#it would be bad enough for him to see the wrong soul in his body

[fatedroses]

Elidibus informing Emet of a pivot in their plans in the most messed up way he can manage.

[songbirdseung]

𝑰𝑵  𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺  𝑨𝑵𝑫  𝑰𝑵  𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑯  /  𝑳𝑬𝑬  𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑼𝑵𝑮

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

The first day of your period is always the worst. The cramps, the headaches, the mood swings, it’s like your body is actively conspiring against you. And today? Today is no exception.

You’re curled up in bed, swaddled in a blanket like a human burrito, aggressively scrolling through your phone as if the screen personally offended you. Every little thing annoys you: the brightness of your screen, the stupid algorithm feeding you videos you don’t want to see, the fact that even breathing feels like too much effort. Your stomach twists painfully, and you groan, tossing your phone aside dramatically.

The bedroom door creaks open.

"Babe?"

You don’t even look up. "What."

Heeseung pokes his head inside, cautiously scanning the room like he’s entering enemy territory. Which, to be fair, he kind of is. He’s a seasoned soldier in this war, though. He’s survived many battles before. he knows exactly what he’s up against.

"I brought snacks," he announces, stepping in and holding up a bag of your favorite chips in one hand and a bar of chocolate in the other, like some kind of peace offering.

You squint at him. "Do I look like I want snacks?"

He blinks, clearly thrown off. "Yes?"

Wrong answer.

"Heeseung, I’m literally dying, and you think snacks are the solution?" you huff, shifting onto your side and burying your face into your pillow. "I hate everything. I hate life. I hate you."

There’s a pause. "You don’t mean that," he says casually, plopping onto the bed beside you despite your apparent wrath.

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. "Try me."

Heeseung sighs but doesn’t argue. Instead, he gently places the snacks on your nightstand and reaches out to touch your arm. "Wanna punch me?"

You blink. "What?"

"You always say you wanna fight someone when you’re on your period," he says matter-of-factly, adjusting his position to face you better. "So go ahead. Get a free hit in."

You narrow your eyes at him, weighing your options. On one hand, smacking him sounds tempting. On the other, he’s the only source of warmth in this house, and you’re freezing despite being buried under layers of blankets.

You groan in frustration before flopping back onto your back. "No. You’re my personal heater. I need you alive."

Heeseung smirks, clearly pleased with your choice. Without another word, he slides under the blanket and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. His body is warm, unfairly so and his familiar scent of fresh laundry and that faint cologne you love instantly soothes your nerves.

"Better?" he murmurs against your hair, his lips brushing your forehead.

You grumble something unintelligible, but the way you instinctively nuzzle into his chest answers his question for him.

Heeseung chuckles softly. "You’re so dramatic."

You lift your head just enough to glare at him again. "Say that again and see what happens."

He lifts his hands in surrender, but there’s a teasing smile on his lips. "Okay, okay. My bad. You’re not dramatic, you’re just… passionately expressive."

"That’s what I thought." You close your eyes, sighing as another wave of cramps hit you. "This sucks."

"I know, baby," he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You need anything? A heating pad? More snacks? My soul?"

"Your soul would be nice," you mumble sleepily. "But for now, just shut up and keep being warm."

Heeseung grins, tightening his hold on you. "Anything for you."

There’s a comfortable silence as he rubs gentle circles into your lower back, his warmth and presence easing some of your discomfort. You’re already half-asleep when he whispers, "Love you, even when you’re grumpy."

You hum, the corners of your lips twitching up slightly. "Love you too… but if you breathe too loud, I will smother you in your sleep."

Heeseung just laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

He’s been through this before. He’ll survive.

[bunnyyyuu]

even if he won't say it, touya really is a big softie for you.

you know it when you see the look on the league's faces when he lets you get close enough to touch—it's a "what the fuck is wrong with dabi?" look. you can see the confusion and near repulsion amplify tenfold when not only does he allow you to grasp his hand, he holds yours back. everyone in the LOV knows dabi would rather die than have anyone's hands near his scarred skin.

you know it when, on non-busy days, he follows you with a fake reluctance to the so-called "hangout spot" of the league's hideout. at this point, spinner is always asking you to "get dabi" because everyone knows he won't let anyone else drag him out. but when your big eyes plead with him to spend some quality time with the LOV, he just can't say no.

you know it when he hisses a sharp "no, get your own," when a soul dares to ask for a bite of his food (even if he's complaining about it being bad three seconds later), but will hand-feed you a big bite of your own. sometimes, he'll even offer you the rest if you really seem to like it.

you know it when he hides his face in a pillow as you diligently change the staples on his back. he knows he can do it himself—you know he can too, considering he was stapled up years before you met him—but he knows you'll do it better. you make sure his skin is aligned perfectly, each silver sliver placed evenly apart. you make him look like a work of art. it doesn't hurt like it used to, is what he always says, but he's still biting down on that pillow like he'll die otherwise.

you know it when your hand is wrapped around his cock under the covers while you two lie face-to-face. his hands are in your hair or on your waist as he bucks into your fist. white lashes are against cheeks, sheilding those teary turquoise eyes from you. even if the dim light, almost all of his pale flesh is dusted pink. when he's close, he'll pull you flush against him and duck his face into the crook of your neck. he keeps humping your hand, tip now rubbing and spreading a mess of pre against your soft stomach. he's whining, and he's greedy for you, and his whole body feels like it's on fire in a good way for once, and his brain is a mess except for one, consistent thought—you. "thank you," he rushes out of his lips between moans as he spurts cum on your tummy, "'love you."

you know it.

[pha55ed]

Your Fault || OP81

type :: smut

tw/cw :: dacryphilia, degradation, rough, mean!dom!oscar, he calls u ugly...

summary :: "oscar is so nice!" "he's so cat coded!" "he's so shy!" - no tf he's not, and you experience that first hand after a bad day - engineer!reader

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || OVULATING CELLY!!!

"Not" thrust "a single" thrust "thing" thrust "right." Oscar pants as he releases his frustrations of the race onto you. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. And although he could have blamed it on Lando, other drivers, other engineers, he didn't. He always focussed on you.

How you didn't speak up on the radio. How you didn't check him into the pit lane fast enough. How you misplaced the mechanic's drills one inch further than usual. How you didn't even wish him luck beforehand?

"S-sorry" You tried to mumble through your tears as he scoffed in your face. His thrusting never stopped, only getting stronger. He wasn't facing you, instead facing your back. Thank god, or else he would have a field day laughing at your crying.

"Shut your fucking mouth." He grumbles, too focussed on making sure you can't speak again.

Both of his hands were on your hips, making you move back and forth on his dick even faster and deeper than he was already going. He forced you to bend over fully too, your chest flat against the cool table. You could feel your goosebumps rise with the gusts of wind form his harsh thrusts.

But Oscar wasn't cold, far from it. Since only you were naked, while he was still fully clothed besides his dick peaking out. It made you so embarrassed, knowing that if someone dared to open his driver's room they'd see everything from you and not an ounce of skin from Oscar. And even if they did catch a glimpse of his dick, they'd only see his deep it's buried inside of you.

"Aren't you ashamed?" he asks, slamming into you fully before halting for a second. His hands reach for your face, oh no.

And as he forces you to look at him, you fight back for a second. Before he quickly reminds you.

"Turn your fucking head." He says, as he forces you to look at him. And seeing the cold tears roll down your face only makes him happier. "Oh my gosh." He grins.

He stops thrusting and instead pulls your body up, making your back lean against his warm chest. His thumb grazes your cheek and sweeps up your tear. As if his shit-eating grin wasn't enough of an ego crusher, he goes as far to taste his thumb.

The saltiness of your tear making him lick his lips. He stares into your eyes, not seeing your soul, but only seeing a source of fuel for his ego.

"You're an ugly crier." He says, bluntly with a small chuckle. He sweeps up yet another tear and licks his finger again. "We need to go back to doggy."

He says, as he turns your crying face back to the table as he begins to thrust into you yet again. And you weren't sure if you should be turned on or just start bawling from how rude he's being today.

[goquokka00]

SKZ vs Shark Week (Bangchan ver.)

How would each member of Stray Kids handle you while you're on your period?

BANGCHAN | MINHO | CHANGBIN | HYUNJIN JISUNG | FELIX | SEUNGMIN | JEONGIN

WARNING: This is a female reader going through their period. If the topic of a period/anything that has to do with a period makes you uncomfortable, then don't read it. Just remember that there's nothing wrong with a woman's period. It's a perfectly healthy body function :)

THE MOODS Bangchan never fails to notice how your mood always changes whenever you're a few days out from your period. He's an observant man of 7 children, he WILL notice when something is off with you. Specifically when you get more depressed than you usually are.

You don't eat as much, you bed rot more, you never feel like going out, and you constantly look like you're two seconds away from crying. You also wear the same clothes for a few days at a time, because you don't have it in you to change out of them. And so, Bangchan takes it upon himself to love up on you more.

The more depressed you get, the more cuddly he gets in return. He'll hold you, give you kisses, compliment you over and over, all to make sure that you're okay. If his princess is feeling down, then he'll do everything in his power to lift her spirits back up. And nothing...NOTHING will stop him.

THE BLOOD Simply put, your flow actually isn't that bad. Yeah, you bleed for a few days, but it's nothing horrible. The part that's horrible (more so for Bangchan than you) is that you don't wanna cuddle when you're bleeding. While it's not heavy and it's manageable, you don't want to potentially leak on him. It'd be beyond embarrassing.

But Bangchan? He gets pouty and mopey when you tell him that you aren't gonna sit on his lap while he works. He knows it's because you don't want to accidentally leak, but come on! So what if you get blood on him, he'll happily risk the cleanliness of his pants if it means he can have you on his lap. But he also respects your wishes. He respects it with a grain of salt, but...he respects it.

THE PAIN Through your period, you do end up getting a few cramps, but it's nothing horrible. They aren't as bad as some horror stories you've heard of, but they're bad enough to where you're never really comfortable. Sitting or standing or laying down in one position for too long gets to be seriously uncomfortable, and you have to change. The horrible thing is the tender breasts. They just feel so heavy and sore, it's horrible.

That's where Bangchan comes in. He knows that you go through this, and so he pretty much makes it his soul mission to take care of you however you need. You need pain killers? Done. You want him to rub your stomach? Say no more. You need the heated blanket for your chest. He's on it.

There are even times where he'll go out and get you some treats for being such a trooper for dealing with this week of uncomfortableness. And of course, each treat comes with a shower of kisses and "I love you's."

THE PRODUCT Not once has Bangchan ever complained about running to the store to get you pads or tampons or whatever you might need. Why would he? You going through your period means two things; you're healthy, and you're not pregnant. And right now, both are good things.

Also, he has a sister. So of course he's used to the products that came with periods. He doesn't cringe when he sees the used wrappers and wrapped waste for the week. He's used to it.

For you, he's buying the best of the best. The first time you asked him to get you some pads, he had asked an employee about which product was the best, and got you that. Along with a new heated pad, a big heated blanket you could both cuddle under, your favorite snacks and drinks, and chocolate. He isn't skimping for you. He knows that your period is your least favorite time of the month, so he'll do whatever he possibly can to spoil you so you don't suffer as much.

Anything for you.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Somno mention!!! Obey me brothers with a reader who’s into somnophilia? Maybe also Barbatos? 💚

Ofc ofc!

Obey me brothers with a somnophilia Mc

Lucifer

He often deprives himself of sleep so he is more than excited when he learns of this kink. He can finally relax but it won't be forced upon him to sleep as well? A win win for him. He of course asks repeatedly if you're okay with it and once after about a hundred asks he is on board. He often goes slow. He doesn't want to disturb your sleep too much and dragging out the sex leaves him sleepier at the end. But if he was really riled up or irritated that day you will be woken up with rough poundings he just couldn't hold back.

Mammon

He is on and off with this. He sometimes sleeps early and sometimes sleeps very late. He loves this information because usually whenever you nap out in the open he really takes advantage of it. He doesn't care if his brothers are around or not he's taking that damn chance. He isn't rough per say just fast still pleasureable ofc. He is very random with this due to his random sleep schedule and well him sleeping naked just helps with this kink as well.

Levi

He didn't believe you at first as he usually does. He kept re asking if it was okay alike Lucifer and it took a thousand responses for him to get it. He was scared at first and only used his hands but as he became more comfortable he started to almost do it nightly since he finds it hard to sleep as well. He's usually gaming but with you infront of him and willing to be fucked even when sleeping makes it more appealing than some game. He also isn't too intimidated by sex since you aren't staring directly into his soul which he loves ofc but it's still a little much for him. So this works out perfectly. He is usually slow but he is loud ASF.

Satan

He was intrigued by this of course. He was a bit confused on how it would work. Wouldn't you not be aroused since you're asleep? Oh boy was he wrong on that. After practically experimenting on your body he gained a nice flow of things. He often times wakes you up by accident because he becomes a bit too rough but with a few breathy apologies and his cum inside you (or on you) it doesn't seem all that bad.

Asmos

He enjoys his beauty sleep so despite many beliefs he doesn't feed into this kink often unless it's where you are napping during the daytime. He will play with you out in the open like Mammon because he has no embarrassment or restraint when it comes to you. He is slow but also drags out very strong orgasms that tend to wake you up for just a bit only to return back to sleep as he cleans you up. After care king (when he's not the one getting plowed)

Beel

With this gained information your pussy/ass will be sore ASF. He is usually up late at night because he can't sleep due to being hungry. Instead of destroying the fridge he gets to destroy you🤗 He usually tries to be gentle but let's be honest he is anything but easy to take. He also is a service top so the pleasure is spiked high with him. He will eat you out for hours too and just tell you to go back to sleep if you randomly wake up. (Yeah right)

Belphie

He ofc loves when you do it to him so he will return the favor whenever he is awake when you're not. Again he doesn't care who is around he will be on you. He loves using his hands because fucking is a little too much sometimes so it's often him either eating you out or fingering you. If he feels riled up enough to fuck you it's quite rough and he does it to see how tough he has to be to wake you up. He doesn't stop regardless but still. He also loves to mark up your body as he does so which is what actually wakes you up since his ass bites hard on purpose so the marks last longer.

Barb

He is alike Lucifer in not being able to sleep doing way too much. After learning this he feels an odd sense of excitement. He usually likes when you're awake for your sessions together. But as he watches your sleeping figure squirm from his touch he doesn't believe it's so bad. He purposely edges you even as you sleep because he wants to test how far he can get you until you wake up. He ends up enjoying it a bit too much.

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[lovehazard]

Yandere delusional König.

Note: So… I wrote this a while ago, but I never had the courage the post it. Anyway hope you guys like it (sorry if it's bad </3)

König was never a religious man. God never listened to his prayers when he needed it, so eventually, he stopped believing. He even hated the very idea of it. But all of that changed when he met you.

To König, you are divine. His light, his guardian angel, his savior… His everything.

You are his God.

It doesn’t matter how you met, whether it was in a battlefield drenched in blood, in the mess hall over a mundane meal, or in the quiet hum of everyday life. The moment König laid eyes on you, he knew. It was like standing beneath the heavens, staring at the most radiant star in the vast night sky. His very soul trembled in awe.

At first, just seeing you from far away was enough. Your presence alone was a blessing. Even on the worst of days, when his mind rotted with self-loathing and paranoia, when the world felt too loud, too cruel – one glimpse of you was enough to silence it all.

But then he saw you smile.

And suddenly, he needed more.

The first time he took a picture of you, he was wracked with guilt. He whispered an apology under his breath, gripping his phone like a sinner clutching a rosary. It’s just one picture… But then one became two. Two became ten. Ten became hundreds. Each one a sacred relic, proof of your existence, proof that you blessed this wretched earth with your presence.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

No, simply watching from afar was no longer enough. König needed to be closer. He needed to hear your voice, to bask in the melody of your words, to feel the warmth of your skin – proof that you were real.

So he started talking to you. Just small things at first – greetings, questions, little excuses to hear you acknowledge him. And when you spoke to him? When you said his name?

It was divine.

A shiver of euphoria ran down his spine each time. His name, once something he despised, now sounded like a prayer on your lips.

And yet, he still wasn’t satisfied.

Because others could hear you too. Others could see you, touch you, steal your attention away from him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. You were his. His angel. His God. His.

You wouldn’t understand yet, not when the world had poisoned your mind against him. But he could not stand idly by while they defiled you with their presence – those wretched, unworthy beings who dared to touch you, to speak your name as if it belonged to them.

No, he had to save you.

And when the moment arrived, it was almost too easy.

You never even saw it coming.

One moment, you were walking home, lost in thought, unaware of the towering figure lurking just beyond the streetlights. The next, the world went dark – a rag pressed over your mouth, strong arms locking around you before you could even think to fight.

A muffled cry. A sharp inhale. The bitter, sickly-sweet scent of chemicals flooding your senses.

And then, nothing.

When you woke up, everything felt wrong.

Your body was sluggish, your limbs heavy as if they were weighed down by something unseen. Your mind swam through a fog of confusion, your last memories slipping through your fingers like sand.

Then you noticed it.

A weight–warm, solid, heavy–pressed against your lap.

Blinking against the haze, you forced yourself to look down.

There, kneeling before you, was König. His massive form was curled in submission, his broad shoulders rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His head rested against your thighs, his hands clenched together in a white-knuckled grip. The soft murmur of words ghosted through the room, reverent, almost like a prayer.

At first, the words made no sense, spoken in hushed German, too quiet to fully make out.

A chill ran down your spine.

Your breath hitched, and that small sound was enough to break the trance.

König froze.

Slowly, as if afraid you would shatter at the slightest touch, he lifted his head. His masked face tilted upward, deep-set eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. For a moment, neither of you moved. The silence stretched–thick, suffocating.

Then, his breath hitched, his fingers twitching before he reached for you, hesitating just inches from your skin.

"Mein Gott…" he whispered, his voice raw, almost trembling.

There was something almost holy in the way he looked at you, as if he were gazing upon a divine miracle.

You tried to move, to pull away, to scramble back, but your body was still sluggish, weak. Panic surged through you, clawing at your chest.

"Please, do not be afraid," he murmured, his voice gentle, soothing… Wrong. "I know this is sudden, but… I had to. I had to take you away from them. They did not deserve you. They could not see you as I do. They would have tainted you, stolen you from me."

His hands curled into fists, his shoulders tensing before he exhaled shakily, trying to calm himself.

"But you are safe now."

He reached again, this time resting his palm on your cheek, warm, trembling with restraint. His eyes bore into yours, filled with something twisted.

"You will understand soon."

[bucks-babe]

More to Love

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take care of you in every sense of the term; so what if you gain a bit of extra fat because of it?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of past relationships, kind of told in flashbacks, shitty ex boyfriend who forces reader to lose weight (not Bucky), Bucky is so in love it hurts, Bucky takes care of his woman, body insecurity, weight gain because of a healthy relationship, smut, CMNF (only for a little bit), looking in the mirror while on Bucky’s lap (yes, that needs a warning), crying during sex, daddy kink, soft!dom Bucky, so much fluff, no use of Y/N, Bucky calls reader love, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), implied creampie, Bucky loves his girl’s tummy, emotions.

A/N: This is NOT fetishizing weight gain, nor unhealthy habits. Bucky is not forcing the reader to gain weight to make her attractive to him; he loves his girl at any weight and just wants to take care of her. I made this fic because I want to feel like the parts of my body that I’m insecure about can still be desirable. Also this turned out way softer than the drabble, but there is still smut going on. Thank you to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are my own.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, you have noticed how different he is compared to your previous partners. Not just because he is a 6 foot something brick house, but also in the way he treats you. You’ve never experienced such raw and untamed love directed solely at you, or the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, memorizing every quirk and tick you possess. It’s almost overwhelming how much he loves you.

Never before have you felt so comfortable in a relationship. Previous boyfriends never really felt like boyfriends, rather personal trainers. Maybe you were bad at picking them out, but your last partner was a gym rat, constantly obsessing over what he was eating and how many hours he put into the gym that week. The obsession he had for the gym followed through into your relationship. If you wanted to spend time with him, it had to be at the gym. 

He would construct fitness plans for you, saying that the softness of your stomach needed to go to make him happy, and you let him. You don’t know why you let him weasel his way into your head, but he did. Eventually, it went past the gym, and he would only allow you to go to a certain restaurant to eat because the others had way too many unhealthy options, side-eyeing you for ordering a side of fries instead of a salad. Cooking at home became a battle since you weren’t supposed to eat anything fatty or fried, nothing you did was ever good enough for him. 

Over the course of that relationship you did end up losing the extra weight you had, but also weight that you didn’t need to lose, and soon you were “too skinny” and “didn’t have enough meat on your bones for him.” He left you soon after - over text. It was something along the lines of, “I wanted to see if I could make you attractive, but you don’t look good, fat or skinny.” It crushed you. The man that you thought you were in love with, and who loved you, broke your heart. You never gained the weight back, hoping against hope that he could come back and realize he was wrong about you. He never did.

It took you a long time to get over that piece of shit, but what he said about your body never left - you were still terrified to gain weight. But then you met Bucky, and for a while you forgot about that asshole. You had the sweetest, sexiest, kindest man that you were able to call yours, so why would you even think about your past?  It started so slow you didn’t even notice until it was too late. 

You groaned, stretching out in bed, arm reaching out for your boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Squinting, you try to open your eyes, sunlight forcing them to close. After a few tries, you get them open and look at the time - 7:19. Bucky must be back from his morning run. Searching the floor for his henley, you walk into the kitchen to find Bucky cutting up your favorite fruit in a bowl, shirtless. The both of you know that he can hear you walk up to him, hell he probably heard you the moment you woke up, but he humors you when you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he jumps in surprise.

“What’cha doing, honey,” you murmur into his back, peppering it with kisses.

“Makin’ something to eat after runnin’ with Steve all mornin’. Hope I didn’t wake ya up, Love.” You feel the shiver that shoots up his spine at your touch.

“No, I was just about to get up anyway, just so happens that I woke up to this sight.” 

Bucky turns only his head to look down at you, a crooked smile adorning his scruffy face, “And you can wake up to it every day. Now how about you go sit your pretty little ass down on the couch and get our show ready? I’ll be there in a minute.”

You place a chaste kiss to his cheek before slapping his ass on the way out earning a glare from him. Bucky knows that you don’t eat in the morning but he has devised a plan because you not eating in the morning will follow to you only eating at dinner tonight. 

You hear his heavy foot fall as you’re getting comfy on the couch only for him to pick you up and rest his back against the arm of the couch, setting you down in his lap, his chest to your back. He ignores your squeals and settles down. 

While you are watching your show, Bucky is watching you, and before you know it, a piece of pineapple is passing your lips. Chewing happily, you don’t even notice that Bucky has you eating until the deep rumble of ‘good girl’ is whispered in your ear. A deep throb settles in your core as you continue to eat each piece he puts in your mouth, desperate to hear his praise again and again.

That was how it started, Bucky feeding you in the mornings. But it slowly progressed from that. He was always making sure that you’ve eaten your three meals a day, no if, ands or buts. You were an Avenger after all so of course you needed to eat to stay healthy with all the missions and training you go through. Bucky noticed the pudge on your belly coming back way before you did.

“Love, what is this movie even about? I’m so confused.” The smile in his voice was impossible to miss. With him against the headboard and your back resting against his chest, you couldn’t see his face. Whatever explanation you gave, Bucky didn’t hear a word of it. As you repositioned in his lap, you sat up, just a bit, but his hands on your stomach felt it, the small bit of fat soft and warm in his hands. 

To this day you have no idea why Bucky stripped off both of your clothes and pounded you for hours, but he did, and that little bit of soft flesh made him go a little crazy.

During this time you didn’t even realize that you were gaining your weight back because for the first time since you met your last boyfriend, you had so much more energy. You didn’t need extra naps throughout the day, or feel dead tired after doing absolutely nothing. Now, your body had enough nutrients to function properly, the hump of your belly was there because you were healthy. You’ve had it all your life, nothing getting rid of it. To you it made you feel like you were fat, but to Bucky, oh, it showed him that you were a strong, healthy woman.

Everyday after training, you would boast to him about how much better you’ve been doing in training, claiming Natasha said so. Of course you have always been a very capable agent, but now that you had enough fuel to support the vigorous Avenger training, you’ve been doing better than ever, and Bucky couldn’t have been more proud; however, it all came to a head when you finally caught on to your weight gain.

Fresh out of the shower, you head over to your closet. It was no special occasion but Bucky being the perfect boyfriend that he is, wanted to take you out on a date, just because. After finding Bucky’s favorite pair of lingerie and putting them on, you huff. You don’t remember the bottoms feeling so tight. You passed it off however, thinking that maybe you did something to them in the wash.

But what you couldn’t ignore was how your favorite dress wasn’t fitting. It took way too much wiggling to get it past your hips and waist. What really set you off though, was that you couldn’t zip it. Already too tight on you before zipping, now you couldn’t get the damn thing to move more than an inch. Looking in the mirror you found the reason why the zipper refused to move. The small pocket of fat on your tummy that you thought you got rid of, was back, and larger than it ever was. 

Turning to the side, you saw just how much it was coming out. You could’ve sworn you were a few months pregnant. How could you have missed this? It took a while, but you got the dress off so you could investigate the fat on your stomach. Gasping, you tried to suck in, in the hope that it would disappear. It didn’t.

Tears sprung in your eyes. How could Bucky find this attractive? Why hasn’t he said anything about this? How could you let yourself go like this? All these horrible thoughts raced through your head, before you heard Bucky’s sweet voice through the door asking if you were ready.

All of those little moments lead you to where you are now, standing in front of your mirror crying, while Bucky patiently waits on the other side of the door, thinking all is right with the world, as yours is falling apart right before your eyes. Before you can hide yourself, Bucky opens the door. Immediately, you move to cover yourself up, disgusted with the shape of your body hoping that he doesn’t look at what you can’t cover. Bucky, however, looks directly into your eyes first, seeing the pain and tears.

In two steps he reaches you and his strong arms envelop you, hands running up and down your back. “Love, what’s wrong?” You only bury your face in his chest further. He walks back to the bed, pulling you in his lap as he sits. Your naked body pressed up against his fully clothed one. Bucky’s right palm slides down your back and he tries to squeeze your waist when you jerk away from him.

“No! Don’t touch me there!” Bucky feels his heart crack in his chest at your repulsion, not understanding why you don’t want him to touch your waist. He doesn’t let you leave his lap however, keeping you in place.

“Why, Love? What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything. Look at my stomach, Buck!” You bite back another sob when he does, confusion written all over his face, not understanding what you’re trying to convey. “It’s FAT!” You all but scream, failing at trying to escape when his arms pull you down once again.

“Love…” He gets cut off by another sob falling from your lips. Instead of trying to talk you down, Bucky brings your lips to his and keeps your head in place. The only movement is the wobble of your lower lip as you try to contain your sobs. 

A few minutes pass by before Bucky can’t stand it anymore, and he tilts your head and moves his lips. The kiss tastes of your tears but neither of you care. Clawing at his back, you try to get closer to him, wanting him to consume you. 

When his hands trail down your sides, you pull away. Strong arms spin you around, naked back to clothed chest. The warm palm of his right hand forces you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Buc..”

“No, Love. Look at how fucking sexy you are.” With his right hand still holding your chin, his left trails down your body, stopping over the swell of your tummy. “So goddamn pretty, you know that?” He whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck, cock twitching under your ass.

He spreads his legs, forcing yours to open as well and he groans deep and long at the sight of your pussy. “God, Love, don’t you see how pretty you are, so soft and strong and all mine.” You try to pull away, the feeling of looking at yourself too much, but Bucky’s strong hands don’t let you move an inch. “Feel what you do to me? Feel how hard my cock is?”

 It’s too much, all of it. His praise, his touch, the sight of you. More tears well in your eyes and a pitiful whine leaves you. “Can’t, Bucky. I-I…” You have to close your eyes; you can't look at yourself any longer.

“Shhh, Love, you can, baby. Let Daddy take care of you. Let him show you how pretty you are. Open your eyes for Daddy.” At his request, you open your eyes, only to find his already on you. With tears still pouring from your eyes, Bucky wipes them away before laying you down on your back. 

If there was anyone who knew your limits better than yourself, it was Bucky. He knows that having you look at yourself right now would only do more harm than good, but showing you how much he loves you is a whole different story. Before laying down with you, Bucky takes his clothes off, needing to feel you against his bare skin. “I love you so fucking much, you know that? Never met a stronger,” Bucky plants a kiss on your cheek, “more beautiful,” another kiss, “smarter, sweeter, perfect woman in all my life.” 

With each kiss you can't tell if your erratic heart is slowing down or speeding up. This is such a foreign feeling for you, such unbridled love. Your head falls deeper into the pillows, Bucky’s scent enveloping all your senses, and you can’t think properly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the heedy stare Bucky is giving you.

“Daddy, I don’t, I can’t.” You don’t even know what you are trying to say, words no longer coming to you, but Bucky does, he always knows what you need.

“I know, Love. You just need Daddy to make you feel better, make you see how perfect you are for him.” Wrapping his arms around your back, he pulls you in closer to him, both of you gasping when his hard cock presses up against your naked core. Without thought, you grind your hips up, chasing the friction of his silky skin.

“All those tears, and all you wanted was Daddy’s cock, huh? Just want Daddy to fuck you dumb, turn that little brain off for you? Don’t worry, Love, Daddy’ll take care of you.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, not leaving any space between the two of you, the hard planes of his abdomen pressed against the soft swell of yours.

Bucky doesn’t wait for you to beg, he can’t, not now, he needs to be inside of you, lining himself up, he pushes in, inch by perfect inch.”Shit, Love, you feel how perfect you are for me?”

Your lips part, letting a breathy whine out. Bucky doesn’t wait, slowly pulling out until only his plush tip is still inside, just to roll his hips back in. “Fuck. Look at Daddy, look at what you do to him.” It takes everything in your power to open your eyes and look at Bucky, the pleasure almost too much just after one thrust, but when you do, the sight that meets you is glorious. Face flushed, brows drawn together, lips parted, Bucky looked debauched. 

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without warning, Bucky rolls the both of you over, with you on his lap. “Since you listen to Daddy so well, why don’t you ride his cock, let him look at his pretty girl bounce?” This snaps you out of your stupor, there’s no way you’re going to let him see your stomach jiggle.

“Bucky, I can’t, not this way. What about the other way?” You try to turn around, but his left hand grabs your waist while his right lands a harsh slap to your ass causing you to clench around him. 

“Ah, ah, ah, Daddy wants to see your face. You hear me?” Before you can complain again, Bucky thrusts his hips up, hard. You both moan, caught up in the sensation of his cock inside of you. Your hands fly to his chest, trying to balance yourself before you tumble off. Bucky doesn’t let up, thrust after thrust, pounding into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Daddy, right there, shit, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, just that you don’t want him to stop. The room is filled with the salacious sounds of your combined moans along with the clapclapclap of his thighs meeting your ass.

“So fucking good, Love, you know that? This pussy was made for me. Fucking perfect. Look at this little belly jiggling while I fuck you, shit, gonna make me blow my fucking load early. You’re. So. Fucking. Gorgeous.” Each word was punctuated by a vicious thrust. Ice pours down your spine, in the midst of pleasure you completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this position. He’s fucking staring right at your belly, hands gripping at your extra fat, just watching it ripple with each brutal thrust of his hips.

“Bucky stop, don’t look there, I don’t…” The rest of your sentence gets cut off when Bucky somehow fucks you even harder, effectively making your tummy move more. It’s too much: the feral look in his eyes, the perfect angle of his cock, and his beautiful moans. Despite your best efforts, you feel your orgasm building up. The little coil hidden under the small hump of your belly pulls tighter and tighter, and Bucky can feel it. He can feel your pussy pulsing around him so he moves his hands from your belly to your hips, grinding them against his coarse hairs with sharp thrust.

It pulls tighter and tighter until it snaps, dragging you under, blood roaring through your ears. You vaguely hear Bucky’s voice, “There you go, give it to Daddy. So good for me, soaking my cock. God, I fucking love you.” Bucky stops moving, giving you time to come down from your high. Still gasping for air, you fall down onto his sweaty chest, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You’re pulled out of your haze by Bucky. “Think you can give me one more? I think you can.”

He flips you over, back landing on the bed while he throws your legs over his shoulders, effectively causing your stomach to roll up, small pockets of fat pushing out. You whine, not wanting Bucky to see it, but he fucking loves this. Loves the bit of extra fat that has found its way under your chin, the soft flesh around your strong thighs, and the belly that fits perfectly in his hands. He loves it because it proves your healthy, that he’s feeding you well, well enough that you can train to your full potential, have the energy to do what you want to, not always be so tired you don’t want to do the things you love to do, that you aren’t afraid to eat what you want. That’s what he fucking loves, taking care of you and the way your body has changed has absolutely zero affect on his attraction to you. He will always think you are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe.

“Love, you don’t understand how fucking sexy you are, do you? Look at how well we fit together.” He cups the back of your head, making you look at your stomach as he enters you again, making your belly bulge more. “Do you see this, Love? See how pretty you are, and it's all for me, isn’t it?” The adoration in his eyes was almost too much, the swell in your chest threatening to burst as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his love with every stroke. Bucky wasn’t fucking you anymore, he was making love to you, showing you how much you mean to him. 

Bucky takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together, placing your hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock underneath your softness. “Daddy, feels so good. Fuck. Love you so much.” Bucky’s hips stutter when you say you love him, it has always been his weakness, the utter devotion and vulnerability that you allow him to experience is something he will never take for granted. Tears were streaming down your face, eyes probably red and puffy. Leaning forward, Bucky places his forehead on yours, eyes locked into yours.

“I know, Love. Can’t even begin to describe how much I love you.” Bucky can feel you getting closer again, pussy clenching around him, hands scrambling to grab onto something: his hair, back, hands, sheets, you can’t decide, the pleasure coursing through you too much. “Give it to me Love, make your Daddy proud and cum on his cock. Know you want to, just let go.” With two more thrusts, your eyes roll back, another orgasm rolling through you. This one shorter than the last, but no less intense. Bucky finds his release right after, burrowing his face into your neck, holding you to him, wanting to be as close as possible. 

It takes a few minutes, but the both of you calm down, hearts returning back to normal. You’re the first to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. “You knew I was gaining weight, didn’t you?” With his softening cock still buried deep inside you, Bucky lifts his head up a small smirk adorning his face. 

“Of course, but this little pudge,” he grabs your tummy and almost kneads it, “is because you’re healthy. You have so much more energy recently, and I fall deeper in love with you every single time I see how fucking happy you are now. You make me so proud to be able to call myself your boyfriend. You're so beautiful and I promise you that I will spend everyday for the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You don’t have any words to respond, so you just wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. And of course Bucky keeps true to his promise, and you believe him when he tells you that you are the most beautiful woman because he proves it to you everyday, in and outside of the bedroom.

[blkgirl-writing]

The massive list of SFW and NSFW Gale Dekarios headcanons

Gale of Waterdeep x Reader (Gn! for the most part)

A/N: the more I write Gale, the more in love with him I am. I started this before patch 5 and haven't been able to play it myself, so whoopsies if I just have to make another one of these. Lots of requests included in this one, to be expanded on later!

Gale is the most caring partner in the whole group. Followed by karlach and Wyll

He would much rather do everything for you than anything for him

This means he often over extends himself for you and you have to convince him to let you help him

Quality time and words of affirmation are his main love languages. All he wants is time alone with you, and he will do so much to make that happen

Gale actually sets up his tent to be as comfortable as possible because you don't have your own tent, and he doesn't mind at all if you sleep in his

eventually you basically just sleep in his tent exclusively, platonically at the moment. Sleeping on other sides or with a blanket between you

It isn't until you wake up from a particularly bad nightmare that your accidental touches aren't followed by apologies. Not quite embracing but not flinching away

He held you that night, wrapping his arms around you, his hands were big, soft, and comforting. He didn't speak until you did, who knows how long that was. All he said was "You're safe. It's ok."

────⊱⁜⊰────

He truly believes he doesn’t deserve you and that weighs kind of heavy on him

That shows in his body movements, confidence, still hesitant to be close to you physically in an extremely subtle way

With more flirting, more talking, more late nights close together, but still apart, still a gap in your embrace

Gale is still in touch with his sexuality and sex, but sex is different than love making. And he knew, when he fully let you in, when he’s finally stable and his mind, body, and soul were ready, he’d make love to you

Your first time together was for the most part, pretty talked through. You set your boundaries and safe word pretty fast

He’d stop at some point, pull back and just admire you

Stop is used lightly because he’s definitely still inside you and just very slowly still pumping in and out of you

“You’re absolutely ravishing.”

And he’d give himself fully to you

Gods he’d be all over you after, so touchy, even if not sexual in nature, any tough felt electric

Gale holds your waist more than your hand, it feels more romantic, showing you off to the world as someone that chose him. It’s really sweet, the first time he does it, he hand trembled a bit, he thought he was smooth enough for you not to tell but you could definitely feel it

Don’t get me wrong, he is confident and cocky at times, everyone knows that. But with you somehow, he feels nervous that you deserve more than he could give

Part of your early relationship is making sure he knows he’s wanted and loved and more than anything you could have wished for

────⊱⁜⊰────

Cuddling is always fun because it usually end up with fucking

If you’re the big spoon? He becomes such an angel and snuggles into your touch

If he’s big spoon he’s immediately turned on by everything, you being so close into him, your ass pressed against him, so many beautiful places for him to touch

Always ends in side fucking, just pulling your underwear down just enough to grind his cock on your bare ass

It’s also just convenient and easy if you’re getting busy while the others are sleeping in camp

But many days your time has you weak and just ready for rest, but you're both more horny than tired

that's when mutual masturbation becomes a daily routine, which never really leaves, even when you aren't as tired and have more privacy

he likes you call you his cherished work of art, seeing you spread for him is like a painting

────⊱⁜⊰────

One night in baldurs gate, you stay up into the morning drinking and talking in a bar, they only kicked you out when they literally were an hour last close, keeping it open because you had bought so much

It was literally anything, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Past pets, stupid haircuts growing up, embarrassing failures

That was the night everyone else really realized how deeply in love you two were

Like sure there was romance but real true love, with sparks

They absolutely made fun of you when you finally stumbled to your camp and passed out all day crammed into the small one person beds

I like to believe Astarion drew a stick figure version of y’all’s sleeping position to make fun of you when you woke

────⊱⁜⊰────

Once you’ve moved in with him he gets more and more turned on by you every day

You could be doing nothing and he’d grab your thigh and give you such a dirty look of lust

Not even three months in and ya'll have fucked on every surface possible, knocked over many books, and accidentally broke a vase and a bit in the shower

For the most part, your cozy days consist of him reading, and you beside him, feet resting on his lap

If you're a bard, of course he's going to ask you to practice and play around him and while you relax together, his favorite sounds all come from your sweet melodies

if you drink you definitely share a bottle of wine throughout the day

When Gale get's tipsy he just gets lovey and nerdy

telling you about a favorite bit of history or a spell, interrupting himself to compliment you "Gods you're beautiful, have I told you that today, dear?" and "And that's how the stars fell in love with- that top is stunning my love, mind if I take it off?"

cooking is fun yet very stressful unless he has a drink in hand

it's his kitchen and he's not used to company in it, so he often bumps into you or doesn't know where to say something is, so he just ends up getting it for you

I have a feeling this man is super into coffee and the roasts

like he's an absolute snob over it. A whole glass cupboard is dedicated to bags of coffee from where ever he travels

"Just too dark of a roast, it muddies the hazelnut flavor" (yes I believe he's a whole bean light roast lover)

Maybe you get a normal, non-speaking cat for yourself and just to have a bigger family in your home

I'd imagine a very reckless black or ginger cat who tara takes a VERY long time to love

but it's your and Gales cat. It's a thing you own together and love dearly

There's also a self of cards, board games, etc, for your date nights in

Gale legitimately is just as happy if you win than if he, if not more happy for you

He often takes a while to take his turn because he's distracted by you

super sweet but makes games feel much longer

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@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

[werewolfnarrative]

EXCLUSIVE TREATMENT

M!Sylus and F!Reader. "Goodcat Code" inspired;

GENRE: smut, a little bit of plot;

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT, kissing, teasing (Sylus has a sensible body), boob and nipple sucking, oral (M!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC ARE CONSENTING ADULTS. PROCEED CAREFULLY AND DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RECREATE THESE SITUATIONS IN REAL LIFE.

You were greeted with the eternal night of the N109 Zone. The plane had just landed and you were now in the airport waiting to be picked up. A new Protocore auction was about to happen, and Jenna was confident in your skills to navigate the area.

Luke and Kieran were meant to pick you up at the south entrance and take you to Onychinus' base. When you leave the big glass doors there is no soul or vehicle around. You double check the messages. Nothing.

Your cellphone rings. "Hey, hold on tight!" The voice of the twins echoed through the dark. "There has been a... problem but we are on our way." Just as the audio ends, a fancy black car shows up in your field of vision.

"What happened? Is it related to Sylus?" You ask as they help you put your luggage in the trunk. "Ah, good night." You quickly add. They look at each other, a very noticeable nervousness in the air. "Of course not, he's fine."

Sylus was not, in fact, fine. He had woken up this morning (night) feeling dizzy, even though he never got sick. There were important preparations to be made in regards to the Protocore auction, so he just send Luke and Kieran take care of them so he woudn't have to expose himself so much. And the worst part of it is that you would be arriving in a few hours.

He locked himself in his study and told the staff to not be bothered. The cook and cleaning were dispensed for the day. The only way he would even interact with the world outside is through the twins, and they were running left and right to make everything perfect.

"He's fine." Kieran confirmed.

The house was bathed in shadows and eerily silent when the three of you arrived. No one commented on it, nor the absence of the host. Your luggage was delivered to the guest room (the one closest to Sylus' own bedroom was always used by you when you visited. Some of your plushies from Linkon decorated the walls) and then you were alone.

"Hi, Sylus. Are you home?" You try to call him. No one picks up, so you leave a voicemail. "I arrived safely, and so did the twins. Thank you for picking me up." A few minutes go by until a hoarse voice reaches your ears. "I'm glad you're here."

What was that? He never used words like that, and there was something wrong with his voice. You begin to search around the house on your own, since Luke would always give avoidant answers and his twin was out for the preparations. There were no lights under the door to his bedroom.

The door opens silently and you come in. You think about turning on the lights, but that would reveal your position to the one downstairs. The search was going smoothly, even in darkness, until you see two glowing red dots at the top of his bed.

"Got lost, sweetie?" The tall figure got up and began approaching you. "Why are you in the dark, you crazy? It's bad for your eyes." He lets out an amused chuckle. "I couldn't find you anywhere so I began searching."

"Worried about me?" He whispers. Even then, you can still hear a different timbre to his voice. You paw at the walls, trying to find the light switch. A strong white light fills the room, and both of you groan at the sudden luminosity.

You let out an "ouch" when you open your eyes for the first time. The sight before you is surely a trick of the light. When you look at this angle, it almost looks like Sylus is sporting cat ears and a tail. His eyes are still closed and he is standing completely still, wich gives you enough time to absorb his features.

The (very real) ears twitch, and the tail moves languidly behind. There are slight eyebags under his eyes and his posture is a little... sad? "What the hell happened to you?" He winces. "Remember our little Kitty Cards game last night, kitten? There is a strange Evol affecting me and I think they are related."

"I guess you are the kitten now, Sylus." You spat back at him. "Is it temporary?" He nods and moves to turn of the light switch. You stand in front of it, stopping him in his tracks.

One look at his face is all it takes to see he is not happy. In fact, tired is the word that explains it better. "If you want to stay, stay. I'm going to bed." He unceremoniously turns around and plops onto the mattress, face down.

"Are you going to stay here all day?" "I can't exactly leave until I get back to normal. Feel free to do whatever you want in the meantime." You're pretty sure he was talking about the black credit card, or exploring the base, but you immediately lay down on the bed beside him. His ears twitch in interest and he puts his tail on top of you.

"Whatever I want?" He shifts on the bed to look at you. "Does my kitten have something in mind?" You giggle and reach for his white fur, meeting no resistance. He grumbles when you run your fingertips across his hair and then his ears.

You start going lower, cradling his face in both of your hands. He is sitting up now, also wrapping his arms around you to secure your body in place. He nibbles every patch of skin he can reach as you continue your journey, caressing his neck and then finding purchase on his shoulders. You bite him a little more strongly and he moans.

"If you're touching me like this, does this means I can touch you too?" You nod and your mouths meet halfway. Both of you alternate between kisses to squeezing and groping. There is a blush on his face as you feel run your hands through his pecks and stomach. His hand moves to your breasts and begins teasing your hard peaks.

"I tought you said you were going to bed?" You tease. He turns your body around quickly, standing up as you are pushed down to the matress. You are now under Sylus as he kisses you fervently and purrs against your skin. "My kitten is very bold today. I am going to bed, just not alone."

Sylus makes a show of taking of his thin shirt, the upper part of his body leaving nothing to imagination. You can see his bulge protruding from his pants and your stomach pools with desire. He guides your hand to his ears and tail again, and whimpers when you give the sensitive skin a soft pinch.

"Take them off." You begin undressing your many layers, still in your travel outfit. Sylus hums in satisfaction and begins licking your tits as soon as they are in view. You forget completely of your pants while he makes you shiver in his grasp, sucking the nubs until they are swollen.

"I-I want -" He begins, but stops midway. His feline ears droop down. "Tell me what you want." You reply, remembering all the times he said the same thing to you, in this same bedroom. Sylus guides your head to his strained pants, and you understand.

His tip is angry red when you pull his waistbands off. Precum is already gathering at the tip, and you prepare your mouth for what's to come. Sylus seems to be more desperate today, since he is moaning and telling you to hurry up. "Want to be inside your pretty mouth."

You begin sucking and playing with the tip. That is already enough to have his hips bucking into the air as you continue your descend. "Calm down love, I'll get there." During all of your relationship, you had never seen Sylus like this. Was the cat Evol affecting him so badly?

"Please let me come inside your mouth. Let me -" He stops again, clearly embarassed. His flush now spread to his shoulders and his chest. "Let me what, darling?" The pet name, along with you sucking his shame out through his dick makes him a little less bashfull.

"Want to breed." He declares like it's his most precious secret. "Want to make you full of my litter." During these times, you were sure Sylus had a breeding kink, even if he refused to talk about it if not in moments like this.

Even then, he continues guiding your head to deepthroat his dick, gasping loudly when you suck. "I won't last long, kitten I -" You produce a loud slurping sound and run your tongue all across his lenght.

He explodes in your mouth with a loud groan.

You wait a few seconds for him to open his eyes, his release still in your mouth. You swallow and see something flash behind his eyes. Just like earlier, you are wrestled to be under him, cock still hard and teasing your folds.

"Do you have any idea of what you do to me?" Sylus teases your entrance while playing with your clit. "How hard it was not to pounce on you the moment you came through that door? I tought about you all day." He mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else, and continues his job to make his cock fit inside.

You feel the telltale strech as he makes his way through your walls. Both your and Sylus' moans fill the room, eyes shut to absorb the pleasure. "Look at me. Want to see you." He demands. After a few more tries, he finally bottoms out.

"Why didn't you respond to my texts? My calls?" His ears droop, but his tail wraps as strongly as possible onto your leg while he nuzzles your chest. "I tought being away from you would be easier. It wasn't."

He begins to move and all your anger dissipates.

Sylus' slender fingers resume his ministrations to your bundle of nerves while his shaft touches all your sensitive spots inside. "So good don't stop!" You scream against his mouth before he kisses you urgently. The bed is shaking with the impact of your bodies. "Ne-next time something like this happens, call me earlier."

He laughs. "My kitten is enjoying the treatment, huh?" There are no toughts in your head while Sylus slams into you. You grind against him, meeting his cock halfway. He whimpers, stopping abruptly to stave off his orgasm. Your release is also approaching quicker than expected.

"If you keep doind this, I won't last long." There is sweat on his forehead and a few wild strands of hair fall atop his eyes. You gently brush them back with your fingers. "I tought you said you wanted to fill me with your litter? Is the fearsome Onychinus leader going back on his word?"

Big mistake.

The rhytm he sets after that is punishing, both to your pussy and your clit. You scream at the sudden pace. Sylus' face is scrunched as he mutters "fuck, fuck, fuck" under his breath. He won't last long indeed. There is one last thing you need to do, tough.

"Sy-Sylus?" You ask. He quirks his eyebrows as if they said "yes?" and you approach his human ear. "I love you."

The reaction is instantaneous. You feel his release fill up your insides, and the last movements Sylus did on your clit were enough to send you over the edge. There was so much of it... cum was starting to run down your tighs as he hugged you flush against his body.

"Are you okay?" Even after your breathing went back to normal, Sylus still looked somewhat feverish. He pushed you down on the now stained covers. "Stay with me."

"Of course. I won't leave until you get better." Sylus did not seem satisfied, based on the flicker of his tail. "I want you to stay forever, even after I go back to normal." It was not the first time he made that request, but it never had such raw vulnerability before.

You would never abandon your life in Linkon. Both you and Sylus knew that. Even so, at that moment, the rest of the world seemed so far away. It woudn't hurt to stay for a while, would it?

"I am never going to be able to look at boss again." Kieran had come back from his chores a few minutes ago, and the sounds coming from the master bedroom were unmistakeable. Luke, already knowing of the activities, was blasting loud music through his headphones.

"At least you won't have to run around doing things anymore." The twin responded. "Until he goes back to normal, anyway."

Looking through the multiple drawers, Kieran grabs another set of headphones. He finds a very long trash metal playlist. Good enough. "I won a break at work, but will surely need a terapy session after this."

Would you like to support my work? Or request a prompt? Try tipping me on Ko-Fi:

[buckyseternaldoll]

Dead-End Heat

Pairing: John Walker x fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce, John Walker hides out at the end of a dead-end road — quiet, wrecked, and alone. Until his new neighbor starts dancing naked by the window. And he stops pretending he’s not watching.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, masturbation (f + m), voyeurism, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (m giving), breast play, age gap (both adults), ovulation kink, creampie mention (pull-out), size kink, emotional damage (m), light dom/sub undertones, aftercare, strong language

Word Count: 4.7k

Author's Note: My first John Walker's fic because I've been spiraling down for him lately. Never really hated his character, and there's just something in him that held a grip on my heart. This might be the only time I wrote for him as my focus would still be mainly on Bucky. Hope you'll enjoy this!

The house was smaller than anything he’d ever lived in.

It sat at the end of a forgotten road—a gravel path that wound past empty fields and thinning trees, eventually dead-ending at a pair of sagging homes no one seemed to care about. His was the worse of the two. Crooked porch steps. Peeling siding. A roof that slanted wrong and windows clouded with time. The place looked like it had been stitched together by someone who ran out of energy halfway through the job—and then abandoned it altogether.

It was perfect.

John dropped his single duffel by the door and kicked it shut behind him. The air inside hit him like a memory—musty, humid, heavy with the scent of rot in the walls and the ghosts of strangers before him. The couch leaned sideways. The bed was just a bare mattress on the floor, no frame. The fan above him wheezed like it had asthma. A fridge buzzed like it was trying to die.

No pictures. No clutter. No reminders of what he lost.

No Lamar.

No Olivia.

No son’s drawings pinned to the fridge.

Just silence.

Which was the whole damn point.

The divorce papers had come through three days ago—a final blow that felt both slow and sharp. Olivia hadn’t cried. She just signed the line, eyes tired, like something inside her had already been buried. And he didn’t blame her. Not after all he’d brought home with him. The nights he came back colder. Angrier. Quieter. After Lamar died, something in John stopped working right. He didn’t know how to talk to her. Didn’t know how to father a kid with grief sitting in his lungs like concrete.

He took the deal. Let her have the house. The car. Most of the furniture. All he asked was to be left alone.

So when he found the listing—cheap rent, secluded property, no neighbors but one—he said yes before seeing a photo.

The landlord had handed him the keys with a crooked smile and a half-assed warning.

“Only neighbor’s a college girl,” she said. “Lives right next door. Early twenties, I think. You probably won’t even notice her.”

He hadn’t cared. He didn’t want noise. Didn’t want company. He wanted a place that wouldn’t expect anything from him.

And for the first few nights, that’s what he got.

Just darkness. Sweat-soaked sleep. Bottled beer. The occasional nightmare that still left his fists clenched in the sheets.

Until the window started glowing.

—

It started with light.

Her bedroom—your bedroom—glowed gold in the dark like it had a soul of its own. Just across the strip of grass separating the houses, the second floor window lit up every night, soft and warm and too alive. His own bedroom faced yours directly—a cruel kind of proximity. Close enough to see the shape of you if he didn’t shut the blinds. And for a while, he did. Shut them. Or turned his back. Or went downstairs before it got bad.

But it kept happening.

And one night, curiosity won.

He looked.

And froze.

You were perched right there on your windowsill—legs tucked up, body backlit like something out of a dream. A tank top clung to your skin, rucked up just enough to bare the curve beneath your breast. Your thighs were spread. One hand braced the window frame behind you. The other slipped between your legs—bold and unhurried, fingers glinting in the light as you touched yourself like no one was watching.

Like you didn’t care if someone was.

You moved slow. Like this was ritual. Like this was how you soothed yourself to sleep.

John’s mouth went dry. His body stiffened.

He should’ve looked away.

He didn’t.

Because the longer he watched, the more the guilt tangled with something hotter. Needier. His hand drifted down before he could stop it—shame curling in his chest like smoke as he unzipped his jeans and wrapped his hand around himself.

He stroked slow. Matched your rhythm. Imagined how you’d sound if the window wasn’t in the way.

Then your head turned.

Your gaze lifted.

Eyes met his through glass.

He froze.

You didn’t.

If anything—you moved slower. Smiled faintly. Tilted your hips so he could really see what your fingers were doing.

His breath hitched. His fist tightened. His heart slammed so loud he was sure you could hear it through the pane.

And when he came—knuckles white, lip bloodied from biting it too hard—it was with a strangled moan, your image burned behind his eyes.

After that, it wasn’t just light in the window anymore.

It was you.

Naked sometimes. Singing. Dancing. Laughing like no one could hear you. And almost every night, you touched yourself right there at the sill—head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth parted like a prayer.

You never pulled the curtain.

And he never shut the blinds.

Because part of you wanted to be seen.

And part of him needed to see it.

—

It started happening more often.

At first, it was once every few days—a shadow lingering behind the blinds, a pause in the dark that matched the rhythm of your movements. Then it became nightly.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what he was doing.

The sliver of his window was always the same. Light off. Curtains drawn halfway. Just enough space for you to catch the subtle shape of him—a figure standing near the glass, barely moving. Until he did.

A slight twitch of the shoulder. The familiar arc of a flexing forearm.

Jerking off.

At first, you’d pretended not to notice. But you felt it—the heat that crawled up your spine, the rush that flushed your skin. Your pulse didn’t lie.

And over time… neither did your body.

You started performing.

Lingerie that didn’t hide anything. Positions that bent you right over, back arched, ass pointed toward the open window like a silent dare. You knew the thin fabric of your panties barely did a damn thing—knew he could see the outline of your pussy when you stood in the light.

Once, you heard him.

A low grunt, barely audible over the hum of the fan. But it made you freeze. Made your thighs press together.

He was watching.

He wanted.

And that alone made you drip.

But tonight? Something inside you snapped.

Your body ached. Breasts tender and swollen, nipples too sensitive against your shirt. Your thighs stayed slick no matter how many times you changed. You couldn’t stop shifting. Couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand would feel instead of your own.

You were ovulating, and every inch of you wanted to be touched. Ruined. Filled.

So the devil on your shoulder whispered something wild—and for once, you listened.

You changed clothes. On purpose.

Pale yellow cropped tank—almost sheer in the right light. No bra. The peaks of your nipples pressed bold against the fabric. Then: a pair of loose, thin white shorts that barely covered your ass. No panties. Because you weren’t planning on keeping them on.

You were stupidly horny, and stupidly bold.

So you walked across the narrow patch of grass, let your bare feet touch the cool porch, and reached for his doorbell.

It didn’t ring.

Figures. Of course he hadn’t fixed it.

You knocked instead—quick, but firm enough to be heard.

There was a long pause.

Then the door opened.

John Walker stood there—tall, disheveled, shirt wrinkled like it’d been on the floor before he put it on. A dark olive tee, sleeves pushed tight over the swell of his arms. Just boxers on his lower half—black, hugging his hips low enough that you caught the trail of hair beneath his navel.

His hair was messy. Beard uneven. And a half-crushed beer can dangled from his fingers.

“Uh…” You cleared your throat, letting your eyes drift up to his. “Power’s out at my place.”

You forced a half-smile, something soft. Sweet.

“Too dark to study alone.”

He didn’t say anything for a beat. Just stared at you—eyes flicking down, lingering too long on your chest before he caught himself and looked away.

You waited.

He hesitated. You could see the inner war behind his eyes. But he wasn’t just a man anymore—he was a father, even if his own family was gone. And he knew what your dad would’ve done. Knew what his younger self would’ve wanted for his daughter.

So he stepped back.

Wordless.

And let you in.

The place was dim—just one sad lamp casting a pool of yellow light near the couch. The air smelled like old beer and sweat. You took it in with a breath, then made your way to the sagging two-seater sofa. The cushion dipped under your weight.

John dragged a chair from the kitchen—a stiff wooden dining chair—and planted it in the corner of the room, diagonally across from you. He sat, forearms braced on his thighs, one hand still holding the beer. His eyes flicked up, then away.

You crossed your legs on the couch—slowly, deliberately.

You didn’t miss how his gaze dropped for half a second before snapping back to the floor.

He could see everything. You knew it. Your loose shorts had ridden up just enough that the slick heat between your thighs was on full display. Bare pussy, just… there. No effort to hide it.

But he didn’t say anything.

Didn’t even shift in his seat.

So you broke the silence with something light.

“You never told me your name.”

Still, he didn’t look up. But his voice was low. Rough.

“John.”

You smiled, even though he didn’t see it.

“John,” you repeated softly. “Strong name.”

You leaned back, resting one arm against the back of the couch, your legs still crossed—the movement subtly tugging your shorts even higher.

“And you curious about mine?”

He didn’t answer. But his jaw flexed.

“My name?” You let the moment hang, then offered it up smooth, short. “There. Now we’re not strangers.”

He nodded once. Grunted.

You tilted your head.

“What do you do, John?”

“Used to be military.”

“And now?”

“Contract work.”

You hummed. “Private sector?”

“Something like that.”

You smiled again, watching how he kept avoiding your gaze—like he didn’t want to fall into the trap you were laying.

But he already had.

He was here.

Watching.

Gripping his beer too tightly.

And you were already wet again.

You uncrossed your legs slowly, let your knees fall open—wide enough to make his breath hitch even if he didn’t mean it to. He still didn’t look, but you saw the way his knuckles turned white on the can.

And for the first time since you sat down, he shifted in his seat.

Yeah.

You had him.

And you weren’t done yet.

—

You finally dropped the bomb.

“I know you’ve been watching me.”

His shoulders stiffened. But he didn’t move from the chair. Didn’t speak.

You caught the flicker in his jaw—the way his beard shifted just slightly as his teeth ground together.

He didn’t look at you.

Didn’t need to.

You saw the shame before he even opened his mouth.

“I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself. His fingers curled around the armrest. “I didn’t mean to.”

You tilted your head. Waited.

“I saw you once. Thought I’d look away. Didn’t.”

He dragged a hand down his face, sighing through clenched teeth.

“It was wrong. I know that. I know better. You’re just a kid. I shouldn’t even be—fuck.” He glanced to the side, away from the soft light between you. “I’m not in the right headspace. I haven’t been in a long time.”

You shifted your position.

Still, he didn’t budge.

“I’m not asking for pity,” he muttered. “Divorce just got finalized. I got no wife. No son. My best friend’s six feet under. I’m sitting here drinking cheap beer in a damn chair from a Craigslist ad. I’m not the man you think I am.”

“I don’t care,” you said gently.

“I just want to be touched.”

His gaze snapped to yours. Sharp. Almost dangerous.

“My chest hurts,” you whispered. “They’re sore. They need hands that aren’t mine. They need you.”

You stood up from the couch, bare feet soft against the hardwood, the hem of your loose shorts fluttering as you moved. Each step was slow. Measured. A test he kept failing to stop.

You stopped right in front of him.

John’s knees were spread, bracing his wide frame, elbows on thighs like he couldn’t decide whether to stand or vanish. You noticed the way his jaw ticked—tension flaring under his beard.

You reached for his right hand with your left, slow and deliberate.

He didn’t resist.

Your fingers slid over his, lifting it, guiding it up.

You paused when his fingertips brushed your thin tank—the contact featherlight, grazing the peak of your erect nipple through the fabric.

You let out a soft sound—half breath, half moan.

“I’ve only wanted you,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Only imagined your hands when I touched myself.”

His jaw clenched again. His whole body still as stone.

You moved between his thighs, closing the distance entirely.

Your right hand dragged the hem of your tank upward, just until the lower swell of your breast was visible—flushed, taut, begging for contact.

Then you brought his hand there again.

Not just hovering.

Pressed it firmly into place, just beneath the curve.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he muttered. His voice was hoarse. Defeated. “You’ll wake up tomorrow and wish it wasn’t me.”

“I won’t.”

He looked up then. Finally. Eyes bloodshot. Unreadable.

He shook his head once—slow—but didn’t pull away.

Didn’t move.

Just… sighed.

And then his hand shifted.

Slipped higher.

And cupped your breast fully.

A moan slipped from your lips as his calloused palm settled over the soft heat of you—a gentle squeeze that made your knees tremble.

Your tank lifted fully now, exposing your chest to the room, to him.

He groaned—low, deep, from somewhere buried.

You ducked slightly, bending to let him in, and he leaned forward instinctively—face pressing between your breasts like a man who’d been starving and finally found water.

He breathed deep, nose brushing your skin, and you felt the quiet hitch in his breath.

“You smell like fucking heaven,” he rasped.

He didn’t kiss.

Didn’t bite.

Just buried himself in your skin like he could live there forever.

And when he finally looked up—eyes burning, breath shaky—his voice was barely more than gravel.

“You want this?”

His hands were still on your chest. Thumbs circling, gentle now. Reverent.

“Because if I keep going, I ain’t stopping. Not this time.”

Your response came without hesitation.

“I want you, John. All of you.”

—

His hand didn’t leave your breast. It only squeezed once more—firmer this time—before sliding up to cup the other, thumbs brushing across your nipples with that roughness that had your breath catching. You leaned forward more.

John’s fingers gripped your jaw gently—tugging you downward until your mouth met his.

The kiss was urgent, not rushed—all breath and heat and hunger. Like he’d been waiting years to taste you. His lips parted yours with soft, wet pressure, tongue licking slow, deliberate passes like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth from the inside out.

You moaned into him, hips shifting. Your knees dragged up against his thighs as you straddled him fully, sinking onto his lap again. The chair creaked beneath the weight of both your bodies.

His cock throbbed beneath you—hard and hot, separated from your soaked folds by just the thin fabric of his boxers and your loose shorts. You could feel everything—every vein, every twitch, every pulse—as you rocked lightly on him.

Both of his hands returned to your chest, greedy now. Palms warm and broad, squeezing your breasts with a kind of reverence that made your head spin.

When you finally broke the kiss, panting, his left hand trailed lower. Skimmed your ribs, your side, then slid behind you—gripping your ass before slipping inside the waistband of your shorts.

His fingers met bare skin.

His groan rumbled right against your collarbone. “Fucking knew it,” he muttered hoarsely. “Knew you weren’t wearing anything.” His mouth brushed your neck. “Could see it, y’know.”

You tilted your head, breath shaky. “See what?”

“Your slick. Back at the door. It was running down your thighs.”

A soft, desperate sound escaped your throat. You pressed your face into the side of his neck, nuzzling into the scruff just beneath his jaw. Then your teeth caught the curve of his nape—not hard enough to leave marks, just enough to make him jolt beneath you.

You started to grind. Slow, aching circles of your hips that dragged your folds along the length of his cock through both of your clothes.

“You ever think about this?” you murmured against his ear. “Me. On you. Moving like this.”

He groaned. “More than I should’ve.”

You kissed just under his ear—then blew out a warm breath, letting it fan over the shell of it. His grip on your ass tightened like he couldn’t help it.

“Ever since I saw you jerking off while watching me,” you whispered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Could only come when I imagined I was riding you.”

His breath hitched. His right hand slipped from your chest and came around to the front—sliding into your shorts, fingers dragging through your slick folds. You were soaked. Pulsing. His fingertips grazed your clit and you cried out softly, hips jerking in his lap.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “You’re soaked. So goddamn sensitive.”

You shifted your hips—just slightly—to give him more access. His middle finger pushed in slow, your walls clenching down hard like your body had been waiting for this. You moaned, eyes fluttering.

He pulled halfway out, then pushed in again—watching your face twist in pleasure, watching your mouth fall open. The wet sounds of your cunt wrapped around his finger made him swear again.

“Fuuuck.”

You blew out a soft stream of air across his ear again—lips brushing it this time. “Want more,” you whispered. “Please, John.”

He stilled. Even with your cunt dripping around his hand, he still paused. Still tried to pull back.

“You’re sure?” he asked, voice low and guttural. “You want this? ‘Cause I ain’t got the goddamn conscience to stop once I start.”

Your head dropped, lips grazing his jaw. “I’m sure.”

His mouth parted—a breath shuddering through his teeth—and he slid a second finger in.

The stretch was tighter. Deeper. Your body sucked him in with a squelch that made his hips jerk reflexively beneath you.

“Fuck me,” he groaned again, head tilting back, eyes dark and wild.

Your cunt clenched around his fingers like it never wanted to let him go.

And his lips found your collarbone again, dragging open-mouthed kisses along your skin like he was about to lose his mind.

—

John couldn’t take it anymore.

Your walls clenched greedily around his fingers, your hips bucking helplessly with every pump. It wasn’t enough—not for him. Not with the way your body begged, not with the way your moans cracked open something he hadn’t felt in years.

He stood up suddenly, lifting you with both hands, fingers digging into your thighs. You gasped, arms looping tightly around his shoulders as your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. His cock was still sheathed inside you, thick and twitching, as he carried you out of the living room.

The hallway was dim—the only light came from the cracked door of the bedroom. When he pushed it open with his shoulder, you finally got a glimpse inside.

It was barely lived-in.

A king-sized mattress sat low on the floor, sheets rumpled and mismatched. A fan spun overhead, clinking slightly with every rotation. A dresser stood against the wall, untouched. No photos. No signs of life. Just another space he refused to make a home.

John dropped you onto the mattress like you were something precious and cursed all at once. His eyes devoured you as he stepped back, hands yanking his shirt off with a single pull. His boxer briefs hit the floor next, his cock flushed, hard, still slick with your arousal.

You followed suit—first peeling your tank top up and over your head, letting it drop carelessly beside the bed. Then you slid your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and pushed them down, inch by inch, baring your hips, your thighs, your soaked center—nothing underneath. They hit the floor in a soft rustle. Then you climbed onto the mattress and lay back, legs parted, hair splayed across the pillows like you were meant to be there. Like you’d always belonged in this room. In this bed. In him.

He climbed back on top of you, heavy and hot, mouth finding yours again—slower now, deep and possessive. But you were impatient. Aching.

You reached between your bodies, guiding his cock to your entrance, and pushed him in.

John groaned—low, guttural—as your heat swallowed him whole again.

“So tight,” he gritted, hands bracing on either side of your head as he began to move. “Like fucking heaven.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Do I taste better in real life?” you whispered, voice breathless. “Or did you like the version you imagined better?”

He stilled—just for a second—then surged deeper.

“You now,” he growled. “Nothing compares. Nothing ever fucking will.”

He moved hard now, hips snapping into yours with desperation, with hunger, chasing something he knew he shouldn’t want this badly. You moaned, one leg hitching higher around his waist, urging him deeper.

But then—he pulled out.

You gasped at the sudden emptiness. Your cunt fluttered in protest.

He stood, breath ragged, chest rising and falling with each tremor of restraint.

“I want you,” you said again, sitting up slowly. “I want you to come inside.”

John shook his head, jaw tight.

“Been a husband long enough to know the pill ain’t perfect,” he muttered. “Not taking that risk.”

Before you could argue, he crawled back onto the bed and grabbed your hips—guiding you flat against the sheets again.

“I want you to come first.”

He buried his face between your thighs before you could even speak—tongue flattening against your slick folds, groaning at the taste. He licked like a man dying of thirst. Deep strokes. Slow sucks. His beard scratched your skin raw, but you didn’t care. You were shaking again, already too close.

When his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked—hard—you came with a cry that echoed through the empty house. Your back arched. Your hands flew to his hair. You trembled under him, again.

He didn’t stop until your thighs stopped twitching.

Then—finally—he pulled himself up, kissed the inside of your knee, and reached for the towel slung over a nearby chair. He cleaned you up gently, not saying a word, just watching the way your chest rose and fell.

Then he handed you a shirt. His.

“Wear this,” he said roughly. “S’night’s cold. And those shorts ain’t worth shit.”

You pulled it on without protest. It smelled like him.

But you weren’t done.

“Another round?” you asked, soft, hopeful.

His hand stopped mid-wipe on your belly.

“No,” he said, voice firmer now. “We’re not doing this again tonight.”

You blinked. Hurt flared—but he wasn’t angry.

“I can’t—can’t use you to fill something that’s already gone,” he said, voice thick. “And I need to know you’re not just doing this ‘cause you’re burning up and I was close. I need to know you want me. Not just the idea of me.”

You didn’t argue. Just nodded slowly and slipped out of bed. The shirt hung to your thighs.

John didn’t walk you to the door. He just watched you leave from the bed, unreadable.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Your skin still tingled, your body still ached. Your cunt throbbed with the ghost of him. But you didn’t hear from him again.

And the next morning, when the sunlight spilled into your bedroom, you glanced toward his window.

The blinds were gone.

Blackout curtains now hung in their place—drawn tight.

Sealed.

Silent.

Like he was never there at all.

—

✦ [JOHN WALKER POV]

He sat at the edge of the bed.

Back curved. Elbows on his knees. Head low.

Hands calloused, rough—still damp from washing off your slick.

The water had gone cold. He didn’t care. He’d scrubbed his hands raw, but the ghost of you clung to him like heat. The scent of you lived in the air now—sweet, heady, sinful. It clung to his sheets. His chest. His fucking soul.

He could still see the way your thighs had trembled. Still feel the weight of you clenching around him. Still hear your voice—John, please, like it meant something. Like he meant something.

He raked both hands down his face, breath shallow.

“You don’t rebuild your life like this, man.”

The words came out hoarse.

Lamar might’ve said it once.

Or maybe it was Olivia’s voice, tucked into some fractured corner of his brain—one of the last pieces that hadn’t rotted out.

There was a photo of her, buried under old insurance papers in the nightstand. He hadn’t looked at it in weeks. Couldn’t. Not since the divorce was finalized. Not since the house grew too quiet for even ghosts to haunt.

His son’s crayon sketch was folded inside his wallet. He still checked for it sometimes. Just to see if it was real. If any of that life had ever been real.

They were gone.

But you?

You were right next door.

A few steps away. A breath. A heartbeat.

Real.

Too real.

And fuck—he didn’t know if that made you a mistake or a second chance.

He’d wanted you for weeks. Wanted you before he even admitted it. When you danced in the window. When your laughter spilled through his walls. When you touched yourself like you didn’t care who saw—and like maybe you wanted him to.

But tonight hadn’t been some fantasy.

You were warm in his arms. Wet on his fingers. Tight around his cock.

And for a second—a fucking second—it felt like a religion.

Like worship.

Like finding something sacred in the way your body opened for him. The way you gasped his name. The way you tasted—sweet and desperate, like you’d been made just for his mouth.

He wanted to believe it meant something. That you meant something. Not just a fix for the hollow ache in his chest.

So he didn’t drink. Didn’t run. Didn’t chase the next high.

He just sat there. In the dark. Breathing. Remembering.

He’d give himself a few days.

Time to think.

Time to feel every fucking consequence.

But he already knew the truth—

You were in his blood now.

And nothing was ever gonna wash you out.

[END OF POV] ✦

—

It’d been five days.

Five torturous, hollow days.

Since that night.

Since John touched you like he needed you to breathe. Since he kissed you like it was the first time he’d tasted salvation. Since he buried himself deep and said your name like it meant something.

You hadn’t seen him since.

The blackout curtains in his bedroom stayed drawn. Always closed. Even on the nights when your windows were lit, your skin bare, your body aching for attention—for his attention. Not once did he pull them aside. Not even a flicker of movement behind the fabric.

And maybe that was your answer.

Maybe it had been a one-time thing.

A mistake, no matter how good it felt.

No matter how much your body still throbbed remembering the way his cock filled you, twitched inside you as he spilled across your belly.

You tried to keep busy. You tried.

But everything felt muted. Boring. Lifeless.

The only thing that ever made your pulse race anymore was the memory of his hands. His voice. That broken, desperate moan when you clenched around him.

By the fifth night, you stopped looking at his window.

Stopped expecting.

Started to convince yourself it was better this way.

But then—

A knock.

Quick.

Sharp.

Three beats.

Your breath caught.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

Not tonight. Not ever.

You moved to the door on shaky legs, barely able to hide the way your fingers trembled on the knob.

And there he was.

John Walker.

Still looking disheveled. Still rough around the edges. Still looking at you like you were the thing he shouldn’t want—but couldn’t walk away from.

He offered the faintest smile. A little crooked.

A little dangerous.

“Ready for the next round?” he asked, voice low.

You blinked—then smiled wide, too quickly, too joyfully to play it cool.

You nodded, heart hammering.

And you stepped aside to let him in.

honorary mention; @iamthatonefangirl 💜

[babybearnation]

old masterlist

anons: 🍑, 💙, 🐍, 🎩, 📞, 🥐, 🃏, 🦊, C, 🥡, 🐜, 🔒, 🍬, 🐨, 💘, 🥄, 💫, 🥔, くコ:彡, 🐥, ♉, 🏎🌷

the grid:

you got me feelin' butterflies, butterflies - asking you on a date

darling, you're the one i want - you wear a number that isn't theirs

your first and my last name would just sound better together - you call them by their full name

cause you make my heart race - they accidentally confess their feelings

i had the best day with you today - you surprise them with a pet

king of my heart, body and soul - they win a race

oh, dear, don't be discouraged - they find out you're crying

hey baby, welcome to my world - arthur, liam & mick's texts for the posts above

you drew stars around my scars - you're insecure about your surgery scars

you're the greatest thing we've lost - they confess after you get replaced mid season

you belong with me - they're jealous of your toxic ex

jealousy, jealousy - you get shipped with another driver & their jealous

silence finally in my head - you give them the silent treatment

you are in love, true love - you have a crush on their teammate

give me more than just some butterflies - you text them the lyrics to juno by sabrina carpenter

twenty stitches in a hospital room - you crash and don't tell them

this is the sound, it's our sound - you're a musician

so light me up and let me burn - you do a break up prank

on a wednesday in a cafe - you prank them with a fake date

come take a picture - you accidentally send them an explicit picture

you're everything i'm dreaming of - you accidentally confess to them

must be the good boy - you call them a good boy

you don't need no invitation - "he's gone, you can come over now"

i'm so sick (of lying) - you hide that you're sick

it was the very first night - you accidentally text them after a night together

cherish my love - you text them after your first date

hey baby, i think i wanna marry you - they overhear you call them your husband

when you lovingly call my name - you exchange contact names

just look at me baby, day and night - you ask them to come home and take care of you

you're wearing nothing but my t-shirt - you send them a spicy pic at an inconvenient time

runnin' home to your sweet nothings - cute, domestic texts

talk to you later, later - you call him bro after sex

but daddy, i love him - you call him daddy

so kiss me, kiss me, kiss me - you forget to kiss him before you go out

oh, i wonder who i'm looking for - "they're busy, bro"

i miss you, i'm sorry - they miss you when you're away

i've already lost control - you ask if you can take control in the bedroom

the pages of our relationship arc - you try and break up with them due to insecurities

i wanna know (what is love?) - you don't say i love you back

baby, so please, cheat on me - they pull the "i know you cheated" prank

good luck, baby, good luck to you - you don't wish them good luck before a race

am i still not good enough? - you ask them to save you from a bad date

i need ya focus on me - they accidentally send you an explicit picture

that pretty, pretty boy - you're dysphoric

uh oh, i'm falling in love - you share when you first fell for each other

money, money, money (must be funny) - your rent is ridiculously expensive

i'm coming out - you come out without telling them

i'm lying so i won't get caught - he hides that he's sick

can you see my feeling? (oopsy) - polyam!drivers accidentally message the wrong gc

i love it because i love you - he talks about you in his native language

privacy sign on the door - your relationship is about to be leaked

i want you to be happier - polyam!drivers - one of you isn't feeling the best

spice it up, up, up, roll up - drivers x genderfluid!reader

pull it to the side and get all up in it - "raw, next question"

you're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin' - you walk in on each other changing

i will give you all my love - polyam!drivers nearly/fully ruin their surprise

now i've read all of the books beside your bed - you're a bookworm

think i like you best when you're just with me - you're trying to quit smoking

act like an angel and dress like crazy - you show them your revealing outfit

alex albon:

nothing yet...

arthur leclerc:

baby, i don't wanna waste my time - your relationship isn't over already, is it?

charles leclerc:

ride on the highway to heaven - texts w/ biker reader

i love the light that i found in you - charles x reader x oscar

guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats - lestappen x reader - they argue over pets

take me out, and take me home - charles x reader x george - domestic texts

dino beganovic:

cause, oh, they make me feel alive - dino x reader x kimi x paul

george russell:

i'll give you the best years - george x reader x oscar (ft. bff!lando)

take me out, and take me home - george x reader x charles - domestic texts

zhou guanyu:

nothing yet...

kimi antonelli:

cause, oh, they make me feel alive - kimi x reader x dino x paul

i looked at you like the stars that shine - kimi x reader x ollie

you said "i'm a better driver" - kimi x f1 driver!reader x ollie

take me out, and take me home - kimi x reader x ollie - domestic texts

i feel so close to you right now - he's clingy, but you're not together

hey, cupid has shot my heart - ollie plays matchmaker

lance stroll:

boy, you got me drunk on a feeling - he accidentally drinks your drink

lando norris:

they don't know me like my baby - lando x reader x max

screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain - landoscar x reader - they argue due to papaya rules

he said "fuck me like i'm famous" - landoscar x reader - end of/post-season shenanigans

tell me what you want, tell me what you need - he's jealous (ft. max f, keegan & oscar)

liam lawson:

nothing yet...

logan sargeant:

long live the walls we crashed through - loscar x reader - you're the 2023 rookies

max verstappen:

they don't know me like my baby - max x reader x lando

guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats - lestappen x reader - they argue over pets

mick schumacher:

nothing yet...

ollie bearman:

i looked at you like the stars that shine - ollie x reader x kimi

you said "i'm a better driver" - ollie x f1 driver!reader x kimi

take me out, and take me home - ollie x reader x kimi - domestic texts

oscar piastri:

screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain - landoscar x reader - they argue due to papaya rules

i'll give you the best years - oscar x reader x george (ft. bff!lando)

i love the light that i found in you - oscar x reader x charles

driving home for christmas - you're spending christmas alone... or are you?

he said "fuck me like i'm famous" - landoscar x reader - end of/post-season shenanigans

long live the walls we crashed through - loscar x reader - you're the 2023 rookies

paul aron:

cause, oh, they make me feel alive - paul x reader x dino x kimi

seasons start to change, i've been daydreaming for days - you're oblivious to his feelings

the code is l-o-v-e - paul x reader

cause i've got a soft spot (i've got it for you) - you don't play favourites, but with paul...

pierre gasly:

nothing yet...

yuki tsunoda:

nothing yet...

formula e:

in the heat of your electric touch - it's his first formula e weekend (zm22)

miscellaneous:

three short hours (three long weeks) - you can't sleep without each other (fc43)

give you my love, mi corazón - josep maria martí x reader

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

[yescking]

Hey sorry for the ask but I'm curious.

Why does pure vanilla have Advoident /Restrictive Food Intake Disorder? From what I'm seeing it's like caused by fear and anxiety. What caused him to develop it? Did he always have it? Do others know? Are you willing to elaborate or expand on this idea and concept?

It's kinda interesting

from sibling @owlishhhhh :

"If asked, Pure Vanilla can't pinpoint when it started. He doesn't remember his early childhood days filled with this perpetual dread, so it must have started somewhere, right? Eating didn't use to be a chore at one point, taking a bite didn't always make him feel nauseous. Vanilla does remember that it's become especially bad in his university days. The closer it was to the semester exam date, the bigger this disgust for anything actually filling grew. It's not like he stopped eating altogether, so it wasn't that big of an issue. Mild yogurts and small energy bars were enough to forget about needing to eat for a day, and the ache in the stomach could be soothed with large amounts of water, and if Vanilla avoided checking his weight - it was his problem and his alone, no need to bother others. Hiding it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be either. Decline eating together for a fake reason here, say you already ate there - small lies not to make others worry that piled up over time. And how do you explain such thing anyway, if even his mind and body disagreed with each other? That piece of pizza looked delicious, yet just biting into it made him feel like throwing up, and Vanilla had to get rid of the remains in shame, knowing that trying to explain would make everything worse. Then he drifted away from their friend group and there wasn't anyone to even explain this to. His family would never understand and just say it's all in his head, so at one point or another in early adulthood Pure Vanilla accepted that eating will never be an enjoyable experience and that there isn't a single soul in the world that won't shame him for whatever is wrong with his body this time. He still enjoyed cooking though, a fun activity that could bring a smile to others' faces and some relief to his aching heart. And if Vanilla excused himself from the table, well. It was his secret and his alone."

[marsmaximoff]

i’m begging you. namgyu x reader, it’s lights out and namgyu needs to relieve his stress, SMUT!!! but consensual duh

🌑; lights out * ✧₊☽⋆˚

content warning: fem!reader. smut. unprotected. exhibitionism. praise/degradation. light choking. fingers sucking. getting caught. cum swallowing.

word count: 1k

author's note: oh, anon, if only you knew the way i smiled when i read the request.... anyway, first time posting smut (you can tell), and can we talk about how fucking weird writing it is? i did what i could, also english is not my mother language so bare with me. im sorry y’all 😔😔

dividers by @cafekitsune and @strangergraphics <3

voting leaves the room plunged into an eerie environment. you lay awake, haunted by the hopeless souls, when some ruffling is heard and your bed sinks slightly. you don’t need to ask to know who it is.

“you good?” he doesn’t have to utter a single word to show his agitation. the sounds he lets out are proof enough.

“i can’t fucking fall asleep. those x motherfuckers are riling me up the wrong fucking way.” he scoffs while finally lying down. uneasiness is clearly staining his voice, and you know that tone; he’s on the edge.

“you high?” he snuggles closer to you, pressing his back to your chest before playfully whispering in your ear, “how’s that feel to you, baby? mhm?”, his hard-on against your lower back. 

“fuck” 

“exactly,” he purrs. “i’m desperate as fuck.” needy hands begin to roam all over your body. “and you’re gonna help me.” he leaves a sloppy kiss on your neck before rasping out, “right?” his fiery breath has goosebumps exploding on your skin alongside a certain pressure starting to arise on your belly. still, you’re surrounded by hundreds of strangers all piled up mere inches away. “can’t you get out and jerk it off?” his frisky laugh intensifies your arousal and you feel yourself getting hotter with every word he mutters. how can someone’s voice be so damn attractive? “why the hell would i do that when i have you right here? come on, be good for me.” his hands move underneath your shirt, and the dangerous mix of his alluring tone with the fire the physical contact is igniting on your back while he caresses it with his fingertips turns your brain into mush, making it almost impossible to stay sensible. 

“shit, gyu. here? now?” you make an incredible effort to fight your lust, “shhhh. don’t you wanna help relieve my stress?” and he shatters all of it, sending your remaining clarity away.

“fuck, yes.” you turn around and immediately yank his face towards yours, finally tasting heaven-like relief. “good girl,” he pants against your lips. “you feel so much better.” the kiss is messy and hungry. desperate. like you need it to survive. and in a way, he does. 

when your tongues make it too laborious to breathe, he pulls back with your lower lip caged in between his teeth. “why don’t you ride me a bit, mhmh? make me forget those assholes.” you don’t think ‘no’ could ever be a possible answer, not to him. so you nod, already craving that pleasure, and he quickly removes your green sweatpants. he doesn’t bother prepping you or even pulling your underwear down, tho, he’s way too gone for that. he simply grabs you by the hips and makes you sit on top of him. nothing else. the work is yours to do. 

without hesitating, -you want this way too bad-, you take his reddish, stiff member out and give it a few strokes. he grunts and you can't take it, so pushing your panties to the side, you sink in.

“yeah, that's what i'm talking about.” he gasps, totally unconcerned about the circumstances, as always. who cares about the other players when your pussy is taking him so deep? you however, bite your lips to hold back a moan while moving up and down, following a leisurely rhythm, not wanting to get too carried away. although the speed doesn't really matter. he feels wonderful, and a few seconds are all he needs to have you seeing stars. “you're so wet, such a perfect slut for my dick.” you shiver at his praise and he chuckles, gripping your waist with such passion it hurts. but only because you have to suppress your burning satisfaction.

“ride me harder.” the sight of him lying back, talking to you like this with the way he’s staring, has you instinctively bucking your hips. the pace escalates, and you slowly let loose. the grinding turns into bouncing, whimpers become full moans, and you're both so fazed the bed screech accompanying your noises goes unnoticed. 

you use his lean arms as support, gently tracing his perfect veins as a comfort gesture. “god, you’re so good…” your voice is groggy and strained. “i know.” you could get pissed at his overly confident attitude, but truth is you find it hot as fuck. he knows no one could make you feel like this.

“i- i’m- i’m sorry, could you please be quieter, if it’s not too much trouble?” 

it takes you a moment to process what’s happening, your lewdness acting as a blinding veil, but namgyu answers for you. 

“give me bullshit like that again and i’ll break your face, whore.”

the random woman is astonished as well as appalled. she apologizes again and seemingly leaves her bed, the footsteps dying out.

“fucking cunt. bothering me when i’m railing my girl...” he pushes you down and gives you a harsh kiss, the new position snapping you out of your trance. “what the fuck? ur still hard?” you ask through moans. “goddamn, if you knew how fucking good your pussy feels, you’d understand. ‘ts a damn drug.” at that, your walls clench, his sweet talk getting you every. single. time. and it motivates him to change positions, laying you on your side, as you were initially. but you're still a bit weirded out, and he notices. how could he not, with how well he knows your body?

“focus on me. don’t want you thinking ‘bout that or anything that isn’t me and the way i’m fucking you, got that?” his hand travels to your throat and adds a bit of pressure.

“yeah.” 

his girth perfectly stretching you out turns off anything that's not his cock, his movements get harder and deeper due to the still present indignation. “i’m close, gyu…” you cry out, yearning for that release. “of course you are, with how fucking much you’re leaking,” those words only make it worse. “i think you were just as desperate as i was, huh? such a perfect nympho for me”, he groans, thrusting faster. your head lolls back, resting on his shoulder, his dick hits you with such precision it’s hard to even keep your eyes open. slender fingers climb up your skin and reach your lips, which you instantly part letting out a low moan. with that, he pushes them inside, pressing down your tongue. and you suck them with all you’ve got left, licking and slurping while he fucks you in both holes. 

the double pleasure takes control over your body and you start to notice your shakiness. “gyu…” you babble, the capacity of forming full sentences is gone, not only because of his hand. “cum on my cock like a good girl, come on.” he demands against your neck, and your brain listens, as usual, sending throbs and contractions through your hips. your belly drops as if from a plane, he abandons your mouth eager to hear your falling over and you don't disappoint, squeezing his biceps while panting for air. “oh, fuck…” the aftershocks keep going while he pulls out, “damn, you drenched me” you’re not in your right mind to fully comprehend yet, “now, i don’t want it to go to waste, so you’re gonna swallow me up real good. yeah? not gonna drop any?” you answer by sticking out your tongue, and before you know it, the thick, salty, warm liquid fills your senses. you swallow and hear him sigh, relieved.

“shit, i’m spent. you’re such a good stress reliever.”

he falls asleep on your bed and ends up snuggling against you :3

❤️‍🔥 want more namgyu?