andhe immediately removes it. You watch his face, intent and you're slightly embarrassed by the attention,  but it's enough just knowing that he wanted to be inside of you, any part of him. You buck your hips up to him in an effort to convince him to finger you again but, to no avail.      

"Unnnhhh.No. sweetheart I said tell me " he says shaking his head.

Your voice comes out shakily and much smaller than expected. 

" I want- I want you to make me cum." you say breathlessly 

"What else?" he leans in , his face turning hard and stoic.

"I want you to degrade me, to use me." He breaks into a full smile now, wide and you exhale loudly as he forces two fingers back inside of you. He chuckles at the noise you make, knowing full well what he's doing to you.

"You want me to use you like a toy because you're a whore." He says matter of factly, picking up speed between your legs. 

"You're so wet  just thinking of me using you, aren't you princess?" he growls into your ear.God he was really going for it today, and you were loving every minute of it.  

"You're so needy already I didn't even get a chance to fuck you." he chuckles and you feel his palm shift right onto your clit.

You manage to whisper "Right there" knowing full well it may be the only instruction you are allowed to give for the rest of the day. But,he doesn't move his hand.

"You like that pressure on your little clit don't you baby?" he asks. You look up at him pleadingly, eyes begging for him to allow you to have this orgasm. "Come for me then, go ahead" he says lifting his eyebrow. You look down at his hand buried inside you under your sweatpants and begin moving your hips faster.

"Come on Daddy's hand since you want to come so bad." he mocks , you buck onto his hands, knowing you are close. You let out  a small whine and you can see as his blue pupils blow out with lust. More whimpers come and before you know it you are releasing all over his hand, breathing into his mouth .

"That's my fucking girl." he smiles broadly looking down at you. You cover your eyes with your forearm, embarrassed to know that he had watched your face the entire time. 

"You are so beautiful right now." he says as you manage to break into a slight smile, still refusing to make eye contact. You feel the weight on the bed shift as he moves. When you finally remove your arm , you see him at the foot of the bed. Somehow, he had found his hat and he tugs it on as he reaches for his phone on the hotel table.

"What are you doing?" you ask

"O nooow you want to talk to me." he chuckles as you roll your eyes "I'm getting room service for us so we don't have to go anywhere. It's just going to be you and me, like it should've been."

You sit up in bed promptly "Well, I still want to know about this place! What you did, what you liked, what you learned in your hometown."

"This is what I learned, " he says, gesturing to the bed."This is what I'm good at." 

"Please, Henry you're good at more than just sex."

"Am I ? My agent isn't exactly having the easiest time right now." he says slumping on the edge of the bed. 

"Hey-  we both have shit that we could think of all weekend to make us pissed life isn't going our way...or- or we could say fuck it , and enjoy this bit of time we have together because we don't know when it's going to happen again. " 

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry sweetheart." he smiles.

"You're forgiven. Now, " you say moving yourself forward and crawling towards him on the bed. "It's your turn" reaching for his belt buckle. He immediately lays back, ready for you to do whatever you wanted with him. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be such a bust after all. 

[saturnsummer]

worthy.

When Sol gets a GPA of 2.02, the study group (and Joon Hwi) comes together to cheer her up. 

notes: another prompt by @thenerdywriter ! i wasn't sure if you meant it like this, but i hope you are satisfied! thank you for your prompt and your trust! i do apologise for the wait!

not much fluff or cliche romantic scenes, but just simple things that i hope when you read, remember your worth and never be defeated. you are worthy, loved and deserving to be appreciated. :) inbox always open!

for anyone who have sent prompts and asks, i thank you for your ideas! i have read through all your asks and am so excited to begin writing, but please understand if i can’t reply you as fast as i hoped! so sorry for this, i’ll try to address my inbox faster!! any mistakes or incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. enjoy!

edit: everyone, please don’t cry on this omg I’ve made 5 people comment their tears now and im terribly sorry for the tears.. I meant for this to be a light hearted story but looks like everyone is crying,, I’ll try not to make people cry now..

original prompt: where joon hwi and the rest of the gang shake some sense into her (sol a) about her self-esteem. 

words: 2787 words

Sol is downstairs at the lounge, holding a clear bottle of soju. She takes another swig from the plastic bottle, hoping that the alcohol can numb her heart like it does to her head. It burns, and she’s turning woozy, but she grumbles and takes another swig. 

2.02. She’s passed, at least. But she can’t help but feel upset. She wasn’t upset that she couldn’t score as well as Yeseul or BokGi, but upset that she’s satisfied with these low results. No one is going to hire her, even less offer an internship while looking at her track records. 

Sol worked her ass off for this exam. She nearly died, if it wasn’t for Yeseul’s reminders to eat. Even her cold stoned face roommate bothered to place bottles of water on her desk. Yet, after all this... 

“Why are you still up?” She hears Joon Hwi ask as he takes a seat next to her. She stays silent with a grim expression and turns away. Joon Hwi was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she’s in such a bad mod. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he catches her arm just as she’s about to chug her soju. 

“Everything.” She slurs. “You know I’m not even upset with my GPA? I’m upset of being happy with my shitty grades.” Joon Hwi sighs, attempting to grab her bottle away.

“I should have never came to study. I should have never tried to prove myself to be Dan!” She scolds louder. Sol knows she’s drunk in front of her best friend, but she can’t control herself. She doesn’t care. 

“Kang Sol...” Joon Hwi stands up, grabbing her bottle away from her. “You’re drunk. Go back.” 

“I don’t belong here, anyway.” Her slurs catch Joon Hwi in his steps. 

“I never once belonged with any of you. Being with all of you just drags you all further. I should just stop burdening you all with my questions and rot in a corner. Besides, no one would care.” She softly says, her voice filled with regret and guilt. 

Sol has always felt this way. Ever since she was young, Dan was always the star child. She got top grades while Sol got through in the middle rankings. Dan was always more popular, prettier, smarter. Sol learnt at a young age that no matter what, she would always be overshadowed by Dan. 

Thus, she learnt to be quiet. Only ask questions when she really needs to. Stick to familiar people. Only be loud when told to, and blend in in every situation. She learnt to depreciate herself, because no one appreciated her in the first place. 

Joon Hwi wants to shake her. He wants to write an entire dissertation on why Sol belongs to Hankuk. He wants to show her what he sees: a smart, caring, passionate lawyer-to-be. He wants to show her what he sees when she testified for Professor Yang in court. A confident, woman knowing her morals and rights.

“Kang Sol.” Joon Hwi says, pulling her up by her wrist. Sol pushes him away, but her touches are sloppy and weak. Sighing, Joon Hwi knows that it is useless to argue about her grades and her worth when she’s not even half conscious of what she’s doing. 

He grabs her coat lying on the couch, finding her phone and plans on calling Yeseul. But it’s past 1am, but he doesn’t want to trouble Yeseul. Sighing, he contemplates calling her roomie but reality smacks when he realises she’s home. Noticing how Sol is slowly nodding off, giving in to the fatigue, it leaves Joon Hwi not much of an option to carry her back.

Fishing the room key out from her coat, he takes special care in carrying her, sweeping his arm under her knee and lifting her slowly as to not disrupt her from falling asleep. The key card is in between his fingers as he slowly and quietly makes his way up to her dorm. He thanks the deities above that no one caught him or interrupted him. 

Tapping the key card, a standard ‘beep’, he pushes the door with his back, and takes care to get him and her into the dark room. He can barely see anything, especially since he has no hands to on the lights, but he makes out his way in the small room using the moonlight and what he can tell. 

Joon Hwi knows which side Sol sleeps, knowing from her stories that include her rolling from the bed up to the desk. By now, Sol was sleeping soundly, a slight snore escaping her. Gently, he sets her down on her bed and reaches to take her shoes off for her. Hanging up her coat that he placed on top of her whilst he was carrying her, he finally pulled the thick blanket over her.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

“I never once belonged with any of you.”

Sol’s words echoed in his head more than he thought it would. He stopped and bent down silently by her bed side, taking a few moments to wonder to himself just how and why does she feel so unworthy.

He grabs her bottle of water from her bag, before putting it next to her phone, which is on the table. Knelt on the floor, he observes the slow rise of her chest and the way her eyes flutter and nose twitch when Sol sleeps. Just how can someone like Sol think she’s any less than what he sees?

“You belong here in Hankuk. I’ll show you just why.” His whisper barely audible, as he brushes away a stray hair on her face. With that, he takes his leave and sneaks back to his dorm. (Without getting caught)

-----

The next day, after two painkillers and a big bowl of hangover soup (left mysteriously by someone at their pantry), Sol is headed to study group. She is running a few minutes early than their scheduled timing, but she’s surprised to find the group huddled in hushed whispers. 

“What are you all looking at?” Sol asks, as she sets her book at her usual corner opposite Joon Hwi. BokGi lets out a startled yelp and Yebeom clamps his mouth shut. Sol isn’t surprised to see Jiho crowded there, but is even more shocked to see Sol B crowded with them too. If it was anything, Sol B wouldn’t crowd around and discuss things, unless it concerned herself, or benefitted her grades.

“What...” Sol leans over and raises her eyebrows. Yeseul’s eyes dart nervously and she breaks into a smile. The rest of the group just shuffles back to their seats murmuring under their breath.

“Nothing, unnie! They were just discussing on what to order for lunch.” Yeseul says as she walks over to Sol and takes her bag and books from her, before setting it on the table. “Unnie, shall we get coffees?” Yeseul escorts her out of the room before Sol could react. Sol assumes that it’s due to her hangover that Yeseul is suggesting coffee, thus just following and getting a cold brew and assorted drinks for the others. 

When she returns, they distribute the drinks and start discussing on what to study. 

“Noona, do you have anything?” BokGi asks, a little too enthusiastically. Sol is taken aback and lost for words. She usually just follows whatever the rest want, since answering her questions will take hours. Joon Hwi gives a sympathetic smile. 

“How about you share with us about a recent case? Remember the one that Professor Kim liked in particular?” Joon Hwi suggests. Sol grows quiet. Her? The worst student? Sol let’s out an uncertain laugh.

“Ah, me? I rather my roomie shares. She did better than me.” Sol says, then prepares a fresh document for note taking on her laptop.

“I didn’t do well.” Sol B says quietly, her eyes emotionless as usual, leaning back into the chair. “You did the best. Go on.” Sol is stunned and just nods uncertainly. Taking out her case notes and her reports that she submitted, she nervously discusses the topic on hand. She sneaks Joon Hwi a couple of questioning stares but he only pretends to not catch her eyes.

Everyone is enthusiastic, asking questions and when Sol is stumped, they jump in to help her. They suggest ideas and Sol has never felt so energised by their energy before. She find it fishy how Joon Hwi just sits back and she can feel him smiling whenever she makes a point right or figures out a missing link.

An hour later, when they are done expanding on Sol’s case and discussing, they break for a late lunch together.  Yebeom enters the room with bags of food, as usual over ordering. As they pass out containers of jjampong and jjajamyeon, Sol’s eyes light up when she saw the only thing that mattered in the whole order: her beloved pickles, in doubled servings. 

What Sol doesn’t expect is for JiHo to dump his packet of pickles on her container of noodles. 

“JiHo-ah, why...” Sol is dumbfounded for a moment as JiHo opens his pack of noodles to stir. JiHo only pushes up his glasses. 

“You can have them, noona.” Sol is even more dumbfounded. This was the first time JiHo has called her noona. She didn’t care for the honourifics, and JiHo could call her by her full name for all she cared. But hearing those words from Seo JiHo’s mouth, just made her think everyone was utterly suspicious today.

“Okay, everyone is being weird. What is this?” Sol announces, hoping her tone came out fun, with no hints of anger. 

“Nothing! We just know you’ve been feeling stressed, so JiHo decided to give you his share of pickles, right?” BokGi quips up, as he dives into taking the sauce to pour over the tangsuyuk, before Yebeom and him argue over pouring or dipping. 

Sol, still feeling suspicious, breaks her chopsticks just as Joon Hwi picks up a pickle from her plastic saucer to put on her noodles. Her eyes dart from his chopstick to his face, but he just nods at her pickles, expressions hard to read.

Sol crunches on her pickles, but it does nothing to soothe the feeling that everyone was aware of something, but her. 

-----

The rest of the week was a puzzle piece that Sol could not fix together.

She woke up everyday to a new message by Joon Hwi, sometimes sending her funny videos, or a simple “let’s get through this together”. She woke up once to her roomie handing her breakfast and coffee. It just didn’t click in Sol’s head to see the cold Sol B hand her a sandwich and coffee.

Their group chat was undoubtedly noisy, but even more so now. Something in common was how the more chatty ones would ask Sol for advice or chat and strike noisy conversations. She was used to the chaos, but she definitely didn’t feel used to having the attention on her.

As the group had earned different internships from small and large firms, Sol was going to be left in school alone, still applying and hoping for one to come her way. Her study group knew about it, and instead continued to encourage her about it. They avoided talk on their internships, and actively tried to help Sol. While Sol was grateful, she couldn’t help but wish that they would just act normal and not worry about her.

She chose to meet them for breakfast on the day of their internships. The meal was noisy as usual as they ate their sandwiches and gimbaps. They were dressed smartly in their suits with their briefcases. Sol made a fuss over everyone looking smart on their first day.

“Hurry up and eat, you’re going to be late for your internship!” Sol scolded BokGi as he and Yebeom threw comments back and forth. Everyone was off for theirs and ready with their jackets and bags. Walking with them to the door, she couldn’t help but feel like a mom to her kids, sending them to school.

“Noona! Check your table later in the libra-” Yebeom gleefully mused before BokGi clamped his mouth shut and JiHo (with much irritation) smacked his head silently.

“What?” Sol asks, turning to Joon Hwi, who was turning redder by the second. Joon Hwi closes his eyes, the same way he does when he’s embarrassed and looks away from her.

“Listen to Yebeom and check the table.” He says, finally looking at her. “We’ll see you for dinner then.” Waving a quick goodbye, the group walked away from her towards the carpark where they separated to the bus stops or in the direction of the train station.

“O-Okay…” she mutters, still confused as she carries her books and bag to her usual table at the library. She would have went to sulk at Professor Kim’s office for a while, but she instead chose to head straight to study. Professor Kim had enough on her plate and she wasn’t ready just yet to face Professor Kim with her mood.

There, at her table, lies her stack of books.

Normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Huffing out, she slumps her bag on her table, gathering the post its on the bar above the table. Most of them were just plain comments, like how she had to stop slamming her pen into her hand (it distracted students) or move out of the library cause there aren't enough seats. Opening her book on civil code, she was ready to start drilling her head before meeting Professor Kim. 

Then she spots an envelope, hidden between the pages of the book.

Carefully, she picks it out and looks on the cream white paper, the only ink on it her name, written in neat handwriting. She could recognise Joon Hwi’s handwriting anywhere. A slight scoff escapes her lips and several students turn in annoyance. Realising that this was probably not the best place to be in, she grabs her books and bags (and the post its) and leaves the library. She heads to the empty study room, where she knows she’s be comfortable at.

Opening the flap, she slips out numerous slips of paper, varying degrees of length and sizes. Some words were neat, some were a little messy.

-----

To: Unnie <3

Sol-unnie, you know you’re smart, right? Your grades may not show that you are the best, but I know you are! Whenever I hear you discuss a case with the study group, I know you’re trying your best to memorise and improve. Don’t give up, unnie! I will support you till the end!

- Yeseul 

To: Sol-A noona

Yah, noona! You have to stop injuring yourself, okay? You gave us a really big scare the last time when you started nose bleeding in the midst of study group. Noona, don’t look at your grades anymore! If a man like me can get through law school so far pretty well, you can too! Fighting, noona! 

Noona~ you’re really talented. The fact that you scored so well during the criminal law test and managed to spot the comma just shows for amazing you are! Noona, don’t be discouraged... seeing you discouraged makes us sad too. Your favourite dongsaeng is here to help you! 

- BokGi and Yebeom 

To: Kang Sol-A

You can do it. Review your cases before classes. Get your internship.

-JiHo

To: Sol-A

Live up to your name, will you? And sleep on a regular schedule. 

- Roommate

To: Sol

Sunbae, remember me? Stop doubting yourself and trust yourself. You’re smarter than you know and fit for court. I will support you from wherever you are. I’m grateful for you, for supporting me all this time. I think Dan would be proud of you, and so will the cookie Byeol. 

Sol, you are worthy in my eyes. So stop undermining yourself. You belong in Hankuk next to me. You can’t give up now.

-Joon Hwi

-----

Sol lets a smile creep on her face as she lets a small blush rise to her face. Holding her letters to her heart, she closes her eyes, reminding herself of the past week and her friend’s efforts to cheer her on. She knew no doubt it had to be Joon Hwi who convinced everyone there to write for her despite their busy schedule. For even Sol B to help out and bother about her, it warmed her heart to have her support.

Picking her book, she pinned her hair up as she started drill into her book with a new found confidence, fuelled by her friends supporting her. But most importantly, she felt worthy. She felt loved. She felt confident. She was hopeful.

(Everyone thinks she’s worthy in their eyes, but one just thinks she’s perfect.)

[maddiewritesstucky]

Snare Me His Shadow

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit 18+

Words: 4.5k

Tags: Primal Play, Prey/Predator Kink, Fighting As Foreplay, Rough Sex, Biting, Choking, Dom/Sub Undertones, Come Swapping, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Fucking Outdoors, Storm Sex, Poetry As An Aphrodisiac, R18 Hide And Seek

So a million years ago, @howdoyousleep3 passed on an ask from her inbox that read:

[I dont know if you’re familiar with primal play, but it’s so fucking hot. Yeah, I know, Steve is all muscle and ability, he’s strong he’s fast, he’s smart, he is not prey. Usually. But Bucky - the winter soldier - is a hunter. The best, in fact. He loves a good hunt]

...This one possessed me. Please heed the tags, this is an entirely consensual and agreed-upon game between Steve and Bucky, but it is very much a hunter/prey type situation 😈

It’s electric, like this.

Barefoot on the damp earth, navigating by muscle memory more than sight, because darkness settles that much denser beneath the tree canopy.

Steve could move faster, could take this barely-worn path through the woods behind the compound at a sprint. But fast is loud. 

Fast is leaves cracking and branches splintering, and the muted thud of footfalls on the forest floor. It’s eyes fixed only ahead so you don’t stumble, and nothing but the sound of your own exhales in your ears.

‘Fast’ gets you caught. 

The in-rolling storm crackles humid in the air, sparking against Steve’s skin as he weaves through the underbrush. He throws his every sense outwards, searching and sifting through those faint currents of movement around him, those quiet signs of life. But it’s all life out here; birds and insects and creatures who can’t bear the light, all just playing the same game he is, and every last one of them pricks at his awareness. 

Every last one of them kicks at his pulse and drip-feeds new adrenaline into his bloodstream, because experience echoes a warning way down in his cells - the apex predator comes silent as a spider. 

There’s so many eyes on him, the weight of being watched pressing down on him from all sides. He digs the heel of his hand into his arousal and pulls in a lungful of air on the cusp of rain; feels himself splintering between his warring desires to put up a worthy chase, and to drop down belly-up in the dirt.

It’s a choice that will be made for him, eventually. 

He might be strength, and speed, and strategy. But out here, he is prey. 

Out here, in these weeping woods that stretch endless into the night, Steve is achingly, exquisitely outmatched by the hunter who lies in wait; biding his time, unseen, and slipping ever closer. 

Dressed in black from head to toe, or skin bared to the shivering pulses of the forest; empty handed, or palms laden with the urge to grab and pin and possess…

The Winter Soldier is out there, and Steve’s blood runs so much hotter for the knowledge that he won’t see or hear or feel him coming until it’s too late. 

He winds his way amongst the weathered trunks, hugging the shadows and pawing at the lines of his own body; stroking his thighs and pulling at his nipples, raking fingernails over the bare skin of his stomach. It’s rough and absent and frantic all at once, a weak precursor to what he’s evading.

The dissonance of it is dizzying, hiding from the thing he wants most. He wants to cry out, to make for the clearing in the middle of the woods and sprawl shameless in the open until he’s found, but he knows the rules - run, hide, don’t make it easy.

Pursuit is the purpose, and capture is a pleasure that must be earned, no matter how raw his skin is screaming for touch. And it is screaming - he’s a copper wire stripped bare, and he shivers for every stinging snap of branch and damp drag of leaf against his body as he picks his way through the darkness. 

Hard limits apply, he’d told Bucky, the rest is up to you. 

He shudders for it now, those words and the way Bucky’s eyes had darkened for them; the way he’d leaned in to kiss his sugar-laced threat right onto Steve’s waiting lips - I will find you.

It’s only a matter of time. The forest is vast, and countless months have passed since they last played this game, but Bucky is a blade that never dulls. 

Bucky is razor-sharp, in wit, beauty, and battle; made up of midnight and silent strides when he so chooses, and he will find Steve. 

He might have had eyes on Steve this entire time; ten soundless steps behind, watching Steve’s slow descent into desperation with a smile on his face, and the mere possibility has Steve’s cock weeping through the thin fabric of his shorts. 

His fingertips dip beneath his waistband and sweep through the wetness beading at his tip; stroke that sensitive spot just beneath the head. His palm slips to press at the heavy throb in his balls and it makes his breath catch too loud in the confines of his chest, has a moan slipping out past his gritted teeth. 

He knows it’s foolish, knows he’s only making himself easier to track. But every step he takes is winding the hunt toward its inevitable climax, and intellect is giving way to instinct. 

His consciousness is beginning that steady downward drip, sinking from logic and reason to settle and swim with the dense heat pooling at the base of his spine. Soon, he’ll be nothing more than the urge rippling under his skin, the tight-squeezed air in his lungs and the thrum of blood between his thighs, and every brush of his own hands is permission to slip a little further to it. 

So he doesn’t stop. 

His feet and his fingers keep moving; his body acting now on his mind’s behalf to draw towards the river's edge, where his desperate sounds will be swept away by the unending rush of water over rock, because this is about preservation now.

It’s about surviving the voracity of his own need until he is found, until Bucky catches him, and then…god, then...

The rest is up to you.

The beginning of rainfall winds its way down through the tree canopy, and it does nothing to quell the heat radiating off Steve. He’s burning so hot for this, so hungry for it; his need only growing sharper as the atmosphere curls in thick and charged with the promise of thunder. 

It’s rumbling in the distance already, too faint for non-enhanced ears but creeping closer; a rolling bass beneath the surge of the fast flowing river up ahead. He can see the diluted black of open space through the trees now, can hear the clack of wet-tumbling stones, and it’s nothing short of delusion, the way it feels like he’s headed for sanctuary. 

Logic knows it’s a weak veil of auditory cover at best, and an outright plea for ambush at worst.

Steve knows, down in his gut, exactly which one he’s hoping for, and he sprints for it with the last of his tactical thought seeping out through the soles of his feet. 

He breaks through the tree line, hitching a gasp as he stumbles out into the full force of the downpour. It’s coming down heavy, sluicing at the fever-sweat clinging to his skin, and he tilts his face up towards it; lets his eyes drift shut and his shoulders drop as he bares his throat to the purple-black sky. 

His pulse riots for the sheer abandon of the gesture, of shifting his posture to one of invitation in the midst of evasion. It only spurs him on, makes him want to find out just how shrill that siren in his cells will wail when he refuses to curl in on himself. 

He forces his hands open at his sides, turns his palms outwards and walks further out onto the exposed riverbank. He stands ankle deep in the river with his heart in his throat, soaked to the bone and all but shaking with the desire to drop to his knees in submission.

And that’s when he hears it. 

The slow-whistled high note, followed by a low; the signal that shivers from the top of Steve’s spine to the cradle of his hips.

Found you. 

It’s a question as much as a warning, that signal; a chance for Steve to respond in their shared language of gesture whether he wants the chase, or the fight. 

As if he hadn’t made up his mind the moment they agreed to play tonight.

As if he’s not done for either way. 

He pulls in a shuddering breath, his skin prickling with the presence he can sense now off to his left. Survival instinct begs him to open his eyes, to scour his surroundings and prepare for what’s coming, but he only shuts them tighter. 

He grins up at the pelting rain, curls his quivering right hand into a fist, and beats it against his drenched, heaving chest.

Take me down where I stand. 

Thunder rumbles overhead and shakes the stones underfoot. Steve’s blood beats frantic in his ears, one heartbeat stumbling over the next, and he waits, waits for the blow he doesn’t want to see coming.

A foot to the back of his knees, an arm wrapped around his throat, a strike of unyielding metal between his shoulder blades...it’s never the same twice, and it’s always better than the time before, and he can’t stop the desperate whimper that falls from his parted, rain-slick lips.

“Bucky!” he pleads, hurling it into the current of the storm raging around him.

“Steve,” comes the answer from directly behind him; the word falling across his skin in the split second before teeth sink deep into the meat of his shoulder.

It’s nothing short of wanton, the way Steve cries out with it. 

Five fingers curl a punishing grip around the column of his throat and a soaking wet body plasters against his back, and Steve doesn’t even try to hold his centre of gravity as he’s wrestled down to the riverbank.

It’s a messy takedown, raw force over skill; dripping all the same desperation that’s been twisting hot in Steve’s gut all night. Bucky pins him belly-down against the stones at the river’s edge, the full weight of his body draped over him, and Steve knows the tremor he can feel humming through Bucky’s muscles has nothing to do with the cold.

“The river,” Bucky growls; metal forearm jammed against the back of Steve's neck, “of course you came to the river.”

Steve squirms giddy beneath Bucky’s mass, beneath that deep-thrumming power crushing down on him. 

The storm-swollen current reaches up the bank to wash shallow and frigid beneath Steve’s cheek, his chest; against his nipples and his thighs and his cock inside his drenched shorts. It’s cold enough to draw gooseflesh across the bared expanse of his skin, but fuck if that persistent rush doesn’t feel like getting tongued; like every single time Bucky’s ever slipped an ice cube in his mouth and sucked him off just to see him hit the ceiling. 

“Buck...” 

It’s the only word that makes sense anymore. Steve gets his elbows under himself and pushes his body up, but only so much as to feel the stifling weight of Bucky on top of him. 

Bucky’s hand slips to the front of his throat and grips him tight up under the line of his jaw; tips his head back to get his lips and teeth pressed hard against Steve’s ear.

“Steven...did you even try?” 

The rain and the river aren’t enough to sweep away the mockery in his tone. He’s shifting himself on top of Steve, putting scant inches of space between their bodies, and Steve knows this cue; grins bright and breathless for it.

He digs his hands in against the riverbed, plants his knees and shoves upwards. He heaves his weight forward and Bucky’s grip loosens just enough to let it happen, to let Steve crawl and clamber a few meager feet forwards.

Steve knows it’s a false freedom but he laughs half-hysterical for it anyway, and even more so when Bucky’s hands are catching him again, clamping bruising tight at his hips and grappling him onto the flat of his back. 

He winces at the battering strike of rain against his face, but it’s just as soon blocked by the cover of Bucky caging him in; replaced by the tepid drips rolling off Bucky’s perpetually warm skin. 

Steve’s body reacts the way it thinks it’s supposed to, going through the motions of trying to throw Bucky off - strength funneled into a forearm arm pressing here, a knee striking there. But it’s pointless; sabotaged by the underlying truth that the only place Steve really wants to be is stuck exactly where he finds himself - pinned pliant beneath his predator.

He lets himself look, then; lets his gaze slip down between them to drag over the length of Bucky’s body. He’s bared to the elements just the same as Steve - not a stitch on him save for running shorts that barely hit at mid-thigh. His hair is pulled back, and he’s soaked to the bone, and when lightning splits the darkness in two and catches on the angles of his face, that raw perilous beauty strikes a blow all of its own to the center of Steve’s chest.

“You win,” Steve rasps, dragging his voice up from the pit of his billowing lungs.

Bucky’s answering laugh is darker than the wet-ink midnight pressing in on them, and it shudders all the way to Steve’s bones when Bucky sinks down to purr ominous against the vulnerable stretch of his neck.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

The ravenous clamp of teeth on his throat sends Steve’s body bowing, writhing for that merciless bite that doesn’t break the skin, but makes purpled ruin of what lies beneath. Fascia and blood vessels and Steve’s sanity, all broken down in the transcendent grind of Bucky’s jaw, the heat of his mouth; all over Steve’s neck and his chest and his belly, and it’s so feral, the way Steve wants it. 

He wants the shred of busted stitching and the shock of rain against newly bared skin as his shorts are torn from his body.

He wants the red welts raked down his rib cage, the kiss-split lip and the deep set imprints of Bucky’s teeth all up the insides of his thighs. 

Bucky’s touch is heavy and he means it to be; his shifting, squeezing grip claiming handfuls of Steve’s willing flesh wherever he can get it. And he can get it everywhere - every last inch of Steve’s body splayed out for him in tribute to his prowess, and Steve wants him to take it. 

He wants Bucky to make sacrilege of it out here under the split-open skies, until it feels like heaven itself is sobbing for it. 

“Fuck me,” ruin me, desecrate me, arch-backed and bleeding-lipped in the dirt, “Bucky, fuck me…” 

Steve begs with all of himself, legs split and arms thrown above his head; dripping sweat and storm and half-crazed surrender. Like he actually has to plead for this, like Bucky’s not already stuffing searching fingers up between his cheeks to grope for the base-end of silicone that says Steve’s body is primed for the taking.

Bucky bites taunting denial into his skin, over and over. ‘No,’ even as he pulls the plug from Steve’s body and replaces it with his fingers. ‘No’ growled against Steve’s body every time he begs now, and please, and I’m ready, just to fray that tenuous thread of Steve’s resolve. 

Steve’s delirious with it, crying out high and sharp for the stretch of cold metal inside him and the drip of remnant lube. He chants Bucky’s name and reaches out with clinging, clawing hands that only get batted away; that get caught at the wrists and pinned down, and Bucky’s laughing at him. 

Bucky is toying with him, leaving him empty and climbing back up over his body to graze teeth over Steve’s cheekbones, to whisper sweet mockery against Steve’s lips before he kisses them bruising-hard.

“Tell me you want it,” Bucky coos, clamping his hand over Steve’s mouth and pushing the clothed head of his cock up against Steve’s hole. 

Steve sobs against his palm. He forces the words out wet and incomprehensible onto Bucky’s skin; again and again as Bucky tuts and tells him to speak the fuck up. 

Tears are streaming free from the corners of his eyes and his legs are hooking desperately around Bucky’s waist, and he knows that Bucky wants this just as bad. He can feel Bucky shaking and shuddering under the strain of holding back and holding out, trying to push Steve closer to his breaking point just because that’s what Steve wants; devotion at its most deranged.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Bucky laps at the tears tracking down Steve’s face, letting up his hand from Steve’s mouth only to settle it heavy on his throat. 

He slips his other hand down between them to shove at his shorts, fighting the clinging fabric down far enough to get his cock free, and then they’re both groaning for the rub of naked skin on skin. 

“Buck,” Steve chokes out a half-strangled cry as Bucky sinks his whole weight onto him, dragging his stomach over Steve’s weeping cock and rocking his own into the crease of Steve’s hip. 

“Tell me you want it?” Bucky says again, a question this time instead of a taunt. 

Steve’s rasp of yes, fuck, do it barely makes it past his lips before Bucky’s cock is pushing into him.

There’s no hesitance, no pretense of patience to it. Bucky doesn’t finesse it and Steve doesn’t want him to - he didn’t spend half the night skulking through the woods in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm just to get taken the way he would be in the sanctity of their bed.

Steve came out here to get fucked vicious, and Bucky knows better than to pull his punches.

He shoves brutal and punishing into the tight heat of Steve’s body, knocking the air from Steve’s lungs and the sense from his psyche. 

He’s tucking words up against Steve’s ear, something lilting and familiar, and the roar of Steve’s own blood and the groaning sky above don’t drown out Bucky’s voice so much as darken it’s edges; slip a rumbling bass beneath it’s baritone. Steve loses himself in the well-worn rhythm long before the words catch up to sink hooks into his ribcage.

“O Hunter, snare me his shadow,” Bucky hums, “O Nightingale, catch me his strain…else moonstruck with music and madness...I track him in vain.”

Steve would weep, if he had it in him to do anything other than lay there flat on his back and take it. 

Bucky grinds in blinding-deep and stays there, rocks there; drips poetry all over the side of Steve’s neck like he’s not fucking him fit to kill.

He squeezes Steve’s throat until his eyes roll back, swats at Steve’s cheek and pulls merciless on his hair. He stuffs fingers into Steve’s gaping mouth deep enough to gag on, and hinges Steve’s jaw open so he has no choice but to set loose every raw, wrecked sound Bucky knocks out of him. 

It’s fucking flawless.

“Give me one,” Bucky growls. 

Steve needs no clarification beyond the spearing of Bucky’s cock into his prostate, and he reaches down between their bodies to jerk himself frantic and heavy-handed. 

It should be pitiful, how little it takes. But it’s been mounting for what feels like hours, and when Bucky wrenches himself abruptly from Steve’s body to slap a hand down square over Steve’s balls and his slick, aching asshole, that orgasm crests with near-painful force.

“Fuck!” Steve’s wracked with it, shuddering and flinching from it like it’s not the makings of his very own flesh and blood. 

Bucky doesn’t even wait for it to be over before he’s dipping down to lap at it; rubbing his cheek and his chest and his belly through Steve’s release on his slow crawl back up to spit it into Steve’s mouth.

“Don’t you fuckin’ swallow it,” he warns, pressing his thumb to the seam of Steve’s lips, “I want it back.” 

Steve’s body is sparking chaotic, crying too soon and too much just as loud as it’s screaming too good as Bucky grips him by his sodden hair and buries his cock back inside him; falling into rhythm like he never stopped thrusting in the first place.

He wants to moan, wants to cry out for that welcome knifepoint of forced pleasure building within him, but the desperate sounds creeping onto his tongue are every bit as caged as the come he can’t swallow. 

Which is the whole point, Steve flushes submissive to realize - Bucky’s got him gagged without even touching him. 

He twines his limbs up around Bucky’s body, groping and pulling at him like there’s still an insufferable distance left to close. The guttural moans Bucky’s spilling into the crook of his neck only render Steve’s own noises even more pathetic; huffing high and reedy the longer they remain trapped in his throat. 

“Christ, listen to you...”

Bucky pushes up onto his elbows to stare down at Steve, to watch the play of desperation on his face. 

He’s no less transparent himself in how affected he is, a lifetime of ceaseless want spelled out in his gaze; hunger and rapture and the kind of adoration Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever fully earn, not really.

But it’s all right there, in the way Bucky’s looking at him; the way he’s bearing the howling force of the storm against his back just to give Steve this, and Steve is sunk.

Steve is nothing more than the sweet ruin of his body and the near painful swell of his heart for the multitudes that Bucky contains. A death sentence if you ask the history books and still the better half of Steve’s soul, Bucky is the boundless shadow and blinding light of Steve’s entire existence; his every reason for being and doing and fucking trying, after all these years. 

It would be terrifying, if Steve weren’t bone-deep certain that he’s the axis Bucky’s world spins on, too.

“You found me...” 

The words are almost a sob hitching off Steve’s tongue, pitched fuck-drunk and slurred around his mouthful of himself. 

He’s breaking the rules and he knows it; half hopes for the crack of an open palm against his cheek for it. But the look Bucky hits him with lands harder than any physical strike could hope to; taking Steve’s face firm between his hands and staring down at him like there’s never been a truth so vital, so dire.

“I will always find you, Steve.” 

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The one thing their shared existence will always narrow down to. There’s nowhere either of them could go that the other wouldn’t tear the world apart to get to, and the scant inches of distance between them right now might as well be oceans for all Steve’s burning inside to cross them. 

He cups his hands around Bucky’s neck and arches up, pulls him down; pleading with everything but words for Bucky’s mouth on his, and Bucky doesn’t make him wait. He meets Steve right there in the delirium with lips and tongue and moans that rival the swelling thunder; sucking the taste of Steve off his tongue and dripping a starved groan into his mouth in its place.

“I wanna make you come,” he says, like he hasn’t already dragged one out of him, “tell me you’re gonna come.” 

“Fuck, I am, I’m gonna come...” 

“Say it’s for me, Steve, tell me it’s mine.” 

Steve nods so hard, he can feel a bruise bloom at the base of his skull where it grates against the riverstone. Of course it’s for Bucky, everything’s for Bucky; every breath in his lungs and every beat of his stricken, obsessed heart. The sensations within him are mounting too immense, too desperate to be named pleasure, but they’re careening all the same towards the one thing Bucky wants from him, and it will only ever be Bucky’s, this perfect agony of coming undone.

“It’s yours,” he sobs, voice weak and body shaking. "Just—fuckin’ take it from me, Buck.”

He gives up all conscious hold on himself; submits entirely to the relentless drag of Bucky’s dick against his insides and the wet rasp of rock against his back as Bucky drives deep into his surrendered body, chasing that climax for the both of them.

It burns so bright, when it hits Steve; wrenched from his core and rolling sharp through the splay of his trembling frame. He cries out with it, but the storm cries louder, Bucky cries louder; moving ceaselessly through the spasms of Steve’s orgasm and drowning in the give of Steve’s body beneath him. 

“Fuck, Steve, I—” 

“Do it,” Steve slurs, needing nothing more than the tell-tale shudder of Bucky’s body and the way he gasps Steve’s name like a warning. “In me, Buck. Do it.” 

Bucky cusses sharp, pulsing his hips as he lets go inside Steve like he can bury that seed deep enough to stick. And fuck, Steve wants it to. It’s all raw nerve on the inside but Steve never wants this to end; possessed by the slick grind of Bucky’s twitching cock and the heaving half-moans of Bucky’s breath. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, reaching fingertips down to where their bodies are joined, where Bucky’s stuffed into him and leaking out of him. “Keep fucking me, just—just keep—” 

Keep coming. 

Be that monstrous entity in the woods who fucks me like it’s a haunting, ’til not even an exorcism would rid me of you. 

He prods at the stretch of his swollen rim, drags his fingers through the warmth seeping out around Bucky’s cock. He wants it everywhere; brings those slick fingers up to smear over the pulse point on his neck, down the line of his throat, and Bucky heaves a moan dragged right from the marrow of his bones. 

“I won’t stop,” he grits out through clattering teeth, rocking into Steve graceless and starving. “Not gonna stop, Steve.”

It sounds as much like threat as it does promise. 

They’re both quaking with it, overstimulated and frigid cold and too achingly, crushingly lost in each other. For all the serum may have made them both to defy science and probability, to withstand war and stall the ravages of aging, it still couldn’t create a vessel vast enough to contain this - this raw, insatiable need for one another. 

“Bucky…” 

Steve looks up from the flat of his back; tips his head to offer up the stretch of his throat as he offers up a tremulous verse — a challenge — into the space between them. 

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep...” 

Recognition sparks dark and joyous in Bucky’s gaze. He catches Steve’s hands in his and threads their fingers together, palm against palm in a too-tight grip.

“But I have promises to keep,” he grins, “and miles to go before I sleep…” 

His lips are turning up wolfish; the roll of his hips turning to something liquid and long-haul, and the rain beats down just as violent as it ever did. 

Steve lets his eyes slip closed, lets the final refrain slip from his tongue before he surrenders, smiling, to the slow closing of Bucky’s teeth around his windpipe.

“...And miles to go before I sleep.” 

If you’re at all curious, the poems they quote are ‘In The Forest’ by Oscar Wilde, and ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost 😘

[oikadori]

a/n: not me crying at 2am about an Oikawa edit, that was my twin sister not me at all...this is totally self indulgent so uhm...yeah. Hope you enjoy it tho!!

edit: i'm so sorry for reposting again but i really feel that the best exposure is int the first hours let's hope this time it stays 😔

Oikawa Tooru x fReader

Summary: in which you are tired of hearing how is never enough for Oikawa Tooru.

Genre: angst, fluffy end tho, established relationship

Now playing ⊳ King by Lauren Aquilina ; Next to me by Imagine Dragons

WC~2k

It had become part of your routine at this point, sitting on the couch for hours, staring bluntly at some program as you wait for your boyfriend to come home.

It was not the passion he has for volleyball that has you on a gloomy mood today. It was  not falling asleep on an empty bed as you heard the sounds of balls hitting the wooden floor coming from the speakers of his laptop in the living room, and it was not how  your throat becomes dry after you begged him to sleep.

But you were tired, that is the only way to express it, tired of feeling your heart clench at the way he neglects himself, at this point you didn’t even care if he neglected you, which wasn’t the case, but him.

Your phone always got texts from him, asking if you had breakfast, if you had lunch or simply saying a hello. He called you before coming home offering you to bring some sweet from that store you liked so much. But, when you asked him if he had a good lunch, those tests always seemed to get lost in his inbox.

Oikawa always gave you a smile as the same words came out of the lips that kissed you every morning.

“Don’t you want me to be the best, my love?”

That simple phrase always seemed to wrap your heart in a death cold no matter the sweetness in his tone, they made impossible for you to come with an argument that would make Oikawa’s stubborn head understand. Understand that he was slowly tearing himself up and hurting you in the process.  

However, none of that is what had you sitting on the couch right now, arms crossed over your chest and lips pressed together, but as soon as Oikawa crossed the door, he knew the exact reason.

“Y/N-chan? I thought you were going out with your friends today”, he drops the bag on the ground, the keys of your shared apartment hitting the floor in the process, “Shit”

Your eyes are trained on the way his face contorts as he reaches for the keys, making your heart sink.

“Anyways, how are you, cutie?”, Oikawa stands in his full height before displaying a closed-eye smile at you.

However, his trademark grin fades as he sees your brows furrowing together, the air suddenly charging with the accumulated tension.

“Is there something w–“

“You tell me”, when you look at his knee with inquiring eyes, Oikawa blinks before turning his face away from you.

“It is nothing”, his mouth twitches down, “I’m fine”

‘no you are not’

His answer only makes you sigh loudly as your mind goes back to the early hours of today, the scene that made your chest sting popping out.

Oikawa had kissed your forehead like every other  morning before mumbling a brief goodbye, he chuckled lightly at the way you babbled some sort of greet and  he walked to the door like every other day but he failed to notice how your eyes opened and gazed at him.

His eyes widened as he felt the burn on his right leg, not knowing you were watching in horror the way his knee falters, causing his leg to tremble before giving in to gravity. He held onto the handle tightly, gritting his teeth to capture the whine that threatened your sleep. However, when he turned around, he founded your half-closed eyes fixated on him, but before you could say anything, he rushed away hoping your mind was clouded enough with tiredness to forget about it.

“How long?”, you ask, standing up slowly and moving towards him.

“I don’t know, what–”

“When started hurting this bad?”

His gaze fixes on the ground, his fists clamp together, annoyance bubbling up in his stomach. He knows what’s coming, he has heard that discourse way too many times to not know how this conversation will go.

“Since always Y/N!”, he cries out almost in pain, his hair moving violently matching with his gestures, the gap in your mouth mirrors the shock in you.

“You need a break Tooru…”

“So they can found someone better? No, thank you”, he lets out a dry laugh as he looks down at you.

“What is the point if you end up not being able to walk without limping??!!”, your voice falters at the end as you picture him holding onto the handle for stability, “You are out of control…”

Oikawa’s nails dig into his palm as he frowns, eyes narrowing at you with dangerous intensity.

“As if you knew…” , the sharpness in his voice makes nothing but press the wound in your heart furthermore.

“Of course, I know, damn it! Tooru you are barely sleeping! I don’t know if you’re even eating properly since we almost never have any meal together!”

And then as if your words had hit the right nerve inside the setter, Oikawa snaps, the look he shoots at you makes your movements halt and your voice dissolves into silence. He was tired and frustrated but ultimately scared and the fact you couldn’t see how scared he was, only frustrates him more.

“No, you don’t know a fucking thing! I need to get better!!”

“Tooru you are their regular setter already!”, you scream at him your face getting red with anger as your tone fades into a bare whisper, “Nothing is enough for you, isn’t it?!”

Oikawa knew that the question itself wasn’t entirely related to his volleyball career. The pleading look you give him and the tremble in your lips tells him that you are not only referring to the all the medals and recognitions but about your relationship itself.

You were asking him if you weren’t enough for him…And maybe you weren’t.

“No!”, the word comes out rushed, his thoughts getting more and more clouded by frustration. You grit your teeth when Oikawa places a hand on his forehead as if he had a bad headache, as if you were the cause of the annoying hammering,

“You are so selfish…can’t you see all what you ha–”, your voice comes in low hiss and before you can finish he lets out a loud groan as the keys in his hand fly across the room landing with a loud thud against your living room table, making you flinch.

“Why can you just let me do what I have to? Is it too much for your head to understand?!”, he shouts, and you feel a sting in your chest, your eyes almost seem to fall from your face and your breath stops as you see how your boyfriend’s face contorts in malice.

“I could pick any of those girls who wait for me after the matches, you know?  I could have any of them and they wouldn’t be as half as annoying as you!”

Oikawa’s chocolate orbits are piercing at you in anticipation when he catches the redness saturating your eyes, causing his heart to drop to the ground.

“I–“

“Go, pick a nobody who only wants to fuck with you,” you try your best to not flinch, but the venom in his words make a silent tear to roll down your cheek, “because I’m not staying to watch how you destroy yourself”

You walk past him, brushing his shoulder roughly, your steps to the door are so fast, he doesn’t get a chance to even try to reach for your hand.

The slam of the door makes a feeling of anguish settle on his chest. His feet move subconsciously to the door when a loud groan leave his lips, the pain on his knee makes his whole body shiver as he falls apart a meter away of the handle.

“Shit, shit, shit”, he whines as he manages to move his body until his back is leaning against the door, his hand travels to his pocket, desperately pulling out his phone, a pout cross his features when your name pops on his recent calls. The phone rings and rings but no answer comes, when the small device turns off, he feels himself growing numb.

And the minutes turn into hours, the night wrapping the city as Oikawa rests against the door.

Oikawa had never felt this desperate, the pain in his knee is unnoticeable compared to the ache swelling in his chest. One call, one message, anything that would let him know that you are safe, that is all he needs right now.

“What did you do for her to stay with you?”, Iwaizumi’ words ring in his ears, “You are lucky Oikawa”

He was lucky indeed, his head drops to the back, hitting the wood, his breath falters as tears stream down his face until they turn into uncontrollable sobs, the sting on his knee and the guilt mixing painfully together.

Suddenly, the door pushes his body to the side, hitting the back of his head causing him to grunt.

“Tooru?”, his eyes widen, he turns immediately to encounter your still glassy eyes gazing down at him in confusion, “What are you doing on the floor?”

Your voice is stoic however it is music for Oikawa’s ears, he quickly brushes the tears away from his face as he tries to stand up, a hiss slipping his throat.

“Oh god, Tooru!”, you quickly leave the store bag you are carrying and bend down to support him, “I bought some–

“I’M SO SORRY Y/N!! I-I DIDN’T MEAN TO–“, he groans as you try to lift him up but your small figure can’t do much to move the former captain of Seijoh, so you just drop him carefully back on the floor and kneel in front of him, “P-Please don’t leave…”

Your silence makes his heartbeat pace faster and he grabs your hands tightly, his gaze fixes on yours and you notice the fear his orbits hold. You have never seen him this vulnerable and your eyes don’t fail to show your surprise.

“Please don’t leave me Y/N-chan“, your lips press softly over his own before he says anything else, Oikawa’s brows furrow together as he squeezes your hands gently, sighing, relived.

“You should get someone better–”, he says,

“You are probably right”, you sigh, “you did hurt me, but– I guess I just love you that much”, he loses himself in the softness of your voice and tears threaten to come out again.

“I truly admire how hard you work but you have to take care of yourself Tooru–“,his glassy eyes look at you, still not able to believe you’re here, next to him, you bit your lip before cupping his cheek, “–you might not be the king of volleyball yet, but for what it is worth, you’re the king to me”

You blush violently but not even as close as the flustered red that tints Oikawa’s features, he leans in hesitantly to claim your lips and you both melt in the kiss.

He never thought such words would made him feel so complete and he realizes that all he ever needed was you by his side.

“Not gonna lie, I was hoping you’d say, ‘you are the king of my heart’ or something like that”

“I-Can’t you just take the stupid compliment?”, he chuckles with a husky tone but suddenly stops, he places a hand on your cheek his thumb making soothing circles over your flushed skin.

“Thank you”

“Uh?”

“For giving me another chance”, your knees start to sore from kneeling on the floor but you can’t move as his chocolates eyes stare into your own brimming with emotion, “I love you so much, I’m so sorry Y/N”

“If so, stop overworking yourself, okay?”

Your fingers tangle with his brown locks as he whispers a silent yes, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping your torso tightly as if he was still scared you fade away.  

Oikawa doesn’t  have a  throne, but he’ll proudly wear the title you gave him, and he’ll do his best the be worthy of the crown that comes with it.

❀ Please reblog if you like it! ❀

Thanks for reading ♡♡♡

[blossom-hwa]

a little birdie told me to request surfer san at a party idk what that was about but i do kinda want to see skater boy yeosang there too if you're up for that 👀👀👀 heheheheh love u linaaaa <333

/chants/ surfer san surfer san SURFER SAN thank you very much mai for putting this in my inbox I adore you <3 skater yeosang will be up next so I hope you enjoy what I end up spitting out for that one too !

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Set in the same universe as Kickflip (My Heart) (skater!Yeosang) and Hey, Hey - Let Me Kiss You (surfer!Juyeon) :)

I’m gonna cry this ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be but you know what I’m 100% turning this into a full scenario so fuck it it’ll be as long as it has to be

~

Title: Truth or Dare

Pairing: San x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Triggers: cursing, alcohol, shirtless woosan for a hot minute, implications of sex towards the end (NOTHING GRAPHIC)

~

Okay, so in hindsight, maybe coming to Hongjoong's party knowing you were going to be here was a mistake. In his defense, the water probably wasn’t out of his ears when he told Wooyoung he would come, despite the latter having told him specifically you were going to be there. It probably caused some temporary brain damage. That, and San has never really made the best decision when it comes to crushes. 

Especially you. You’ve been the worst so far. Around all of the others, he’s been able to keep a measure of his confidence, able to flirt a little and initiate something here or there, if it’s reciprocated. But you...

You’re something else. Always have been, ever since Hongjoong introduced him to you in all your gorgeous glory. Which is probably why Wooyoung looked so surprised that San agreed to come without much trouble - he probably thought San would be chicken out immediately and he’d have to convince him. 

San’s here, though, several drinks in and very much buzzed if not drunk, sitting in a circle of people that includes you. Even five or six drunk adults away, San can feel his face heating up when you look in his direction and throw him a wink with that gorgeous smile spread across your face. 

His heart thumps a little faster.

“You look like an idiot,” Wooyoung hisses, jabbing him in the side. “What did I tell you about playing hard to get?”

San rolls his eyes. “Since when did your advice ever make enough sense for me to take it?”

Wooyoung huffs. “You look like a lovesick idiot,” he sniffs. 

San doesn’t deign to reply. 

“Okay, okay.” Hongjoong comes back from wherever he was and settles between Seonghwa and Mingi, a bottle in hand. “Shut up, everyone. We’re playing truth or dare.”

Someone raises an eyebrow. “What is this, high school?”

“The way you all act, I wouldn’t be surprised.” San stifles a laugh at your reply. 

“Says you.” Hongjoong snorts. 

You grin. “Did I ever exclude myself?”

Everyone breaks into laughter that Hongjoong has to calm before setting the bottle in the middle of the circle. “Rules are the same. Spin the bottle, if it lands on you, pick truth or dare. If you chicken out, take a shot.” He raises an eyebrow. “Got it?”

They all get it, even the ones who look a little like they’re on the way to passing out, and so truth or dare begins. 

It’s fun. That might just be because San has been drinking, but when Seonghwa is dared for the second time to write some gross in the air with his butt, he and Wooyoung are falling over each other with tipsy laughter. Hiccuping with giggles, San answers a question about who in this room he’d lick peanut butter off of - “Hongjoong, I like his body.” - and then takes off his shirt for five turns and keeps it off because it’s kind of hot, anyway, and he doesn’t really want to bother putting it back on. Wooyoung isn’t much better - he got dared to take off his pants but Seonghwa forced Yunho to amend it to his shirt, and San pats his friend’s pecs affectionately before the next person goes. 

Eventually, the bottle lands on you. You raise an eyebrow. “Truth.”

“Is there someone you like in this room?” Mingi blurts. 

There’s a chorus of groans, complaints of ‘Okay, this is too high school for me,’ and ‘For real, Mingi? Seriously?’, but San’s attention is on you and the way your expression has turned slightly uncertain for the first time tonight. You bite your lip, staring at the shot glass in your hand like you’re really contemplating chickening out, but then your eyes flicker up and in his direction. 

San’s breath catches in his throat. You didn’t look at him. You definitely didn’t. That was just coincidence. Don’t get your hopes up, San. 

“Alright, alright, shut up.” You raise your voice above the noise of people teasing Mingi. “The answer is yes. I do.”

The complaints turn into oooooohs and wolf whistles and ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ but you’ve already got the bottle in hand and are spinning it in the center of the circle. San barely notices, even when Wooyoung’s hand squeeze his knee - who is the person that you like? There’s like fifteen or twenty people here. It could be any one of them. It’s probably Yeosang. He’s pretty and everyone has had a crush on him at least once. Or Seonghwa? Maybe even Wooyoung?

Cheers erupt all around him and San looks up, startled, to see you glaring at the bottle like it personally wronged you in a past life. 

Because it’s pointing at you again. 

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” someone yells. 

Next to you, Yeosang whispers something in your ear. Your eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.” Yeosang grins. 

You glare at the bottle some more. “Dare.”

“Everyone shut up, I’ve got this.” San watches in confused silence as Yeosang sits up. “Y/N...” A grin that looks more suited to Wooyoung spreads across his lips. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in this room.” 

San’s heart drops with every second that passes. He wants it to be him, badly wants it to be him, but in a room full of people who look like Seonghwa, who look like Dahyun, who look like Juyeon and Chaeyoung and Yeosang and - god, San can’t even list all of the names - 

How would it ever be him?

You make a very rude gesture to Yeosang that has everyone cracking up, but you don’t eye the shot glass this time. Instead, you throw your shoulders back and let your eyes rake over the room. 

“Wooyoung.”

San’s heart drops. Of course it’s Wooyoung, his best friend in every life, one of the prettiest people San himself has ever laid eyes on -

“Move over.” Suddenly, you’re up in San’s face, pushing Wooyoung away. He blinks. When did you come all the way over here? But he doesn’t even have time to ponder the answer to that question because your smile is so close, now, just half a foot separating your lips, and you’re reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and San is short-circuiting as you say -

“Stop me if you don’t want this, okay?”

San blinks. Don’t want what? His heart is beating so fast, faster even than when he catches the highest wave of the afternoon, you’re so close and this is all he’s ever wanted, why would you even imply that this is something he doesn’t want - 

Your lips press against his, and San’s mind goes blank. 

You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him. You’re kissing him because you think he’s the prettiest person in the room - he, San, Choi San, surfer boy who turned into a mess the day Hongjoong introduced him to you - you think he, of all people in the room, is the prettiest -

It occurs to him that he’s still shirtless. He doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information. 

You pull away and San gasps for breath, eyes staring wide into yours. You smile at him softly, lips slightly swollen with the kiss, and like he’s underwater, San can kind of hear everyone screaming and whistling and whatever in the background, but when you speak, suddenly, everything is crystal clear. 

“Was that okay?” you whisper. 

Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yes - San nods once, twice, three times and then blushes when your smile grows wider and the sparkle he likes so much turns brighter in your eye. 

Nothing he’s ever seen could be more beautiful than you right now, eyes sparkling and lips smiling under the dim lights of the party, pulling him forward for a second kiss.

. . .

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Truth or dare ends, San takes another couple of shots, and you’re somehow by his side the entire time until the party’s over. Both of you stay behind to help clean up a bit, but at around two, Seonghwa shoos the rest of you home, and Wooyoung meets up with San by the door to walk back to the apartment. 

“Move it, Woo.” You appear again, shoving Wooyoung out of the way. “I’m sure San won’t mind if I walk him home instead.”

A horrible grin splits Wooyoung’s features and he nods quickly, giving San a very unsubtle wink made worse by the fact that he drank way more than San did after the game. “Sannie, do you mind?” he asks. Then, not waiting for an answer, he loops an arm through Yeosang’s, who looks very confused. “I’ll see you at home! Or not!”

You and San walk out of the house in silence, mostly because San has too many thoughts at the moment and they’re all jumbling up into one big mess. The euphoria from kissing you earlier has worn off slightly as the alcohol left his system - he’s mostly sober now - which means he’s thinking. Too much. 

“San.” You look over at him, a streetlamp lighting your face. “Come on, I won’t bite.” You smile. “If you have something to ask me, you can say it.”

He blinks. Blinks again. Then, as though your words unleashed a flood in his brain, he asks - 

“Did you really think I was the prettiest person in the room?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed and surprisingly lucid given how the party went. “Yes, I did. I still do.”

Oh. Oh, okay. San feels a little like he needs to sit down. So the kiss wasn’t just a one time thing - you’d do it again, probably, if he’s interpreting your words correctly - 

“Why?”

This time, you look a little incredulous when the word leaves his mouth. Then you shake your head. “You really don’t think you’re beautiful, do you.” It isn’t a question. 

San ducks his head. For all his usual surfer bravado, the confident face and smile he presents when he’s about to hit the waves, he can’t seem to find the courage to look at you in this moment, to let you really see everything brewing behind his eyes. 

Fingers settle under his chin and tip it up so that he’s looking at you again. “I don’t bite, San,” you remind him again, still smiling. “I happen to think you’re very pretty. Beautiful. And even though I still want to slap Yeosang over the head, I’m very glad he gave me the opportunity to show that tonight.” Your fingers walk upwards to cup his cheek the same way you did when you kissed him. “In case you were wondering, by the way, you were the one I was talking about when I said I liked someone. And I didn’t only kiss you just because you were shirtless.”

A small smile settles on San’s face. It’s strange, the way you seem to be able to read his mind without him saying anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it. “I like you too.”

“I know. It was a little obvious.” You laugh when San whines, going red under your touch. “I wanted to say something before, kind of ever since I saw you in that wetsuit when Hongjoong introduced us, but it felt like I’d scare you away.” You raise an eyebrow. “Am I scaring you away now?”

Are you scaring him? A little, kind of, but not in a bad way. It’s more like you thrill him, make his heart race faster and faster the longer your fingers linger on his skin. You’re not scaring him away. If anything, you’re scaring him towards you - it’s weird, but that’s the only way San can describe it. He shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” You grin. “Because if I was scaring you, you probably wouldn’t want to kiss me, and right now I really want to kiss you again.”

Your lips meet once, twice, three times under the dull glare of the lamp on the empty street, San’s arms settling around your waist, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck. When you break away after the third kiss, eyes hooded and lips swollen enough to make San’s mouth go dry, a soft glint appears in your expression. “Want to come home with me?” you ask. “My roommate’s out of town.” San follows the movement of your eyelashes as you blink. It’s captivating. “Feel free to say no. I won't take offense.” 

If it were anyone else, San doesn’t know if he’d believe them. He might stop it here politely, even tipsy as he is, and ask to just go back to his place instead. But he trusts you. Has trusted you from the day he met you. Because nothing in your words or your face ever seems to mask a lie, and besides, his fingers are itching to find their way up your shirt and somewhere else as he kisses you again and again -

He kisses you, laughing against your lips. “I guess I should let Wooyoung know I’m not coming back tonight.”

“Oh, he’ll get the message even if you don’t say anything.” Your grin is brighter than the stars. “Come on, pretty boy.” You kiss him again. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”

[writing-in-april]

A hair’s breadth

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Javier and Reader can’t help but be at each others throats. Javier gets fed up with the teasing one night.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my nineteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! Sorry this is out late- I had a job interview!! (I got the job! 🥳) This is based off of this and this request! There’s not as much Spanish in this one- though one day soon I want to try to write all the dialogue for Javier in Spanish- (I am trying to learn how to be better at it im just very nervous I’ll get it all wrong 🙃) Please feel free to drop me a message in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thank you for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Protected Sex (wrap it up especially with Javier lol), Fingering, Hate fucking, Public sex (who’s surprised), Hair pulling, Choking, Mirror sex

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.9k

“Do that again I dare you.” Javier had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, with his hand around your throat. How you had gotten in this position was as a result of one of your regular fights you often had with him.

This time it had been over something even more petty than the last time. You honestly couldn’t remember exactly what had started it. It had been something to do with some obscure line in the paperwork you were filling out while over at his apartment late at night past embassy hours. What had been a small issue then turned into a full blown argument, snapping and yelling at each other until it reached its peak.

Javier knew that he shouldn’t have said that just by the look on his face while he had a hand around your throat. You had slapped him after a misogynistic comment, which then had him slamming you up against the wall.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, but did not move to get out of his grip. He was about to respond with probably another biting comment when you were both interrupted.

You both looked over to his front door when there was incessant knocking, which was probably only from one person. “Hey Javi! Do you or Y/N want to go out for a drink tonight?” Steve’s voice being shouted through the walls confirmed the source of the knocks. You were glad his door was closed, otherwise this would've been an awkward situation to explain to your coworker.

Javier looked back at you one last time with a hard look on his face; it was a normal occurrence for you to receive that type of look from him. You smiled despite his hand around your throat as you had gotten what you had wanted, you had succeeded in riling him up.

Steve knocked again, this time a little harsher. He didn’t look away this time, eyes narrowing in on you further, like he was trying to decide if he should release you from his clutches. Though, it wasn’t that you were completely helpless, you could force him off of you if you wanted. But, you wanted to see what he would do.

“Are you going to answer him?” You goaded, biting your lip when you finished speaking, eagerly waiting for his response. No verbal comment came from him, instead he released the hold he had on your neck. You slumped a little, not out of pain as his hold hadn’t been that tight, you had just been surprised when he released you so quickly.

“Lo siento…” Was mumbled under Javier’s breath. You wondered if he meant for you to hear it or if he said it only to ease his conscience.

Javier walked over to the door to swing it open with you in tow, luckily already recovered somewhat from his hand around your throat. Steve jumped slightly when Javier opened it forcefully, then smiling when you both responded to his question, albeit gruffly, “Yeah, sure.”

—-

Javier clenched his fist hard while you took a drink, smirking into the glass was the only indication that you knew exactly what you were doing. You had spruced yourself up a bit to go to the bar, slipping on a dress you had just bought recently and putting on a pair of high heels. As soon as you had appeared back downstairs where Steve and Javier had been waiting for you his jaw had clenched hard, just like his fist was doing right now.

You were sat at the edge of the booth you had all congregated in, Javier was right across from me and Steve was by the window absentmindedly drinking a beer. He didn’t notice how you were sat slightly to the side, inching the dress you wore higher just to see Javier’s fist clench more.

“I’m surprised you guys were actually working together without me there.” Steve scratched at his jaw. We both pretended to partially focus back on him for a moment, Javier’s fist dropped much to my disappointment.

You glanced over at him then giving him one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told, “We’ve found a way to- resolve our differences.”

Javier took an angry gulp of whiskey, somehow it was possible that he was now even more pissed off at you then before. He opened his mouth to probably say something backhanded as usual, but Steve steamrolled him unintentionally, “Well- I’m glad, the office is kinda painful to be in when y’all are having one of your arguments.”

“Well hopefully we won’t bother you anymore.” Javier finally got a word in and it was just as snippy as expected.

You then downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, a little tipsy now from the few drinks you’d had so far. A dull thud from you setting the glass down on the table was swallowed by the noises of the other customers and employees around you. You got up, fed up with getting only little responses from him, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

—-

“Javier what are you doing?” You asked incredulously when he entered the women’s restroom, but weren’t given an answer. You didn’t pull away when he pulled you close, dipping his head to suck a hickey on the underside of your jaw. You only keened into his touch, you may have hated him, but it did feel amazing. Your teasing had worked

“I told Steve I was going to the bathroom too.” Giving a quick summary before continuing his assault on your skin, “You drive me absolutely crazy.” He spitefully said into your skin in between sucking and biting your collarbone. You didn’t care enough to respond, he knew you felt the same. In a flash he pulled your dress off of your head, exposing all of you except what was covered by your bra and underwear.

When he then gripped his fingers around the fabric of your panties and ripped them off, you gasped in anger. He then ran his fingers through your folds, stopping at your clit to run small circles into it. You were still angry about the ruined panties on the floor, and the fact that with just a few touches he was proving why everyone fell at his feet after they slept with them. “I liked those!”

“You seem to like this too.” His fingers sped up their movements, alternating between hard and light pressure. Your orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly, you almost wanted to hold it back so Javier didn’t get a big head. It felt too good though, and you didn’t have a lot of time.

You were both a hair’s breadth away from getting caught, Javier’s fingers continued their movements with no thought. Steve was drunk, he might even be asleep right now. But, one wrong move and he’d hear Javier fucking you in the bathroom.

“Javier!” You shouted, not thinking about the volume, when he pulled his fingers away from you just as you were about to fall off the edge. He then brought his wet fingers to his lips, sucking off any evidence of your arousal. It was hard to be mad when he looked so hot doing that, even though your clit was throbbing now.

“Need to fuck you now- this’ll take too long if we wait for you.” You wanted to snap at him again, his comment flippant and somewhat rude. That was until he pulled his cock out of his pants, already hard just for you. Your mind switched gears after that.

“Condom?” He grunted in response to your question, then pulled one out of his wallet. You were about to ask how long it had been in there, but with the rate he fucks, you doubted it had been there for long.

Once he slipped it on he commanded, “Bend over.” You scoffed, about to retort that you’d never bend over for him. But, Javier beat you to the punch, “I won’t ask again, I’ll leave you here naked and dripping.” You shuddered at that, your arousal was too much to ignore. So, you let him have one victory, hopping off the counter to bend over.

You caught sight of your disheveled state in the mirror, your legs buckling a little because of it. You already looked completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t done much besides fingering you. Javier must have caught you staring at yourself, and him if you were being honest, wrapping his hand around your hair to push you closer to the mirror. “¿Que? You like watching yourself? You like getting fucked while Steve and everybody else could hear you?”

You tried to nod your head, but with his firm grip on your hair while he began to sink into you, all you could do was moan. Once you realized that you were most definitely being too loud you stopped yourself making any noise by biting your lip hard. When the front of Javier’s thighs hit the back of yours he leaned forward to whisper angrily in your ear, “Yeah- you do like this.”

His pace was rough, but not sloppy, quick thrusts that had your ass rippling from the force. This was going to be a quick and dirty fuck, Steve would soon come looking for us if we didn’t get our orgasms over and done with. Besides, all you were looking for was a release, being with Javier for more time than was necessary just sounded like a punishment. Despite the pace he was keeping up, he still managed to keep your head right where he wanted it, looking directly in the mirror.

Your orgasm was building up again, even faster than before since you were already sensitive. At one point when your eyes began to roll back as you got closer Javier snapped that you should keep your eyes open.

“Come on, cum.” He growled out once he noticed how close you were, “Cum while Steve is out there- wondering where we went.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that, your orgasm crashing over you. Javier reached his own peak while you were riding out your own, filling the condom, gripping your hair and hip hard as he did.

Once your highs had abated he pulled out of you with a groan, quickly tying off the condom while you were still bent over and recovering with gasped breaths.

“Hey Javier?” You asked right as he began to turn around to go, letting you put your clothes back on and clean up in peace.

“¿Sì?” He turned around to face you again, looking much more put back together than you were with your makeup still smudged. You had the remnants of the panties he had ripped off of you dangling on your finger.

You wrapped your other hand around his belt he put back on, pulling him back closer to you so you were both chest to chest. You then stuffed the scrap of torn fabric into the front pocket of his jeans until they were completely hidden.

“Now you get to sit right next to Steve while they’re in your pocket.” He gulped a little and you gave one last remark before turning back to clean up your makeup, “And, you’ve got to pay for a new pair, I liked those.”

Though he boiled your blood as you walked back to the table where he had joined Steve back at you realized you were only a hairs breadth away from not hating him.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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