#i get so hot and overwhelmed and frustrated over the smallest things and it makes me feel like. toxic to inhale.

[midnight-mourning]

Valentine's request: Reader has feelings for Sun and/or Moon, but hasn't been able to work up the courage to tell them. They decide Valentine's will be the day they finally confess. They prepared everything—made a cute craftsy card, rehearsed exactly what they're going to say, and want to do their best to make this a great day. Except, when it comes to the day itself, they can't do it. They're a mess of nerves and self-doubt, to the point that they come across as short and upset the whole time. Sun/Moon try to help, but them being close just makes it worse, so they give Reader space. Reader takes this space as rejection, and, overwhelmed, hides in the bathroom to have a cry. Sun/Moon find them there, and the resulting conversation helps Reader relax and focus on their love for Sun/Moon, instead of their insecurities. Then they confess. And kiss 💖

Now or Never

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 14💘💘

And last one to finish us out! loved this prompt, enjoyed it very much hehe, hope you enjoy reading it!

Prompt: See above

Word Count: 2033

Read here if you prefer ao3!

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"Sun, Moon, I love you."

Quiet. 

You shake your head, resting it against the cool bathroom mirror with a mumble. "This is so stupid."

You'd been trying to rehearse what you were going to say during your confession for weeks now, and it never sounded quite right. Three simple words, and you just couldn't seem to make them sound how you wanted. Make them convey the feeling you desired to express so, so badly. 

It was frustrating beyond belief, and now you were out of time. Well, if you wanted this to go properly, you were. Confessing the day after Valentine's just seemed like a poor idea. At least the rest of your little spiel was well practiced, you just hoped you could nail the ending, arguably the most important part of all. 

You had everything ready to go, had planned all of it down to the details as best as you could. It had taken, more time than you'd ever like to admit, but it would be well worth it. 

You made your card from scratch, toiling over it for hours upon hours to get it just right. Starting over and giving up more than you could count. And you had the paper cuts, marker stains, and hot glue burns to prove it. 

You knew exactly what you were going to do, wait for the perfect moment during your shift, when things weren't too busy or too quiet. Maybe right before or after naptime. Whichever of the Attendants was out is who you'd present the card to, though you made sure to include in your speech that this was for both of them, that you cared deeply for both of them, so, so much—

You shake your head. Once you presented it, all that would be left to do is wait for their response. And hope that they said yes. 

You were going to do everything in your power to make sure today overall went smoothly. Monitor the kids' sugar intake like a hawk, keep messes to a minimum and if any did occur, clean them up before Sun realized. You'd make sure to pick the exact right book to read to the kids—currently had three in your roster to choose from—and that any child who woke up by mistake you'd soothe back to sleep in an instant. 

Nothing was going to ruin this day for you, absolutely nothing. 

Except yourself, that is. 

The day is going perfectly, no arguments, no messes, nothing of the sort. But you, you're a complete and utter disaster. 

Your nerves are through the roof, internally obsessed with making sure nothing goes wrong. Even the smallest thing makes you unwillingly snap. It's not a great look for you. 

It doesn't help that Sun and Moon both have picked up on it, only worsening your nerves and elevating your feelings to an even higher degree. Both reached out to you at different points in the day, and both times you shut them down. You could hardly handle being in the same room as them, much less them purposefully paying attention to you. Even if it was for only a brief moment. 

The day—for you—only gets worse as something shifts between you and them. They keep busy with their tasks, only speaking to you when needed. Pushing you away, making the pit in your stomach sink that much deeper. Putting the doubts in your mind at the forefront now more than ever. 

Maybe you'd read too much into their actions towards you. All the things they'd said, jokes they'd made, glances sent your way, none of it meant anything. Maybe they'd been waiting for a chance to show it to you, that they were just being nice out of pity. Maybe they'd been dying for you to make a mistake like this, the perfect opportunity to tell you they. didn't. care.

When Sun once again avoids your gaze you snap, not being able to take it anymore.  

A tug on your sleeve pulls you out of your inner turmoil. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm just fine Issac." You give him a small, forced smile. 

He tilts his head. "Then why are you crying?"

You freeze, hand coming up to feel your cheek and find that you are indeed crying. "O-oh, I um..."

You hear a snap, and looking over, see that Sun's now staring directly at you, eyes wide. 

He takes a step, you take one back. 

He keeps moving and you panic, shooting another strained smile through more—now embarrassed—tears. "Sorry Issac, I need to run to the restroom. I'll be back soon, but ask Mr. Sun if you need something!"

You quickly hurry out of the room, door slamming behind you in your rush. It only fuels your humiliation, tears freely falling as you rush out of there. 

You don't know where you're going, hardly able to see and barely able to get a proper breath. This is awful, you've messed everything up terribly. Though, maybe you never had it together in the first place. Since they obviously hated you. If they didn't before, they do now at least. 

Can't even do your job properly, waste of space, on and on and on your mind races as you try to search for somewhere to escape to. 

You're bursting into the bathroom before you realize what's happening. Hands meeting the bathroom counter with a gasping breath. 

In, out, in, out, as you stare at the grip your hands have on the sinks edge. 

You didn't make it very far, you realize. This is the Daycare's one-person bathroom. But, it's somewhere that no one else is around and so, you let your tears flow on their own now. A pathetic sob wracks through you. 

You rub at your eyes angrily, this was silly, stupid even. Getting this worked up over a crush that turned sour. Was probably your own fault at that. You weren't good enough. You never would be—

A knock on the door has your breath hitching. You sniffle, trying to keep quiet even though you know it's pointless. 

Still, dread fills you when you hear the voice on the other side. "Starshine? Are you in there?"

"No..." You say, weakly. It's not like he didn't already know. 

"May I come in? You seemed upset when you left—"

"I'm fine." You croak out, coughing. With a shake of your head, you step back from the sink and slide down the back wall to the ground, not caring how unsanitary it is in that moment. "Please, just go away..."

Silence. Then, "You don't sound fine. Talk to me Sunshine, won't you?"

You don't respond, tucking your head against your knees to block everything out for a bit. 

You sit there, in the dimly lit bathroom, letting yourself try and calm down again. Compose yourself so you can go back out there and face them. 

As you're sitting there, you hear a clattering up above, from the vent. You look up in time to see Moon drop into the bathroom in front of you. 

"Moon! What are you doing, what if I wasn't decent?"

He crouches down in front of you with a scoff. "Nice try, Star, we could hear you're crying from well beyond the door." He lifts a hand to your cheek, wiping a tear with his finger. "Now, will you tell me what's wrong, please?"

"Why? You don't have to pretend to care anymore, Moon. I got the message loud and clear." You duck your head back against your knees. 

A click, then there's a pinch at the back of your neck that forces you to look back up. "I do care. We care. Tell me, us, what's wrong. We want to help. Want to make the hurt go away."

You bite your cheek, then nod, mumbling. "Okay. You can let me go now, I'm not a misbehaving cat."

"Acting like one." Moon snickers as you swat at him.

You sigh, keeping your gaze focused elsewhere. "I um, I like you guys. A, a lot. And I wanted to, to tell you that today. But then I went and really screwed that up. And I realized that you didn't, like me back, so, here we are." You give a weak smile, which falls shortly thereafter. 

No response, though you figured as much. 

"You mean that?" You glance up and jump slightly, seeing Moon just inches away from you. "That's the truth?"

You swallow, sniffing again. "Yeah?"

"And you were going to tell us, today?" There's a lithe to Moon's tone.

You furrow your brow, frowning. "Are you mocking me?"

At this, Moon starts to chuckle outright, taking your face in his hands. "Not in the least bit, I'm laughing at my own foolishness."

"How so?"

Moon shakes his head. "Because, Starlight. We weren't sure if you liked us either after today." He leans in, forehead almost touching yours. "Because we love you. A lot. More than words can describe."

"You mean that?" You ask, unsure.

"Of course." Moon pauses, then presses his smile to your lips briefly. "Much like you, we were simply scared. We should've realized what was happening sooner so that you didn't end up like this. We're sorry."

You wave your hand, wiping your eyes. "No, no. That's entirely on me, I should've handled all this a lot better."

"No need to dwell on it." Moon stands, offering you his hand. "We need to get back to work now. Are you ready?"

You nod, taking his offering and stand up. "Yeah—woah!"

He pulls you in close, chuckling at the way it flusters you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Silly, silly, Star. You almost missed out on your present."

"You guys got me something?" Then realization hits you. "Oh wait! I have something for you, too. It's um, how I was going to confess. It's back in my bag."

You walk out into the light together, with Sun taking hold of your hand on the walk back, rays spinning as he glances down at you when he does so. 

After ensuring the Daycare is in order, and things are at a calm moment. The two of you collect your gifts up, hands behind your backs as you face each other. 

"You first." You say. "It's um, more than fair considering the trouble I caused today."

Sun laughs, bending down to meet you eye to eye. "Nonsense! No more of that talk, okay?" He presses a kiss to your forehead. 

"Okay." You giggle in response. 

He stands straight, and pretends to clear his throat. Then, presents you with a lovely homemade card, with drawings of both himself and Moon—which seem to have been made by the two of them individually. There's neat script that again seems to have been jointly penned. 

It's so incredibly lovely, and you're already debating on whether you're going to frame it or keep it on your nightstand to be able to treasure it forever. 

"Oh, thank you both, this is wonderful." Sun's rays spin at your praises, so you can only imagine Moon is having a similar reaction. 

The playtime attendant bounces on the balls of his feet. "Okay, okay, our turn!"

"Alright, alright." You take a deep breath, and present your own card. 

It was a pull-tab card, that when gently tugged, the small figures attached to the card moved. Specifically, the mini Sun & Moon figures on the left and right sides moved side to side, whereas the mini you that you'd made would lift up a little heart to the present. 

You duck your head. "It's um, a little silly, and not the best but—" You yelp as you're suddenly picked up and spun around. You realize that Sun is pressing his smile to your face. 

"We love it, we love it, we love it!" Sun says, over and over, stopping spinning to just hold you for a moment, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. "And we love you. So, so much."

Your face is burning as you mumble back quietly. "I love you too."

"Happy Valentine's, Starlight." Sun leans in for another kiss. 

You giggle, meeting him halfway. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, boys."

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Thank you for the request anon! Twas a good bit of fun, especially because I got to add a bit of angst to it (my favorite hehe)

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@machopeach @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

father jing yuan and his beloved child,,, fuck or die... ari you're cooking

fem!reader, incest, estranged relationships, sex pollen

i feel like. well. i like estranged fathers in my incest fic i guess. but i like the idea of jing yuan and his estranged daughter a lot being real. in the fuck or die context.

i imagine it in the concept of you once being his beloved. when you were smaller, younger. life is different on luofu you know? but you loved your father more than anyone in the world. when you were a little girl, there was no one more important. and he was always a good father to you - but you ended up having a fight when you were going your own path in life. you were taking on dangerous research, doing dangerous things.

you don't remember it now, because it was so long ago - but you haven't seen him in years. though jing yuan, the sort of man he is, has kept tabs on you in all that time. he thought about forcing you home. he thought about being disciplinary. but he convinced himself you'd return at your own time someday. the rift in the relationship is never mended, not completely

when you return to the luofu, it's been a long time. your adulthood has leveled you into a fine woman. you're here because your close friend is getting married. you have no intent on seeing your father. but of course that's impossible. it's yanqing who drags you home, drops you unceremoniously at his office.

and there's a calm air about him. a wave of grief washed over with a wave of love and nostalgia. it will never be the same, your relationship - and seeing him now only reaffirms. still, you decide to neglect the bad blood between you. you decided to drink with him, speak with him, open up the avenues because you're also growing older.

you never know when the mara will take him. and you talk to him civil, but the little loved girl inside you trembles whenever he speaks to you so gently. it's troubling.

i always think of it as poison. the aeons and their disturbed sense of humor, maybe. a bottle of poisoned wine, something made in a lab - causing the loss of inhibitions and provocation of lust. an aphrodisiac puts it lightly. but it sparks it within you both

the only way the pain subsides is being touched, and there's no one for you to call. only jing yuan, the only thing left of your childhood.

there's something apologetic about it. some deep sense of innate disgust overwhelmed by chemicals and frustration. but there's a specific sadness in his face you've never seen - something strange and suffocated.

your skin is burning hot in all the places he touches, sobbing with relief and yet burdened with whats happening. but there's something too, admittedly tender, about the gesture. something almost profound with the soft forehead kiss, the promise of pleasure. it's an apology, among many things, and something about that is too crushing for you to bear.

so you do what you know how, revert to the smallest parts of you. a girl in the arms of your one and only parent, cradled gently in his embrace. the warmth of it is suffocating, but it's sweet. a bitter memory but one you hold as your rocked, split open on his cock like it's natural. he takes care of you, and you remember. what is was like when he loved you.

you ask if he still does - buried so deep within you, you can feel it up to your throat. it's aching and intrusive and it feels good, but it makes you cry. every time he touches you want to cry.

"it's not a matter of if. nothing could measure up to your importance, silly girl."

[dragqueenpentheus]

do i actually want to date someone or am i just crushed by loneliness and want someone to prove it isn't too much work to love me???? more @ eleven

[early20sfailingplenty]

(This is for all the university students out there! And me lmfao my chest is tight holy shit I’m gonna write this to calm myself down then carry on, my forehead is getting hot from the inside too hhhhhhh deep breaths, love…)

GENDER NEUTRAL READER, NO CODED LANGUAGE, “YOU” USED.

“Oh, holy fuck.” You run a hand over your face and let yourself emit a loud noise of something, which is thankfully muffled by your hand. Your chest is tight, the stress getting to you, and your forehead is beginning to heat up. You’re overwhelmed. “How the fuck am I supposed to do all of this?”

Heavy boots on a wooden floor and a hand claps down on your shoulder, fingers flexing and squeezing. You lean back into the touch and let Bo read over your to do list. You hear his sharp exhale and he chuckles, “Tha’s one helluva fight y’got goin’ on, darlin’.”

He can practically hear your frown and he comes to the side of you, squatting down so he can look you in the eyes while you’re sat at your study space. “Hey, easy,” he soothes you, running a hand down your arm, “I’ve seen ya’ do it before, so why’s this time different, huh?”

“M’ just tired, Bo. It’s so much and I can’t…” you wrinkle your nose against the sting of tears in the backs of your eyes and nose, and Bo frowns too, now. He’s so proud of you, he is, but he’s not sure what you need to hear right now. You really are up against it, he can see it written all over you and your study materials, and he knows there’s little he can do other than to help you in his own ways. The work has to be done, no one can do it for you, and he hates that. “I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice cracks and that’s enough for Bo. He leans up and cups your face in his large hands, fingers splayed behind your head as he forces you to look at him. Even if you can’t make or maintain eye contact, he just wants you to look. “Shush, darlin’, easy. Gettin’ y’reself all tied up ain’t gonna help you none. Wha’s the smallest thing you can do?” He’s really trying and you appreciate it so much; gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Bo but over the months have you taught him how to help you, just as he taught you how to help him in his blackest moods. It only makes you love each other more.

“M’nearly done with these notes…” Bo looks where you tap the page, “but then I gotta do this lecture marathon and write down notes and I have to…” your breath hitches and Bo stops trying to follow along with you. His only focus is on you and how he can help you realistically without hindering your progress. He knows how important your education is to you.

He moves again so he’s in front of you and you can’t really see your materials. “When’s the last time y’took a break?”

A frown, “What’s the time?”

Bo glances over his shoulder, “S’nearly one, darlin’.”

“Oh, then I haven’t. Just woke up at nine, grabbed coffee and food and I’ve been working since. I don’t have time to - “

Bo frowns deeper, those lines on his forehead now crevices in his weathered skin, and the disapproval comes off him in waves. It makes you feel small and you shrink back and away from his touch. You’re trying to make him proud, not… this. He sees you and he sighs, frustrated as he runs a hand over his face and reminds himself to focus on you.

“All right,” he sighs, “how ‘bout this? I gotta’ get t’work down at the gas station in about a half, but I can stay here wit’ you ‘til then an’ y’get back to it when I go? Ain’t right to keep goin’ like this. Gonna get y’reself all caught up an’ then this shit,” he taps your textbook with a sharp finger, “ain’t goin’ in that pretty head’a yours. Sound good?”

You pause, nod, and then, “can we cuddle?”

Bo’s laughter bounces off the walls and reverberates inside your head. It keeps you motivated long after even the ghost of his embrace has faded.

You can always trust him to catch you when you’re falling.

[cryptiql]

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

[bionicpancake00]

Kloktober Day 10: The Zodiac

These are some HC Zodiacs I have for the bois ❤️

Nathan: a Taurus baby. He is stubborn from time to time. And really hates change. Personally Nathan is a homebody who is extremely protective of his people and just wants to cuddle tbh. He sees all things in black or white (good or bad, right or wrong) there is no in between for him. But if you get him motivated, he’s the best worker you could possibly have.

Pickles: a Gemini, he hates his zodiac because it reminds him of his “no good brother.” He is extremely charismatic and has the ability to talk to anyone and be friends with them in less then 5 minutes. Pickles is extremely wise and knows a lot of things because he’s done a lot of things in his many years of life. He often gets in trouble as he has been known for flirting with people by accident and not to have a filter when he’s drunk.

Skwisgaar: a Leo. He is a bit vain from time to time and never lacks in personality as anyone could tell you whenever he walked into a room. His large performances, grand gestures, and outlandish clothing and furniture styles are very extravagant (and expensive) ways for him to show off his individuality and stand out. Skwisgaar is definitely a man of luxury. If it isn’t worth more than a grand he isn’t interested. All of that said… Skwisgaar is also extremely creative, and even though he’d never admit to it openly, he cares deeply for all of his friends and loved ones.

Toki: The water baby himself Pisces. Toki can be both extremely wise and extremely childish all in the same breath. Although he tends to take things far too literal as he over thinks situations. Toki is extremely affectionate, often showing his affection through physical means that tend to be overwhelming for his friends. He tends to drift off into his daydreams whenever he gets bored, frustrated, or upset finding that the world created inside his own mind can be more comfortable than reality. This has lead Toki asking his friends on multiple occasions if an event that happened in his dream was real or not.

Murderface: an Aries child. William has no filter to speak of at all. He can be just as stubborn as Nathan, but will more often than not refuse to budge where as the frontman will eventually get bored of the confrontation. William often gets angry or agitated over the smallest things, staying angry for so long he forgets why he became angry in the first place. He lacks social experience, so he often plays hurtful pranks, or makes things that would not normally be a game one unnecessarily just to prove to the others that he can win them and has done more degrading things to his own body on a dare than he’d ever care admit. William is an excellent bass player but due to his proclivity to become bored easily, he finds it extremely had to find the motivation to do most anything.

Charles: a Capricorn. Charles has been a full grown adult since he was still in diapers. He is often known as the responsible friend and is motivated solely by his sense of purpose and duty. It takes Charles an extra long time to warm up to any one person especially if they are going to be friends with any of his boys. Once inside of his inner circle he becomes extremely protective of them. Charles has a bad habit of repressing his emotions, bottling them all up in order to stay focused on success.

Magnus: Scorpio. Magnus has eyes that can look straight into the soul of whoever he seems to be looking at. He is someone who you can never really tell if they’re joking or being completely serious when they speak and is often all too fine with uncomfortable silences. His main goal in life as of this moment is betrayal but, he does look really hot in that leather jacket.

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

Mine

Pairing - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary - Fuck buddies is always a good arrangement right? No one ever catches feelings from that . . . At least that’s what you're telling yourself. 

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Some spicy situations and some language. 

It wasn’t supposed to be something more. 

The two of you were close friends, both single, and had a need to get out frustrations when lightsaber combat or meditation wasn’t doing it anymore. It seemed like the logical conclusion. It wouldn’t even be against the Jedi Code as long as you two weren’t “attached” to each other. 

Even though you were fairly sure the two of you already were. 

That was also what made it the perfect arrangement. Since the two of you were such close friends, a little thing like sex wasn’t going to get in the way of that. If it turned out horribly, neither of you had to speak of it again, and you could go on being the close friends you always were. If it went well . . . there would be the option for it to . . . keep going well, and both of you would be less stressed, frustrated, and you could stop going to the trouble to find someone else to vent out excess energy. 

Of course . . . it had gone a little too well. 

It wasn’t your first time, and you weren’t sure if it was his or not. You didn’t think it would be right to ask, afraid it might make him nervous. After all, you expected some awkwardness anyway since the two of you had never even so much as kissed. 

You had been so, so wrong. 

That was one of the many thoughts flying through your head as you lay next to Anakin Skywalker on your bed in Coruscant, body drenched in sweat after he not only spent what must have been hours, since the sun was close to coming up, eating you out, but fucking you so thoroughly you were afraid if you stood up your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you. 

He was in a similar state next to you, but you were sure you didn’t look anything like he did. Hair disheveled, bare chest glistening with sweat and kiss swollen lips, you weren’t sure he had ever looked more attractive in his life, and he looked ridiculously attractive all the time. Almost as if he could feel your eyes on him, he turned his head, looking at you with a soft expression that didn’t match the roughness with which the two of you had just fucked. “When are you coming back from your next mission?” was all he asked. 

Yeah, you couldn’t help but think this might turn out bad, but also, looking at him and thinking about what the two of you had done . . . You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

____________________

You didn’t want to admit it was something more. 

Anakin and you had always been the closest of friends. The fact that your relationship was now physical as well didn’t mean you were falling in love with him. You weren’t falling in love with him. It was normal for friends to be concerned about each other when they were going into dangerous situations. Specifically when they were going to a place as dangerous as the citadel. 

It was normal. 

Anakin met your eyes across the table, and he gave you a look, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t, and were too afraid to name. You gave him a subtle tilt of your head, and he knew what you meant. 

Not ten minutes after the meeting was over, Anakin’s lips were leaving feverish kisses against your neck, tearing at your tunic in an attempt to kiss as much of your skin as possible. The sound of ripping fabric, especially when you knew you were going to have to walk out of this room at some point, would have pissed you off, but not today. Today you clutched him closer, tugged on his hair, pushed him out of his clothes as fast as possible in case . . . 

You weren’t going to think about that. 

Instead, you slipped a hand inside of Anakin’s robes until you found him hard and thick, more than ready for you. You stroked him until he was panting against your skin, his hands tightening so much that you knew there would be bruises. 

A sharp contrast to his hands, his lips softened, a flutter against your jawline. “What do you want?” He asked, his tone way too gentle for what the two of you were doing in this dark room. 

What did you want? You knew that Anakin was asking in terms of this exact moment, but instead your mind drifted to a more general place. When this had first started between the two of you months ago, what you had wanted was a release, something you could do that was both pleasurable, and a catharsis from the everyday stress of war and being a Jedi. 

Was that what you wanted now? 

“You,” you said, a simple answer that would satisfy both questions, and you dropped to your knees in the small closet, locking your eyes on him as you took him inside of your mouth. 

There weren't any more opportunities for questions after that considering how busy your mouth was and the stream of expletives coming from Anakin’s as his hand tightened painfully in your hair. 

It was a good distraction from the growing feelings in your chest. 

____________________

It was something more. 

You knocked on his door, your hair all over the place, your eyes puffy and bloodshot from all the crying, but anger that you knew you shouldn’t be feeling coursing through your veins. 

For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he did. You took in the sight of him, looking as out of sorts as you did, but with a couple of bruises marring his beautiful skin. 

“What the hell was that, Anakin?” You asked, shoving him out of the way and into his room. Once you had entered, you turned to face him once more, your arms crossed over your chest. “You almost got yourself killed!” 

Anakin shut the door behind him and barely spared you a glance as he made his way over to the small kitchen in his quarters. “I don’t care.” He answered, getting out two glasses and beginning to start up his caff machine. 

His words made you freeze in disbelief for a moment. He didn’t care? He didn’t care that he almost got himself killed? You couldn’t even imagine life without him at this point, and he’s saying he wouldn’t care if he got killed? “Well maybe you don’t care, but I do.” You told him, watching the way his shoulders tensed at your words. “I can’t -” You cut yourself off before you could say the words that were swirling around in your chest, knowing they wouldn’t be appropriate, and cleared your throat. “I can’t even understand why you interfered in the first place. You know I can take care of myself.” 

Anakin’s hands gripped the countertop, and you watched as the knuckles on his human hand turned white at the tension. “It looked like he was taking care of you from where I was standing.” 

It all clicked into place, and your eyes widened in recognition. Anakin hadn’t broken up the exchange because he was worried you couldn’t defend yourself. Anakin had intervened because he was jealous. The man had been flirting with you pretty heavily, but you had never dreamed that it would have affected Anakin to see someone else flirting with you. Him having feelings like that broke every rule that you had been trying to keep in place for so long. “Ani . . .”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He snapped, still not facing you. 

You took a step closer to him, biting your bottom lip. “Like what?” 

He turned around so fast you almost took a step backwards in surprise. “Like you’re not feeling what I’m feeling.” 

You didn’t want to look at him. Instead, you tilted your head to the ground, pretending to look at your fingers. “It’s not . . . We promised each other this wouldn’t happen.” 

“Look me in the eyes.” 

You couldn’t. All you could do was watch his feet as they stopped closer to you. 

“Look me in the eyes, and tell me -” It was harder to breathe when he was this close. Even more so when you felt his hand slip into your hair, tugging it back until your head tilted up, and you could do nothing but look him in those deep blue eyes swimming with emotion. “Tell me you don’t feel anything for me.” 

His eyes searched your face, looking for what you had hidden there. For so long you had kept those feelings out of sight, determined to not let them show. So many bad things could come from them after all. But you knew that Anakin could see them. He had always been able to break down your defenses like they were made of nothing but air. 

Then you felt a flicker in the Force, a tug on one of the strings that connected you to all living things. This string in particular? Anakin’s. You grasped at his robes, anchoring yourself to him as he let his emotions flood through the connection, anger, the smallest bit of fear, worry, but most prevalently . . . 

An unconditional, unfaltering, deep love for you. 

“I can’t.” You whimpered in response, overwhelmed with his emotions and your own. “I can’t say it.” You told him, shaking your head back and forth. 

Anakin barely let you get the words out before his fervent lips were kissing you, bruising in their intensity. He pushed you up against a nearby wall, his whole body almost smothering you in his warmth. 

You tugged at his robes, shoving them off his shoulders, desperate to feel the touch of his hot skin against your own. He obliged, helping you take them off, and soon your hands were gliding across his arms and biceps up to his broad shoulders. He felt so good. He always felt so good and satisfying and perfect under your hands no matter if it was like it was now or a gentle touch of reassurance given sparingly under watchful eyes. It always felt right. 

You gasped when Anakin’s lips pulled away from you to leave kisses down the center of your neck, ripping the neckline of your clothing apart under his fingers. “You’re mine. No one else can touch you like this except me.” Anakin mumbled against your skin, sending shivers throughout your body in the most pleasurable way. 

“Yours,” you agreed, your voice breathless. “Always yours.” You added, and then your lips were otherwise occupied once again. 

It was definitely something more. 

[mingishoe]

Flower | P.SH

Summary: You’re Seonghwa’s little flower and he can’t help but notice how much he’s ruined you.

Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Smut Warning: Corruption Kink, unprotected sex, choking, degradation, lots of dirty talk, praise, established relationship, got kinda soft at the end

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

As much as you were embarrassed to admit it, you needed Seonghwa. Seonghwa had 100% totally ruined you. When you first started dating Seonghwa you were a virgin. You were completely innocent, not even had been touched before and then Seonghwa… his touch… ruined you.

You’ve always been embarrassed to ask Seonghwa for any help in regards to… your personal- when you’re horny. You’ve always waited for Seonghwa to start anything.

Yeah it’s horrible when Seonghwa doesn’t catch on and you’re left a whining mess by yourself since you don’t touch yourself either, too embarrassed to actually do it.

This time though, you finally got the courage to bring it up to Seonghwa and ask him to help you. You had to get something from the bathroom whenever Seonghwa was taking a shower, and you couldn’t help but stare as the water flowed down his wet body.

Your favourite thing was Seonghwa either sweaty or wet. He just looked so hot that no matter when or where you were, you immediately wanted to fuck him.

Seonghwa had already gotten dressed and was laid out next to you in the bed. You crossed your legs, trying to press your thighs together to relieve as much pressure as you can.

Seonghwa was playing absolutely zero attention to you and you were getting frustrated.

You kept looking at Seonghwa so maybe he would get the hint but his eyes were glued to his phone. You moved on top of him and rested your head on his chest. You wrapped your legs around him and as you moved you could feel the pressure where you needed it from Seonghwa’s crotch.

Seonghwa still wasn’t taking the hint and you were already flaming from embarrassment. You watched Seonghwa scroll through his social media for what felt like forever before you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“S-Seonghwa-” you whined quietly when all he did was hum in response. “C-Can you help me please?”

Seonghwa was acting like he was oblivious to what you needed, “With what flower?”

He knew exactly what you needed, but you’ve never asked him for help in the year you were dating so he just wanted to make you as flustered as possible, “Seonghwa- please? You know what I’m talking about.”

Seonghwa put down the phone and gripped onto your hips as you tried to grind down onto him, “Why don’t you tell me? Just in case.” Your face felt like it was on fire but it was worth it when you felt Seonghwa start to harden underneath you.

“Touch me. Please Hwa?” As soon as the words left your mouth, Seonghwa groaned and flipped you over to lay in between your legs. You took one look at Seonghwa’s face and you could immediately sense he was going to be teasing you the entire time.

“Are you feeling bold today my flower? You’ve never told me to touch you before… are you that needy?” You look away from Seonghwa in embarrassment but nod anyways.

You’re really not in the mood for all of Seonghwas foreplay and just want to be fucked. “Seonghwa please just- please just fuck me.”

Seonghwa looks surprised but quickly covered with a smirk, “You’re so dirty. You’ve turned into such a fucking slut.”

Your mouth drops open as Seonghwa quickly pulls your shorts and underwear off in one quick swipe, “Remember how innocent you used to be? A little virgin who got so embarrassed from just a kiss… and now you’re begging for me to fuck you.”

Your eyes shut to avoid Seonghwa’s heavy glare, “What’s wrong flower? Are you getting embarrassed now? Didn’t seem so embarrassed when you begged me to fuck you just now.”

You shook your head and mumbled, “I’m not embarrassed.” Seonghwa hummed mockingly at you, “Yes you are, flower. You’re embarrassed that I ruined you. You would’ve cried if you knew that soon enough you’d be begging for me to fuck you, much less for me to wrap my hand around your pretty throat.”

As the words left Seonghwa’s mouth his hand slid up your body to your neck. You hated that Seonghwa knew exactly how to Make you squirm underneath him. At some point Seonghwa had released himself from the confinement of his sweats and was slowly rubbing himself against your hole

You honestly couldn’t speak as Seonghwa pushed into you in a single thrust, “What’s wrong flower? Cat got your tongue? Why don’t you tell me what you want huh?”

You whined loudly as Seonghwa started to thrust into you. Your face was hot as you whispered the next words so quietly that you could barely hear them yourself, “Fuck me. M-Make me cum. Cum- cum inside of me.”

Seonghwa’s eyes got darker as he smirked at you, “Good Flower.” His grip on your neck was released as his hands went to grip onto your hips instead.

Seonghwa slowly started to increase the speed of his thrusts as he tried to get you closer to cuming, “You know what flower?” You hummed, trying your best to respond, “No matter how maybe times I fuck you, no matter how much I fucking ruin you… you’re still so innocent. You get so flustered over the smallest thing, but it’s so fucking cute. You’re so fucking cute.”

You cried out and gripped onto Seonghwa’s biceps as pleasure overcame your body but slowly started to fade away as he suddenly stopped his movements.

You let out a pathetic moan as you attempted to move your hips to get any sort of friction back. Seonghwa gripped onto your hips to stop you, “What’s wrong? Did you wanna cum?”

Your eyes locked with Seonghwa’s as you tried to tell him without using any words. “Don’t start now flower, you were just acting all big and bad. Use your words.”

Once you realise Seonghwa isn’t gonna continue until you say what he wants you to say, you almost start crying. “S-Seonghwa please! I’m so c-close, please let me- please let me c-cum!”

Seonghwa bites his lips and looks at you a minute longer before he starts to roughly pound into you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth was open in a silent moan as Seonghwa fucked you just right. You could hear Seonghwa talking, probably teasing you even more, but with the way your ears were ringing with pleasure you couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

You chant his name like it’s the only word you know as he held onto your waist as he fucked you even harder. You were clenching around him like a vice as you were so so close to letting go.

Seonghwa listened to your high pitched whines that made his cock throb inside of you. He groans your name before he’s on the verge of cumming, “Cum for me f-flower. Give it to me.”

That’s all it took for you to finally cum. Your eyes start to water as intense pleasure washes over your entire body. Your whines and moans got louder as you felt Seonghwa’s cum fill you up.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as your orgasm was drawn out as Seonghwa was still thrusting inside of you softly. The sound of your heavy breathing and soft whimpers was the only thing able to be heard as Seonghwa pulled out of you.

Seonghwa gently went to wipe the tears off of your face and pressed a kiss to your lips and forehead. He tried to get off the bed but you gripped onto his hand and shook your head softly so he would stay with you. “I need to get you some water, my flower.”

You pout softly, “Just stay with me. Please?” Seonghwa couldn’t resist your puppy dog eyes so he smiled softly and brought you onto his chest.

“You did good. You’re so good for me. My flower.” Your cheeks start to heat up from Seonghwa’s words and you hide your face in his neck. You tighten your arms around him as you suddenly feel an overwhelming love for him that makes your heart beat 10x faster.

Seonghwa chuckles at your behaviour and taps your butt lightly, “Flower, we gotta get you cleaned up.” You mumble in protest but don’t stop Seonghwa whenever he moves you over. You watch with a fond smile and Seonghwa leaves the room knowing that this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

A Twist of Fate

doing this thing | day 13 - poison

After so many years together, Geralt and Jaskier have developed a system of sorts for large gatherings. Jaskier loves being surrounded by people, loves the food and drink and song and will gladly spend hours upon hours dancing with whichever lord or lady catches his eye. Geralt is very much the opposite. The only reason he attends is either to keep an eye on Jaskier or to support him if he's performing. Otherwise, he'd rather be in the forest sharpening his swords or something.

As such, they've developed a signal for when Geralt has reached his limit of entertainment; he'll catch Jaskier's eye over the crowd - not difficult to do when Jaskier always has one eye on him anyway - and nod toward the door with his head. It's a statement as much as it is a question. I'm heading upstairs but also are you coming? Most nights Jaskier will remain for a while, enjoying the energy of whatever party they're attending, but on rare occasions, he'll turn in early.

Tonight it's the latter. He's finished his set and the main event is over - the engagement announcement of an old friend - and Geralt is looking quite spectacular tonight if he does say so himself. It’s an important event for Jaskier, so Geralt had let him pick out his outfit and had only complained once. Which, to be fair, was about the tightness of the sleeves around his arms. Next time, they'll just go to Elihal and have something made for him. But either way, he looks stunning tonight in black and gold and Jaskier is overflowing with pride that he's the one who gets to leave with him. Even if it doesn't lead to anything more than getting to sleep by his side.

So when Geralt rises from his seat, Jaskier is already prepared to leave. Being alone in their room is certain to prove frustrating because even surrounded by old friends, Jaskier can't keep his eyes off of him. Geralt nods and Jaskier smiles and mimics the gesture, earning him a soft smile from Geralt that makes his stomach flip. He bids a quick goodnight to the group he's talking to and quickly slips through the crowd to say a final congratulations to his friend before sneaking away.

There's a table of drinks to one side of the room and he grabs one on his way out; he'll certainly need the encouragement. He quickly downs the drink, setting the cup back down on the table before making his way through the halls.

He's barely left the hall when his head starts to feel strange, but he puts it down to the liquor being stronger than expected and continues on. But by the time he reaches their room, he's sweating. Heat prickles at his skin and there's an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest that he can't quite place. In a terrifying moment of realization, he wonders if he's been poisoned because something is certainly not right here. He's had his share of drunken nights and no matter how much he's had to drink, he's never felt like this. Even as he turns the handle and pushes into the room, his body continues rapidly heating up and he knows from experience that that is never good.

But when the door swings open, the rest of his body becomes a background thought as his cock twitches in his trousers. He must be gawking because Geralt lifts an eyebrow at him skeptically but Jaskier hardly registers it. Geralt is standing in the room, clearly in the process of getting undressed. His fingers linger on the buttons of his doublet which is open, baring his barely covered chest to the world. Despite his brain ceasing to function, Jaskier thinks this might be why Geralt so often calls him promiscuous. He does look quite lewd like this and oh the things that does to him.

Arousal burns through him and Jaskier swallows hard in an attempt to tamp it down, to no avail. If anything the swell of need increases, which is... not normal. Jaskier has spent half his life forcing down his attraction to the Witcher, so much so that he'd call himself an expert at denying himself. But tonight, his body has different ideas.

Geralt's eyes flick downward then back up, skeptical.

"You didn't have to come up with me," he says, "if you wanted to find a partner for the night, I wouldn't have minded."

Jaskier frowns in confusion. He learned the hard way long ago that Geralt can smell many things, his arousal being one of them, but this is not an uncommon occurrence. He shifts his stance and- oh, when did that happen? His cock is hard, pressing uncomfortably against the front of his trousers now that he's aware of it. That is... not the worst thing that's happened to him in Geralt's company, but the fact that he didn't notice worries him a little.

"Oh, er, I- I didn't."

"Jaskier," Geralt says slowly, taking a step toward him. "Are you alright?"

"Well actually, now that you-" Geralt steps into his space and Jaskier's skin prickles all over. "No, I don't think so."

"Your pupils are dilated," he mutters and Jaskier just shifts uncomfortably. This close, he can feel the heat radiating from Geralt's body and his body burns with the need to touch, to get his hands under that shirt and just touch him. "How do you feel?"

"Hot."

Geralt presses a hand to his forehead and Jaskier groans as a wave of pleasure washes over him. That is definitely not normal. His body is incredibly sensitive in a lot of places, but his forehead is not one of them.

"Oh," he breathes and he presses forward into the touch. "That feels incredible." Geralt's frown deepens but Jaskier finds it hard to be concerned when Geralt's fingers slip down to tip his chin up. He shuts his eyes and hums.

"Did you take a drink from anyone?" Geralt asks and the words almost go unnoticed as Jaskier is overcome with another surge of arousal. "Jaskier," Geralt growls, pushing firmly with both hands on his shoulders, "focus." Jaskier looks up at him and his mouth goes dry.

Geralt's face is pinched in concern but it's hard to worry about that because with his hair tied back like that and that doublet he looks so fucking sexy. He always does, but seeing him like this makes Jaskier's stomach drop in the most delightful way.

"Hmm?" he asks and Geralt sighs.

"Drinks, Jaskier. Did you take a drink from anyone you don't know."

"No, I'm not stupid, Geralt." He leans in, pressing his hands to Geralt's chest without thinking and oh- Gods, he could touch him all day and never tire of it, but- "I did grab a drink from the table," he hums and Geralt takes his hands, gently removing them from his chest, much to Jaskier's displeasure.

"Fuck."

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't drink so much but sometimes it's hard." He curls his fingers around Geralt's, stroking his hands. "I just want to touch you all the time and it's so hard not to."

"Jaskier I think you drank a love potion."

He freezes at that. "So I haven't been poisoned?" he asks cautiously.

"Unlikely," Geralt confirms, quickly detangling their fingers and pulling away, "but this could be much worse."

"How?" He's already reaching for Geralt again, desperate for the smallest touch, but Geralt steps away, crosses to lean against the wall at the other side of the room.

"Love potions vary depending on their intended purpose," he says and Jaskier climbs up on the bed where he can be closer. He flops down on his stomach and his cock slips against the inside of his trousers, pulling a soft moan from him as he tries to get comfortable. Geralt clears his throat and continues.

"Some twist other emotions to make someone fall in love - usually with a designated person. Some just enhance already existing feelings. Those ones can go very wrong very quickly if you ingest too much or if the formula isn't correct. Some of them create a false sense of love for as long as the potion remains in your system."

"For how long?"

"It depends on your metabolism. For me? Much shorter than for you. Some of them aren't love potions at all but are still classified as such. Probably because it's more acceptable to make love potions than sexual enhancers."

"And those ones?" Jaskier asks weakly, resisting the urge to rock his hips against the mattress.

"Make you desperate," Geralt says blandly, which seems cruel when Jaskier's whole body feels like it's about to combust.

"Which do you think this is?" he asks, but he suspects he knows the answer already considering it's taking every ounce of his control not to reach out and pull Geralt onto the bed with him.

"Tell me how you feel."

"Like I'm burning up from the inside out. Like I'm losing control."

"Hot?"

"Very."

"And still aroused," Geralt comments. Jaskier just presses his face into the covers and groans. "Is it constant?"

"No," Jaskier mumbles, "it uh, feels better when you touch me."

"Hmm."

"What does that mean?" Jaskier looks to see Geralt uncrossing his arms and coming toward him. His pulse spikes and it feels like his heart is in his throat.

"Like this?" Geralt asks, pressing a hand to his shoulder. Another place Jaskier isn't particularly sensitive, but the simple touch makes him ache and he groans as his hips press forward instinctively. "Does it feel like it's getting any worse?" Jaskier pulls himself up, crossing his legs under him as Geralt pulls away.

"Not really."

"It will."

"What?" Jaskier squawks. It's the first time he's felt anything but overwhelming need since he came up to the room, but the fear of more isn't better.

"Don't worry," Geralt says gently, "I'll be here."

"That's... actually not comforting, Geralt. What does that mean?"

"You're going to get far more desperate before it gets better, you'll need touch and I'm not going to just sit here and watch you suffer." Jaskier's breath catches and he can't believe Geralt is saying this to him.

"Do you mean you'll-"

"Just be glad it wasn't intended for you or I wouldn't be able to help. I'd have to take you to Yen or you'd have to fuck the idiot who did this to you to ease the discomfort."

"I'm not sure it was done to me, per se. I am glad it's not poison though."

"You won't be saying that in a few minutes."

Geralt is right, unfortunately, and after barely five minutes, Jaskier can barely stand the way his skin prickles with the need to be touched. He's hot all over, sweating through his clothes, but taking off his doublet does nothing but apparently make him more sensitive to the fabric of his shirt against his skin. He whimpers as it brushes against a nipple and arches off the bed.

He's propped up on the pillows and it's taking all of his self-control not to roll over and rut against the bed. Even the thought of it makes his cock throb in its confinement and he very nearly shoves a hand down his trousers to ease the need. A sound catches his attention at the last moment and he looks up to find Geralt, divested of his doublet and tugging his shirt out of his trousers.

Jaskier's eyes catch the thin strip of skin above his waistband and he moans out loud as the shirt lifts, giving way to a vast expanse of skin practically begging Jaskier to touch it. Geralt tugs his boots off and climbs up onto the end of the bed, crawling up and pushes Jaskier's ankles apart to kneel between them.

"Geralt," Jaskier chokes, shaking his head.

He can't get the words out, but Geralt can't do this, he doesn't understand what it means to him. Suddenly the ache doesn't feel so bad and he's sure if he went off somewhere for a little while, he could work through it on his own. How long could it take for the potion to work through his system, anyway?

"Shh," Geralt whispers, leaning forward on his hands.

He's too close now and Jaskier has to shut his eyes because feeling him so close is already hard enough. His fingers twitch against the bed and he wants to touch, even to slip his fingers around Geralt's, but he knows he can't.

"You can't-"

"Jaskier," Geralt breathes, much closer than he was a moment ago, "I wouldn't do this for just anyone." Whatever protest he had prepared dies on his tongue and Jaskier chokes out a moan instead as Geralt's palm slides up his hip. "I can find someone else if it's easier for you-"

"No," Jaskier says a little too quickly. "No, please, I want you. Only you."

"You don't mean that," Geralt breathes, nosing at his neck. The second his lips touch skin, Jaskier moans softly.

Tentatively, he wraps his arms around Geralt's shoulders, careful not to be too quick, too needy. He fails miserably, but Geralt doesn't seem to mind as Jaskier's fingers dig into his skin or the way he whines with every little shift of Geralt's mouth against him. Geralt's lips press against his neck, slowly moving up as Jaskier tips his head back and with a sigh.

It does nothing to ease the burning in his skin, but it feeds another need, one much older and grounded than the lust that sears through his veins now. It's a welcome diversion but the insistence returns quickly and Jaskier finds himself squirming to get free.

He wants to get Geralt out of the rest of his clothes, to press against him with nothing between them, indulge in every secret fantasy he's had over the last two decades - but he doesn't get a chance. Before he can move, Geralt's mouth finds his own and any thoughts are chased away by the softness of his lips.

Jaskier's hands slip into his hair and he tugs Geralt closer, biting at his bottom lip and moaning against him. Surprisingly, Geralt doesn't withdraw, he presses closer, fitting himself between Jaskier's legs. He pushes under his thighs, folding Jaskier's up and rocking against him.

"Geralt," he moans, "oh fuck."

Jaskier wraps his legs around him and rolls his hips, rutting shamelessly against Geralt's hip. Geralt is hard against him, and Jaskier has never felt anything so incredible in his whole life. In some way, Geralt wants this too, even if it's just for the sex. He reaches down, squeezing Geralt's ass and pressing him down against him. Geralt is surprisingly welcoming, but it only lasts a moment before he's pulling away, rising up to his knees again.

Jaskier keeps his legs around him, but he reaches up, running his palms up Geralt's chest as he rocks under him. Geralt pushes his shirt up and Jaskier shudders at the first touch of his fingers against his bare skin. He arches off the bed at the faintest nudge letting Geralt push his shirt up over his head

Geralt's hands are rough but gentle, sliding back to his hips and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut, dreading the moment he eventually wakes. Because this can't be real, can it? Even if he is helping him, Geralt couldn't possibly want this from him? With him? Surely after all this time- His thoughts are abruptly interrupted by Geralt's mouth on his own and dexterous fingers working open his trousers.

Geralt draws away, just as one of his hands snakes into Jaskier's trousers, wrapping around him and stroking gently.

"Stop thinking so much," he breathes, "don't worry, I want this." He rocks his hips forward as if to prove his point and Jaskier groans.

Geralt spares a moment, leaning over to brush a hand down the side of Jaskier's face. It's soft and intimate in comparison to the raging heat and want inside him and Jaskier melts under it, sinking back into the bed as his hips press up. A hand slides under them, holding him off the bed and Geralt holds him like that, bending down to kiss his chest. His mouth is somehow still warm against Jaskier's skin and it feels good despite him already being overheated. He craves the heat and Geralt drops him back against the bed, bending lower to kiss his way down to Jaskier's waistband.

He takes his time licking at sucking every inch of exposed skin, tugging Jaskier's trousers out of the way when he runs out of room. When Geralt's tongue meets the vee of his hip, Jaskier squirms, grasping blindly for Geralt's head. He winds his fingers through his hair, whimpering at the intensity of it. This is a sensitive spot for him, but he can't help wondering if it's just the potion that brings about this heightened sensation or if it's Geralt. Either way, his cock aches with every new touch, hips twitching up, seeking more.

Geralt mumbles against his skin and Jaskier has no idea what he's saying, but suddenly it no longer matters because Geralt's fingers wrap around the waistband of his trousers, tugging them down without hesitation. Jaskier shuffles as Geralt sits back up, moving to help the removal of his clothes.

His eyes are shut, but he hears the sharp inhale and then a pause as Geralt gets him naked, tossing his clothes to one side. Normally, Jaskier might be inclined to go and gather them up and fold them nicely, but when he opens his eyes, Geralt is watching him with intense concentration. His eyes are dark, pupils wide with barely a rim of gold around them and Jaskier doesn't think he has ever looked so sexy. He moves reflexively, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and hauling him down and kissing him hard. He gets a soft laugh in return and when Geralt draws away again he presses his face into Jaskier's neck.

"You can't be feeling too badly," he hums, but Jaskier groans at him.

"You make it better," he breathes, "it doesn't feel so... overwhelming."

"It's not me," Geralt mumbles, "that's just how it works. If you give in to it, the desperation eases."

"That's not what I said. I said you make it better, not that I wanted this less." Geralt's laugh tickles his neck and Jaskier twists his fingers into his hair again, pressing his hips against him.

Geralt's trousers are rough against his cock, but it feels good and Geralt is surprisingly responsive, meeting every thrust with his own. It's hardly fair that Jaskier is undressed and Geralt is not. He loosens one hand from Geralt's hair, sliding his palm down Geralt's chest.

He wants to keep touching him, to just run his hands over Geralt's entire body, but he doesn't have the patience right now. A small part of him is regretful that he may never get the chance, but his body protests the delay. Finally, he gets his hand on Geralt's hip, shoving his trousers down just far enough to free his cock and get a hand around him.

Geralt groans at the touch, shuffling forward to press his cock against his hand and he nips at Jaskier's neck. He works over the same spot and Jaskier shudders. He aches. He wants. He struggles to wrap his hand all the way around him and the thought of having that cock inside him makes him lightheaded.

"Geralt," he pants, "please, I want you. Please."

Geralt barely moves, slipping a little further down his neck. He continues nipping at the skin, sucking at it, leaving soft kisses over each mark before moving further down. His tongue leaves wet spots in its wake, cooling against Jaskier's skin in the evening air, a harsh juxtaposition to the heat still simmering under his skin.

By the time Geralt reaches his hips again, Jaskier's mind is foggy with need and his cock leaks steadily against his hip. Just as he's about to sit up, wet heat engulfs the head of his cock and Geralt's tongue slips over the head tasting him and he sucks hard as he pulls off again. Geralt looks up at him and Jaskier barely lifts his head off the pillow to see him, dropping it back with a groan.

"You're a damned tease, Geralt of Rivia. I fear I shall grow old and die before you fuck me."

Geralt dips to kiss his hip once more, laughing softly against his skin before rising up and climbing off the bed. He strips out of his trousers and Jaskier leans up on one elbow to watch. Geralt is magnificent and Jaskier only wishes something other than mistakenly drinking a love potion would have gotten him into his bed. The thought doesn't linger though as heat creeps back up into him, prickling at his skin now that Geralt is no longer touching him.

He wraps a hand around himself to try and ease the ache, stroking himself slowly and squeezing around the head of his cock. It feels good but does nothing to quell the urgency.

But Geralt returns, kneeling on the bed and sitting back on his heels. His cock just proudly from his body and Jaskier can't help but stare at the way it curves back up enticingly. He wants to get his mouth around him, but more than that he wants to climb into Geralt's lap and sit on him, wants to fuck himself on that incredible cock.

There's the sound of a cork popping and Jaskier looks up to find Geralt spilling something over his fingers. He doesn't have to ask what it is because a second later his legs are being nudged apart and Geralt shifts, reaching back behind his balls and slipping against his hole. Jaskier's eyes drop shut involuntarily and he groans, spreading his legs further to give Geralt better access. A wave of pleasure rolls through him and he tightens his grip on his cock, stroking a little slower.

When Geralt first presses into him, he thinks he might implode. But Geralt keeps going, pushing deeper inside him, first with one finger, then two, and he stretches him, thrusts into him until Jaskier can barely breathe - though miraculously his body remains intact. He doesn't realize he's even speaking until Geralt crawls up over him and covers his mouth with his own to quiet him. Jaskier lets himself sink into it, moaning into his mouth and pushing his fingers through his hair.

Geralt's fingers slip from his body and Jaskier groans at the loss, but he's not wanting for long. As Geralt shifts above him, he aligns himself, nudging against Jaskier's hole with the head of his cock. Jaskier holds his breath as Geralt pushes forward, but he wraps a soothing hand around the side of Jaskier's neck, soothing him.

"Breathe," he whispers, "relax, Jask." He rubs his thumb just under his jaw and Jaskier exhales slowly, blinking up at him. "Better?" Geralt asks and Jaskier hums, rolling his hips into him. He slides deeper and Jaskier moans softly, pressing his nose into Geralt's cheek.

"Please," he whispers, "I need you. Please, darling." Geralt tips his head back with just his thumb, nuzzling against his neck and pressing his lips to his skin.

He says nothing, but he moans softly as he pushes deeper and Jaskier whimpers at the stretch but he pushes back against him. As Geralt settles deep inside him, Jaskier shifts his hips, adjusting before rocking onto him again with force. Geralt is by far the biggest cock he's ever taken, but Jaskier revels in the stretch, in the intense feeling of fullness.

Geralt fucks him slowly at first, picking up speed as Jaskier wraps around him. He's quick and hard and Jaskier is overwhelmed at just how good he is, always knowing exactly where to touch him, where to kiss him. And when he shifts his hips just so, Jaskier sees stars,

He whimpers, arching off the bed and rolling his head back and the pleasure rushes through him, threatening to overwhelm him. He finds himself wondering again if it's just the potion or if Geralt is just a fantastic fuck. He finds it doesn't really matter as Geralt's hips snap again and he finds himself sinking back into the bed, eyes dropping shut in pleasure.

It's not long before he's shaking, his legs twitching around Geralt's hips. He's close, so close he can practically feel it already and he can hear Geralt's arousal in every huff of breath against his ear, ever little grunt and groan as he brings him closer and closer to the edge.

"Jaskier," he huffs, burying his face in Jaskier's neck, "fuck."

"Yeah," Jaskier agrees. He pushes Geralt's head back up, biting his lip and moaning against him.

When he comes, it's with his nose pressed against Geralt's, panting so hard he can barely think straight. Geralt buries himself deep, keeping his thrusts hard and shallow and Jaskier cups the back of his head, whispering to him.

"Come on darling. Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck, you feel good."

"That's right," Jaskier runs his fingers through his hair, taking advantage of the few moments he has left with Geralt like this. He slips his hands down his back, rolling Geralt's hips forward even as he thrust stutter and falter.

He kisses Jaskier as he comes, shoving an arm under him and pulling him close. They fit together well, Jaskier thinks, but as Geralt comes down from the high, he rolls to the side, hauling Jaskier up against him.

"Feel better?" he asks, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair.

"Very much. Thank you."

"Any time," Geralt hums shutting his eyes with a soft smile. Jaskier lets himself be pulled into a warm embrace, rolling so he's facing Geralt. “You’re sure you feel okay?”

"Really?" he asks and he thinks he's pushing his luck but Geralt just presses a kiss into his hair.

"Hopefully next time you won't have to be poisoned first."

Jaskier pulls back to look at him, pressing a hand to his chest. "Darling, if I knew it was this easy to get you into bed I wouldn't have been downstairs long enough to drink the damn thing."

Geralt leans forward, catching his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. "I'll remember that next time."

[imissjoongsmullet]

Too Far

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: smut

Summary: You’d told yourself you’d never fuck with an arrogant dick like Chan, but when your stubborn ass tries to shut him up at a party, things get out of hand and you pay the price for provoking him.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: graphic sexual content (duh), swearing, unprotected sex (don’t be like chan peeps), spanking, choking, degradation but also praise, um, what else.. overstimulation and maybe that’s it??

Word Count: 3.5K

Author’s Note: this was supposed to be a drabble but it got way out of hand listen I clearly needed to get this out of my system. Also wow I suck at titles somebody help me anyways, enjoy ♥ and happy holidays I guess!

►

“Come on,” he says, smiling coyly as he poked you in the side a little, “name one person in this room better-looking than me.” He gestured to the crowd of other people partying it up in the hotel suite.

You squint your eyes at him. “Fuck off,” you reply, turning to move away from him but he catches your forearm and pulls you back.

“Just cause you know I’m right,” he chuckles and puckers his lips like the dumbass he is, “I mean, have you seen these juicy babies?”

“You are so full of shit,” you let out, throwing your head back in exasperation.

He’s not fazed. He continues to smirk at you, fingers squeezing into your arm slightly, “maybe so but that won’t stop me from getting under your skin. I saw the way you were looking at me back at the club,” he leans into you, “you want me,” he coos and the smug look on his face makes you want to smack him over the head with the nearest object.

Christopher Bang was the kind of guy that made you want to stick a fork in your eye. He was loud and obnoxious with an ego more inflated than a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade float. To your undying frustration, he was also undeniably sexy, but you’d never tell him that. Nope, because you didn’t fuck with boys like him.

Well, you were trying your hardest not to anyways.

“No,” you reply at once, completely done with his act, “you are full of shit, I’m telling you,” you let out a dry laugh, “you’ve been hitting on me all night, talking all this crap about how you’re the man and you can get any woman you like. But that’s all you are: a boy with a big mouth.”

“No, I’m not,” he retorts, sounding suddenly disgruntled, the amusement trickling out of his features.

“Fine,” you say, taking a bold step towards him, closing the small gap between the two of you, “then kiss me.”

Chan looks a little perplexed at first but the next moment his expression falls back into its signature smugness. “So you do want me,” he says, still toying with your arm.

“I never said that,” you raise your eyebrows at him.

He shakes his head. “You’re a liar,” he says and slowly, his smile disappears as he leans in closer and closer, clearly trying to knock down your confidence. But you weren’t about to let him win. You stay right where you are.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you scoff, not moving an inch, “you’re just words.”

The humor finally drains completely out of Chan’s eyes at that remark.

“Oh yeah?” he scowls down at you as he starts to drive you back into a small alcove towards the bathroom, getting you out of sight, “would you like me to prove you otherwise?” he whispers, his breath now hot against your cheek, “I would love nothing more,” his fingers come to your waist, where they caress the strip of skin between your top and your jeans, “and if I had my way with you, just know I’d do a little more than kiss you.”

You feel your cheeks heat up but don’t let it stunt you. The lighting in the hotel room is dim enough for him not to notice exactly how much his words are getting to you, so you decide to put some more fuel on the fire.

“Fine,” you whisper back, looking right up into his hooded eyes, “what exactly would you like to do to me?” you mused, bringing your lips dangerously close to his, “what would you do, huh? Lick me? Tease me? Spank me?” You watch his eyes go from shock to full-on hunger, which only spurs you on more. “Spread my legs? Would you stick a few fingers in me first or would you rather use that thing that’s poking out from between your legs?”

This is when he snaps. He grabs your wrist, squeezing much tighter than necessary and pulls you through the crowded room, not caring about the strange looks the two of you are getting from the other party-goers.

Once in the hallway he doesn’t stop. He’s in a hurry and you have no choice but to stumble along after him.

“What are you doing?” you whisper hotly.

He yanks to closer to him in return, bringing his free hand around your shoulder.

“Proving a point,” he snarls in your ear.

He opens the door to what you can only guess is his room for the night, and shoves you in, following suit. You hear the bang of the door behind you and his hand is on you again, jerking you back harshly. You hit the hard wooden surface with a thump and the next thing you know his frame is hovered over you. You look into his eyes twinkling mischievously in the dark for the smallest moment before his lips crash into yours with a passion that takes you completely off guard. His hands dig into your waist possessively and it doesn’t take long for your top to rise up over your belly, his hands exploring your skin. He can’t get enough, squeezing you close as his lips mold into yours hungrily. You’re completely overwhelmed by him; his sweet scent enveloping you, the faint taste of champagne on his tongue filling your mouth as he grinds his hips into you. He’s nearly growling into your mouth, a monster torn free of its leash. There’s a fervor in his every action that makes your knees grow weak already and you curse yourself for not being stronger.

One of his hands snakes up over your belly, your chest, grazing your neck before closing in just under your jaw, holding you in place.

“You’ve brought this on yourself, baby girl,” he says, eyes heavy on you as he smirks against your lips. You’re forced to stare at him as his other hand moves down from your waist to play with the hem of your jeans. He keeps his eyes locked on you, dark and commanding. You feel his fingers dip into your jeans a little, only to come back out the next moment. He repeats this action a couple of times as he smugly watches your breath grow heavy.

“Stop teasing,” you breathe out finally.

His eyes flash hot and his fingers move abruptly. The button of your jeans pops open. He grins at the shock in your face, taking advantage of your parted lips to kiss you deeply, slipping his tongue inside with a low groan. He keeps one hand tight on your hips as the other continues fumbling with your pants. You feel him tug at your zipper, the purr of the metal coming undone loud in the empty hotel room. His fingers slide over the skin at your hip bone and lower as they open up the fabric, pulling your jeans down just enough so he can toy with the edge of your panties next.

“Lacy,” he mumbles against your lips before deepening the kiss, slipping both his hands inside your panties to grab your ass. He squeezes into the skin harshly and you have to stifle a moan already. Pleased, noticing how ready you were for him, he breaks the kiss.

“Knew you wanted me,” he says in that cocky tone of his, making your blood boil.

“I don’t,” you reply, more out of stubbornness than anything but the effect is grand.

Chan grabs you and shoves you down onto the bed. You barely have time to realize what’s happening when he’s already managed to both pull your pants off and turn on the warm bedside lamp on the nightstand. You push yourself up on your elbows but he crawls over you, taking his shirt off in the process and forcing you back down. He’s fast to pin your one wrist to the mattress, his hips dipping down to prevent you from moving at all. A coarse finger is trailing down your cheek, stopping at your lips to press against the soft flesh.

“You don’t want me?” he asks in a pretend sweet way. His finger dips between your lips and you can’t help but suckle on the digit, something that sends a signal all the way down between your legs.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “whatever you say.”

You want to resist but the way his hard length is already pressing into your barely-covered crotch is throwing all logic out the window. As if he’s reading your mind, he starts to roll his hips into you, slowly, so you feel every single inch of him. You turn your head to the side, his finger coming out with a wet pop but he won’t have that. He grasps your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“What is that?” he says, looking down at you unblinkingly, “you like it when I do that?” he grinds down on you again, painstakingly slow, the thin fabric of your panties letting you feel too much. You want to look away but he’s got you completely locked. You bite the inside of your lip to which he smirks, his tongue darting out to lick at your swollen mouth.

“You sure you’re not into this, baby?” he breathes heavily, rubbing himself on you shamelessly. Your mind is in overdrive, waging war between your stupid pride and your desire to get your brains fucked out by this asshole. He shouldn’t be this hot; it’s not fair. A moan escapes your lips when his hand finds its way under your shirt and bra to tweak your nipple. To make things worse, his lips dip down to your neck, sucking at the skin like he’s been yearning to do so all his life. Your skin tingles deliciously and you know his actions will leave bruises, but this only fuels your desperation.

“Yeah,” he moans into your skin and you can tell he’s still wearing that stupid smug grin of his, “I guess you’re not really into this maybe I should sto—”

“Oh my god, you complete ass-wipe just fuck me already!” you groan loudly, squirming under him in total aggravation.

His face comes to hover just over yours.

“Good girl.”

In one smooth movement, he flips you over onto your belly. You hear the sound of his pants dropping to the floor and the next moment he’s on top of you, his hot, exposed cock hard against your ass. He grabs a fist full of your hair and tugs up so he can latch onto your neck again. His dick slips between your legs as he pulls his hips back a little, before pushing back into you and letting his length massage your by-now-drenched pussy.

You moan out his name and he chuckles against your skin.

“You’re that needy for me already, huh?” he growls, biting down into your neck, “you want my cock?”

His fist tightens in your hair when you don’t reply.

“Yes,” you breathe, starting to push back against him.

“Such a bad girl,” he says, placing one last sloppy kiss to your neck, “getting ahead of yourself.”

His body moves away and the next moment his hands are on you, tugging you up, turning you around to face him.

“Suck,” he orders and a hand at the back of your neck pushes you down onto his ready cock.

He’s bigger than you’d thought he would be but he does not seem to care about what you’re thinking. The moment your lips wrap around his leaking head, he forces you down until he fills you all the way up to the back of your throat. You gag and choke but he keeps you there for a few seconds, groaning out in satisfaction.

“You’ve got to earn it, sweetie,” he breathes heavily.

When he finally lets go you shoot up gasping for air, a trail of saliva hanging from your parted lips.

He runs a hand through your hair, gently this time, almost soothingly. “You know what to do. Be a good girl and get back down there.”

You take the base of his dick in your hand and move down on him again, this time first licking your way up and down his shaft, slicking him up. You stroke his base slowly as you work your way around and hear him sigh out above you when you come back up to the head. His hand is still in your hair but he doesn’t force you down. When you look up at him and see the stern look in his eyes, however, you understand what is expected of you. You take him in again, stretching your lips over his skin, loving the feel of him in your mouth. The back of your mouth already feels sore from having him forced onto you earlier but you make your way down nonetheless, relishing the sound it evokes from him. His fingers caress your ears, your cheeks, your throat as you suck him, dragging your tongue over his length, swirling it around the tip and going back down, trying to take in as much of him as you could while your hand busied itself at his base.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he says, playing with your hair, “just like that.”

You feel him pulse inside you, which rouses you to quicken your pace. You feel his body move along with you, taking the new pleasure gladly but then, without warning, the hand at the back of your head hardens against you.

“Fuck,’ you hear him groan and, without warning, you’re being shoved down on him again. This time he moves you up and down along his shaft himself, jerking you around roughly and you can only cry out around his cock, tears starting to sting behind your eyes. You try to take him as well as you can as you whine and choke and this only gets him off more. He spews a chorus of curses down at you and starts to buck into your spent mouth. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore he pulls you off, bringing your face close to his.

His lips claim you hungrily, lapping up the saliva that had started spilling from your swollen lips. You don’t have a moment to catch your breath because the instant his lips leave yours he pulls your legs out from under you so you fall back onto the mattress. Finally, he tugs off your wetter-than-wet panties, throwing them over his shoulder because he has better things to look at. He holds both your legs in the air, spreading you open for him.

But then he doesn’t move. He just stares down at you, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“How bad do you want this, sweetie?”

“Fuck off,” you whine out in reply, patience running out.

He gives your pussy a quick, little slap that sends jolts of pain and pleasure through your system.

“Wrong answer,” he snarls, his hand coming back to your leg, steadying you as he leans in a bit closer over your helpless form, “try again, baby girl,” his fingers dig into your calves, “how much do you want this cock stretching you open? How much do you want me pounding into that pretty little pussy of yours, huh?”

“Fuck,” you cry under him, the lack of attention at your dripping core torturous, “just get in me, just fuck me, do whatever you want with me, fuck I need—” your speech is interrupted by your own shriek as he suddenly enters you all the way, not wasting any time letting you adjust. His tempo is fast and his thrusts hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room and mixing in with your cries of pleasure. He’s looking down at you intensely with plump parted lips.

“You look so pretty under me,” he groans in between pants, “so desperate for my cock,” he shifts more of his weight on you, bending you legs farther back and finding an even better angle. You whine out wildly as you feel him hit you just right.

“Desperate like the little slut you are.”

One of his hands lets go of a leg to push up your shirt and bra so he can toy with your nipples. You wince when he squeezes the sensitive bud at first but the startling sensation soon rolls over, joining in the incredible pleasure coursing through you.

You've completely let your pride slip away from you, shaking and moaning under him. You want him to use you like a sex toy, heartless and cold, bending you any way he wants. You've completely given yourself over to him and it clearly turns him on how weak you are for him. His eyes move over your body lustfully as he exhales heavy breaths. A single bead of sweat starts to roll down from his temple and he bites his lower lip.

"fuck," he groans as he pushes deep into you once more, staying there to relish the feel of your walls clamping around him for a moment.

He blinks down at you and pulls out, turning you over on all fours. He spanks you once, hard enough for you to squeal and cower. Then his hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging deep and shoves his cock inside without pause. Your back arches, you cry out and he lets out a dark chuckle in return. Once he's got a steady rhythmn going, he pulls one of your arms back so you arch up against him. His other hand slides over your neck, keeping you locked in place as he pounds into you from behind.

"Do you like this?" he grunts in your ear, fingers tightening around your neck, "you like being a little cum slut for me? Fuck, you do, don't you?" He bites into your ear hard and you whine for him. He lets go suddenly and the next moment you feel his hand at the back of your neck pushing you down into the mattress. His other hand is still clasping your hip hard enough to leave bruises, keeping your ass up for him to fuck into. Your cries are muffled into the pillow and you can barely breathe but you don't want him to stop.

"Well," he hisses, squeezing the back of your neck viciously, "do you?"

"Yes," you moan desperately, not even sure he can understand you through the pillow, "yes, please don't stop. Fuck me."

Fingers tangle in your hair and yank your face up.

"What's that, baby girl? I can't hear you," he hums.

"Fuck me harder," you manage to say but whatever you were planning to add on is lost because he quickens his pace, snapping his hips into you mercilessly so all you can do is let out shaky moans to his rhythmn. He smacks your ass again, groaning at the way it makes you shudder and does it again, harder.

Your whole body feels full of him, everything he's done to you and is still doing to you piled up inside you threatening to spill over. You moan out his name helplessly but this only makes him go wilder. You feel your core tighten, the faliliar tingling sensation taking over your skin the moment before you explode and your mind goes deliciously blank.

It is pure extacy as he rides you through your orgasm but once the pleasure has petered out you start to struggle underneath him, your sensitive core unable to take him anymore.

He notices your struggle but doesn't stop. He merely tightens his grip on you, one hand still bruising your hip, the other pushing down your back, squishing your lungs.

"Please," you whine, "it hurts."

He bends over you. "Patience , baby," he sighs and you can tell by his tone that he's far gone. His thrusts are erratic and the pain in your core is already being replaced by a brand new wave of pleasure. He's getting louder and louder above you, clearly losing control and you can only moan with him, letting him ride out his own orgasm inside of you.

"Fuck, baby," he grunts, letting himself fall on top of you, "fuck."

"You can say that again," you groan, your whole body weak in the afterglow of everything that just happened.

He slowly pulls out of you, collapsing beside you on the bed, looking spent like a motherfucker. When his eyes meet you though, they start to glint wickedly.

"So you did want me," he grins and you roll your eyes.

"Oh fuck all the way off!" you let out, pressing a pillow into his stupidly sexy face and rolling away from him.

You may just have had the fuck of the century but that didn't mean you had to go confessing truths to a guy like Christopher Bang. Nope; cause you didn't fuck with guys like him. Well...

[simpworthy]

Summary: It is no secret that your boyfriend, Keigo, has never had the time or luxury of Christmas, and you are determined to change that.

Part 1? Might make this into a few parts if it is too long.

Warnings: Quite a lot of cursing and language at the beginning. Just the fluffiest of fluff and some angst... But it all ends well!!!

There was a loud crash in the kitchen and you froze. You were certain that it was Keigo returning from his early morning patrol, but you held your breath, waiting for the loud cursing you knew would follow. Sure enough, strings of vulgar curses and a few choice phrases you were sure he had made up spewed from his lips.

“Fucking hell! I work my ass off all day, and this is what i get in return? This motherfucking cabinet is absolute shit!” The slamming of said cabinet door was a loud echo through the quiet apartment, and you slowly drug yourself out of bed whilst groaning to yourself. Keigo had been uncharacteristically angry and overly irritable over the past few weeks, and it was becoming overwhelming for you.

“Hello to you too, birdy,” you growled, crossing your arms when you strolled through the doorway. Scanning the room, you noticed how heavily your boyfriend was breathing and your eyes found the cabinet which collapsed and sent dishes, various food items, and some type of liquid crashing into a very frustrated man. This was no doubt the cause of Keigo’s current mood.

“Sorry I woke you from your precious sleep,” he stabbed, his voice laced with sarcasm and devoid of his usual playfulness. Stunned, you pressed a finger into his chest.

“I don’t know why you are taking all your frustration out on me and the furniture,” you hissed, struggling to keep your voice even,” but you better fucking pull it together. I’m not going to sit here in misery because you can’t communicate your problems like a whole ass toddler!” Keigo turned up his nose at you, clearly tryout words had made things much worse. He grabbed the hand that was firmly planted on his chest, and wrenched it away from him with a force that made you gasp.

“Y/N, I am not going to stand here and let you tell me that I am the childish one!” He let go of your hand, and began to stalk towards the shared bedroom.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?” Your voice was shaking, tears threatening to spill over. Keigo kept his back turned to you, but he had stopped walking.

“You wouldn’t get it, so just drop it, Y/N!!”

“No! I’m not going to just drop it,” you raised your voice, a few tears running down your face,” You can’t just shut me out and become some kind of raging monster for weeks, Hawks. I haven’t done a single thing to deserve this!” He tensed at your use of his hero name. You saved that for when you were serious or extremely angry.

“You’re right, you don’t deserve it,” he muttered under his breath. He sighed and shook his head, making his way to the bedroom. You could hear the door click in place as he closed it, and you took note of the fact that he had not slammed it.

Wiping the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, you began to pick up some of the contents that had fallen from the cabinet, taking care to throw away any broken or unusable items. You were muttering to yourself when you picked up a small package. You crouched down and unwrapped the package, examining the small mug that had been broken. You pulled out a small slip of paper that was still intact, and looked closer at the loopy handwriting. A small smile was brought to your face as you recalled the small girl who had given the mug to you while you had been patrolling.

“Heroes deserve Christmas gifts too,” she had told you, handing the small package to you,” My grandmother’s special recipe is in there. She always told me to share it to people who need a little warmth on Christmas Eve!” You had smiled and crouched down to be eye-level with the young girl. You had grinned, taking her mittened hands in your bare ones.

“Thank you, that’s a very thoughtful thing for you to do for me!” The young girl beamed up at you after getting a picture with you, and you had watched as she skipped while holding her mother’s hand. You had placed the mug in the cabinet for safekeeping, wanting to remember the little girl’s kindness.

“I can think of some people who could use a little warmth,” you mumbled, running your hands over the shards of broken ceramic. You placed as many pieces as you could into a tubberware container, throwing away the smallest slivers that were just an outright safety hazard. Standing to your feet once more, you read the instructions that had been written on the paper with care.

Mama Tanaka’s Homemade Hot Chocolate

Remember young one, this recipe is for all to share! Go spread some Christmas cheer and a little warmth this Christmas Eve!

Ingredients: cocoa powder, chocolate chips, vanilla extract, peppermint pieces; and love, joy, and cheer

-Place the milk of your choice in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Using milk instead of water, makes this hot chocolate extra creamy and flavorful. I prefer whole milk or 2% milk, but you can choose any milk that you choose (I’ve even used unsweetened almond milk).

-Whisk in cocoa powder and sugar, and heat until warm.

-Once the milk is warm, add chocolate chips, whisking until they melt into the milk.

-Add a splash of vanilla extract.

-Serve immediately, topped with your favorite garnishes: marshmallows, whipped cream, chopped chocolate, crushed candy canes or more.

It was a simple recipe to follow, but your inability to comprehend the most simple of instructions was causing the frustration to build up again.

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!” You slammed your fists against the countertop, throwing all attempts of being quiet for Keigo out the window. “If a little girl can make this why can’t I?! I’m a pro hero for fuck’s sake!” You groaned trying not to lose it over a simple pot of hot chocolate.

“Maybe the stove eye is too hot,” Keigo suggested from where he was leaning against the doorway. You glared at him. Oh how the tables had turned.

“Did I interrupt your beauty sleep, or did you come to make sure I was perfectly miserable?” Keigo chuckled, casually making his way over to you. His body pressed against yours as he wrapped his arms around you to pry the wisk from your shaking hands. With his other hand, he turned down the heat.

“Let me help,” he offered, resting his head on your shoulder,” and no, I came to apologize.” You were taken aback, and you sighed. Keigo hummed a tune as he attempted to salvage the damage you had done to the now boiling pan of hot chocolate.

“I will finish this and then we can talk, yea?” You nodded in agreement, closing your eyes to dwell in the warmth your boyfriend was providing. Time seemed to slow as you stood there, letting all of the anger and pent up frustration melt from your shoulders. It was a heavy weight lifted from you and you felt relieved.

Keigo let go of you as he grabbed two mugs, and you couldn’t help but whine and complain at the loss of contact. Keigo smirked, pushing a mug into your hands. The rich smell if chocolate wafted to the air and you grinned.

“Come on, baby bird.” You let him lead you into the living room where you sat in the couch, pressing your body against him again. There was a comfortable silence as the both of you drank the warm beverages, happy and content to be together and happy to not be fighting. Your boyfriend was the first to finish his drink, and he set it on the coffee table, looking up at you. You hummed as you set down your mug shortly after.

“Ok,” you broke the silence, sliding your hand into Keigo’s,” let’s talk.” Keigo inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly before meeting your gaze once more.

“It’s this whole Christmas season thing,” he began timidly,” Everyone is so, I don’t know, happy?” Keigo stared out the window behind you as you cocked an eyebrow.

“Keigo? I hate to break it to you,” you chuckled,” but you’re one of the most disgustingly happy people I’ve ever met.” Keigo frowned down at you before looking back out the window.

“I’m... that’s not... wait! I am not! But, that’s not what I mean,” he protested,” It’s all so fake and not genuine whatsoever. Reminds me of my old man.” Now you had gotten somewhere. Keigo was never very open about his past and his father, he only let you see snippets of the things he had been through. He said he preferred looking to the future rather than to the past.

“Keigo, not all of it is fake, you have to know that,” you argued, sensing that Keigo’s mind was beginning to drift elsewhere.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right kid, I just never have had a Christmas, if you want to put it that way. I don’t see any point to it, I guess,” he shrugged. To say you’re heart shattered would be an understatement, and you rubbed your thumb in reassuring circles against his palm.

“What if I gave you one? What if I showed you Christmas isn’t all that bad?” Keigo raised his eyebrows at your words as if he was trying to completely wrap his mind around what you had said. Was it really be possible that you cared enough to make Christmas special for him? He smiled at the thought.

“Ya know, babe, I’d like that,” he laughed, his golden eyes meeting your gaze again.

“I’d like that a lot.”

[stxphxn-strange]

human error/i don’t expect perfection

a/n: i started writing this, before 9am and my day was already not going to plan. my solution as always is to write hurt/comfort for my college au, so here we are. ily and i’m sending y’all well wishes♡

Stephen was hit with overwhelming relief when he finally got home, the clock singing her melodic chimes to announce the changing of the hour. It was 2 in the goddamn morning, and Stephen was just so sad and exhausted. He almost felt like a chain was tugging at his head and heart, leading him towards self loathing no matter how much he tried to resist. Stephen’s entire night consisted of trying to put on a smile, trying not to berate himself in front of others because he made a mistake. That was the problem. Stephen made a mistake, a really small error during a simulated surgery that he and Christine were using to study. It was a mistake so small and so easily corrected, but Stephen wanted to be perfect. The sheer presence of the mistake was unacceptable to him and his insatiable need to be flawless. 

Some of his classmates thought Stephen was an arrogant and haughty kissass who would trample anyone in his quest to prove that he was better, smarter, and more innovative than his peers. That wasn’t true, but Stephen let them think that. It was simpler than explaining that he’d internalized every bit of criticism he’d ever received and that he was just trying to be good enough for himself. It was easier than telling people that he felt the need to prove his worth to his mother in the hope that she might accept and understand him better. That was none of their fucking business. They could think Stephen worked himself to exhaustion so he could flex about what a hard worker he was, he didn’t care. 

He just wanted to be good enough. 

But first, he wanted to sleep. 

Stephen took his water bottle out of the fridge and made a steaming mug of tea, holding fire and ice as he headed towards his bedroom. He was hoping to find Anthony asleep and relaxed in bed, a sight that could always make Stephen smile. He wanted to take a hot shower and curl up in bed next to his boyfriend, and he wanted a lazy morning after a restful night. There were no classes tomorrow, which meant they could maybe catch up on sleep, or just spend time lounging around together with no pressure from the outside world. 

But Anthony wasn’t in bed. He was pacing around in the bathroom, brushing his teeth restlessly. He’d had a shit day and was still clearly quite upset, his eyes red and puffy from crying in the shower. After harshly washing his face in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the fact that he was crying, Anthony sighed deeply. 

Stephen, eager to get ready for bed, softly knocked on the door. “Hey, I’m home.” 

“Oh hi, I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” Anthony replied. He pulled the door open and walked across the room to pick up a towel that had fallen. Scowling at it, he hung it back up where it belonged. 

“You okay?” Stephen asked, leaning against the wall. 

“I’ve been better,” Anthony said. “You?” 

“About the same,” Stephen replied. 

These kinds of greeting conversations were much shorter when they were tired or upset. There was an understanding that they weren’t upset with each other, but down about something. 

Anthony reached out to silently ask for a hug, relaxing a little bit in Stephen’s arms. “Today wasn’t good.” 

Stephen hummed and drew him close. “It really wasn’t.” 

Anthony yawned, exhausted and swaying in Stephen’s safe embrace. He felt like he was going to fall, both from physical and mental exhaustion, but trusted Stephen to catch him every time. 

Sure enough, he did. Stephen hugged Anthony tighter and kissed the top of his head, holding him close to his heart. 

“Go to sleep, Ant,” he murmured. “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Okay,” Anthony replied. He yawned again, begrudgingly letting go of Stephen and stumbling into bed. 

He wanted to sleep and had every intention of doing so, but then he started thinking about his day. Not by choice, because Anthony could happily forget today if his mind would only let him. He replayed every conversation, memory, and action that caused him to feel as hollow and worthless as he did right now, not realizing that he was shaking as he tried not to cry. Stephen’s tiredness disappeared when he stepped out of the bathroom and was affronted with the sight of Anthony sobbing into a throw pillow. He crossed the room in long strides, laying beside his partner and hugging him close.

“What’s wrong?” Stephen asked, tracing circles on Anthony’s back.

Anthony just sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does,” Stephen replied. “Even if it’s the smallest thing in the world, if something is important to you then I’m going to listen. I’ll want to listen.”

“I’ll tell you later... can we just stay like this for a bit?” Anthony asked. His tone was so soft and passive, indicating that he’d trip over himself to redact the request if needed. He hated asking for things, always feeling imposing and undeserving of the time and attention he received.

But Stephen was already shifting into a better cuddling position, pulling Anthony into a strong hug and giving him gentle, loving kisses. Stephen was grateful for these moments where Anthony allowed himself to be vulnerable, grateful for any chance to show him the love he deserved.

They were both instinctively caring and fiercely loyal to the people they were close to, but awful at taking moments to show themselves the same kind of love and care. They both felt like they hadn’t earned love, like they couldn’t exist without owing something to someone. There weren’t enough ways to show supportive people how appreciated they are in the same way that nothing would ever be powerful enough for the couple to prove their worth to any naysayers. Stephen generally didn’t listen to criticism, he didn’t care what most people thought of him. A select few, his mother for example, could make him feel like shit 13 seconds into a conversation and leave him rattled. Sometimes when Stephen failed, he heard her voice and the negative things she’d told him. He usually dealt with these thoughts by thinking about encouraging memories or things Anthony told him, which helped to recenter him. That strategy didn’t work all the time, but enough to help Stephen get through the day.

Anthony was extremely sensitive to criticism, but great at hiding his emotions. He’d had to from a young age, Howard Stark being himself, so it wasn’t easy to tell when something upset him unless you knew what to look for. Sometimes he built a barrier to keep his emotions to the side, throwing one feeling on top of another until the foundation broke and emotions overwhelmed him. Today was one of those days, where something he thought was insignificant was the hump that broke the camel’s back. He wasn’t good at letting himself be upset and had a hard time surrendering to his emotions right now. Even as Stephen reassured him that it was okay, that he was safe, it was still hard for Anthony to let himself talk about what was wrong. That often led to nights like these, with the weary couple holding themselves and each other together with the threads of love and understanding and years of knowing each other.

Despite exhausting himself from crying, Anthony could still see that Stephen was upset. “You okay?” He whispered, caressing Stephen’s cheek with his hand.

“Just frustrated. The practice Christine and I were doing didn’t go according to plan,” Stephen replied. “It was so close to perfect, but I fucked up one little thing.”

“Did you try your best?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you fix the mistake?”

“As fast as I could, yeah.”

“And I assume you wrote everything down in that absurdly neat way you take notes?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Absurd is a bit of an extreme descriptor, don’t you think?”

“Hmm... no,” Anthony mumbled. “It’s absurd but shows how careful and dedicated you are to doing well. You have an immensely strong work ethic, you always do as much as you can, and you try as hard as you can. We’re still learning, we’re still in school. It’s okay to mess up, and it’s okay for you to mess up.”

Stephen nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as Anthony continued to caress his cheek. “You need to take your own advice, my love. You don’t have to hold yourself to impossibly high standards either.”

They tended to say the same thing in different words, ranging from delicate and sweet to extremely blunt.

Anthony smiled sadly, leaning in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stephen murmured against his lips. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Stephen always phrased his questions carefully. His intentions were always clear, showing that he was inviting Anthony to talk with him rather than insisting and forcing him into a vulnerable state. Too many people had done that to both of them.

There was no consequence if Anthony didn’t want to talk, and tonight he didn’t.

“In the morning?” He suggested, still a bit too timid to directly say no.

Stephen nodded. “In the morning.”

“I still just want to be close to you, in your arms,” Anthony whispered.

Stephen smiled and gave him a feather light kiss. “Stay as long as you like, I’m always here for you.”

tags: @stark-strange-love2 @h3mmy @kiwidino @chocopiggy @maya-custodios-dionach @majesticnerdynerd @ocforeverything @spooky-n-spunky @doctorstephenvincentstarkstrange @thespacecryptid

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Seven

Words: 4.5k

Warning(s): explicit language, sexual situations, drug abuse, violence

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NIKKI

"Nikki, what the hell are you doing?" Vivian asks me as we walk down the stairs of the law firm. 

"I've broken every fuckin' vow except 'till death do us part' and I'll be fucked to hell if we stuck it out and stayed with each other after the worst bullshit just to fucking divorce." I state and she stays quiet for a moment before I'm stumbling back when she halts and snatches away from me, glaring up at me. 

"What if I want a divorce?" She asks. 

"I'd tell you you're full of shit." I snap and she raises a brow and crosses her arms. 

"Then what the hell was the point of hounding me for a divorce just to do this?!" She barks at me. 

"To prove a point I guess, I don't fucking know." I admit. 

"To prove a point?! What point were you trying to prove?! That even when we're not together you still have the control in the relationship?!" She yells.

"I don't have any fucking control in this relationship, are you fucking me?! I haven't had any control since day fucking one, Vivian!" 

"Are you fucking serious?!" She screams at me, frustration all over her face. "You have always had control, Nikki, trust me, I know, I'm the one that had to lay down and take your bullshit and give up what I wanted to do just so you'd feel in control!"

"I told you to go to fucking New York to go to school, did I not? What the hell did you do? You stayed! You can't get pissed at me for not giving you what you supposedly think I promised you!" 

"No, Nikki, I'm not pissed at you for not giving me what you promised--I'm pissed because you've given me years of fucked up shit that was never supposed to even be a part of the plan!" She has tears in her eyes, her voice shaking…

She's right. I'm not going to tell her she's wrong…

I sigh and rub the back of my neck, exhaling, as she wipes her eyes. 

"...Look, me and the guys are going to a different rehab, and I'll actually stick with it, and I want to work this out." I tell her, honestly. "I just don't know how to come back from the shit we've done to each other, Viv, but if we can figure out how, then I wanna do it." 

She doesn't say anything, looking at me with her pretty green eyes, nodding slightly. 

I didn't realize that once we agreed to work on our marriage, that all hell would break loose in the midst of repairing the damage. 

Me and the guys, except Mick, were sent to another rehab because the first one was too obnoxious, and by the second one, we were actually getting somewhere with each other as a band and individually, including the people closest to us in our lives. For me, that was Vivian.

My leg can't stop shaking as I repeatedly tap my foot, waiting for my counselor to get in and meet Vivian for the first time.

I exhale and glance at her, her red hair curled, reaching just over her boobs, long legs taken up by black stockings that have lace trim mid-thigh, just peeking out from under her black dress, black heels tapping quietly on the floor, her dark red nails standing out against the cover of the shitty crossword she's flipping through. Her perfume has the whole little area she's in smelling good and her red lips rub together for a moment as she doesn't even notice me staring at her. 

It's a Saturday and I'm assuming she's going out with Sharise or something when she leaves here, or she dressed like this to torture me, knowing I haven't had sex in nearly two months, starting in Japan back in December, and my right hand is my best friend currently. 

My fucking balls hurt as she shifts her legs, uncrossing them to cross them the opposite, now. 

If it were up to me they'd be wide open and either around my hips or my head. 

I keep my hand pressed to my lips, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair, focused on her.

I slide down in my chair a little to try to see what kind of panties she's wearing--if she's wearing any at all. 

It wouldn't surprise me if she's not wearing any at all. Just to fuck with my head like she loves to do. 

"Take a picture and it'll last longer." She tells me flatly, not taking her eyes off the book. 

"I would if I had a camera." I don't even deny staring at her and she flicks her gaze to me. "Or a video camera. That'd be better." I add. 

"Ha. Ha." She sarcastically lets out and I smirk, watching her get up to grab her purse from the empty chair adjacent to me, leaning down to dig through it. 

It takes everything in my power not to get behind her, bend her over it, slide her panties to the side and start poun--

"We're here to start the process of fixing things between us and you're here only focused on sex." She states and I snap out of it. 

"No, I'm not." I argue, furrowing my brows. 

"Nikki, I know when you're picturing having sex with me." 

"I'm always picturing having sex with you." I state. "And you know exactly what you're doing." 

The faintest, smallest little grin comes to her lips as she goes to sit down again. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She mumbles and I look at her. 

"You're cruel." I mumble and she rolls her eyes. 

"Oh, whatever." She replies. 

"You look hot." 

"Shut up." 

"We can be done in ten seconds." I say next and she goes red. 

"Stop, Nikki!" She scolds me.

"C'mon, Viv, we've never fucked on a desk before." I point out. 

"We've broken into Doc's office just to mess around on his desk, Nikki." She reminds me. 

"Well, we've never fucked on a therapist's desk, so c'mon, it'll be quick."

"I--" she starts laughing, not believing me, "--am not having sex in a rehab facility. I'm not that horny." 

"So you admit you are horny to some degree, though." I say and she rolls her eyes. 

"Shut up."

"Just flash me or something." 

"Nikki."

"Please?"

"You're so weird." She ignores my request while I'm pinching the bridge of my nose. 

"I'm in pain, Vivian." I say next, groaning, exaggerating. 

"Sounds like a personal problem." 

"Fuck." I lean my head back, rubbing my face. 

The door opens and my counselor comes in, smiling at us. 

"Sorry, I'm late." She says, stepping to Vivian, extending her hand. "I have heard lots about you, I'm Amber." 

"Vivian. It's nice to meet you." Vivian replies, smiling her shiny smile that should win her an Oscar because she wears it so well even when she's fucking miserable--I obviously know from experience. 

Amber sits behind her desk as Vivian sits back down in the chair, and she looks up from her paperwork at us, raising her brows. 

"If we're going to start this grueling process, I highly suggest you two get comfortable being within three feet of each other, again." She adds.

Me and Vivian exchange looks, before she sighs and stands up, walking to the little couch I'm sitting on, plopping down beside me. 

I smirk to myself, looking at her from the side of my eye. 

"Okay, let's just get to it, Vivian, I've gotten a brief history of your husband, and I feel as though I can sort of, kind of, pin point a thing or two that has lead to the point that you two are at currently, but I'd really like to learn a little bit about you because all that's portrayed publicly to all of us is he's this nitty gritty, abrasive rock God, and you're the angel that tamed him to settle down." She explains and Vivian scoffs, raising her brows. "I know it sounds ridiculous but that's what's given in magazines and pictures taken of you two." 

"Yeah." Vivian nods. 

"And I don't think that's true, I don't think everything is happy and sunshine and, 'oh, we're opposites but that's what we love about each other,' and blah, blah, or else neither of you would be here admitting your marriage is in shambles...so, becoming familiar with Nikki--sober--the way that I have the past week gives me a sense of who he really is without the drugs and the cameras and the fans and the girls, because in here he's only got himself. He doesn't have to upkeep the persona he puts on to make it seem like everything's perfect. And, although you aren't a patient here, I really want you to allow yourself to just be and differentiate between who you are to the public, and who you are privately, because--from what I've heard--they're two completely different people." She says next and Vivian nods. "So, who is Vivian Kinston and how did she get together with Nikki Sixx?" She offers a warm smile and Vivian exhales, already looking overwhelmed…"In three descriptions, who were you when you met Nikki?" 

"A very religious, ballet dancing, perfectionist." Vivian says and Amber nods. 

"Let's dissect that and break it down for a moment." She says next. "Okay, religious--was that on your own or passed through your family or…?"

"Both of my parents, but mainly my mom." She replies and Amber nods. 

"Okay, and what is mom like?" 

"Very strict Christian, we couldn't have anything secular in the house...I'm not sure what she's like now but when I last saw her she had the pastor I grew up with trying to exorcise a demon from me because she found out I was engaged to Nikki." She tells her and Amber's brows shoot up. 

"When was that?" 

"'82, '83, around that time." Vivian explains. 

"So you haven't seen mom in close to six years." 

"Yeah." 

"Okay...you were a ballet dancer when you met," she starts the next point. 

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Since I can remember." Vivian informs her. 

"So, a strict Christian upbringing, and a very, very, intricate form of dance that requires a lot of discipline, since you were probably a toddler." 

"Yeah." 

"And is that where the perfectionism comes in, through your background with dance?"

"No." 

"No, okay."

"My mom and my upbringing." Vivian explains. "Anytime I did something my mom didn't like or approve of or thought other people would lose their minds over if they knew I was doing it, she'd get onto me and would constantly drill into my head, 'this is not what we do, Vivian'." 

"Wow." Amber nods, her brows slightly furrowed. "So, it doesn't come from a place of that physical drive to be perfect at most things you do, it comes from a mental and emotional drive of not wanting people to know what skeletons are in the closet that would make them think less of you." 

Vivian nods, taking a deep breath. 

"Okay, and do you think that sense of perfectionism from your mother has helped you or harmed you in the long run?" 

"Harmed." She's saying it nearly before Amber can get her words out of her mouth. 

"And why is that?" 

"Because I grew up with her holding me to a nearly unreachable standard, and hounding unrealistic expectations onto me." 

"And in turn…"

"...It's made me do the same to him." Vivian says and I stare at the floor. 

"What unrealistic expectations, or unreachable standard have you held him to?" 

"Not doing the things that he's done." She says next. 

"What things?" 

"Infidelity and drug and alcohol addiction." 

"Why is expecting your husband not to cheat on you or put drugs and alcohol before you an unrealistic expectation that is unattainable for him?" Amber asks next and I rub my lips together. 

"Because of who he is and what he does." Vivian says next and Amber raises her brows. 

"So you think because he's Nikki Sixx--big time rockstar--that it's not realistic to expect him to do what he is supposed to do as your husband which is stay faithful and not put substances before you?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh, I see." Amber looks at me and I sigh. "Was your relationship ever open or polygamous, during or prior to marriage?" 

"No." She shakes her head. 

"Was he addicted to anything when you got married?"

"He did drugs and drank but at that point in time he didn't have a heavy reliance on it, no."

"An unrealistic expectation would be you telling him he can sleep with other women but then you getting angry every time he did. That's setting an unrealistic expectation of, 'I'm giving you permission to indulge in sex with other women but I expect you not to,' or him being addicted to heroin when you got married and you expecting him to drop any addiction he has solely based on the fact that you two got married. That's an unrealistic expectation. Him being a famous rock musician has nothing to do with his ability, or lack thereof, to be monogamous and sober." She explains to Vivian. "So you wanting your husband to not have an affair and not get strung out was not an unrealistic expectation that you had in a moment of naivety." She assures her.

"Okay." Vivian sounds like she's been waiting to hear that for a while…

"And I believe the issues you two are facing the most from both Nikki, and yourself, have grown from the root of how you two think. I know we hear the saying, 'opposites attract,' but we don't think about how sometimes when people are too opposite it acts like hot and cold air when it mixes and if it's in a big enough whirl, or big enough of a spectrum, it creates a tornado or a hurricane." She says next. "Religion equals a sense of morality, your history with ballet equipped you with a fair amount of discipline, and that perfectionism that you spoke on is your way of caring so much about what others think of you, you sacrifice yourself and just smile to keep things looking amazing on the outside."

Vivian nods. 

"I asked him to describe you in three words, and he said, 'beautiful, depressed, belligerent'." She tells her and I slowly see tears coming to Vivian's eyes. "Nikki admitted to me that when he met you, he had no sense of morality, he was doing whatever he wanted, when he wanted, he had no discipline in terms of controlling himself around drugs and women, and he couldn't give less of a care about what people thought of him." She explains. "And that might even been fun and exciting when you were just starting out but once you're married and he's gotten all these eyes on him suddenly, there are expectations put on the both of you to be this couple who has everything, and you're both attractive, and he's the bad boy and you're the good girl and you just fell in love is the only explanation you have for making the relationship work to the point of wanting to get married and you have a great house and matching cars and all this and all that and you're in the press smiling and laughing and holding hands and hugging up on each other and oh, it's a wonderful life, but as soon as you get alone…" she trails off, looking at the both of us knowingly. "He's high, you're suffering, and both of you are living a hell. But nobody can know that because you're Nikki and Vivian Sixx. You two are perfect because he doesn't cheat on you like other rockstars do to their wives and girlfriends. He doesn't put drugs and alcohol before you like so many others do to their girlfriends and their wives. He doesn't turn into this monster you don't recognize and lash out like a dog at you after a night of sitting in his closet and shooting up, because he 'loves' you, and you don't have to keep quiet for years while it just keeps adding up and adding up until finally you beat on your husband and those around you over minuet instances because the big things you were probably justified to get that angry over were swept under the rug and were never dealt with for years--because that's not what you do." She ties it right back to Vivian's mother. 

A tear rolls down Vivian's cheek, neither of us expecting it to be this heavy just during her introduction to Viv. 

"If we don't stop that mentality, it's going to poison every relationship around you that it hasn't already and when you have children it's going to be a curse on them just like it's a curse on you." She tells her, as Viv sniffles, trying to keep up with wiping her tears away. "I've already been on him about his upbringing burdening him, so please don't think this is a personal attack on you."

Viv nods, mouthing, "okay."

"You two want to make this relationship better and be better for one another, we are going to have to tear down six years worth of walls and blockades and gut this entire thing completely and start again. It's not going to be easy, you're probably going to learn things about each other you've been hiding and maybe even amicably decide to divorce before it's all over with, but you are both going to heal and start the process of forgiveness. With yourselves, with your parents, with your friends, and with each other."

She gives the both of us some homework...

"I want you two to prepare to tell each other everything you've not told one another for next time we meet." Amber tells us and the color drains from Viv's face, I know for a fucking fact that I don't look much different from her.

"What?" Vivian asks her.

"If we're healing this relationship we need everything in the dark in the light so we aren't building on an old foundation of secrets." She states. Vivian just nods hesitantly before we're dismissed.

"Vivian." I stop her out in the hall before she can leave, grabbing gently at her wrist.

"Yeah?" She asks me. 

"I love you." I tell her and she looks at me, smiling a little. 

"I'll see you Wednesday." She replies, squeezing my hand before she walks away. 

What the hell? I tell her and I love her and she just fucking says, "I'll see you Wednesday'?" 

I watch as she goes down the hall, heels clicking, hair down her back…

Goddamn. 

This is definitely my payback for taking my time with her for granted, because now that I'm in my right mind and not ruining our marriage, she barely even looks at me. 

At least she was actually wanting to work things out, because after the Vanity bullshit, I thought we'd never make it out after the first time I saw her since it had happened.

July 1987

I brace myself against the bathroom wall as my whole body goes numb for a moment, my eyes rolling momentarily. 

"Sixx, c'mon, we gotta get goin', Viv's here!" Fred yells from behind the door, his fist beating at it. 

Fuck him. Fuck this tour. Fuck this band. Fuck everything right now. 

Viv's just got here from the airport, she flew back in earlier this morning and I've been hiding, completely avoiding her, but I can't anymore. 

The media's in a frenzy since Vanity aired all of our dirty laundry, only making Viv and I both on edge even more. 

We've been denying the shit out of Vanity's engagement claims, but I don't think people are buying it as much as we'd like to think they are. 

I take in a breath and stumble to the mirror, looking at myself. 

Not too bad for a low down, dirty, bastard. 

Opening the bathroom door to see where Fred's waiting for me, I glance past his shoulder to see Vivian.

She looks like she feels like hell, but has managed to pull herself together. 

Makes two of us--well, kind of, at least. 

"C'mon, the guys are already at the venue." 

Fred tells me. 

"Great." I smirk, patting his shoulder, stepping to Vivian. 

I don't think either of us are taking into consideration the amount of utter bullshitting we're about to have to do. 

I also don't expect the amount of paparazzi waiting for us right outside the hotel's doors.

As soon as the door opens, screaming, flashes, invasive questions come hurtling our way. It feels closterphobic enough to make Vivian grab my hand, tight, curling closer into me as if trying to hide away from prying cameras and questions about my alleged affair.

I feel her being tugged at once, and just as she says, "Nikki," I'm snatching my hand from hers to beat repeatedly, as hard as I can, at the forearm of the perpetrator, a media creep trying to get her attention. 

"Don't fucking touch her!" I bark out over the noise and he stumbles back, holding at his arm as I put my arm around her waist, tightly, getting to the car. 

When we get inside, Vivian's obviously distraught over what just happened, shoving herself away from me. 

I turn my anger to Fred. 

"What the fuck is the point of  having fucking security if you're not going to keep people from touching her?" I sneer. 

"Because I'm a bodyguard, but you're a fucking Rottweiler." He states back without hesitation and I just roll my jaw, glancing at Vivian and she doesn't even look at me. 

I sigh and dig in my pocket for the little baggie I got earlier, grabbing my hotel room key to take a bump to help me wake up for this show, and when we get to the venue, I'm getting out of the car and waiting for Fred to get out. 

He does, and I stop Vivian, nudging her back inside before saying, "we'll be there in a second."

Fred just looks at me and exhales, rolling his eyes before stepping inside. 

Vivian sighs out as I look at her, avoiding looking at me…

"Vivian, are we gonna talk about it or…?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I think we should."

"You proposed to her, Nikki."

"Allegedly." I add.

"You. Proposed. To. Her." She says it sharply and I lean back. "You had an affair with her. I trusted you. I trusted the both of you. And you lied to me." She hisses. "So, no, there is nothing to talk about...just let me out of the damn car." She slides over and opens the door but I reach over her and slam it shut.

She takes heavy breaths from where she's sitting, my body hovering over hers, the tips of our noses brushing together…

I lean down, my lips pressing to her's for just a second before she lets go of the fact I completely screwed her over. 

I'm about to pull away when she pushes her tongue past my lips, her nails running over my back through my shirt as her legs wrap around my hips, one of her hands in my knotted hair.

As always, I end up eating her like a starved pervert, relishing in the sounds of her moans and gasps. 

The truth is, she may hate me, but I'm good at getting her off and she knows it.

Once she comes and we start getting ourselves together to go inside, I look over at her. 

"So, are we good?" I ask her, oh, so fucking stupidly, and she blinks at me. 

"What?" 

"Are we good?" 

She catches on to what I mean, and rubs her lips together. 

"Nikki, you could fuck me into oblivion, which you can't because I'm never letting you fucking touch me again, and we still wouldn't be good. Not even close to 'good'. You can't have an affair with my friend and then expect everything to be good just because we fooled around while you were stoned out of your mind." She snaps and I roll my jaw as she gets out and slams the door, stomping to the back entrance of the venue. 

For the first time I feel the sting of rejection. 

Is this how groupies feel? 

I never thought once about getting head, leaving them in the limo and going on about my business. 

Anger boils in me, Sikki chomping at the bit. 

That selfish bitch! 

I get out and go after her. 

I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna say to her, but I'm mad. 

"How dare you use me to get your rocks off and then toss me aside?", no, because I've done that to her a couple times...but that's because she's into it. 

I swear she comes harder when I randomly come up behind her and just start going at it because she knows I'm just using her to get off and then leave her wherever I stopped her, and go out right after and wouldn't think twice about it. 

But me? I'm so used to her looking at me like I'm God while I have my full attention on making her feel good, and she has the audacity to get off on my face and then kick me to the curb and tell me I'm never touching her again?! 

I decided it wasn't worth the fist fight it would inevitably turn into by the time I got inside, but and looking back, she had every reason to get me horny and then swear off ever letting me get near her again. It was petty, but smart. And despite having sex one last time not long after that instance, the point was still made clear. For the first time in our relationship, the acceptance of sexual advances didn't take the place of forgiveness.

[saltyromanov]

Sorry if this is way too dirty but I rlly can’t stop thinking about Natasha sat in Carol’s lap, maybe in sum lingerie. And just grabbing her jaw like so her fingers and thumb dig into Carol’s cheeks until carol opens her mouth so she can spit into it. The idea is sending meeeeeee

“Those hands move, and I stop. You understand me?” Natasha spoke firmly from where she was standing at the bottom of the bed. She looked a vision of sin, red curls tumbling over her shoulders, lust-blown green eyes scanning greedily over the sight in front of her and dark, lace lingerie barely covering her body.

Despite the fact she was fully clothed and her girlfriend wasn’t sparing any of her dignity in her favourite underwear, Carol couldn’t help but feel on the back foot. Natasha was looking at her like she was a piece of meat, darkened eyes staring her into submission so that she didn’t actually need to be told to keep her hands behind her back to do it. She could feel excitement brewing in the pit of her stomach as she simply sat on the edge of the mattress and waited in silence, nodding her head in understanding of Natasha’s question.

The gesture earned her the smallest of smiles as Natasha took a step closer so she was able to reach out and drag her index finger down Carol’s cheek, “Do you need a safe word, Принцесса?”

There was an almost sinister glint in Natasha’s eye, like she’d only asked the question to rile Carol up for what was next. It was Carol’s first instinct to make a snappy remark but for once she decided to bite her tongue, knowing she would never get what she was already aching for if she was to try and be sassy.

Shaking her head gently, Carol smiled, “I’m all yours baby.”

Natasha simply hummed in response, stepping closer so she was now between Carol’s knees as she moved her hand to rest it on the blonde’s shoulder and squeeze, “Does that mean you’re going to be good for me?”

“Of course.” Carol didn’t miss a beat before answering, her smile widening as she looked up at Natasha.

“You’re uncharacteristically compliant tonight.” observed Natasha, a small laugh sounding from the back of her throat as she shuffled onto the bed with her legs astride Carol’s lap. Once she was comfortable, she moved her hands to comb them through either side of Carol’s hair, forcing her head back slightly as she pressed her lips to Carol’s cheek, “You must really be desperate for me to fuck you if you’re being so well behaved.”

Carol’s eyes drifted closed at the words, the combination of Natasha’s body pressed so perfectly against her and the way her hot breath hit Carol’s cheek as she spoke, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The urge to reach forward and run her hands over every inch of exposed skin was overwhelming. Natasha’s breasts were already spilling out of the lace cups of her bra but Carol could only focus on how badly she wanted to pull them down further and get her mouth on Natasha’s body. She desperately wanted to just push Natasha’s panties to one side and touch her, feel Natasha arch into her and find out if the other woman was just as soaked as she was.

It was like Natasha could hear Carol’s brain ticking, the trace of a smirk painting her lips as she gripped both of Carol’s shoulders with a firm squeeze and pressed another wet kiss to the side of her face, “Are you thinking of doing something bad, Carol?”

A shaky breath forced its way from Carol’s lungs, squeezing her eyes shut and tightening her fists behind her back as Natasha’s hands started to roam over her body, and her lips continued to work down the side of her neck. As soon as Natasha’s hands reached the bottom of Carol’s shirt, she tugged the item over her head and threw it to one side, Carol’s bra quickly following in the same direction. Natasha’s hands moved to cover Carol’s breasts instead, groping and squeezing at the newly exposed flesh.

The moan that Carol let out when Natasha pinched down on one of her nipples sounded desperate. She was stuck in the most torturous pleasure of her life, desperately trying to focus on some restraint and not allow everything Natasha was doing to her to get the better of her.

Natasha couldn’t help but notice her girlfriend’s struggle to keep still, breaking away from her work on Carol’s neck to look her in the eye with a mischievous grin, “You are being good tonight, aren’t you?”

Panting for breath as she attempted to recover from Natasha’s assault on her body, Carol actually pouted as she nodded her head in response, hoping that maybe it would get Natasha to show mercy on her. However the look that came over Natasha’s face next, made Carol think that maybe it was just as dangerous to be doing exactly as she was told.

“You really want me to touch you that bad?” Asked Natasha quietly, pushing down into Carol’s lap with a roll of her hips as she rested her hands either side of Carol’s neck. The action earned her a small whine from the woman beneath her, something Natasha silenced by bringing their lips together and pushing her tongue forward to meet the blonde’s. Carol moaned gratefully into Natasha’s mouth as she felt her pushing down into her again. She was so turned on it was bordering on uncomfortable, and Natasha seemed to be enjoying it enormously as she broke away from the kiss with a smirk.

“I bet you’d let me do anything to you right now, wouldn’t you?”

Carol swallowed as she tried to regain the ability to speak, turning into the touch as Natasha’s fingernails scraped lightly over the back of her neck, “Always.”

Natasha made an almost inaudible sound of approval before her hand took hold of Carol’s face and pulled her forward for another deep kiss. She pushed herself forward into it, using the height advantage of being in Carol’s lap to take control of the embrace so that her hand cupping Carol’s chin was the only saving grace in keeping her upright. But Carol couldn’t bring herself to care about who was in charge, the only thing that mattered was Natasha’s warm tongue pushing its way forcefully into her mouth and the gentle rock of her hips against Carol’s body.

Reaching down towards Carol’s breast, Natasha rolled one of her nipples between her fingers as she pulled back from the kiss to allow Carol to groan out in appreciation, maintaining a tight hold of Carol’s face with her other hand to keep the blonde close, “I think you’d just let anyone touch you right now wouldn’t you?”

Carol shook her head hurriedly from side to side, “Just you Nat. Always just you.”

“Really?” Natasha’s fingers tightened around the bottom of Carol’s face as she broke into another smirk, “You sure you don’t want anyone else to have you?”

Shaking her head again, Carol leaned forward to try and reattach their lips, whining in disappointment when Natasha moved herself just out of reach, “Only yours. Nat, I swear.”

“хорошая девушка, that’s what I like to hear,” praised Natasha quietly, ducking her head enough to brush her lips lightly over Carol’s. As soon as Carol tried to kiss her back, Natasha would pull back to stop her, breaking into a sly grin by the third or fourth attempt.

“Nat.” groaned Carol, pouting a little as for the first time that evening she started to get impatient, wiggling a little underneath the other woman as she attempted to reach up and rejoin their lips.

“You want something?” Asked Natasha lowly, grinding down harder into Carol’s lap and moaning quietly at the way the other woman’s pants rubbed against the fabric of her underwear. Having Carol completely at her mercy was already enough of a turn on but the added friction made sure Natasha had definitely soaked through her panties by now. Her fingers pinched harder at Carol’s cheeks as a shiver travelled down her spine with another snap of her hips. Both women were breathing heavily by now, Natasha’s mouth still unbearably close to Carol’s but her vice like grip on the blonde’s face prevented her from pressing their lips together.

“I know what you want.” muttered Natasha, catching Carol’s lower lip briefly between her teeth as she rocked her hips again, “You want me to use you tonight, don’t you?”

Carol moaned at that, face contorting into some halfway point between pleasure and frustration as she searched her mind for any remaining self control to just keep her hands in place. “Fuck- yes, please.”

“Dirty girl.” chuckled Natasha quietly, sitting up slightly so she was looking down on Carol. The usual bright sparkle to Natasha’s eyes had been completely replaced by blown pupils and a much darkened shade of green. She looked almost hungry for something, a borderline intimidating smirk playing across her lips as she pressed her thumb and forefinger into each of Carol’s cheeks with more force, “Open up for me.”

Complying immediately, Carol allowed Natasha to force her mouth open, sticking her tongue out slightly for good measure. With a firm hold on Carol’s face, Natasha sat up straighter, her eyes locked with the other woman’s in an intense stare as her face hovered above Carol’s. For her part, Carol was aching for Natasha to just do something, the throb between her legs and the arousal sweeping her body becoming impossible to ignore. She didn’t have to wait long for Natasha to act, craning her neck so her lips were just above Carol’s and with a flicker of a smirk, she spat into Carol’s waiting mouth.

Eyes drifting closed, Carol knew it was wrong how much the action turned her on, feeling Natasha’s grip on her face loosen enough that she could close her mouth again. Almost immediately Natasha rewarded Carol with a kiss, deep and hard and rough so that it had every hair on the back of Carol’s neck standing on end.

The kiss didn’t last long, Natasha pulling back again and grinning down at the other woman. She pushed Carol’s hair back from her face, tilting her head back as she stroked her fingers through blonde locks.

“You’re so good for me, baby. I think you’ve earned a reward.” said Natasha quietly, pressing a final searing kiss to Carol’s lips before pushing her girlfriend forcefully in the chest so she toppled back against the mattress, “Hands above your head for me.”

Doing as she was told, Carol relaxed flat on her back and raised her hands into position. Natasha waited until Carol was in in place before moving, shuffling further up the bed gradually until she was hovering above Carol with her knees either side of her head. Carol’s mouth practically started to water, only the flimsy piece of damp lace between her lips and Natasha’s pussy making her eager for what was about to happen next.

Natasha looked down at the woman between her legs, tugging gently on Carol’s hair and nodding her head downward with a quirk of her eyebrow, “Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work.”

[dreamingofscully]

The Wrong Side of the Bed

Rating: Explicit Length: 4427 words Classification: Established MSR, Slight angst, Season 7, Smut Exchange 2020 Summary: Smut Exchange 2020. Prompt from @crescentmoon223​: After a frustrating day at the office, Scully gets bossy in the bedroom.

Notes: Thank you to my wonderful betas. @fragilevixenfic​ you are so quick, detailed and wonderful with your feedback. @AweburnPhoenix I loved the suggestions you made. @suitablyaggrieved​ I think you have beta’d every one of my fics and I am overwhelmed with your support and value your opinions on everything I create. Lastly, my good IRL friend who isn’t on tumblr/twitter made such an impact on my very first fic also looked over this one, and I am so so grateful. I could never have done it without you all!!!

READ THIS ON AO3.

“No I can’t wait until tomorrow, I need that file before noon.” A pause, her brow scrunches in a way that he has become intimately familiar with over their long partnership. “What do you mean, you don’t know where it is?”

Mulder cracks another sunflower seed and watches Scully surreptitiously from his desk. She’s near the door, the reception on her cell phone trapping her in a small five-foot section of their office, and she’s pacing like a wild animal in a cage.

She glances in his direction and he looks away, busying himself with the file he’s pretending to read.

“Look, do I need to come up there and fetch it myself, Agent Porter? … No? … Fine, if you can get it to me by one I won’t–”

When Mulder peers up, she’s looking at her phone incredulously.

“That asshole hung up on me.”

A burst of laughter bubbles up before he can stop it, and he intently regrets it when he sees her narrowed eyes, the heat in her glare directed at him instead of the hapless agent on the fifth floor.

Scully goes back to the computer desk in the corner and slumps in her seat. She’s holding her shoulders tightly to one side. He notes the wrinkles in her slacks, the half-untucked blouse, the careless way she sits her elbows on the surface in front of her. It would be charming and he’d delight in teasing her about her unusually unkempt state of dress but not even he would dare to try to lift her up by joking with her today.

“Would you stop staring at me Mulder, I’m fine.”

He opens his mouth to remind her about the words she’s not supposed to say but she nails him with another hard glare.

“I’m just having a shitty day.” She sighs and shifts in her seat, groaning as she cracks her neck from side to side. “Why are there so many incompetent people in this goddamn building?”

.

It’s been about an hour, and she can’t get herself to relax or focus. Another crack from Mulder’s side of the office makes her wince.

“For Christ’s sake, Mulder would you stop eating those things for, I don’t know, fifteen minutes? Maybe?”

When she glances up at him to emphasize her words, he’s looking at her with wide eyes, mouth half-open, hand frozen in place as he’d set another sunflower seed in his mouth. Instead of biting down, he spits it out on his desk, causing another surge of annoyance to rise within her at his carelessness.

The smallest things have been irritating her all day. She hates her unexplainable irrationality, that she can’t gain control of herself, and it makes her want to alternately burst into tears and smash something into tiny pieces.

She looks towards her partner again, sees his sad eyes and a tight, uncomfortable smile flash across his face. Her anger dissolves and shame rises within her. She can feel the tide of tears well up from deep in her chest, stinging her eyes as she holds them back. Mulder’s been nothing but supportive today; handling all the minor tasks that neither of them liked, answering the phone, and redirecting stupid questions. Yet, all she can think about is his inconsequential habits. She hates herself for taking out her anger, for which she could find no rational source, on him.

Her chair creaks as she shifts away from him in her seat; her hands coming up to hide her crumbling face, uncontrollable tears falling down her cheeks.

His gentle hand on her wrist stills her shaking hands.

“What can I do Scully? Anything.”

.

Kneeling down beside her chair and leaning close, so she can’t hide, his worry deepens. He’s never seen her so upset. At first he thought she’d just been stoically withstanding a day that had gone from bad to worse… but the tear tracks down her flushed cheeks and the worry in her eyes betray a deeper problem. His heart starts to race, finding it strange that she’s accepting his comfort at work.

Mulder releases a breath when her watery blue eyes meet his, and he sees a determination there, a curiosity. Something different than the fury and despair he’s been a silent witness to all morning.

A small smile briefly lights up her face and she brushes her damp cheek with the back of her hand.

“Anything?” Her eyebrow lifts, and he’s done for.

Nodding, Mulder squeezes her hand, moves a bit closer.

Scully withdraws her hand and looks away from him. When she looks back, he’s relieved to see she’s transformed back into her usual self. Her emotions are subtle, carefully hidden behind a mask of clinical detachment, but easily recognizable to him.

“Go to your apartment. Take off your clothes. And wait for me,” she says, her eyes an intense indigo that pierce straight through him.

Mulder’s eyes widen and a smile spreads on his face. Scully merely tilts her head to the side, raising both of her eyebrows at his delay. Her back straight, she directs the full power of her commanding gaze towards him.

He stands, grabs his jacket from his chair and leaves the office, a foolish smile on his face as he rushes to the elevators. He’s distracted but has enough sense to cover the evidence of his arousal already tenting his pants.

***

As Scully’s heels tap along the tiles in the hallway outside Mulder’s apartment, a small smile dances on her face. Mulder’s intervention worked something of a miracle. The control that she wrestled with all morning has morphed into anticipation. An emotion she was much more familiar with and something she could easily compartmentalize.

She didn’t wait very long. It took a weight off her shoulders that she was able to finish a few reports, thoughts of a licentious afternoon with Mulder teasing her. On the drive to his place, all she felt was the hot pooling of desire and all she thought about was how much she wanted to reward him for his ability to always make her feel better.

She lets herself into his apartment, the only light scattering dimly through the windows. The long shadows and silence gives her pause, but she sees his shoes scattered in the entryway, his jacket crumpled on the floor near the coat rack. She envisions his distracted, lanky frame entering his apartment in a rush, even more heedless of neatness than usual. It never fails to thrill her that she excites him just as much as he excites her.

The bedroom is darker than the living room, the shades pulled from the night before to give them privacy. She waits on the threshold, grazing her eyes over his darkened form, lingering over his hardening cock, wondering if he touched himself while waiting for her.

She doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.

Dragging her eyes away after a few long moments, she moves to the window and tilts the blinds open, risking a little of their privacy so she can enjoy him in the light from the bright midday sun outside. A thrill races up her spine at the small chance someone could watch them and enjoy the view of their partially obscured forms making love.

She stands over him on the bed, and their eyes connect.

.

Mulder can tell she sees the desperation in his eyes. She’s deliberately dragging things out, and he almost forgets what started this in the first place. He wants to reach up and throw her on the bed, rip off her expensive suit, and show her what he’s been thinking of doing to her since he left their office.

But… he stays still under her intense gaze. His breathing quickens and his cock hardens under her scrutiny, arms across her chest like she’s examining evidence. Her eyebrow raised in silent command, he knows he’ll be hard-pressed to move without her permission, even if a goddamn sasquatch appeared behind her.

Suddenly, she’s leaning over him, one knee on the bed. Her mouth inches from him, warm puffs of breath onto the flushed skin of his cheek.

“You’ve been good, I can tell. Did you shave?”

He doesn’t speak, knows this game. He answers her with his eyes: Yes.

“How can I show you how much I appreciate you, Mulder?”

He can’t help but smile at her with a toothy grin. She’s fully clothed but reaches upwards to shrug off her jacket, unbutton her blouse halfway. The silky material of her untucked shirt tickles his skin, the warmth from her hands seeps into him as they hover but don’t touch. Her hair wraps around her face and hides her expression in shadows.

Her tongue is the first thing he feels, meandering down the center of his chest. The coolness of the air a transitory sensation on his dampened skin as her touch inflames him. He can only watch as she circles his navel, the sunlight from his window catching her fiery hair as she nears his cock. She exhales a soft sigh and glances upwards to meet his eyes before her mouth and hands descend upon him.

.

She grasps his rigid cock and licks his entire length with the flat of her tongue. Swirling around the tip, she tastes his essence, the saltiness, and something else that she’s associated with him from the very beginning. She can’t quite describe it. Since their first embrace, her face pressed into the center of his chest… it is HIM.

Taking him in her mouth, stroking the base of his cock with her hands, she hums in pleasure. The vibration from the sounds she makes travels down through him, upwards, echoing in his own voice. Mulder groans from his position on the bed but doesn’t reach out to touch her, as much as she wants him to.

Tears sting at her eyes, this time in happiness. He doesn’t hesitate to make himself vulnerable when she’s feeling powerless, shifting the balance between them. Ever since that first night in his hotel room, he knew what she needed. The trust built from there, and it was unconditional, unspoken, the thing she treasured most about them.

“Scully…”

She feels the tightening in his balls before the warning in his voice and lets him go, peering at him through her lashes.

“Did I say you could speak?”

Mulder shakes his head, his eyes tinged a deep green, equally desperate and aroused. Sweat slicks his brow, and his hands clench at the sheets. Holding his gaze a few seconds longer, his face softens, a small smile gracing his lips. The absolute trust she sees reflected in his eyes clenches at her heart.

Crawling up his body, carefully letting only the fabric of her clothing touch him, she brushes her nose along his. Her hand caresses his cheek, moves upwards to tangle in his thick hair. When her lips dart close to his, she pulls away as he strains upwards.

“Tell me what you’d do with me if I let you touch me.”

His voice is rough as he speaks. “I’d grab your wrists, pull you under me. I’d lick my way down to your pussy and keep licking until you begged me to fuck you.”

A twitch of her lips betrays the thought that she would, very much, like for him to do that to her. But not right now. Mulder waits passively but the sparkle in his eyes gives away his enjoyment.

“You were supposed to say ‘whatever I want’.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Kiss me.”

.

Their lips meet, and electricity travels from the top of his head straight to his groin. Her hands grasp his wrists, holding him in place. Her tongue invades his mouth, withdraws. She nips his lips playfully then pulls back out of reach. He longs to reach up and crush her mouth to his, to grab fistfuls of her hair, to run his fingers along the edge of her blouse and over her silky skin. He waits, but not for long.

Their lips separate momentarily, and Scully whispers into his mouth. “Touch me.”

He takes advantage of his freedom, hands finally moving from the bedsheets to caress the sides of her breasts through her shirt. Pulling on the edge of her blouse, he draws her closer to deepen their kiss. His tongue presses along hers and glides along her lips, tasting her.

Mulder pulls away and implores her silently as his hands move to the last remaining buttons on her blouse. Scully nods and grins at him. When he removes it, gliding his hands over her shoulders and down her back, he sighs at the contact of his hands along the smooth length of her skin, finally.

They kiss, her hand tangling in his hair, gently tugging and scratching his scalp. A surge of desire rising up within him, his hands glide up and squeeze her breasts. She gasps at the contact, pulls away slightly.

“Sorry, was I too–”

“It’s okay, I’m just a little… sensitive.” She grins at him, strokes a finger over his cheek, and bites her lip.

Nodding again and pressing closer, Mulder continues his ministrations. He takes a deep breath and controls himself, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. He works his way slowly towards her nipples, dares to glide over the hardened peaks through the material of her bra once he can see her face twist and her body writhe with want for him. Her skin is flushed down to her chest. Running a finger along the edge of her bra, he leans upwards and licks the perspiration forming there.

Panting shallowly, Scully sits up, reaches behind, and releases the catch on her bra.

“Your tongue.” She arches an eyebrow. “Gently.”

He obliges, teasing her as she teased him, awareness of her flooding every sense. When she stiffens slightly, he pulls back, touching her heated flesh everywhere but there, working his way up. Her sweet rosy nipples draw him, but he resists, placing feathery kisses on her alabaster skin, circling her areola with his tongue. When he finally, finally covers her nipple with his mouth, she’s panting with lust. He gently skims the sensitive nub with his tongue, making sure to pay equal attention to the other.

Suddenly she’s rolling off of him, lifting up her hips and divesting herself of the rest of her clothing. She perches up on one elbow, gazing at his body next to hers.

.

Scully watches as Mulder’s eyes sweep over her body, pausing at the thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs. She sees his hesitation, his hand inching towards her body. Stilling it with her own, she smiles impishly when his eyes return to hers, bathing her in the heat of his desire. He always makes her feel so fucking sexy like she’s the only woman on the planet.

As she rises on her knees, Scully feels wound up, tightly coiled, and ready to break at any moment. The unusual discomfort she felt earlier is forgotten, miles away. She’s swollen, flushed with heat, and ready. However, there’s a few more things she wants him to do first.

She crawls up his body, and can’t help but giggle self-consciously as she braces herself on the bed in front of him, knees bent on either side of his head, directly over his face.

“Make me come,” she demands.

He grasps her legs, pulling her close, and she gasps at the contact of his warm breath against her thighs. His tongue glides a trail along her leg, and she can tell he’s hesitant. His kisses are soft and slow, frustrating her with their gentleness. She moves, hoping he’ll quicken his pace, touch her where she wants him to, but he maneuvers out of the way, wrapping his arms around her legs firmly, grasping her ass with his hands.

“I’m ready, Mulder. Don’t hold back now.”

She feels him smile against her. It seems to take forever and then he’s there, a teasing nip at the crease of her leg, a soothing lick. Her legs wobble unsteadily, but he’s got her, supporting her completely as she abandons the control she’s had all this time. She gives herself over to him. As he worships her, kissing and sucking at her folds and her clit in a gentle rhythm, Scully grips the bedsheets with one hand and grasps his arm with the other, the flood of sensation overwhelming her.

The extended anticipation, the teasing, made her more than ready, despite how little she’s allowed him to touch her up until now. She’s wet, dripping, and he’s consuming her.

She lets him.

It’s only moments before his deft tongue has her breaking apart, seeing their future in the stars.

He’s holding her up when she comes and lays kisses against the soft skin of her thighs when she returns to him.

.

She crawls unsteadily off of him and lies on her side, trembling and breathless. She’s loose, draped languidly like a ragdoll. Mulder touches her freely, gliding over her porcelain skin. It glows underneath the sunlight from the window, and he worships her. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the strength of her taut abdomen. He grazes his thumb over the slight swell just below her navel, the spot she curses at in her neverending search to rid herself of that last bit of softness. It’s his favorite place, where he’d lay his head for the rest of his life if she let him.

When her breathing steadies Mulder moves over her, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “What next?”

He’s close, mimicking her teasing from earlier, well aware that with only a word he’d do whatever she asked. Her eyes are dark, the blue irises a thin circle around her pupils. The dimple in her cheek flashes briefly as she grins. Her hands move across his chest, scratching upwards, tracing her thumbs around his nipples before pushing him up firmly.

“Off.”

He moves away from her, testing his limits by remaining as close as possible while still obeying. Scully licks her lips and slips out from under him. She sits close and moves a delicate finger down his chest and along his abdomen. A pause, a tantalizing glance beneath her lashes as she lays a palm on his chest and pushes him away again.

And then she’s on all fours, peering back at him through the veil of her hair.

“Fuck me.”

It takes him a moment to process her words through his lust-addled brain, the sight of her positioned so vulnerably, yet with absolute control of him, nearly makes him come right there. He scrambles up behind her, moving her to the edge of the bed, hands lingering on the curve of her ass and giving it a light squeeze.

“Hmmm… “ Scully murmurs, wiggles temptingly nearer to him, arching her back and laying down on her elbows.

The fiery fan of her hair blazes in the sunlight, her creamy skin beckoning him to touch her. The tattoo on her lower back taunts him as he grasps his cock, teases her entrance. She’s incredibly wet, swollen with need. He can’t help lingering there, gliding his other hand over the ink on her back then wrapping it around her hip.

He meant to go slowly to give her time to adjust, but once he enters her, she drives back onto him, and he’s deep within her, all at once.

“Oh!”

They both exclaim at the sensation and laugh in tandem. Being inside of her always feels incredible, like he’s sheltered, complete.

“Talk to me.”

“Miss my voice already?”

Scully giggles and swivels her hips to encourage him to move.

“Agh, Scully. Your wish is my command,” he says, as he starts to thrust slowly, his words centering him, keeping him focused on her.

“Do you know who I ran into on the way to the car out of our office today?”

“Hmm?”

“Skinner.”

Scully gasps, and he’s not sure if it’s from his words or a particularly sharp thrust, but he enjoys the ambiguity.

“I had to hold my jacket in front of me the whole time. And look like a complete jackass when he wondered where I was heading to in the middle of the day. You think he figured it out, Scully, what you do to me?”

Mulder leans over and kisses her shoulder blade.

“Do you know how hard it is to drive with an erection, Scully? Well of course you do, it’s not the first time you’ve put me in that state.”

She snorts into her arms with laughter, and the movement causes him to slip out momentarily. They both groan from the loss of contact. Mulder falters in his story, too distracted by the sight of her ass and slit in front of him, and the feel of her surrounding him when he enters her again.

“More.” Scully says, her words muffled by the pillow she’s holding onto.

He continues his movement and his tale with difficulty, his hands steadying her hips and caressing small circles into her skin with his thumbs.

“I thought I’d be late, that you’d get there before me and I’d disappoint you. I never want to disappoint you, Scully.” He’s quiet for a moment, wanting the meaning of his words to sink in, and desperately holding onto his control.

It was hard to think about anything except the woman writhing and moaning in front of him, but he was going to do his damndest to do what she wished. A challenge, he was always up for that.

“I waited for you, just as you asked. Shaved, laid down on the bed. It felt like hours…” He pants, pauses, leans forward again until she turns to face him. “I knew you’d come, Scully. Do you know how much that means to me?”

“Umm…” She leans up towards him, grasping onto his neck and pulling him forward. She looks at him as directly as she can from this position. “I’ll always come for you, Mulder.”

“That’s what she said.” Mulder smiles broadly, thrusts forward with a “Schwing!” motion.

Scully shakes with laughter and groans. Reaching backward she slaps the side of his ass. “That’s enough of that.”

Mulder’s broad grin shifts into a sentimental one. With one hand still holding her hip as he moves within her, he traces the contours of her spine and runs his fingers lightly over the soft skin of her lower back.

“When I heard you enter my apartment, it was all I could do to stop myself from leaping out of the bed to tackle you. The thought that in mere minutes, seconds, you’d be touching me, telling me what you wanted. It’s everything, Scully. You’re everything, you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mulder,” she pants. “Love you, too. But… harder.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He is overwhelmed by how good she feels; her tight walls gripping his cock with each movement. The swivel of her hips at the perfect moment. The increasing intensity of her moans and the sounds they make coming together. His hands grip her hips as he withdraws slowly, thrusts inside quick and deep. The force of it causes her to jerk forward on the bed, to grip the bedsheets tighter in her fists.

A wave of tenderness washes over him at the sight and feel of them together. His hand moves from her hip to glide up and caress the fine hair at the nape of her neck. He’ll never get over how amazing it feels to share this with her, to know that she wants this, that he can make her happy. She turns her head to peek at him, a smile curving upwards. The glint of the sun reflecting in her eyes, the love shining forth. His heart clenches and his movements grow more erratic. Gliding his hand between her legs, he rubs her clit, desperate to help her to the edge before he falls inevitably, towards his own.

It’s not long before she’s there. Scully gasps and her eyes squeeze shut and Mulder feels her walls pulsating around him. A few more sloppy thrusts and he’s engulfed by his own climax, an overwhelming tide of sensation and emotion.

.

When she comes back to awareness, she’s lying facedown on the bed, Mulder’s limp form half-covering her. Both groaning, they crawl into each other’s arms. Scully tucks her head into her spot just under his chin and sighs contentedly as her heartbeat slows.

Her eyes droop shut as Mulder strokes her hair and pulls up the sheet to cover them. She’s deliciously sore, filled with warmth, and finally feels calm settling over her like a quilt.

“Feel better?”

“Mmm, much.” Scully tilts her head up to look at him. “Thank you for turning my day around.”

“Well, let me tell you, it was a hardship.” Mulder winks at her and kisses her forehead.

Chuckling and laying back down, Scully sighs. “I really don’t know what got into me today. I’ve never been the superstitious sort–”

“No kidding.”

“–But it honestly feels like some horrendous combination of every terrible idiom. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, full moon, etcetera. I could believe all of them were true.”

“I don’t know, Scully. I’m glad I could help though.” Mulder glides his hand over her shoulders and grasps her hand. “And I’m glad–”

At his pause, Scully looks up at him again, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m glad Skinner found me before he could go see you.”

“Why?”

“He told me something I’m sure would have made things worse. I… hope I don’t sour your mood again by telling you, but…”

“Mulder…” she warns. They don’t keep things from each other, not anymore.

“There’s some sort of audit coming next week. He just wanted to make sure we didn’t take any field trips before then. Apparently the guy is a bit of a hard-ass.”

“Is that it?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks into a half-smile. “I thought you’d be more upset.”

“That was this morning. I’m good now.” Scully’s eyes pierce into his own. “How are you with this news?”

Mulder shrugs and rolls his eyes. Giant waste of time, she can hear him think.

“We’ve been through worse, Mulder. One accountant certainly can’t do much.” She wraps her arm around him tighter, kisses his chest. “Besides, we’ve got each other. What can they do?”

She can feel his contentment surrounding her as she drifts into a half-sleep. “Yeah, we got this, Scully.”

[adultingautistic]

(7/9/20) hi!! i was wondering if something i’ve been experiencing is an autism thing, and if there’s a term for it? i’m not good at putting things into words so please excuse me if i’m being confusing!! so basically what’s been happening for a long time is that it’s almost like my brain is like... sort of a void of fog, if that makes sense? sometimes when i try to think it’s like i’m trying to reach into the fog to find something but i can’t find anything. it’s gotten really frustrating lately

Ask date: September 7th

Hi!  That’s okay, nobody here is being graded on explaining it perfectly!  You did the best you can and that’s just fine!

I do understand what you’re saying, I have experience brain fog myself for sure.  It could be related to autism, but it also could be many other things.  It depends upon the circumstances surrounding when it happens.

For example, the obvious one is if a person hasn’t had enough sleep, they will definitely have brain fog.  This can also happen if you haven’t eaten for a long time, or if you’re dehydrated.  These kinds of brain fog can happen to anyone, and have nothing to do with autism.  Certain medications can also cause brain fog.  My anti-anxiety meds do this; so can antihistamines like Benadryl.  Even if you’re only taking a small amount you might be very sensitive to it.

So as you can see, there are already a lot of physical reasons that you could be having brain fog.

There are also mental reasons as well.  Autism is one of them, and I’ll discuss that further in a bit.  But anxiety can also cause brain fog, and so can depression.  Heavy mental distress can cause something called “disassociation”, which is a defense mechanism the brain uses when it is extremely stressed.  So any number of mental health issues, if they are causing you enough stress, can also create this brain fog.

So speaking of mental stress, it absolutely could be autism that is causing your mental stress.  If autism is the cause, it would be due to overload.  This could be either sensory overload or emotional overload.  So try to notice when the fog is “worse”, and when it’s not as bad, and see what the world around you is doing when that happens.

I drove my car into a telephone pole once (I was fine, I wasn’t going fast), and it was because of autism sensory overload, and at the time the way I described it was “too much static in my brain”, because I did not know I was autistic yet, and I didn’t have the vocabulary.  What happened was that I had the radio on, and there was a Horrible Smell in my car, and it was also very hot, and I was sweaty and gross (I did not have AC).  I was okay-ish until a song that I hate very much came on the radio.  I drove for a bit like that, my brain getting more and more overloaded, until it was time for me to turn.  When I turned, my brain was so overwhelmed that I turned too sharply, and my soda flew out of the cupholder and splashed all over the floor.  I couldn’t process that last thing, and my brain stopped doing anything, including turning the car, so halfway into the turn it went straight, hopped the curb, and hit the pole.

When my father asked me why on earth I didn’t just hit the brakes, or keep turning, I couldn’t explain it other than to say “My brain was full of static”.  This was sensory overload, and it made it so that I could no longer process anything- new input, how to move my body, or how to have thoughts.

But it took me years to truly understand why I had that accident.  I didn’t know about sensory overload.  People always said things like “It was just hot out, that’s not a reason” or “It was just a song on the radio, that’s not a reason”, because for allistics these things are small.  

So if your brain fog is because of autism, look for sensory inputs that may be “filling your brain up”.  It could be the smallest thing that you think you’re tuning out- your brain is still processing that, which takes up thinking power, which leaves you with less thinking power to use for thoughts.

There are two main reactions autistics have when we reach overload.  One is a meltdown- which is very loud and obvious, it includes screaming, crying, hitting, running, anything to escape the overload.  But the other is a “shutdown”.  A shutdown is the opposite.  It is very quiet.  The brain just...stops.  It’s full.  So it stops.  No more new information can go in.  Thinking becomes nearly impossible.  This may be what you are trying to describe.

I know that I’ve spent the last 2 days in a near-complete brain fog myself (If you’ll notice, I was not posting anything).  This was due to my being at near-overload levels from emotions, due to stress at work.  Because I’m having a difficult time at work right now, it left me absolutely fried, leaving me with almost no brainpower left to process other things.  I’m still recovering from this near-burnout state, and that was definitely brain fog, and it was definitely due to autism and my inability to process the problems at work.

So, while I can’t answer your question as to what is causing your brain fog, I hope I’ve given you enough information to try to figure it out for yourself.  If you’re not sure, then just try all the things to fix it, and see which one it responds to best.  Number one, make sure your body is healthy.  Make sure you’re eating, drinking, and sleeping enough.  Sometimes that’s all we need is a physical boost.  If that doesn’t help, then start looking into the other reasons.  

I wish you the best of luck, from one foggy brain to another *hug*.