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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment.

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze.

König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others.

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!”

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect.

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up.

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child.

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru.

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes.

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest.

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!”

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away.

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!” König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture.

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you, König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you.

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt.

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny.

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone.

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge.

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.”

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction.

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl.

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance.

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.”

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!”

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience.

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done.

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling.

Evolve, or die.

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later.

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.”

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants.

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA.

The Lieutenant is one of them.

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead.

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t.

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact.

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself.

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins.

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was.

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding.

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed.

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes.

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide.

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady.

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire.

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock.

Your finger slams into the trigger.

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself.

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König.

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary.

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt.

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch.

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later.

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure.

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König.

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone.

Anyone but you, that is.

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter.

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced.

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down.

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm.

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?”

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment.

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour.

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you.

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence.

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up.

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh.

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest.

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.”

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given.

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly.

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.”

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?”

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?”

He freezes, muscles going taunt.

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?”

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away.

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate.

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit.

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over.

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side.

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air.

König kneeled to you and bared himself.

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this.

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood.

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug.

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning.

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he.

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame.

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears.

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him.

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat.

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English.

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril.

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust.

You find none.

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening.

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words.

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize.

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized.

For you to come back to him. His partner.

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths.

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

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junkissed · 5 months

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drenched

member — junhui x f reader genre — smut word count — 2.4k synopsis — the pool isn't the only thing that gets jun all wet. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), squirting, body worship, pussy drunk jun, mentioned that reader wears a bikini (+ other clothes), they're so horny for each other it's actually just gross notes — requested by anon for my 🐈 1k event — thanks to @onlymingyus for looking over this for me <3 sorry the synopsis is boring asdhgsj i couldnt think of a cooler one. also very very sorry again that it's taken me so long to get to these old requests but i hope you enjoy! please be sure to reblog with comments or send an ask if you liked this :)

if there's only one thing in this world that jun is obsessed with, it's your pussy.

practically every night he comes home, throwing his bag on the chair and pulling you onto the couch, begging you to let him eat you out, just really quick before dinner, please? i'll make you cum so fast, promise, just let me have ten minutes with you.

most of the time he slides your pants down and finds you already wet, knowing the kind of mood he'll be in when he gets home. it's almost impossible to force your mind out of the gutter when you can't stop picturing him kneeling between your legs, his dark brown eyes turned even darker with lust as he watches your face and every single tiny little reaction you have to him.

it's not your fault that you really can't help it if your mind wanders during the day, sending a shiver down your spine every time you think about how desperate he is for you. he'll never pass up the opportunity to bury his fingers inside you, moaning about how good it feels to have your cunt clenching him so tight and how pretty your legs look as they tremble around him.

jun loves nothing more than how wet you get and he'll clean you up with his tongue, his cock throbbing because he knows you're like this for him and him only. he'll gladly spend hours between your legs, groaning about how you're straight out of his dreams; what other explanation could there possibly be for the fact that he gets to come home to the prettiest girl he's ever seen every single day? not only that, but that you let him play with you whenever you want? he feels like he's died and gone to heaven every time you spread your legs apart and let him spend as much time as he wants in that spot.

of course, he has other favorite things, too. he loves fucking you from behind so he can see your gorgeous ass bouncing in front of him. he loves laying back and letting you do whatever you want to him, pushing his shaft between your breasts and grinning when he covers your face in his cum. but nothing compares to having his face smushed in your pussy, his skilled tongue and long fingers reaching places inside you that you didn't even know existed before you met him.

tonight is no different than every other night that he comes home and begs for your pussy. except this time he's got one thing and one thing only on his mind, and it's going to drive him insane if he doesn't have you right this second.

the first time it happened it caught you off guard. your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as the drops rolled down his abs coating the both of you in liquid, your legs still wrapped around his waist when he stops thrusting. you started to apologize, until jun lets out a long, low groan and tells you don't you fucking dare apologize for the hottest thing he's ever witnessed in his whole goddamn life and now he's made it his life's mission to making you squirt as much as is physically possible.

you didn't even know you could squirt at all before jun, but he brings a side out of you that you didn't know was there. a side of you so absolutely insatiable, like an unquenchable thirst, and now that it's been unlocked you're addicted to it.

with the rising temperatures and clear, sunny skies that have come after the rain and cold, it's obvious that summer is quickly closing in. it's one of his favorite seasons for many reasons, but the main one is that hotter weather means seeing you in more revealing clothes.

he had never been the type of guy to go feral at the sight of an ankle or an exposed shoulder, but around you it's like he loses all control. the way your shorts hug your ass—jean shorts, pajama shorts, bike shorts, any and all of them. his mind goes blank and all he can imagine is your perfect pussy hidden so teasingly from his view, and he'll do anything to get a taste. teasingly, because you know exactly how he gets and you love to play into it just to make him even more riled up.

you've started buying shorts that are just a little bit too small, just a little bit tighter that show another extra inch of skin. and you grin in satisfaction every single time he tears them off of you and pushes his hand down past the waistband to feel how soaked you are… until he wipes that smile right off your face with just a simple brush of his fingers.

the same goes for your shirts, too. the crop tops that expose your tummy; he loves to run his fingers over your skin, and the short length makes it so much easier for him to slide his hands up to feel your breasts. and don't even get him started on the tank tops; he feels like a virgin all over again, unable to stop his cock from twitching in his pants. when he sees that little extra bit of cleavage sitting so perfectly.

god, he loves every fucking thing about your body. but there is, however, one downside to the summer season.

okay, so it's not exactly like they banned him from the public pool, but they did tell him (in not so nice words) to stop feeling up his girlfriend in the locker rooms, and now he's too embarrassed to ever show his face there again. which honestly is more than fine by you, because if your hand wasn't down his swim shorts jerking him off as you lazily sat beside him in a chaise lounge, then was it really even a good day?

but besides that, the problem is that he can't see you near water without thinking about making you squirt. there hasn't been a single time when you've been out on the backyard patio, drops of sweat glistening on your skin from the summer heat as you hold a garden hose in your hand watering the tomato plants, that he hasn't wanted to push you against the side of the house and take you right then and there. to curl his fingers in your pussy until his hand is more soaked than the vegetables.

or like the time you both stayed at your parents’ house for a weekend while they were on vacation. he'd found you sitting out by the pool reading your book after you've just finished swimming, and the drops of water on your thighs that hadn't yet dried from the sun had reminded him too vividly of how you looked after he made you squirt with his cock. that day you'd needed a second shower, and it wasn't from the chlorine in the pool.

if your mind is in the gutter when you think about him, then his mind is in a place further than hell when he thinks about you.

so really, you can't blame him for tonight. you can't get mad at him after you sent him pictures of the pretty new bikini you'd bought for the upcoming cruise you were going on next month. but not just pictures of the bikini; pictures of you wearing it, your knees spread temptingly in a way that you knew for a fact would get him hard as a rock in seconds.

he's pissed, but more than that he's needy, because he already had to jerk off in the bathroom at work because he couldn't get his hard-on to go down any other way. his own fist will never compare to how good your pussy feels against his face, so it seems as good a place as any for you to start making it up to him for your bad behavior.

he barely gets the front door closed behind him before he's pushing you against the wall, his fingers clawing desperately at your sides as his lips capture yours. it's hot, he’s hot, and the temperature outside has nothing to do with it.

even the air conditioning in your house can't cool you down as he drags you by the waist to your shared bedroom, telling you it would be in your best interests to be waiting naked by the time he comes back with towels because he's not feeling very patient tonight.

you love it when he gets like this, and you grin triumphantly as you pull your panties off and leave them hanging off the edge of the bed, the glistening wet spot on them purposefully noticeable. you already know that you won't be leaving this room until the towels and sheets beneath you are equally soaked, and just the thought alone makes you dizzy.

the grin on jun's face is wide enough to rival yours when he comes back to find you laid out so prettily on the bed, on display for him like a gourmet fucking meal.

you lift your hips for him as he spreads out a towel beneath you, kneeling at the foot of the bed with your thighs on either side of his head. just one look at your dripping folds and he's already gone, throwing your legs over his shoulders and digging his fingers into your thighs to spread you apart even more for his eager mouth.

you've had jun's mouth on you more times than you can keep track of, but every single time still feels like the first. no matter how often he does it, you don't think you'll ever be prepared for the first lick, when he flattens his tongue to cover as much of you as possible at once before he begins.

the way he immediately and easily finds your clit, sucking messily before moving lower to slide through your folds, is always enough to bring you right up to the edge, but it doesn't last. it's a constant battle between making you cum as fast as possible, or prolonging it and moving around until you can't take it even for one more second and your orgasm is ten times stronger.

this time he chooses the latter, but you already had a feeling that that's how things would go. he's focused, honed in on your pussy; he is going to make you squirt all over his face, and if you don't think that's a guarantee, then you'd be sorely mistaken.

it's not the first time you've played this little game with him: sending suggestive photos and texting flirty messages, until you inevitably end up under him with enough orgasms to last you a week. but it's never enough to last, of course, and it's not long before you do it all over again.

he likes to act like he's teaching you a lesson, but you both have been through this routine enough times to know it's the thrill that keeps you coming back more than the need for punishment. you could always just ask him, but where's the fun in that? it's much more exciting to push his buttons and let him take over. it would almost be funny how his reaction is exactly the same every single time, if your reaction weren't also exactly the same. it's a habit you fall into together, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.

jun's fingers slide up your body, stopping at your waist to grab you and pull you harder against his nose. it's impossible not to let yourself get lost in it, moaning and threading your fingers in his hair as your pussy throbs in his mouth.

he points his tongue at your clit once more and he doesn't let up until your thighs start to shake, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. you're close and he knows it, almost even better than you know it yourself because he's spent so much time between your legs that he knows how to read your body like an open book.

your fingers in his scalp squeeze tighter, pushing his head further into you, and he groans at the feeling. he loves how quickly you get fucked out from his mouth alone, that you’re barely even processing how roughly you're moving his head because your body is on fire from the stimulation.

he'd live and die in your pussy if he could, and that's exactly what he plans to do tonight as his tongue flicks faster and harder. he can feel the wetness already gushing out of you and he knows you're right there, ready to give him what he so desperately wants.

with one final suck to your clit you go rigid and your muscles release, whimpers and whines flowing from your lips like liquid as you cum. it drenches his face, running down his cheeks and his chin and soaking his hair.

he drinks you up like a starved man, like he's been wandering alone in the desert and finally found his oasis. your head rolls back and your body writhes under his hands, but his grip is too tight and he is far too committed on getting every last drop from you to allow you to squirm out of his grasp.

it's overwhelming nearly to the point of pain but you don't want him to stop, you desperately need him to keep going until you're drained. and that’s one of the best things about jun, is that by now he can practically read your mind and he can tell when you need more and when you don’t.

he can tell what you want without even having to ask, so he reaches up and squeezes your hand in his as he looks up from between your legs, meeting your eyes and giving you that look that makes you shiver because you couldn’t imagine anyone else but him in this position. you don’t want to stop, not yet, and he nods at you knowingly with a hazy little grin and slides his tongue right back where you want it.

he’s more than willing to spend the rest of the night kneeling in front of you until you’re spent, if that’s what you want. honestly, he’s willing to spend the rest of his life there, too.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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cryptidghostgirl · 7 months

Text

Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

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A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

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merumis · 2 months

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you gave kuroo a notebook last may—he hasn't quite had the courage to open it yet.

it's almost august now; it's that sticky kind of heat outside, the one that clings to both his skin and the inside of his lungs, so he's stuck in his childhood room. there's a rickety fan that keeps blowing half-cooled air into his face and downstairs, he can hear his father talking to his grandparents. something about dad's hardware store, something about a new employee, something about grandma wanting to make grandpa's favorite for dinner tonight.

the fan keeps lifting the cover of the notebook up. it's sitting on kuroo's desk. to his right, between all the remnants of last semester's college apartment that he couldn't leave there this summer: an air purifier his mom sent him (it was a peace offering, he thinks, after a particularly bad phone call. he doesn't think he forgave her), a box of his dishes, filled with cracks from his shitty dishwasher, and a bread basket you thrifted him. just to name a few.

and still, between the clutter, the breeze from the fan lifts only the cover—just enough for it to catch his eye. he reaches over to grab it, playing with the cover, bending the spine and flicking through the pages. it's an old notebook, well-worn and imprinted by your fingertips. the leather bends and gives where you would've held it, or where it would've jumbled around in your bag—molded by textbooks and pencil cases and your laptop.

he supposes he'll see you again next month, so now is as good a time as any to open this. you've been awfully incurious regarding this whole thing—sending him texts about your and his internships more than anything else. he's been partially grateful.

it's not that he doesn't want to read it. he doesn’t know quite how else to say it. he’s watched you scribble in this thing over the course of the year. it’s almost always late at night, in his bed or yours, lit only by his half-broken lamp or yours, gifted by a professor who you get lunch with every other week.

it was never that he didn’t want to read it—he means it, really. he’d always try to sneak glances while you were writing in it, and you’d tsk and laugh at him while pulling the papers up to your chest. in a weird way, it felt wrong to read it after you’d given it to him—like he hadn’t earned it, or like he’d be looking at something all too personal that hadn’t been there during all those failed attempts.

the fan lifts up the cover again, and this time, he sneaks his index finger under it, flipping to the first page.

i don’t normally fill the first pages of notebooks, it reads, scrawled out in your too-neat handwriting that he’s always made fun of. but it’s a good thing, you continue, because this way i get to fill this page with this. you finally get your way, tetsurou. you can read the notebook. i’m so—underlined three times, drawn a little darker, he can feel the sarcasm seeping through the pencil led—proud of you.

and then at the bottom, one more bit.

and by the way, do NOT tell me when you read this. don’t even mention it to me at all. this is embarrassing enough as is.

he lets out that stupid breath of laughter through his nose. those uninterested texts suddenly make a little more sense. he turns the next page.

i’ve met someone infuriating, it reads. crooked smiles, tequila-drenched breath, eyes made just to match. he leans in close when he speaks, laughter bubbling between words and fanning his warm breath across my ear and neck.

and then there’s that pull. i couldn’t put a name to it if i tried. that sweet tingling across my skin whenever he gets close enough; it feels like someone’s placed magnets beneath the surface of my flesh, and he’s holding their pair.

i knew we were going to kiss before he ever got that close—and i think he did too. he was too warm, too enticing, too, well, magnetic for anything else. and i love watching his brows furrow at the sound of my voice—indifferent, maybe a little cold. a comment about his big nose in return for one about my pretty eyes.

and all at once, kuroo knows this moment. the fan acts as a poor imitation of the cool october breeze—but it feels similar, all the same. it wasn’t quite halloween but at every party, you could see hints of it popping up in the corners. window decals of a witch and a ghost hanging in someone’s room, pumpkin carving kits tucked against the wall because no one had planned for a place to store them.

it was hardly the first time he’d talked to you—much less the first time he’d seen you—but you are right. he did know he was going to kiss you that night.

the fan catches one of his old posters behind him—making the thick paper scrape against his wall. the noise makes him turn. it’s an old periodic table (groan) and now it’s starting to get a little tattered at the edges. the fan catches again, this time on the notebook, and flips to another page.

kuroo allows it—call it fate or languor—and flattens out the notebook onto this new page.

i don’t know if you know this, it starts, but you fell asleep last night. shocking, i know, but it was before me, in my bed. you were sprawled out on my sheets—taking every inch of space you could in my mediocre full-size.

two weeks ago you told me you loved me. i didn’t know what to say. i laughed and kissed you and maybe said thank you. you took it like a champ while i dipped tofu into panko crumbs.

but tonight, i whispered it to you. once, twice, a third time—my lips brushing against the curve of your ear. i stopped every time you tossed or turned—i love, i would begin, and then hold my breath until your body stilled against mine. you, i breathed out. warm and all mine for tonight.

and kuroo has always known that you’re a writer—a good one, at that, from all those nights reading over your latest essay or poem for class, but this is different.

you like to write break-up poems for class—all about him, all fictionalized (he hopes) and all there to get a bit of a rise out of him, he knows. you love to write about the grand, the grotesque, things that he couldn’t put words to describe and you always did.

you had never written about him like this. or not to his face, anyway, and yet here it was—laid out in front of him, your handwriting looping around the college-ruled lines.

he flicks through a few more pages, fanning them out underneath the slow glide of his thumb—the fan swirling them in front of him faster than he wants, so he has to do it once, twice, and then again—a third. they’re not all about him, some are about her roommate, others about an essay or a concept that kuroo couldn’t put a name to. but most center him—in one view or another.

his grandmother clatters a few pans downstairs, a sharp clanging of metal hitting just beneath his floors. he can hear his dad call to her, his grandfather watching the tv 4 clicks too loud.

but here, with his rickety fan and tattered posters and his claustrophobic childhood scattered around him, he also has you. his phone buzzes next to him.

i think my job hates me btw, you send, and then another. how was your day off?

good, he replies, read a little.

anything good?

and because kuroo is so compliant to your word—perhaps maliciously so—he replies.

eh. not really. he smiles to only himself. maybe i’ll tell you about it later.

#LOL this one is shorter than i expected it to be but that's okay i think #i wrote this half on my laptop and half on my phone so i'm not responsible for any inconsistencies #hq x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #kuroo x you

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weirdmorefics · 10 months

Note

bridgerton sister ran away just before the beginning of her season and discovered by Colin in St Petersburg under a fake identity and bought back home

The Familiar Barmaid

x bridgerton!sister

Pronouns- She/her

Warning- Mother issues

Word Count- 933

Summary- The reader wants to be an author, but unfortunately, she has a season to get back to.

Y/n Bridgerton had never dreamed of being married like her other sisters (Eloise excluded). Y/n loved reading, she imagined her own stories and stashed her written stories under her bed. She craved to be an author like the ones who made the books she admired. Her mother however had other plans for her since day one; come out, become the diamond of the season, and be courted by a handsome gentleman I loved who hopefully had an amazing title. I never craved that life I much preferred to live in the fantasy worlds I created in my head. This leads us to my escape from the Bridgerton household the night before my season.

I had packed the most important things to me; my writings, my favorite books, and the leftover money I had been saving from my gown fittings. I quietly took my horse out of the stable at night and rode the horse to a place no one would know Y/n Bridgerton.

I rode my horse for as far as she could go taking breaks in dingy inns that my Mother wouldn't dare to step foot in. By the time I was in St Petersburg, I was already short on funds. It was a better place to settle than most it had gorgeous views and so many new things to write about. As luck would have it the bar in town was looking for a barmaid. Unfortunately, the bar owner could tell very easily that I had no experience. Shockingly he gave me a chance! He said I reminded him of his daughter who recently married so her room above the bar was also available. It felt like fate like I had been sucked into my very own fantasy book.

I spent my days writing in the nearby park and the nights dealing with town drunks. Honestly, they weren't too bad just demanding their drinks. I learned quickly and I became their favorite barmaid only because I made the drinks the fastest but it still made me feel accomplished. It was a bittersweet feeling to have the town drunks appreciate me more than my mother but at least I was appreciated.

I felt true relief once the season was over no longer worried they would find me and make me a last-minute entry. The bar was just closing and I was washing the grimy tables when the chime of the door startled me. The man was bundled his scarf nearly covering his whole face.

I turned to him and frowned politely "I am so sorry sir we are just closing."

The man gasps once he hears me speak "Y/N?"

I quickly back up accidentally sending a chair to the ground with a loud thud, "I think you have the wrong woman sir."

My boss exits the backroom at the commotion, "This fella bothering you Rose?"

"Are you serious Y/n? Rose? Be a little more original," the man unwraps his scarf and my fists immediately tighten.

"Colin, what are you doing here?" I practically growl.

"You know this man Rose? Seems a little too uptight for you, but I am not here to judge your taste in suitors." My boss chuckles finding his comment hilarious.

Colin gags, "That is my little sister I'll have you know! And I am bringing you right home Mother has been worried sick about you!"

I roll my eyes "She probably did not even know about my absence until Lady Whistledown announced it. How did she cover it up? Am I in the States visiting my cousins?"Colin's face turns beat red which tells me I am right.

Colin tries to change the subject, "Your sisters miss you dearly, Daphne was devasted you were not there for her wedding."

I gasped, "Daphne is already married! The season just ended!"

Colin rubbed his arm, "There were a lot of issues with this season Y/n… honestly we all could have used some of that Y/n wisdom. I especially could have used some of that wisdom." He mumbled the last part seeming very embarrassed to admit it.

"Oh, Colin… I am so sorry. I miss my siblings all dearly but I am not meant for the home carer life. I am meant to be out there writing about anything I can get my hands on." I gesture to the world around me.

"That is one good thing about your departure, no one thinks you are Lady WhistleDown anymore," He smirks.

"Oh what a pity I did like causing fear and scaring the men off with the promise to write about them," I smile.

Colin sighs, "I will make you a deal Y/n, travel with me during my studies. You can explore the world that way, but you must write to Mother and the rest of your siblings and let them know you are safe."

"You know she or Anthony will just drag me back home," I frown.

"Not with me by your side, I am sure I can convince Anthony and she can convince Mama." He smiles as the plan begins to form in his head.

I smiley widely, "You have yourself a deal Colin Bridgerton."

He smiles back as my boss lets out a few stray tears, "You truly are just like my daughter, just as stubborn and hot-headed. Be sure to visit your welcome back anytime."

I gave him a side hug, "Oh boss you big old softie."

Colin laughs, "Y/n you are truly something."

"Why thank you," I take a bow. "Shall we take our leave?"

"We shall," Colin smiles.

#bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x sister reader #bridgerton request #bridgerton reader insert #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x reader

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mikyur · 8 months

Text

My favorite~

Yandere oc (Duke) x Fem/Reader

Warnings: obsession, romantic delusion, many wives, reader trapped in a mansion, Yandere stuff in general.

It's been a week since you've been trapped in this crazy duke's mansion. The good thing is that he lets you out of the room, that shamelessly the room he makes you sleep in is his room.

And he lets you leave like that because there's a strange magic around the house that means only whoever he wants can leave here, and obviously you can't get out since the door just won't open.

At this moment you are walking in the back garden which is even more beautiful than the front part of the big mansion, you are not alone he may even let you walk around but not alone, He always sends one of his wives to accompany you and now Lily is the one accompanying you, she's really nice, she's kind, cute and lively.

You really don't find all this strange? Like, he has some kind of power and he holds you and now me here. I question her again.

No, no, I think that's amazing! He's just protecting us from the outside world. She says smiling.

Protecting from what exactly?

Of all things, he said that the world outside is very dangerous, there are many types of monsters, very scary. She says with a serious face but it was supposed to be more cute than serious.

So he plays the knight in golden armor? You ask jokingly and laughing.

Yes! But he is as beautiful as any knight that could exist! She speaks again with her usual smile but this time there is a certain passion and admiration in her expression.

And have you by any chance seen many knights? I question her, really wanting to know the answer.

No, I haven't told you that I don't remember anything from my past, neither do I nor the other women, only you who are different and remember. She says thoughtfully.

Sorry, I must have forgotten and that must be his doing too. The last part I say to myself.

What did you say? She asks, stopping walking.

I just said it's a beautiful day to walk. I laugh nervously.

That's right, either way you're very lucky! She says smiling and I thank her for being naive.

Lucky? Why? Question getting confused.

Because you've just arrived and you're already sleeping with Mr. Duque! She says excitedly.

Oh- is that it? Well...if you say so... I feel embarrassed after her comment.

I only slept next to him 5 times... but we only slept ok!!! Now it was her turn to be embarrassed and it makes you laugh at her.

Ok, you just slept, I don't doubt that, relax, ok?You say, laughing, running your hand through her soft hair.

I just-just thought you might think the wrong things... sorry. She says softly, moving her own fingers with her head down and you can see that she is still blushing.

No need to apologize Lily. You say calmly to her and smile when she lifts her head to look at you.

Thank you for not being mad at me. She says smiling awkwardly.

I don't think I could ever be mad at you. You say to calm her down.

He really likes you. She says suddenly and you are confused.

What?

Mr. Duque never stops looking here. She says laughing.

With that you look around looking for him and there he is behind you leaning against one of the pillars staring at you specifically smiling.

How long has he been there? You ask slightly scared.

Since we came here. She says laughing as if this were something normal.

You look at her not knowing what to say and then look back at him. How could he have been there all this time and you didn't notice? It's certainly something you have to keep your guard up about at all times.

I see you're getting along well, and that's great. He says approaching us with a smile on his face.

I hope you are convincing her and stay with us dear Lily.

Of course yes, Mr Duke! He was telling her how dangerous the world is out there and that it's better to stay here. She says, all smiling and blushing, looking like a puppy trying to please her owner.

Really, the world out there is terrible and cruel, here is the best place to stay, here is beautiful and safe and I protect you all. He says in a serious tone and looks at me waiting for my reaction.

There may also be a monster in here. I speak in a mocking tone and smile at him.

This is impossible Y/n! Lord Duke would never allow a monster to be here! She says scared.

Lily is right, dear Y/n, I would never let a monster in here, but... maybe there is a good monster. He says and laughs at you.

Now let's go together, it's getting late and I don't want anyone getting sick here because of the cold. He speaks and I take the lead and Lily soon follows him like a good little dog.

What exactly are you? You ask yourself and find a way to find out before you leave this place.

Sorry for any writing errors 7w7

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere man #yandere x female reader #yandere scenarios #Yandere duke

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wintfleur · 10 months

Text

ꔫ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ tis’ the season of snow and soft launches — Stella Hughes AU!

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — summary ( snow, soft launches, and confused brothers! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

stellahughes

liked by jamie.drysdale, adamfantilli, nicohischier and others

🏷️ lilybaileys, carmenbarlowe

stellahughes; lots of mallows are necessary ⛸️

view all 749 comments

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stellahughes @/carmenbarlowe she just said you don’t have a life 🤓☝️

username SOFT LAUNCH?!?!

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Lilybaileys quick! Stella’s thousands of followers please find this mystery girl, it’d be embarrassing if she was alone for another Christmas

stellahughes @/Lilybaileys phone now 👇

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jackhughes ESTELLA HUGHES ANSWER YOUR PHONE RN!

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liked by stellahughes

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˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I hoped you guys enjoyed this! I’m super excited to write more about Stella and her life! Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear what you guys think so far! )

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katareyoudrilling · 10 months

Text

The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner. Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it. Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise. The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa. Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one. Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone. White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site. It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!” You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos. He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though. You feel very, very nervous. You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks. In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders. Track pants hang low on his trim waist. He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself. You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.” His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core. It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests. You even agreed to be filmed for your private use. A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer. Dave waits patiently for you to continue. “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.” That’s an understatement. Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy. “I like watching it. I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.” His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders. “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me. If you can’t, then we can’t. Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly. Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again. “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you. Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone. Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat. You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will. Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth. “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five. Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body. Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand. The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him. Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily. Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs. He’s still so close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop. “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you. “You want me to use you?” His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision. Desire ripples off him in waves. It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak. You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. He’s so intense and overwhelming. God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame. Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting. Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question. Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised. He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down. You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them. There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one. Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting. The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal. Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn. Dave enters the room with a question in his eye. You nod. There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face. He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater. You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head. You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed. His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs. Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce. But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest. He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt. His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him. You’re no longer nervous. You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.” Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed. Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh. “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now. I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth. Dave hisses as you draw him in. He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth. He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you. He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly. He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him. Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort. His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him. A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat. You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin. His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink. Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass. Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.” He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position. He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift. You are not in control here. He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again. This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind. You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you. Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body. He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision. He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him. He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating. He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.” A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it. “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful. You have me all night.” He winks before kissing you once again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist- in reblog

#the sweepstakes #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

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death-is-my-calling · 4 months

Text

LAWLIGHT HEADCANONS it's easy to say that L and Light have a serious love/hate dynamic. one day they could be fisting eachother's faces, and the other they could be making out with visibly audible moaning noises. who needs breath am I right? Light tries to deny his love for L, although L can read him like a book. It's funny how his so-called rival makes him feel more emotions than Misa ever could. I believe that both L and Light are incapable of actually stating their love for one-another. To show the other their desire, they would either send gifts (L) or just kiss them straight away (Light). I'm not going to pretend like L doesn't buy Light thousands of gifts. He is a multi-billionare, of course his love language would be gift-giving. And as for light, his love language is showing it rather than saying it. We can't have lawlight without a bit of competition, right? They are both very competitive, meaning they try to one-up the other constantly. This can include board games, sports, and especially tickle fights. Light is usually the one to start them, but let's be for real... L finishes them. Light is just way too sensitive for his own good, meaning it's slightly embarrassing for him. Think of it. Light Yagami, the opposed 'god of the new world' and the NPA chief's genius son, ticklish? never heard of it. Or so you thought... I 100% believe that if Light never picked up the Death Note, both L and Light would be married in England somewhere. I'm not saying the Death Note should never come into play, because I believe that that's the only way L and Light would ever meet, since that's the only reason L came to Japan in the first place. I just believe that if it was never Light who picked it up, L and Light would've fallen in love, but GODDAMNIT RYUK. Flirting is a daily occurrence. The other party loves to see the other blush and lose their shit, ESPECIALLY in front of company. I think this goes for L. He loves to see how Light tries to stay composed in front of his father when L is subtly flirting with him. It's downright amusing and adorable to him. LET'S BE HONEST - during the handcuffs situation with Light and L, "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oats would be a daily thing that Misa felt. I think Misa had suspicions that they fancied eachother in the beginning. Last but not least - I believe that Light admired L. He thought of him as a friend, and a companion. Light didn't want to harm L in any way, but Kira did. Kira believed L was in the way of creating a 'better world' for everyone else. LawLight will always be my favorite ship, and my comfort dynamic. Please comment or reblog what heacanons you want to see for Death Note next!

#death note #l lawliet #lawlight #light yagami #heacanons #soichiro yagami #teru mikami #touta matsuda #misa amane #ryuk

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gamerbunny1996 · 4 months

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Anxiety

Sitting at your computer you are about to start a stream with a few others. One being Schlatt. You get so excited every time you guys get to do a stream together. You're always so shy though, having a hard time talking to him sometimes. Starting the live you do your intro waiting for all the fans to pile in.

Seeing everyone in discord you jumped in. “Hello y/n” Ted said in a sing-song voice. “Hi,” you said back. “So what we have planned you just told me to join in discord” swagger said. Jackmanifold jumped in “I thought of doing a big you laugh you lose live stream” you smile at his excitement. “The rules are different then my normal ones. This time we have to make each other laugh” he said.

“I don't think I've ever heard y/n laugh,” Schlatt said. “Really I hear it all the time,” Ted replied to schlatt. “I bet it's an ugly laugh that's why she never laughs in front of me” you were shocked by his words he never talks bad about you ever even in a joking manner. “I don't think I do,” you tried to argue. “Then why have I never heard it then” he asked. “Ummmm… I don't really know maybe because you're not that funny” you kinda lied at the end you find him hilarious but you're always so shy and quiet he probably just never noticed you laughing at him. “That's a lie and you know it,” he said. “Alright you two let's start the challenge before the live goes on too long” Jack butted in. “I have a wheel here of all are names and who ever it lands on has to try and make the rest of us laugh”

You start to get nervous you don't even know where to begin on making people laugh you only know dark jokes. “Alright let's see who it's going to be” Jack spun the wheel. It goes around a few times until it lands on your name. Of course, just your luck. “Well I'm not good at this,” you said. “Just try, I know you can do it,” Ted said to you. “Okay I'm sorry for any jokes I speak. What's a depressed kid's favorite thing to do” you asked. Everyone said what. “They like just hanging around,” you said, trying not to laugh at yourself. All their eyes widened. “That was dark,” swagger said. “Yeah I only know dark jokes” you said trying to hide your face in embarrassment. “You need so much help mentally” Schlatt said.

The game went on and you just kinda stayed quiet the wheel has yet to land on you again. Thankfully. You wanted to die from the amount of embarrassment you are feeling. ��Y/n you have yet to laugh come on there has to be something to make you laugh” Jack said. “I should just go, I'm just embarrassing myself more and more” you go to the end stream and discord. “Ha pussy” you heard schlatt say right when you hit the end call. Why was this upsetting you so much? You tell dark jokes all the time and you never have a problem other than people questioning your sanity. Like just hearing schlatt make rude comments to you and not finding your stupid joke funny now leaving because you just couldn't laugh. Everything started to get overwhelming.

A notification happened on discord you go look who's it from. Ted's name came on screen asking if I'm okay. “I don't know just some reason my anxiety is hitting hard after I told that joke” you send to Ted. It didn't take long for him to reply “that's weird it was a pretty funny joke even if it was dark.” He replied back to you. Smiling to yourself makes you feel better. “Weird question” you send

“What?” he replied. “Do you know why Schlatt is being so mean he is never this mean to me” you send scared he will poke at you for asking about schlatt. “No I don't. Why do you ask anyway” he replied. Scared you didn't know how to reply.

You put your fingers on the keys and started to type away just to get it over with. “Well, how do I put this? I really like Schlatt a lot and he was always so nice to me and mean to others I thought maybe he liked me too or something I don't really know” you hesitated to send. Taking a deep breath you sent it. It felt like forever for Ted to reply back. “Aw, how cute. I wish I could help but I don't even know Schlatt can be very private sometimes but you're right it's weird how all of a sudden he just starts to be mean to you. He hasn't said anything about you since you left.” He replied to you.

Starting to tear up from frustration and emotions. You don't really understand why you're feeling this way. Just wanting him to like you back. You decide to take a break on live streams and social media maybe it's your anxiety taking over. “I think I'm taking a break from everything for a little bit. My anxiety is going crazy and I need a few weeks to myself and maybe try and figure out this whole Schlatt thing” you sent to Ted. Taking a deep breath you start to shut everything down and leaving discord up to see when Ted replies back. Waiting for him you start to write a little letter for all your fans so they know you're taking a break for a few weeks. Posting it on all social media he sighs out looking back up at your monitor. “Please take a break if you need it. We will talk everyday you're gonna keep me updated on your little crush, life got it” you can almost hear him say this in a sassy voice making you laugh a little to yourself.

Closing discord you turn off the whole computer and monitors. Getting up you walk into the bathroom ready for a nice shower. Hoping to calm your thoughts. Right before you step in you hear you phone go off. Checking it to see who texted you.

Schlatt❤️: Why did you leave the stream today?

Toots: my anxiety got to much

Schlatt❤️: you want to talk about it?

Toots: Not really

Schlatt❤️: well I'm here if you want to talk

Toots:okay :l

You turned your phone off and hopped into the shower. Feeling the hot water poor over you. Enjoying the warmth your head went to your message just barely with schlatt. Why does he care all of a sudden? This is so strange it's making you upset. Turning off the water you got out. Drying off you looked at your phone. You wanted to see if schlatt replied. You wanted to text him so bad to come over so you could hug him and cry. You wanted to do so much but just couldn't do it.

Getting dressed you grabbed your phone and went into your room. Sitting on your bed you finally decided to turn your phone on to see if he texted back.

Schlatt❤️: I think you do

Taking a deep breath you turned your phone off leaving him on read. What do you say at this point? That you're in love with him and you want to hug and kiss him to make everything better. Soon your phone went off again.

Schlatt ❤️: don't leave me on read

You smile at that. But you still couldn't text him. It just felt so wrong.

Schlatt❤️:y/n

Schlatt❤️:toots

Schlatt❤️: dumbass answer me

Soon your phone started to ring. He was calling you. Panicking, you threw the phone. Thankfully It landed at the end of the bed. It went silent. Sighing in relief. You went to grab your phone but it started to ring again. You decide to just get it over with and answer the call. Before you could say hello Schlatt started yelling at you. “What the hell you kept leaving me on read then didn't answer the call. You should be ashamed. I'm trying to me a nice friend and you do this what the hell is going on” tearing up you broke down crying feeling bad for being so mean to Schlatt. “Oh wait don't cry sorry didn't mean to yell at you please calm down” he started to freak out not knowing what to do.

“You…. So…. Mean….stream” you cry out only a few words. Barely being able to breathe from all the crying. It just wouldn't stop no matter how hard you try. “Oh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to be I was just joking around please stop crying” you sniffled out finally being able to calm down a little. Once you can breathe again and only tears fall once in a while, you speak. “I'm sorry I don't really know what wrong my emotions are all over the place my anxiety is hitting pretty hard” you try to explain but leaving the part out of you just want to date the man. “It's okay, is there any reason why your anxiety is so bad?” he tried to help but he just can not know. “No” is all you said. “You want me to come over and we can watch a movie to distract you” your eyes widen. Staying silent you had no idea how to answer. Finally you just agreed. “Perfect I'll be over in 15 minutes or so” he hung up the phone. Now what are you going to do? Your crush coming over your face is a mess from crying so hard. Getting up you grab a few blankets and head to the living room. Placing them on the couch you go put some popcorn in the microwave. Waiting for it you pull out your popcorn bowl and some salt. Once it was done you pulled it out and poured it into the bowl. Putting salt all over it. Taking it to the living room you place it down on the coffee table. Turning on your TV you waited for Schlatt to come. You started to bounce your knee. Anxiety taking over your body. You were so lost in thought you didn't realize the door knocking. After a few seconds you snap out of it and went to answer the door.

Schlatt stood there with two bags. Letting him in. “I brought snacks and drinks,” he said, placing the bags on the table. “That was nice of you” you told him. He sat on the couch patting the seat next to him. He walks over sitting next to him as far as you can without him noticing. He did notice and didn't like it so he grabbed you shoulder and dragged you into his side. Laying a blanket over the both of you he turned on your favorite movie. Your eyes widen from shock that he remembered your favorite movie. You grabbed the bag of snacks and seen it had all your favorites. Looking at Schlatt on shock. “What?” He asked lifting and eyebrow. “You remembered all my favorite stuff” you said to him. “Yeah of course why wouldn't I” he said. “I don't know just people don't usually remember these things about me” you told. “Well I remembered” he said. A smile grew on your face. “thank you,for everything your so sweet to me” I told him. “Yeah well maybe that's because I like you” your eyes grew wide. You didn't know what to say or do just stare at him in shock. He just rolled his eyes smashing his lips into yours. You relaxed a little and kissed back. Pulling away you buried your face into his chest embarrassed. You can feel him laugh a little. Smiling to yourself you spoke into his chest. “I like you too” feeling him wrap his arm around you. “I know” is all he said. Looking up at him “how” he smiled at you. “You are way more obvious than you think you are '' blushing you turn to the TV trying to hide your face from him. He pulled you close to him. You enjoyed being so close to him. This was exactly what you wanted.

#jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #x reader

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stxrvel · 1 year

Text

gym time

summary: you didn't expect to meet someone like Bucky Barnes when you decided to enter the gym, especially since his looks and words were anything but friendly.

pairing: au!bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +1k

warning: uhm, descriptions of bucky working out? some bad words. also i suck at summaries but what i was trying to say is that bucky is very suggestive here, and there will be suggestive conversations iykwim. this chapter doesn't contain too much of that but still minors do not interact!!!!

note: hi guys! um, i dont know what to say. being honest idk why i wrote this when i dont know if i'll ever be able to continue it, i think it was for the joy or fun in it and maybe trying to test new things? i kind of wrote the draft for a second part but i dont think i want this one to be a series, i wanted to see it like a drabble but i got carried away and now there are too many words. but what i do know now is that i will be pleased to write drabbles in a scenario like this, like in this universe or au. if you guys liked this (which i hope so) would you mind sending me what would you like to see next? only time will tell how good i'm doing but i hope i can at least entertain you a little. anyway, looking forward to your opinions and i really hope you like this one! since it's my first time writing in this kind of genre :'(

You were at the gym. It had been barely a week since you had started with the goal of creating a routine in your life, because work was consuming you from the inside out. Coming home no longer felt like it used to, when you still had the fever of being independent and being able to get yourself everything you wanted. Adult life really was a mud puddle compared to what we always thought as kids.

So… yeah, you decided to join the gym closest to your apartment to try to change your bad procrastination habits a bit. Maybe now that you were paying for it with your own money you'd feel more like going, just for the sake of not making the money go to waste. But, hey, it was something.

During that week everything had been relatively fine. You hadn't had any problems with anyone, no awkward comments and you had gotten some workout partners to take turns lifting weights or running on the treadmills with at the same time.

It was honestly becoming your favorite place to be after work.

And, well, of course, there was him.

The man you shared end-to-end glances with at the gym. He never came close, always kept his space, unless he had to use some machine near where you were.

He looked like a decent man… and definitely sexy. But you didn't dare get close even though it seemed to be the only thing the two of you wanted to do. The furtive glances weren't even accidental anymore, you both sought each other out through the masses of air as if it was second nature to you. And that upset you too much because it hadn't been too many days, how could you feel so passionate and heated just sharing glances with a stranger? Within what you didn't know there might be something you didn't like, even.

Anyway, you had to avert your gaze each time before it became too much, but it always seemed like it wasn't enough for the people around you not to notice.

“Why don't you just go talk to him?” Veronica spoke in front of you, waiting for Erika to leave the press to start her series.

You were on the treadmill finishing your routine that day and that man was on the other side of the gym, lifting weights like they were nothing. You had watched him for so long without embarrassment that you had almost memorized every line of his massive arms. And your partners that day had definitely noticed.

“I don't think it's appropriate,” was all you could think of.

Erika snorted, lowering her legs as she put down the weights. “She's afraid the sexual tension surrounding them will suffocate her.”

“Erika!” you scowled at her. “Stop talking nonsense.”

“I'm of the same opinion as Veronica, you should just go talk to him. If it turns out his personality isn't as sexy as his body, you're not going to lose anything and you're going to gain a lot.”

Veronica, who had already settled into the press after Erika cleaned the chair, nodded animatedly at her partner's words.

You turned your head to look at him again, just as his strong hands released the weight that bounced to the floor. You saw him shake his arms slightly and move his shoulders in circles, releasing the tension a little at a time. Even in the distance you could make out as if he were right beside you the line of his veins running around his arms and the-

“Look at her, she's drooling already.”

You clicked your tongue and Erika only shared a chuckle with Veronica. You decided to focus solely on getting the treadmill over with quickly so you could get through that day.

You came out of the shower with an incredible freshness dancing in your body. In the bathrooms the atmosphere was always a little cooler than in the center of the gym, so the time after the bath was one of your favorites. Veronica and Erika had already left, they had said goodbye before you entered the shower. They always left at seven o'clock at night, but you preferred to stay a little longer and enjoy the showers you paid for because you didn't have much to do at home when you got there.

With the towel over your right shoulder you walked towards the lockers to get your training bag and other belongings. You thought for a moment about leaving a few things from your bag since there would be a zumba class early tomorrow morning and maybe you were getting a little interested in going, when you heard some footsteps close to where you were.

There shouldn't have been too many people left in the gym at that time because closing time was at 8:00 p.m., so someone else must have gotten out of the shower to get their belongings just like you.

You decided to leave a few things in the locker for the next day's class, encouraging you a little more to leave the house a little earlier. Anyway, you knew Veronica would be there so you wouldn't be alone.

You pulled out the bag with the things you were going to take with you and closed the locker. You turned around to leave, when you finally realized who else had come in after you.

It was him. It was that man.

You had never met him in the evenings. He always left before seven o'clock so you never had the chance to meet him alone until that moment, when you stopped dead in front of him, your sneakers grinding against the floor as if you had braked violently at fifty kilometers per hour.

Your locker was all the way in the left corner of that room and it looked like his was a few spaces away from yours in the same direction, closer to the door.

His gaze lifted in your direction at the sound of your shoes and you had to squeeze your bag strap tightly over your shoulder, eating your embarrassment fiercely.

“Hey,” he spoke first and his voice was nothing like you had imagined.

It was incredibly better. His baritone tone, somewhat raspy and light, sounded like he didn't have a care in the world. The way he slightly curved his lips sent an electric sensation throughout your body. He had given you that smile before, but at that proximity it was a whole new experience. It seemed like your body began to vibrate on another frequency.

“How did you like the gym?”

“Uh?”

The man turned back to you, closing his locker almost at the same time and leaning his shoulder against it in the most smooth way you'd ever seen, handling his body with a confidence that almost made you feel intimidated.

“You're new here, aren't you?”

“Ah, yes,” you nodded slightly, again feeling that embarrassment make its way from your throat. “I've really liked the gym, I've felt very comfortable thankfully. And the monthly plans are very good, affordable.”

The man nodded attentively at your words, as you tried to keep your composure under his sharp gaze.

“I'm Bucky,” he suddenly introduced himself, stepping a little closer to where you stood.

“I'm Y/N,” you kept your voice steady as you raised your hand to meet his that had just extended in front of you at a safe distance. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure's all mine,” Bucky gave your hand a good shake, causing things in your body that you were too embarrassed to admit. You didn't know if your cheeks could get flushed, but at that moment you felt like they looked cartoonish, vibrant red and hot. “And I'm glad to hear you're comfortable. I do my best to make my clients happy.”

“Oh…?”

Even though you felt spellbound under the piercing fierceness of those blue eyes, your ears were still working enough to allow your head to process what you'd heard.

“You're the owner?”

Bucky nodded and you wanted to hide your head in a hole for a moment.

So you'd been eye-fucking the owner of the gym? Hell, now that you thought about it more clearly, it could even be that this man was older than you, much older.

Oh no, the things you had to go through for not being a little more prudent. Good thing that embarrassing moment would only be in your head.

“And now that you know, you can drop any complaints or recommendations directly to me, if you want.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to cut through the awkwardness you felt inside as you realized the situation you were in.

“Sure, yeah, anything I need to tell you I'll do it personally.”

“Also if you want me to change something… give you something or do something, you can tell me.”

“Sure,” you nodded quickly, starting to move around him to get closer to the exit. Bucky wouldn't take his eyes off you. “Now I know I'm counting on you for anything…. From the gym, that is.”

Your awkward laugh died under his intense but amused gaze. Was he enjoying it?

“And you can talk to me, if you want too,” Bucky continued speaking as you completely surrounded him and now found yourself in the position he had been before, “not just watching me from afar.”

You were sure the blood had left your face by this time. Your level of embarrassment had gone over the edge and in that instant you didn't know how to do anything but look at him as if he had caught you in the middle of a crime. You tightened the strap of your bag while holding your breath as you noticed him moving a little closer towards you.

“It's not that it bothers me, don't go thinking that. It's just that… I'd like to get to know you a little more if that's possible.”

“Uhm…” you mumbled with a dry mouth, the reflection of the light in his blue eyes much clearer against the short distance between the two of you. You passed saliva with difficulty, shaking your head to answer him, “Yeah, sure. I'd like to know you too.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he nodded at your words, not making a move to get any closer. If that five-foot distance alone already felt like you were suffocating, you didn't want to imagine what it would be like to have him standing to the side or behind you explaining how to do some exercise even though you already knew how to do them all…

Shit.

“See you then, doll.”

He walked around you, walking away from that conversation and that tension like it was nothing, like a bomb hadn't just exploded in front of you. You couldn't even say anything goodbye to him, you didn't know in that instant how to move your mouth.

For a moment you felt so foolish for allowing yourself to show yourself in such a vulnerable way in front of a man… but, at the same time, so much had happened since the last time you had actively flirted with one of them (even though what you had done at that moment had been spitting words). You'd barely had a taste to remember what the adrenaline, excitement and anticipation of having a truly fun night was like… that you didn't plan on letting go.

Bucky had thrown you that rope and you were sure you were going to take it.

a/n: thank you for reading!! <3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x you #stxrvel talks #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you

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