enjoyingthehunt-blog

[cheekyquokka]

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[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.  

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.   

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something? 

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.” 

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you. 

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome. 

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.  

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.  

thank you for reading!! x

[blackhairedjjun]

the forest of you

pairing: choi soobin x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, cottagecore au, fantasy au, prince!soobin x witch!reader, mutual pining, just very soft vibes | word count: 1.9k | warnings: none, just a little (friendly) teasing

summary: prince soobin lives undercover as a commoner as part of a royal tradition, and you are the local potion-maker tasked with caring for him and magically maintaining his disguise. you take him to the forest one day to forage for ingredients, and you start to realize just how much you need him with you.

author's notes: i wrote this after binge-listening to soobin's forest cover, it was just soooo comforting and beautiful 🥰🥰 this fic isn't that overtly romantic since i mostly focused on recreating the comforting vibes and message of the original cover, but the pining is still there (i hope). the premise of this story is based on an idea i had some time ago but never turned into a fic, i do have ideas for fics in the same setting though!

(support by reblogging banner by @/cafekitsune)

“y’know, soobin, you’ve become less scared of the forest since you got here,” you say, swinging your herb basket back and forth as you walk.

“oh really?” the prince stares at you, his mouth agape at first before morphing into his familiar dimpled smile. cute. “i suppose that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“it’s a very good thing. having company with me is nice.”

soobin trails behind you as you trudge down the worn dirt paths of the forest, trees on all sides towering over you. you hum as you walk, eyes on the lookout for anything of use in your potions: flowers, berries, mushrooms, seeds, leaves, even fallen bird feathers. from time to time you turn back to glance at your ward, who follows at a comfortable pace while gazing at the canopy above him.

he stops in his tracks and points at a patch of mushrooms growing on the bark of a tree. the mushrooms are at his eye level, above your head. “wait, these are the ones you use for my disguise potion, right?”

“that’s right! i missed that 一 thank goodness i’ve got a tall person helping me out.”

soobin pries the mushrooms from the bark hands it to you, a proud grin on his face. you can’t help but smile yourself in admiration, and your smile only grows when his hands brush yours while he places them in your basket. “thank you,” you whisper.

now you walk side-by-side through the forest, and you much prefer it this way. even with his princely nature hidden, you find something reassuring about his presence: soobin towers over you, but he moves slowly, deliberately matching his stride to yours, even the swinging of his arms in sync. he stays close by you, as if protecting you from anything that might leap out of the forest, and your arms nearly brush his a few times.

every now and then you stop to take something from the forest: a cluster of deep red berries, a yellow-green fern growing in swirling patterns, a flower so white it practically shines on the forest floor. soobin gazes at you intently as you do your job, and you’re so engrossed in your work that you miss the soft smile that crosses his face while he observes.

“did you really do all this by yourself before i came here?” he asks as you step through a narrow space between two gnarled trees. in the distance some birds begin to caw, but you don’t even flinch at the sound.

“pretty much. i’m used to it, i guess.”

“and you weren’t lonely or scared? that’s really cool, y/n.”

“i wasn’t always like this,” you say as you pry another mushroom from some tree bark for soobin’s disguise potion. “the first time i went on my own, i wanted to prove to my parents that i could forage by myself. y’know, be a real witch and everything. but i was shaking the whole time... and i missed my parents so much. they used to point out the different birds to me while they foraged, or they’d just look at me all excited if they found a rare ingredient. and that’s what i missed the most, just having someone to be with.”

soobin presses his lips together as he listens to you. you’ve been foraging on your own for years, and though you tell yourself that you’re used to it, your heart aches at the memory. you turn to face him and your eyes meet. 

“i get what you mean,” he says. “when i first came here for my incognito period, i remember missing everyone a lot. my parents and all the palace staff... kai, beomgyu... your cottage was so quiet in comparison. not that it’s a bad place, it’s just...”

“not home?”

soobin nods, his gaze falling to the dried leaves on the forest floor. the two of you continue walking through the forest, stopping only a few minutes later so that you can collect a few wild berries from a bush.

“it feels more like home now, though,” soobin says as he crouches down to help you. “i like the smell of the herbs from your garden and how toasty the cauldron room is. and helping you is, ah, it’s fun... you care about your potions so much and i like watching you work.”

you laugh softly to yourself, turning away as you feel a warmth spread through your cheeks. “it’s... well, i’m used to it. and having you around has helped a lot.”

“sometimes i feel more like a bother than a help. you work so fast!”

“don’t say that, you’re plenty helpful. look at you right now, i would have missed some of the berries hidden here if it weren’t for you.”

with the berries collected and placed in your basket, you stand up at the same time. you don’t realize at first how close soobin is standing to you, but your eyes meet his and you can’t bring it in yourself to look away. the prince gazes at you as if trying to speak without words, as if telling you from his presence alone that everything will be alright.

he reminds you of the forest too, you think: tall and quiet and seemingly stern, but filled with a cool comfort all his own. 

your mutual reverie is broken by the cawing of a nearby flock of birds. soobin jumps and nearly falls; you grab onto his hand and you both wobble before he finds his balance.

“sorry...”

“it’s一it’s fine.” your hand is still holding onto his, and your cheeks feel hot. “we should keep moving.”

the two of you continue through the forest, taking care not to travel too deep but stay at the periphery. soobin stays close to you, and you thread your arm through his 一 this will slow your pace, but you don’t mind.

“by the way, i changed the measurements of the disguise potion a bit,” you say as soobin crouches down to pick some flowerbuds. “i’m not sure if you felt any difference.”

“oh really? it felt the same to me.” he shrugs and places the flowerbuds in your basket. “i always feel... disoriented when i use it.”

“i know, that’s why i was trying to change it...”

“don’t worry about it too much.” soobin glances up at a tree branch right above him, and a cool breeze blows down on both of you. “it’s just... when i’m a prince, i feel shy from all the people watching me, but when i’m disguised, it feels odd not being recognized, as if no one cares about me. does that make sense?”

you’re quiet for a few moments. you glance up at the canopy, then back at soobin; prince or not, there’s something about him that feels right at home here. 

“i see what you mean... being around others is exhausting, but being by yourself is lonely. right?”

“yeah, exactly.”

“what about being with me?” you give him a teasing grin. “do you ever get sick of me?”

he grins right back at you, even rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “yeah, i get totally sick of you. when i become prince again i’m banishing you so that i never see you again.”

“you could never do that, i bet. who’s going to make the potions of soothing to help you fall asleep, huh?”

“i’ve been stuck with you long enough that i could make it myself!”

you elbow him gently and you both laugh. the sound rings through the forest, and it makes the place seem smaller and warmer than it is.

you’ve often wondered what will happen when soobin’s incognito period ends and he goes back to his princely role. when the royal family first approached you to help with their son’s journey 一 apparently an old tradition to help future monarchs stay in touch with the common folk 一 you didn’t think much of it. you’d get an apprentice, make a few extra potions of disguise for him, then collect a hefty royal commission after eighteen months. at first, it had been nothing more than a chance to get an extra pair of hands and supplement your income as a potion-making witch.

but as you walk through the forest, arm in arm with soobin, you realize that you like the new routine you’ve established. the young prince helps you sell potions and make bread for meals, and more than once you’ve caught him giving harsh glares at rude customers who want to use your potions for nefarious purposes. and though his accompaniment to your weekly forages were originally nothing more than an excuse to get some help, you now find it impossible to imagine going on them without him.

soobin and the forest and you: in your mind they all fit together.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that he has to move in front of you to catch your attention. “y/n?”

“oh 一 sorry!”

“you know i was just kidding, right?”

“huh...?”

“about banishing you, i mean,” he says. “i like being around you too much.”

“ah 一 yeah! d-don’t worry, i know,” you say, and now even your ears are warm together with your cheeks. “and um, thank you.”

you blink a few times and glance around. the trees have become more gnarled and more densely packed together. you realize that the two of you are starting to approach the heart of the forest; go any deeper and things will get dangerous, not just from wild animals but also from wild magic. “uh, we should... go back...”

soobin nods and waits for you to lead the way before falling in beside you. again he offers his arm, and you thread yours around it. with his free hand he offers to carry your basket for you; it has gotten heavier from the foraging you’ve been doing. you shake your head and give him a polite smile, letting him know that you can carry it just fine, but the gesture opens up a lightness in your heart.

the walk back to the main road is quiet, but not awkwardly so. such moments of silence are not uncommon with soobin, but they have a comfort all their own; the prince smiles to himself as he walks, taking the time to admire the lush green canopy above or the carpet of flowers and ferns growing in between the tree roots. you find yourself sneaking glances at him and following his gaze to whatever plant has caught his attention 一 you’re so used to forest forages that you’ve forgotten how to stop and admire the scenery.

can you really imagine the forest without him? you feel his arm wound around yours, anchoring you, and it reminds you of the tree roots beneath your feet.

by the time you reach the edge of the forest, the sun has started to set and the sky has turned orange. rays of yellow light peek through the remains of the canopy. you put your free hand up to your face to block out the most blinding rays, and soobin tightens his grip around your arm. 

“let’s go home?” he says. 

you turn to him and smile. he looks radiant in this light.

“let’s go home.”

[jermer10]

Yandere Scout with a civilian reader?

TF2 yandere scout x civilian reader

18+ only, gn reader | yandere scout my beloved

tw: yandere themes, stalking, graphic depictions of violence, non-consensual sexual activity

drabbles under the cut :P

Being the 10th class, 'The Civilian', you’re someone different, special in a way that the others aren't

You work behind the scenes, cleaning up the battlefield after each fight, being escorted from point A to B with sensitive information by whichever team had you for that week

Thus, Scout quickly becomes fixated, convinced that he’s the only one who can understand and protect you

His mind is always on you. During missions, downtime, and even in the middle of conversations with the team, you occupy his every thought

He imagines every scenario where he’s the one protecting you, keeping you safe, and, most importantly, keeping you his

Scout makes it a point to always know where you are, even when you think you’re alone he's there, watching from the shadows

You might think you hear footsteps behind you or feel eyes on you, but every time you look, no one's there, you start to spiral into a paranoid mess

Scout steps in as your personal confidant, gaslighting you into believing you're having some sort of stress related psychotic episode

His stalking becomes more brazen over time, but he always plays it off like it’s no big deal

Scout’s obsession with you knows no boundaries - most nights he sneaks into your room and watches you sleep (and yes, he touches himself to you)

He’s careful not to wake you, his eyes scanning every detail, convinced that no one else could ever appreciate you the way he does

Escalated from jerking off behind you, to rubbing his cock on your lips, to using your thighs as a fleshlight

He intentionally cums on pieces of clothing from your closet, he doesn't care if you notice, if you take them to Medic for analysis - the samples always seem to go missing anyway

Some nights he drugs you with the intention of actually fucking you, but he can never work up the courage, wanting to save your first time together for when you're officially his

His biggest fantasy is having you beg for him, he wants you to obsess over him in the way he does to you

He hates when anyone else talks to you, especially if you seem to enjoy their company

If another mercenary spends too much time around you, Scout gets jealous and finds ways to interrupt - whether it’s a poorly timed joke, pretending to need something urgently, or picking a fight with them, he won’t stop until they leave you alone

Scout likes to take little items as trophies or souvenirs, something to remind him of you when you’re not around (often repeatedly cumming on the items - marking his territory)

He feels entitled to your personal space and has no qualms about going through your things when you’re not there, sitting so close to you he's basically on top of you, hugging you and touching you without asking

If you ask for space or mention feeling uncomfortable he stops talking to you for days, making threatening and suicidal comments when you're in earshot

Eventually you apologize to him, and he makes sure you know how happy he is that you've "come to your senses"

"I dunno why you'd even think somethin' as stupid as that in the first place, I don't make ya uncomfortable, you're probably just feelin' totally flattered, babe! It's okay, sometimes I can't tell the difference either."

His obsession escalates into paranoia - he becomes convinced that everyone around you is trying to take you away from him

Even innocent interactions are blown out of proportion in his mind, and he’ll go to great lengths to ensure no one gets too close

He will sabotage others’ efforts to spend time with you, spreading rumors or even manipulating situations so that they’re pushed out of your life

It seems like everyone has picked up on his irrational behaviour except you, and god help the soul who tries to warn you, so they stay away and hope that his "crush" passes

If he feels like you’re pulling away or that someone else is threatening his claim on you, he might snap

In a worst-case scenario, he could take matters into his own hands, kidnapping you and isolating you somewhere he believes no one can hurt you

To Scout, everything he’s doing is out of love - his intense possessiveness, his constant stalking, and even the lengths he’s willing to go to keep you close are all justified in his mind

[persephonewritessometimes]

two's a company, three's a crowd // hotch x reid x reader

Summary: You've been meaning to ask Hotch about it for some time, what happens when he agrees to fulfill your fantasy?

Author's Note: This is self-indulgent!! I understand if this is not everyone's taste, but I couldn't find a fic like this that I liked, so I wrote my own!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 3570

Warnings: SMUT, THREES*ME, SUB-SPACE, PET NAMES (pretty girl, baby, little girl), softDOM!HOTCH, softDOM!REID, ORGASM DENIAL, "SIR" AND "DOCTOR" USED TO ADDRESS HOTCH AND REID, "DADDY" USED; light system (all green's, no use of yellow or red); squirting; oral (f receiving); worried!hotch, hotch pov; wizard of oz(?) [reader uses "oz" to describe being in sub space]

Key: y/n = your name

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

We’re enjoying our morning coffee - me with copious amounts of sugar and cream, Hotch just straight black coffee - and I’m toying with the question. I’ve been meaning to ask him for months now, potential embarrassment is the only thing stopping me. I’m picking at my cuticles, starting to sweat, and just decide to blurt it out.

“I want to have a threesome.” Hotch chokes on his coffee, slamming his hand against his chest as he looks at me wide-eyed.

“You couldn’t have waited to ask that until I wasn’t taking a drink?” He croaks, throat certainly scratchy from choking on hot coffee. I give him a sheepish smile and shrug. He looks at me for a few moments, and I can see him collecting his thoughts as he thinks about what to say. Finally, he asks, “How long have you been meaning to ask me this?”

“Um…like six months.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I’ve told you you can tell me anything.”

“I know that! It’s just…it’s embarrassing.” I shift my gaze away, trying to shield myself from Hotch’s impending “no”.

“Hey. No. Don’t do that.” I hear him get up and he comes to my side of the table, grabbing my hand. I swallow down the lump in my throat. The embarrassment is worse than I thought it would be. “Y/N, look at me.” I shake my head, but a strong hand soon finds its way to my chin and I’m gently forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I was just…surprised. That’s all. If you want a threesome, we’ll have a threesome.”

“I don’t want you to do it just because I want to do it.”

“I’ve…I’ve thought about it too.” My eyes must have widened because he chuckled. “You’re pretty easy to read. You love being adored, what better than to be adored by two people at once.”

“Damn dating a profiler,” I mutter. “So you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I’m okay with it. I love seeing you happy, pretty girl. Did you have someone in mind?”

“If it’s not too awkward…Reid?” His brow furrows and I just give him the prettiest smile I can. “Come on, you’re already dating one subordinate, why not throw another in the mix? Besides, he’s already agreed.”

“Y/N! You asked him before you asked me?” He exclaims.

“I just wanted to be prepared in case you said yes!” I shoot back.

“I guess, if we were to add anyone, I’d be the most comfortable with Reid. Seeing as we have no attraction to each other.”

“What? You aren’t going to kiss each other for me?” I say, one hundred percent joking, just trying to get a rise out of him.

“Only I get to kiss you.” He raises his eyebrows as he looks at me and I feel my cheeks grow hot. “We need to set some ground rules if we’re going to do this.” I nod furiously, trying to keep a smile off my face. “You’re going to be the death of me someday, you know that?”

-2 Weeks Later-

We had gotten coffee with Reid a week after our initial conversation to set up ground rules. I told them I wanted to be surprised by the actual occurrence, but not anything that happens in it. Hotch got a little possessive in the actual discussion, and we came to the agreement that if double penetration were to happen, Reid had to wear protection and only Hotch actually got to be in my pussy. I was fine with that. We agreed we were fine with dom and sub roles, something Hotch and I naturally already do. Hotch already has been addressed as ‘Sir’ and we settled on ‘Doctor’ for Reid. Watching Reid shift in his seat at that made my heartbeat speed up. Hotch came around to the idea of Reid and I kissing, but he said he would step in if he started to not like it. I had been on edge for the week following, unsure of when they were going to corner me.

It was Saturday, I had been running some errands and came home to a quiet house. I threw on one of Hotch’s t-shirts, forgoing pants as his shirts seemed to drown me anyway. I’m putting books back on the shelf in the bedroom when I hear Hotch clear his throat behind me.

“Aaron! You scared the shit out of me. I could have fallen off this chair.”

“Uh-uh, pretty girl, try again.” He says, arms folded over his chest. I notice the glint in his eyes, the one that’s straight-up predatory, and I can feel my panties start to get damp.

“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” I say quickly, clasping my hands together demurely.

“Good girl.” His voice is low and I clench my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction. “I’ve brought a friend with me today. What’s your color?”

“Green, sir.” My stomach drops to my ass, I wasn’t expecting it to happen today, but that makes it all the more exciting. I watch as Reid steps into the doorframe, looking a little nervous, but eyes already lidded with anticipation of what’s to come. “Hello, Doctor,” I say, inclining my head toward him.

“Come on, little one, don’t be shy for Doctor Reid now,” Hotch says, striding into the room. “Why don’t you go give him a kiss?” I nod and pad over to Reid, who has a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“What’s your color, Doctor?” I whisper, smoothing down his shirt, and easing him into my touch.

“Green.” He whispers back, and his eyes drop down to my lips. I smile and nod at him, that it’s okay, and then his lips are on me. After getting used to kissing Hotch for so long, it feels weird to have someone else kissing me. Reid is tentative at first, letting me set the pace, but after I bite his lip a little bit, any semblance of restraint he had is broken. He grabs my face with his hands, kissing me like a man starved of food, and when his tongue slips into my mouth I moan softly. Reid pulls away gasping and then busies himself with kissing his way down my neck. I feel a soft body behind me and lean into it instinctually. Hotch’s hands grip my waist tight enough that I know it’ll leave a mark. I can already feel him, hot and hard pressing into my back, and as I tilt my head back when Reid finds the spot on my neck that makes me keen, Hotch’s lips are on me, swallowing the noises I’m making. Hotch’s tongue is lazy, but demanding as it slips into my mouth, and the intrusion is one I’m used to. I’m so distracted I don’t realize that Hotch’s hands have moved from my hips and were steadily moving towards my cunt until his fingers slid into my panties and I gasped into his mouth. Reid steps away for a second, unbuttoning his shirt, and Hotch abandons kissing me as we both watch his fingers glide through my arousal before he buries two of them in my cunt. I whimper, hand shooting down to his forearm, my nails digging in as he pumps his fingers slowly.

“Doesn’t she make such pretty sounds, Doctor Reid?” Hotch asks, pressing a kiss into my temple before pulling his fingers out and I whine.

“Yes, she does.”

“You should feel how wet she is, she’s so worked up.” I’m panting a little bit and look up just in time to see Hotch slide the two fingers that had been inside of me into his mouth. “Come on, pretty girl, why don’t you show Doctor Reid how excited you are?” I nod, anything to please him, and shuck off what little clothing I was wearing as I make my way to the bed. Once I’m seated, I spread my legs obscenely wide, pussy dripping and on display for both of them. Reid makes a low noise in his throat and to taunt him further, I drag my fingers through my folds, spreading my arousal. Reid is on me before I register it, yanking my hands away from my cunt, my wrists smarting at his strong grip.

“Don’t touch what’s ours, little girl.” I blink at him a few times. “Do you understand, or do I have to spell it out for you, huh?” He has one eyebrow quirked and I nod furiously.

“I understand, Doctor.”

“Good.” He spits out. “Now be a good girl and stay still. Can you do that for me?” I nod again and he sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed, arms wrapping around my thighs and yanking me to the edge of the bed. I let out a noise of surprise that turns into a moan as Reid licks up my cunt before teasing my clit. My hips are jumping upwards on their own accord, my arousal smearing over Reid’s face. I feel the bed dip beside me, and Hotch, now in just his boxers, situates me between his legs, strong thighs coming to rest on either side of me. Reid’s nose bumps against my clit and I sigh, arms coming up to grab Hotch’s biceps, my top half now supported by his chest and abdomen. When Reid slips two fingers inside of me, my nails dig into Hotch’s biceps, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he’s leaving pretty purple marks on my throat - marks that will be hard to cover but I don’t give a fuck right now. One of my hands shoots down to grab at Reid’s messy curls as I feel myself throttling toward the edge.

“Reid, I’m gonna cum.” He stops immediately, pulling his fingers out of me and sitting back on his heels.

“Try again.”

“Huh?” I’m confused, I was so close and he just stopped.

“Try. Again. Not Reid, baby, not right now.” He says as his gaze drops to my cunt and my thigh twitches in response.

“Doctor. Please. I want to cum. I’m so sorry, I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Please just let me cum.”

“What do you think, Hotch, has she earned it?” Reid says, finally tearing his eyes away from my splayed cunt to look at Hotch, who reluctantly removes his lips from my throat.

“She sounds so pretty when she begs, but no, she hasn’t earned it.”

“Please! I’ll be so good! I promise! I just want to cum!” I cry out, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

“You will, pretty girl, just be patient. Reid, switch spots with me.” Reid nods, slipping in behind me, a different pair of thighs now resting on either side of me. Seeing Hotch’s brown eyes look up at me as he’s level with my pussy makes me whine, a low, thready sound. The cheeky bastard winks at me, before literally burying his face in my cunt, and I’m met with a low growl of approval when he finds the mess that Reid had made. Reid’s fingers are dancing down my sides, the featherlight touch a stark contrast to the way Hotch is eating me out. Reid’s fingers come up to pinch and tug at my nipples. My back arches up into his touch and when Hotch slides his fingers back into me, the two sensations are overwhelming, crowding my nervous system. It doesn’t take long for both of them to get me dancing on the edge again, a few tugs and thrusts away from reaching my peak, and my breathing starts to labor, my abdomen tensing, but even though I want it, the peak never comes.

“More,” I gasp out, “More, please, I need more.”

“More? My pretty girl wants more?” Hotch asks, pulling away from me.

“Yes, sir, please. Want your cock. Please. Both. Please. Want you.”

“Fine, we’ll give you what you want. But only because you begged so prettily. Doctor Reid help her up.” Hotch shucks off his boxers, cock hard and leaking, begging for attention. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Come on, pretty girl, hop up on my lap.” I oblige immediately, grinding my cunt into his throbbing cock and he hisses, hands gripping my hips, effectively stilling me. The world is going a little fuzzy, the edges blurred, the anticipation of what’s to come setting my heart into an off-kilter pace. I hear the unmistakable rip of a foil wrapper. “Color, pretty girl?” Hotch says, fingers tilting my chin up until I’m looking him in the eyes.

“Green, green, green,” I whisper, and he chuckles, a quick break in the dominant facade.

“Okay, baby girl, you ready? Doctor Reid’s gonna open you up a little bit, okay?” I nod, and turn my head over my shoulder to see Reid opening the bottle of lube I keep in the nightstand drawer. “Uh-uh, eyes on me, pretty girl. Can you do that?” Hotch says, hand gripping my jaw to bring my attention back to him. “There you go. Just like that.” He kisses me, hard, and when I moan I feel his cock twitch against me. Reid’s fingers slip into my tight hole and I hiss, both at the slight stretch and the cold lube. Reid kisses my shoulder in response.

“I know, baby, just have to make sure you’re ready.” He starts to slowly thrust his fingers in and out, scissoring them apart to open me up and soon enough my hips are meeting his movements. Reid pulls his fingers out and I whine at the loss of contact.

“Go time, pretty girl,” Hotch says, kissing the tip of my nose, as he spreads his legs wider so Reid can step between them. He gently lifts me up, hand guiding his cock through my arousal before he guides me down on his cock. He lets it slide home, and I catch my breath for a few seconds. I feel him twitch inside of me and I clench down on him in response.

“I’m ready, Doctor.”

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, wanna see your face when Doctor Reid fills you up.” I whimper at his words. When I feel Reid start to slide into me my eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensation of being full. “Eyes open, honey,” Hotch whispers. I obey him, forcing my eyes as Reid slides home and I moan, loud and unashamed. We stay in that moment for a few seconds, both men letting me adjust to the feeling before they start to thrust. It takes a few tries to get a rhythm going, but we figure it out soon enough and my body starts to feel loose and tense at the same time, my hands desperately clinging to Hotch’s shoulders, my one anchor in the sea.

I can feel my orgasm rising, climbing impossibly high, and I can feel myself slipping under, into a space I’ve only gone a few times, when I was really worked up, or after I came really hard. The world is fuzzy and I’m almost there when I realize Hotch is asking me something. I don’t hear it though, all I’m focused on is the sensation happening between my legs.

“Fuck, coming, coming, I’m coming, Daddy, I-” I let out a scream when I hit my peak, missing the way Hotch’s eyes widened at the name I used for him. I feel myself squirt all over Hotch’s lap, the gush immediately pushing him over the edge with a muffled ‘fuck’, and it feels like my orgasm goes on forever. Reid finishes quickly after, spilling into the condom. I rest my forehead on Hotch’s shoulder, riding out the aftershocks, thighs twitching as Reid pulls out. My breathing is labored and I’m a million miles away. I stay like that, feeling Hotch soften inside of me until he gently pushes me away to look at my face.

“No! Don’t, Daddy.” I cry out, burrowing further into his chest, craving the safety he exudes. His hand comes up to rub my back.

-Hotch’s POV-

She’s really far under. I didn’t realize she was slipping until she called me Daddy. I know what to do though, as she’s gone into sub-space a few times since we started dating. The first time was after we had sex for the first time - scared the shit out of me if I’m being honest. When she came around the first time, she was mortified, apologizing profusely even when I assured her it was fine. Since then, we’ve figured it out, and she really only slips under when I’ve edged her for a long time or we hate-fuck.

“Pretty girl?” I ask, and she hums in response. “Are you far away right now?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft.

“Reid, can you grab some dark chocolate and a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He rushes off and I say, “Hey, pretty girl, I have to pull out, okay?”

“No!” She says, starting to cry.

“I know, I know.” My thumbs wipe away her tears. “But I’ve gotta take care of you, okay? Help you feel better? Do you want Daddy to help you feel better?”

“Okay,” She finally whispers. I gently push her up and she sniffles when I slip out of her. She’s shaky on her feet, looking like a deer in the headlights when I stand up, towering over her.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you in the bath, okay?”

“Up?” She asks, looking up at me.

“Of course.” I open my and help her jump up, my arms coming to rest under her her butt as she locks her ankles around my back. I carry her into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the tub as I turn the faucet on and get the water to her favorite temperature. She clings onto one of my wrists as I do so, small hands gripping tightly. When the tub is full, I help her in.

“Daddy, please, get in with me? Please?” I can’t refuse her, she’s always been my weak spot so I slip into the tub behind her, wrapping my arms around her, trying to help her ground herself. She’s quiet and jumps slightly when the door creaks open.

“I got what you asked for. Can I do anything?” Reid asks, handing me the chocolate and glass of water.

“Thank you. And no, we’ll be okay. She just got overwhelmed, she’ll be back in a few hours.” I say, and Reid just nods, dismissing himself from the room to give us space. “Pretty girl?” I ask, and she turns, doe eyes looking into mine. “Can you eat this for me?” I hold the pieces of chocolate out to her and she gingerly takes them from my hand, eating them slowly. “Good girl.” She beams up at me at the praise. “Now, can you drink this?” I hand her the glass of water and she wraps both hands around it, sipping it. It takes her a good ten minutes to finish the whole glass, and I take it from her when she’s done, taking note of her heavily lidded eyes and a sleepy yawn. “Pretty girl, come on, let’s get you into some fluffy pajamas.”

I help her out of the tub, and as I’m drying her off I notice she’s chewing on her lip, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Was I a good girl, Daddy?” Her lip wobbles a little bit.

“Oh, baby, you were the best girl. You are the best girl. Daddy’s not mad at you. Daddy’s just a little worried, okay?”

“Worried?”

“Yeah, baby, Daddy just wants to make sure you’re okay. Where are you at right now?”

It takes a few seconds for the question to register. “Oz.” She says, quietly.

That’s what she calls being “far away”, she calls it being in Oz. Her eyes are zeroed in on me, fully focused on me, nothing else.

“Do you want to go lay in the poppy fields, pretty girl?” She knows what this means - a nap and cuddling and her eyes light up in recognition.

“Yes! Poppy!” I sweep her up in my arms, bridal style, and carry her into the bedroom, help her into a pair of pajamas, and into bed. Reid had changed the sheets while we were in the bath. I sit, my back against the headboard, and she sprawls over my lap and chest, knees on either side of me as she tucks her head under my chin. I run my fingers down her back and she hums in contentment.

“Daddy loves you very much, pretty girl, he’s so proud of you. His pretty girl.” I say and she nestles further into my chest. She’s fast asleep in the next ten minutes, snoring lightly. I don’t remember dozing off, but I’m awoken a few hours later by Y/N shifting in my lap. She pushes off my chest, blinking a few times. “Hey there, pretty girl, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” She says, eyes clear and I could sigh in relief. “Did I slip under?”

“Yeah, you did. It’s okay. I figured you probably got overwhelmed, am I correct?”

“Yes, but not overwhelmed in a bad way. I didn’t slip because I was scared.”

“I know, baby. I love you.” Her eyes light up.

“I love you too.”

[bunnybubae]

✍🏻 !FIC REC LIST! 📖

Hello there! I've been using this platform for the past 6 years, mostly to read the amazing works of super talented writers! I would like to share my all time fave with you and at the same time, show them how mutch their work is appreciated! Here is a list, I'll update it from time to time, reblogging whenever I'll add new works, please remember to support the writers with all the love they deserve by reblogging their fics, by commenting and by using their ask box to share your thoughts! 💜

🅙🅤🅝🅖🅚🅞🅞🅚

Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates by @ot7always 💜

Summary: What do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess.

Warnings: *takes deep breath* soft dom!Jungkook, sub!reader, dirty talk, vibrator use, fingering, size kink, hair pulling, pussy slapping, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, multiple orgasms, cum-eating, oral (m&f receiving), marking, spanking, face-fucking, rough sex, morning sex, soft sex, body worship, teasing, rimming, ass-eating, anal fingering, butt plug use, anal sex, cumshot, aftercare (don’t stress, this isn’t all one scene.

—hot boy bummer. (m) by @jungkxook 💜

Summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

Warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink.

I Heard a Rumor. jjk by @taeshobipop 💜

Summary: One slip of a finger, and you realize you’ve liked an Insta photo of college hotshot Jeon Jungkook…from two years ago. You manage to unlike it within seconds, except it’s too late — Damn Kim Namjoon and his lightning-fast eyes. Do not tell a soul, you hiss. The man merely smirks. Next thing you know, a rumor is spread throughout campus. Y/n likes Jungkook…and now he knows.

Warnings: spitting (y/n has a spitting kink don’t ask idk what i was thinking pls it’s not that bad), protected sex, fingering, making out, a little grinding, frat party, alcohol consumption, Namjoon is very unhelpful.

It Takes Two by @junghelioseok 💜

Summary: You don't need retrospect to tell you that dating a coworker was a bad idea. Two months after your breakup, he seems to have moved on to someone new━and quite happily. If his social media is to be believe. Meanwhile, the one new thing in your life is your roommate, Jungkook, who seems nice enough. Just nice enough to coax into coming to your company's annual holiday party, and more than handsome enough to show off a little bit. Or, as it turns out, a lot.

Warnings: slow burn, one (1) awkward boner, tatted!kook, long-haired!kook, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, jk's big dick, squirting.

By Its Cover (M) by @gimmesumsuga 💜

Summary: The one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression. 

Warnings: Jungkook is actually an absolute sweetheart.  Smut; kissing, handjobs, fingering and unprotected penetrative sex. 

Blizzard (M) by @curly-bangtan 💜

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is.

Liars and Fire (M) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: It’s been nearly a year since your divorce was finalized. Why, then, do you still find yourself falling into bed with your ex?

Warnings (Smut): oral (female receiving), some nipple play, fingering, delayed/withheld orgasms.

Warnings (Other): mentions of miscarriage, mentions of therapy, slight jealousy from jungkook.

L is for Lunacy (M) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: After two years of being sworn enemies (and 42,000 words of shenanigans), you and Jungkook had finally begun dating. As it turned out though, dating wasn’t any easier than coming up with the perfect witty retort to wipe the smirk from his face. When you came to the first Big Decision of the relationship, it was honestly anyone’s guess as to how things would go.  

Warnings: handcuffs (male + female), oral (male + female), very explicit dirty talk, degradation, semi-public making out, spanking, condom-less sex, cum play, things get soft (except Jungkook’s dick). Seokjin randomly procures invitations to formal events; no one really knows how.

How to Get a Guy. jjk [1] - [2] by @taeshobipop 💜

Summary: Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He’s loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you’re absolutely bizarre. But there’s a silver lining — Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he’ll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungkook can continue perusing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to be the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

Warnings: protected sex, oral (f. receiving), handjob through clothes??, cumming in pants :D, slow burn, a lot of making out, titty sucking, cursing, alcohol consumption from parties, drug (weed) consumption (but not main pairing), marking with nails (not from y/n tho omg), jk sleeps around, and he’s a basketball player oof, honestly jk and y/n are just hella confused.

What's mine is mine by @avveh 💜

Summary: You caught his eye from day one. As far as Jungkook was concerned, you were always meant to be his.

Warnings: Jealous behavior, possessive streaks (a lot…), masturbation, sexting, phone sex, elements of D/S, rough sex, slight impregnating kink, breathplay, degrading names, and copious amounts of dirty talk in general, continued disregard for safe sex THAT SHOULD NOT BE COPIED.

one morning stand (m) by @rendaze 💜

Summary: in which you and jungkook have one night stands with roommates and happen to be sneaking out at the same time.

Warning: don’t be fooled by the first half being fluff lmao; rough sex, a lot of dirty talk (jk will not shut up), heavy degradation (use of ‘slut’, ‘whore’, etc.), consensual slut-shaming (reader is into it), exhibitionism, cumplay, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, breeding kink, reader gets tied up at one point.

Ember Burning (M) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: The dragon riders of Duret Ghal are known across the continent; fierce warriors who take to the skies on their leashed, winged beasts. You are the last Dragon Queen of Ashya, ruler of a dying species who can transform from human to Dragon at will. When a new foe emerges which threatens both Dragon and rider alike, you find yourself forced to broker peace with your former enemy. The King of Duret Ghal, and a dragon rider himself: Jeon Jungkook.

NSFW Warnings: oral (male and female), nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, big cock, dirty talk, hair pulling (her to him).... tattooed, man-bun jungkook who has a big sword.

Trigger Warnings: somewhat graphic depiction of a shoulder injury.

stars behind waves | jjk (m) by @taegularities 💜

Summary: With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.

Warnings: so so much yearning and pining, gentle fuckboy jk cos i’ve no control over myself, a bit of jealousy, the first kiss, arguments/fighting, unresolved issues, heartbreak, angry confessions; explicit sexual content: making out, asking for permission, dom & big dick jk, handjob in the shower, oral (m. & f. receiving), some clit slapping, some biting, squirting, jk loves her tits... and her ass even more, fingering, protected sex, soft and rough sex, body worship !!, jk is SUCHHH a goner, he comes on her ass, aftercare, praises; so many emotions; lmk if i forgot smth!

The Present by @btssmutgalore 💜

Summary: Your best friend’s boyfriend Jungkook has a special wish for his birthday—you. This maybe wouldn't be such a problem if you weren't into him since the day you'd met him.

Warnings: MFF threesome, oral (M and F receiving), same-sex kissing, unprotected sex (always wrap it, folks), a lot of dirty talk, weird relationship dynamics, extremely mature

ruin you | kth & jjk (m) | masterpost by @taegularities 💜

"it started with a gentle spark and harmless gazes; but by now, you’re caught in a wildfire that will expand until you’re burned inside and out."

Summary of the first part: His eyes hold unfathomable darkness that lures you in, captures your very soul, steals any air you are trying to draw. And you know without a doubt that you're on the path to utter and irrevocable ruination.

Warnings of the first part: explicit sexual content, dom!taehyung, switch!reader (but mostly sub), switch!jungkook, blindfolding, some bondage (reader gets tied up), wax play, lots of dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, kinda praise kink, rough sex, messy sex, unprotected sex (you know it folks, be careful), like one spank?, light choking, breast play, cuckolding/voyeurism kinda (yes - jungkook is into watching), swearing, y/n probably can’t walk the next day and she loves it, threesome (obviously)

idealizations concerning real life relations | jjk (m) by @venusiangguk 💜

Summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

Warnings: jk is so sweet, but also so evil lmao, oc lives in her little noggin, angsty fwb, drug and alcohol use, tattoos, multiple smut scenes that include: oral (m/f), fingering (f), light face slapping (with hand and cock??), praise, degradation, marking, dirty talk, so many creampies yum, multiple orgasms, kissing :(, cumming in pants :), probably more but i cant think of it, ok other stuff now, manipulation, infidelity, oc thinks jk is made of stars :(, jk thinks she is so pretty :(, misunderstandings, some fluff if you squint, brunette jk, blonde jk, n blue jk,  1 mentions of: howls moving castle, too many mentions of: stars, the color pink

A Holiday Snowdown (M) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that's what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents' idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. What's the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Fingering, oral (female receiving), hand job, mutual masturbation, breast play, some face riding, dirty talk, orgasm denial, clit smacking (is there a non plural form of this?), cum shot on chest. Mentions of past death (does not occur during story). Ankle injury (non-graphic). Yoongi is an enthusiastic MC. Bam is adorable. Jungkook has both lip and eyebrow piercing

Sugarplum Elegy (M) by @bymoonchild 💜

Summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

Warnings: Explicit language, hopeless and helpless pining, constipated feelings, lots of smut, rimming, cum-eating, spitting, blowjob, fingering, classroom sex, Jungkook is emotionally constipated but wbk 

Bunny [1] - [2] - [3] by @btssmutgalore 💜

Summary: An anonymous streamer puts on a show every couple of days. When you become one of his biggest fans, your social life takes a hit—you'd rather stay glued to your laptop and stare at him than go out and meet men in real life. But, what if?

Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), intercourse, dirty talk, unprotected sex

blackout | jjk [1] - [2] - [3] by @jjungxkook 💜

Summary: Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.

Warnings: swearing, he’s just a bit of a fuckboy, bickering, swooning over/thirsting for jk (🤷‍♀️), a manually induced fake blackout? dunno those 2 are odd k, they play uno, a lot of spending time in the darkness, kook has no chill, teasing, consent, dirty talk, fingering, cmnf for a while, sexual tension, oral (both receiving), shower sex, choking, hair pulling, reader cries a bit, jk likes to praise, dry humping?, pussy and tits slapping rip (and some ass ig), making out🙄, manhandling, jk loves her tits and ass and plays with them (a lot), he’s sweet but cocky too, protected sex, dom + big dick kook

Love to Hate (Master List) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function—or a blind date with playboy bilionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can't deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed... and quickly realize you're in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Warnings of the first part: semi-public nudity, slight voyeurism, dirty talk (mention of a threesome, mention of restraints), nipple play, fingering, spanking, oral (male), face-fucking, multiple orgasms, slight possessiveness, jungkook calls y/n sweetheart and princess; seokjin is not in the fic (yet), I'm sorry about that.

Dilf Jk: Series Masterlist [The Art Of] by @venusiangguk 💜

Summary: you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you.

Warnings of the first part: cute baby!!!, jk being a good dad, he likes to garden :(, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, handjob, coming in pants, AYOOO OC GOT A FAT COOCHIE, lowkey body worship, fat coochie supremacy, oral (m/f), safe sex, sexual tension, praise, multiple orgasms, eye contact, jk likes to watch 🥴, asking for permission, jk’s lowkey controlling i guess but it’s soft and like not toxic lol, PLAYFUL use of the word ‘daddy’, no actual daddy kink 🙄, dirty talk

Mind in the Gutter (M) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who? (HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY JUNGKOOK!)

Warnings: dirty talk, thigh-grinding, public make-out sesh, inappropriate bowling innuendo, Jungkook’s abs, light choking.

Over the Edge (M) by @kpopfanfictrash 💜

Summary: so, you’re dating. everything is dandy, the sex is knocking your socks off, but what happens when you get in the First Real Fight? 

Warnings: semi-public sex, mirror sex, dirty talk (slight degradation), unprotected sex, a sweaty locker room

A Thousand Reasons Why | jjk (M) by @taegularities 💜

Summary: “And if all of this experience was indeed a dream, you chose to stay just a little longer.” After leaving to work towards his dream rather than the bonds that shackle him to home, you didn’t expect to see Jungkook again years later at your best friend’s wedding. And even less, for love to rekindle at second glance.

Warnings: a whole laundry list tf: (past) minor character death, somewhat toxic parents, (mentions of) gambling, blond & then 5th muster pied piper (fuckboy) jk lol, this jimin, jealousy, alcohol consumption, unrequited love (not between jk & oc), friends fighting; explicit multiple (2) sex scenes that include: dom & big dick!jk, light hair pulling, marking, tiddie sucking/breast play, clit pinching, pussy slapping, soft & rough sex, praising, biting, some spit ig, oral (f. & m.), fingering, handjob, consent <3, cockwarming, squirting, oversensitivity, multiple orgasms, mouth fucking,… uhh, consensual drunk sex, protected & unprotected sex…. yeah

The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes | jjk by @oddinary4bts

Summary: you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

Warnings: oc’s ex-boyfriend died and it takes an important place in the story, swearing, fuckboy Jungkook, fuckgirl oc, a whole bunch of red flags, miscommunication (they learn how to communicate don’t worry), exes that can’t stay out of your life, alcohol, they be a little toxic but they get better, explicit content: fingering, pussy slapping, squirting, oral sex (male and female receiving), mouth fucking, dirty talking, jungkook has a slight begging kink and an exhibitionism kink (not that present in the fic), dom!jk, switch!reader, car sex, sex in a tent, hair pulling (I think), tits/nipple play, unprotected sex, a little bit of ass slapping, mentions of choking

[irelandking]

steve rogers fic recs

steve rogers x reader

❤️ = fluff 😔 = angst 🔥 = smut

modern cap steve x regular reader

series:

mr. steve - @pies-writes-and-more

part 2 Soulmate AU In a universe where your soulmate’s name is written on your wrist after you meet them, receiving a wedding invitation from her friend is just another reminder that (Y/N) has yet to find her soulmate. But maybe this wedding will be a little bit more exciting, with the help of a tiny child without a filter. ❤️

one shots:

the waitress - @pies-writes-and-more

 Done for a writing challenge // song prompt: “If things get worse, will you still be here?” 405 by This Wild Life. Steve Rogers has finally worked up the guts to ask out the super cute waitress at the diner he frequents… except it’s hard to ask out of a girl when you’re a) already super nervous, b) unsure if it’s rude to ask her out, and c) when you have Dumb and Dumber insisting they tag along. ❤️

vigilante - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Steve reacts to his girlfriend getting violently mugged. ❤️😔

under pressure - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Steve still doesn’t know how to talk to women…let alone how to get a first date with one ❤️

boardroom fantasies - @pies-writes-and-more

prompt: “You wanna have sex….here? Now?” Steve can’t help how tight his pants get when (Y/N) is working nearby. While everyone else goes out for drinks, he pulls her aside to show her that the Accounting Guy who keeps asking her out isn’t who she should be with. 🔥

morning wood - @angrythingstarlight

Your new neighbor Steve gives you more than one surprise in the morning. 🔥

perfect - @tempestuous-lush

reader breaks up with steve over insecurities regarding lack of experience. he insists she is perfect, and proves to her just how perfect she is. 🔥

blind date - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

It had to be fate when Steve runs into his work crush on a stroll through his old stomping grounds.  ❤️

guard dog - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Sometimes Steve has to protect his girl from the least expected attacks. ❤️

agent/avenger reader

series:

start again - @wkemeup

part 2 A chemical spill, uncontrollable desires rushed to the surface, an unbridled need, and the consequences in the aftermath ❤️😔🔥

embarrassment - @a-confused-turtle

part 2 and part 3 A drunken game of truth or dare reveals what Y/N didn’t want anyone to know. She’d been perfectly and contentedly miserable before her slip up, but the confrontation over her little secret, which she avoids at all costs, quickly catches up ❤️

one shots:

blue - @pies-writes-and-more

Steve in blue is too much to handle whilst sober, (Y/N) decides. So while attending Tony Stark’s birthday party, (Y/N) doesn’t stop to drink her anxiety away making for entertaining company for Steve ❤️

hickeys - @a-confused-turtle

 Y/N wakes up in her boyfriend’s arms and the day begins as it always does, sneaking out of his room, until Tony notices lovebites on shy, quiet Y/N’s neck. ❤️

wallets, keys and bobby-pins - @marvelouscaptainrogers

 Soulmate AU where anything you lose suddenly appears in your soulmates possession, and anything they lose will appear in yours. It usually works swimmingly for everyone else, but what happens when your soulmate is technically around 75 years older than you? ❤️

insubordination - @marvelouscaptainrogers

Y/N likes to be a little asshole and not follow orders, and Steve decides she needs to learn her lesson 🔥

jealous (strong) steve - @pies-writes-and-more

Steve Rogers, the man behind the shield, knows that his strength only came from an injection. He isn’t a Norse god, how could he compete against Thor who seems to have all of (Y/N)’s affections? Steve Rogers is a jealous man. A strong jealous man who just keeps breaking things.❤️

whisper - @redgillan

Natasha and Sam have a plan to make Steve confess his feelings. ❤️

major crush - @redgillan

 Laser Tag brings out Steve Rogers’ competitive side and Reader loves it. 🔥

it's your captain's birthday - @witchywithwhiskey

you're avoiding steve rogers' birthday beach party by relaxing in the ocean, but when he finds you alone in the waves, your captain is sure to let you know how much he appreciates that you wore a bikini in his colors to his party—and things escalate from there. 🔥

the best birthday gift - @witchywithwhiskey

you attend a party at avengers tower celebrating the fourth of july and steve rogers' birthday and make a fool of yourself when introduced to captain america, the man you've crushed on for most of your life. but when you run into him while avoiding the fireworks show, he's more than happy to spend his birthday distracting you from the party.🔥

steve - @assembletheimagines

Steve’s never had a blowjob and could you really consider yourself a friend if you didn’t suck his dick? 🔥

you'll always be the sexiest man alive to me, captain - @witchywithwhiskey

steve rogers is named people's sexiest man alive and his fellow avengers—along with their SHIELD support team—won't let him live it down, but when you make a smartass joke in front of your new colleagues, you catch the eye of captain america himself. turns out he *really* likes it when you call him captain. 🔥

college!steve

one shots:

kissing booth - @viollettes

After Nat volunteers your services at the kissing booth, you find yourself sitting across from you is none other than your best friend. ❤️

the end of the war - @redgillan

Everyone knows you and Steve can’t stand each other, but after he runs into you after one of his fights, he starts to see you in a different light.❤️😔

she calls me daddy - @hertzwritings

Frat-Boy!Steve Rogers x female reader 🔥

oopsy daisy - @whateveriwant

 In order to keep the animal shelter from closing, your sorority holds a car wash as a fundraiser. Besides cleaning cars all day, you have another goal in mind involving a certain football-playing frat member. 🔥

modern au

series:

slow like honey - @heli0s-writes

The gossip that buzzes around in the teacher’s lounge is that sweet, sensitive, divorcé Steve Rogers is hot-for-teacher. His daughter’s first-grade teacher, to be exact. ❤️😔🔥

at your service - @writing-for-marvel

part 2 As your bodyguard it’s Steve’s job to look out for you, when you find him in a compromising position, it becomes your turn to look after him. 🔥

one shots:

a french kiss - @pies-writes-and-more

Y/N came to Paris with a plan: take a photo with a cute man next to the Eiffel Tower, just like how her and cheating ex-boyfriend had always planned on doing, and make that son of a bitch jealous. Thankfully, there’s a super cute blond guy who just so happens to be nearby. ❤️

take a hint - @pies-writes-and-more

(Y/N) literally just wants to go out and have a good time with her girls. So why do guys seem to never take ‘no’ for an answer? To try to prevent more annoying encounters with men who can’t take a hint, (Y/N) slips on two rings onto her left hand and assumes the married life. It’s all well and good… until someone sees the rings as a challenge. Enter from stage right, our hero. ❤️

ask - @angelkurenai

Imagine Steve wanting to introduce you, his fiance, to his friends for a long time  but hesitating because he hasn’t told them something about your past and how you met. You were once his student. ❤️

nature's beauty - @biteofcherry

Your teasing comment about staying home barefoot and pregnant makes something in Steve snap. He’s now eager to turn it into reality. 🔥

lilacs & ink - @witchywithwhiskey

you go in to get your first tattoo and the very attractive tattoo artist steve rogers takes good care of you.❤️

mob!steve

series:

ask - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

part 2 two prompts combined ❤️ 1.  here’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close 37. We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster

biker!steve

one shots:

where he belongs/don't f*ck with the queen - @angrythingstarlight

It’s not often someone challenges your place as Steve’s queen but they only make that mistake once. And Steve knows better than to let anyone think they can take your place. 🔥

[biaswreckme]

willow | seongjoong

"Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind" or Pirate Captain Kim Hongjoong meets witch Park Seonghwa.

Fandom: Ateez

Pairing: Hongjoong/Seonghwa

Member: Hongjoong, Seonghwa

Word count: 722 words

Genre/Tropes: Alternate Universe (Fantasy), Romance, Fluff

Rating: nc-17

Triggers/Warnings: implied sexual content (very light, tagging and rating it nc-17 just to be safe), mention of people bullying Seonghwa

You can read it on: AO3

Seonghwa could still vividly remember to this day the first time that the pirate Captain had stopped by the small village. He had been in the nearby woods, gathering some herbs, when the strange ship descended from the sky and caused a ripple in the water below the decks. He had only observed from afar as a peculiar and colorful crew descended onto land, his eyes almost straining to follow who he would later learn was Captain’s confident movements. He didn’t investigate why or for how long they would be staying in the village, but he was glad that for once the attention would not be on him for a while. He could finally just be for a few days, not having to worry if that would be the day they decided to burn him at a stake. 

He had certainly not been expecting a knock on his door a couple of days later, for the people usually avoided him at all costs, sometimes preferring to perish instead of seeking his aid. Seonghwa opened his front door just enough for him to see who was on the other side yet at the same time having enough leverage in case he needed to protect himself.

“So I hear you’re a witch, is that true?” the man who had knocked asked without any hesitation.

Seonghwa just blinked in response, fingers clenching on the wood, and the man smiled at him, blonde hair ruffling with the late afternoon breeze. 

“Good, nice to meet you, I’m Captain Kim Hongjoong.”

It turns out that the Captain was in need of some medicinal herbs to keep on the ship for emergencies, but, to Seonghwa’s ignorance, all the other reasons he gave for the visits were made up. Hongjoong prided himself in being a good and focused leader, but there was something about this tall handsome man with dark long hair and sad eyes that almost seemed to scream loneliness that captivated his attention. And so it took no time at all until Seonhwa learned all about the crew of the Illusion, the strange ship that sailed the seas and the skies, the Captain’s presence in his home a curious constant in the week they spent on land. 

Seven days and they were gone, and Seonghwa was back to being alone, heart aching so painfully at knowing company and having lost it.

Until the ship rolled in again, that is.

The Illusion never stayed long in the village, and it was always uncertain when they would dock, but Seonghwa learned to be hopeful instead of just hollow, anticipating the Captain’s companionship - and occasionally one or two of the crew who accompanied him. The crew always stayed at the small inn by the docks, and their repeated visits to the village - and their spending - had people stop bothering Seonghwa. He could get used to not having rocks thrown at him whenever he strayed too far from his small cottage or dirty looks and whispers thrown in his direction (he knew people still talked and despised him, but at least they were hiding it better). 

With constancy came intimacy and feelings foreign to both of them. Their lips were tentative the first time they touched, Hongjoong holding dearly onto Seonghwa’s shivering frame as their mouths pressed against each other, shaky breaths mingling with smiles and tears of happiness. And soon Hongjoong would start sneaking out of the inn and into the cottage, huddling into Seonghwa’s warmth under the covers. The Captain found it fascinating how the other man would shiver whenever bare skin met bare skin. Fingers traced old and new scars, learning each other’s bodies like their own, and stories were shared under the blessing of the moonlight. And more than once Hongjoong was caught by one of his crew going back late in the morning, the minutes and hours passing by without care whenever they were together. 

But this time, it was different. There was a sense of urgency to everything, for the crew of the Illusion would set sail to a place too far to be sure they would be able to come back any time that could be considered soon. The situation was explained, and each breath and touch shared had the taste of farewell. To Seonghwa, every second was filled with desperation, and he could feel the distant and now unfamiliar loneliness wanting to seep into his veins, until he decided to wreck his own plans - or lack thereof. He had never imagined leaving his cottage, but home was now Hongjoong. 

There would be no looking back.

“Take my hand, Seonghwa.”

“Wherever you stray, I’ll follow.”

[wonderlandoffanfics]

Manifest Fantasies (pt 1)

My first ever posted fan fic! I decided I'm not great with smut but I tried my best, and will continue to try in other things. This fic is Bartolomeo inspired - I'm really sorry if I didn't write him properly, I kinda got self indulgent to certain degrees. Most degrees.

This first bit is pretty tame, but the second bit I'll be posting has the smut, so I'm keeping the warnings on the whole thing.

Enjoy!

Part 2 swimsuit addition dat dress tho

WC: 3480

CW: fem reader, MDNI, bit o’ fluff turned smutty, vaginal penetration, no protection mentioned, cockwarming, Barto’s fangs doing as they do, praise kink (for him, of course), aftercare with brief non-sexual urination

You had never really been interested in pirate life. Pirates seem to be everywhere but you enjoyed your quiet island life. Sometimes their stories would take you to a daydream of adventure and lead you to believe your way of living was dull. But you always snapped out of the daze when the danger came into play. It’s safer here at home on the island you grew up on. Why ever leave and live in uncertain fear?

Working in a bar is enough for you, you hear all the stories from pirates that come in to port and they take their dangers with them when they go. Fantasies are worth a lot to you, as someone who likes to write. Every night you go home and jot down what you’ve heard that day, the vibrant stories giving you joy each time you reread them and dream of the places you would never see and things you would never experience for yourself.

Most of the townsfolk are too afraid to come to the bar; in fear the pirates may do something to them. You’ve never had much trouble, but you have heard the few brave local patrons get things stolen, or worse, they’ve been physically injured to a point where they don’t return to your bar.

You’re always kept on your toes because of this. Pirates are unpredictable. Tonight’s visitors are no exception. A bunch of new faces have come in and sat in the room looking for a good time, a few new groups, you believe, since they don’t appear to be interested in each other. They all appear more menacing than you’ve dealt with recently. It’s time to play extra nice and obedient.

There’s one you think is a captain, at the bar with a few others; he has the most intimidating aura. He’s got to be over 7ft tall, with vibrant green hair standing tall upon his head, piercings and tattoos, and teeth like you’ve never seen; fangs really, is a better description. He’s muscular, lean, and keeps some type of weapon, a dagger you think, in the front of his pants. Not someone you have interest in making upset.

You get behind the bar and take their drink orders, serving them promptly before going to tend to other patrons. You notice him watching you; he’s not being subtle by any means. It makes you weary and unable to focus on your tasks.

You’re snapped out of it when another pirate, in the back corner calls to you rudely asking for more drinks for his table. You smile and indicate to them you are coming and go get them their next round.

Placing the drinks on the table you try to walk away when one of them grabs you firmly by the waist, knocking the tray from your hands. “Where are you going sweetheart? We want drinks and company over here.” The man says with a rough voice. “That’s not a service we provide here.” You state trying to wriggle your way free. “This isn’t a request you can turn down, this is our bar until we leave, so we own you now.” He grunts out as he starts to fondle you.

As you’re about to try fighting back harder, something breezes past you and slams the man back through his chair and to the ground. Then you’re grabbed again, pulled towards a large body, but not held there against your will. “I don’t think ya wanna be doin’ that ta someone nice enough to serve such ugly assholes with a beautiful smile.” The tall man with fangs spits out at the men.

He’s standing with you between him and the other group of pirates, grinning at them, and crosses his pointer and middle fingers on each hand. The three men, all standing at the table alert now, try to all run at you at once but slam into something and fall back, confused. You had flinched at their abrupt movement toward you and held onto your savior, now equally as confused at what happened; you let go and step back.

“What….?” Is all you are able to breathe out; “You idiots better leave this bar before ya embarrass yourselves anymore.” He says while making faces at them from behind the wall he seems to have created between you all. The men grumble and stand up, looking like they are ready to try again, angrier now that they are being mocked.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” He says and moves you behind him. With one hand twisting his fingers together and one ready to punch, he knocks the one who had grabbed you through the table this time. You can tell he’s out cold in an instant and the other two men look stunned. They quickly pick up the man and rush him out of the bar, cursing you both as they leave.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess, miss!” the fanged man turns to you with a silly grin and blushes. “N-No, thank you so much for saving me from them!” you don’t even care about the table and chair, hell, he could have popped that guy through the wall and you’d still be grateful. “Please stay as long as you like, your drinks will be on the house.” You smile and go back to get him another pint.

After a bit of talking you learn his name is Bartolomeo, and you were correct in thinking he was the captain of a pirate ship. He’s on a grand adventure to help an infamous pirate become king, and he talks of him like you’ve never seen. Stars in his eyes and tears streaming down his face. How is this the same man that just saved you?

You close the bar early and just tend to him and his few crewmates that are with him, talking about his life on the seas. He says everything with such passion, it’s hard not to hang off his every word. You can’t wait to write his stories down later.

He asks you about yourself and if you’ve ever been off the island. “I’ve been content to live here my whole life, meeting new people through this line of work and writing down tales that are told in this bar. I don’t think I’m fit to have my own adventures, I prefer being safe, here on the island.” Just when you say it, you realize how unsafe the island was for you just hours ago.

“Well, if ya wanted, miss y/n, you could join my crew and write about your own stories. I’d keep ya safe, promise!” Bartolomeo chimes at you with the same wistful face he’s made while talking about his own life. He grabs your hands in his and gives you starry eyes, “There’s no safer place than behind my barrier powers, and on the side of the future King of the Pirates!”

“I woudn’t be much help on a ship, I’m not a fighter and I don’t know anything about sailing.” You’ve never had an offer like this before. “That’s okay, we can teach ya things and take care of ya. We would really love to have a woman on the ship.” He starts to panic after saying that, “not for anything weird or nothin’! Ya know, we’re just a rowdy bunch o’ guys that need a ladies help on the ship sometimes, like a big sister or somethin’. I promise, nothing bad would happen to ya!”

You’re shocked by the invitation and feel his honest sincerity. “Would I have time to think about this? I appreciate the offer, but this is my home and I need to think about if I would be able to leave it behind.”

“Of course, miss y/n! We plan ta leave in 2 days, you just let me know if I can do anything for ya in the meantime while ya think on it.” you smile at each other as he leaves that offer with you for the evening and takes his men back out into town.

-____________________________________________________________-

After writing Bartolomeo’s stories out last night you started thinking about what it would be like to live the adventures you’ve heard about over the years. Strangely, you trust that you would be kept safe. With a ship of 50+ men, you were bound to be protected well against most things. Especially with Bartolomeo around to watch out for you.

But then you also think; a ship of 50+ men. That in itself seems dangerous for you to be a part of, after last night having just three men try to keep you for themselves, maybe this is just a nice way of keeping you like that. How could you be sure that nothing bad would occur once you’re out at sea?

You walk along the beach in the early afternoon and see Bartolomeo up ahead so you wave and he comes running toward you smiling wide. “Miss y/n!” he calls to you. “Hello, Bartolomeo, do you have time to chat?” you ask and smile back. His energy does give you more comfort about the decision you have to make. “My time is all yours, miss y/n!” he beams excitedly.

You talk for a while about your concerns and he reassures you that you would get your own room on the ship (near his in case you need him), a lock on your door, and if any of his crew dares to make you uncomfortable than he would deal with them personally. He offers for you to meet the whole crew if that would bring you additional comfort in making the decision and you agree to that.

He decides you should see them at their rowdiest to make sure you understand the worst of what you may be around. Still comforting you in that you can stay near him the whole time and he will be sure you stay safe, not that he doubts his crew in the least. By evening you are on the ship with all his men, in the largest, loudest party you have ever been a part of.

Everyone is drinking and laughing, some are playing table top games, and a few are singing shanties as well. Bartolomeo introduces you to the crew, not that you would learn all their names in one night, but it was nice to see their reactions to you possibly joining them. They were all so excited and had each had ideas of things they could teach you about pirate life and being on a ship. He was right; it would appear they just want a female presence, like a sister, to enjoy time with. You imagine the amount of testosterone flowing around here was enough to make them go crazy sometimes.

As the evening progresses, Bartolomeo guides you through the inside of the ship, giving you an excited tour of his home. He shows you the room nearest his that has been cleaned and readied for your possible arrival, and seeing it makes you think how you could really make a home with this rowdy bunch of jokesters.

He begins to walk down the hall a bit more to continue the tour, but you stop him by tugging on his wrist. “Bartolomeo….. But, why me?” you ask, still not 100% sure of your answer to his invitation.

He turns and leans down at the waist to be face to face with you, “Because I can tell ya care.” He says plainly like you should already know. “Ya care about people, and have this look on your face when ya hear stories like ya wish you could be a part of them in the best of ways. I go with my gut and my gut says I need ta be the one to show ya the world…. Your world, if ya want it.” He says while standing back up at full height, slightly blushing and grinning with a hand on the back of his neck.

You sit in the moment quietly while a smile creeps on to your own face, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to that?” He looks at you, gleaming. “I’d be delighted to join your crew, Bartolomeo, thank you!” With that, he picks you up and sits you on one of his forearms; you wrap your arms around his neck to hold on due to the surprising lift. He takes you back out on deck to where the crew is still partying; carrying you like a prize he just won.

“We have a new crew member!!” He yells excitedly at the men and they all yell back with the same enthusiasm. Bartolomeo sets you back down on your feet after the party goes back to the standard loudness it was before the announcement. 

“If we’re leaving tomorrow, I should go home and pack my things. I’ll meet you all back here in the morning, sound good, captain?” You ask Bartolomeo and he quickly stammers out, “ya don’t have to be as formal as the rest of them; Barto is fine, miss y/n. We’ll be here waiting for ya!” you giggle back “If I don’t, neither do you, just y/n is fine, Barto. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again.” You lightly squeeze his hand with yours as you turn to walk away from the festivities on the ship deck.

-____________________________________________________________-

It’s been a handful of months since you started your pirate life but you’re still shocked every morning you wake up at sea surrounded by men. This was never the life you envisioned for yourself but you’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Barto had kept his promise of an atmosphere of safety and keeping you as such when there was any danger nearby. He made sure you were his first priority if the ship was under attack, looking for you and once located, taking you to a safe place on the ship or creating a barrier around you (or the ship itself if needed).

You have settled well, being a den mother/older sister figure to the men. You cook (some of the men help since cooking for 50+ multiple times a day is a large feat.) and clean, and your favorite thing to do is talk to Gambia’s grandmother on the transponder snail every day. You’d be lying if you were to say she hadn’t made you feel even more comfortable living on this ship, even though she was back in her own home, she told you from the start how wonderful this crew is and how you were safe with them.

Today the ship was scheduled to dock on an island you were excited for. It was much like your home town but larger and with more shops. You had been meaning to pick up some things to decorate your room with a bit more; a change in scenery can help when you are at sea for long periods of time.

Barto instructed the men to find certain things and off they went into town. You were always impressed that someone with such a soft heart was able to command with such strength. You found yourself watching him more and more as he did his captain-ly duties. Knowing how your initial impression of him was one of concern and intimidation, you were now realizing that you’re fond of every aspect of his being, even the side that made people in town nervous. You knew that walking next to him, you would continue to be safe, no one would bother you after seeing him glare and bare fangs if they even looked in your direction.

Barto would accompany you anywhere you wanted to go. Since there are so many crew members to do other tasks, he was free with you to do as you both pleased. You took him into store after store looking for new and interesting things and he never complained or seemed to be bored of watching you shop.

After finding just the right things to put out in your room, you see a clothing store across the street that has things of your taste in it. “Would you be willing to help me pick out some new outfits too?” you ask, knowing any man would probably hate this. You see Barto blush and turn his face away but still answers that he “would be honored to be your side no matter what the task.”

Running around the store while Barto sits near the dressing area and waits for you, you grab numerous things that you would love to try on. You don’t want to make him do this all day, even though you probably could, so you hurry back to him with an arm full of pieces. “Okay, I won’t grab anything more than this, but we have to go through the whole pile.” You grin excitedly, popping into the dressing room to get changed into the first set.

The main bundle of outfits was for everyday on the ship; different patterned pants and shorts, with crop tops and t-shirts that matched each bottom. All very cute and fit nicely as you walked around and showed off like a runway was in front of Barto. Next you had a couple of sleepwear items; a cute nightgown and a set of boy shorts with a button up top. Each time you came out he was quietly looking just past you and gave you a thumbs up with a weird smile.

You decided to test a theory and tried on the one swim suit you picked out next. The bikini top was solid red on the right breast, and yellow on the left, and the bottoms were black and tied on the sides. You peek out from behind the curtain, “I need you to be honest with this one…” you step out and reveal the suit, “is it too much?” you turn slowly and watch his reaction.

Bartolomeo’s mouth hangs open for a moment before he stands up quickly and takes off his long coat to cover you, you see him red faced and looking around the store. “Are ya trying ta attract a crowd?!” you giggle and slip away from his coat, going back behind the curtain, “okay, any other thoughts?” you ask and he goes quiet, uncharacteristic of him, you look out again to see what he’s doing.

His face is that of pure bliss but he’s staring at the ceiling, tears dripping down his face. You hide back behind the curtain and try on the last outfit, hoping to tease him a bit more. You’re not even sure where or when you would wear this but it was too pretty not to at least try on. It’s a red dress; the top of it secured around your neck like a collar and has an open diamond shape down the front to show your cleavage. No sleeves, backless, and a high slit on the left leg as it drapes down to the floor but hugs your curves. You smile at yourself in the mirror, proud of this before you even show him.

“This is the last one, promise! Are you ready?” you ask while you twirl once in front of the mirror. “R-ready!” he calls back to you after making sure no one else was around, just in case. You draw back the curtain and pose; one hand up on the curtain still and the other gracing your hip and accentuating the slit down the leg.

Barto stands up and again and walks towards you, putting his hands up on the curtain rod and boxing you into the space, blocking any on lookers from seeing you with his large frame. He’s inches from you and in a quiet voice says “Ya know this makes keeping my promises more of a challenge, right?” You sense your body heat up and take a step back; he takes the chance and draws the curtain back to a close.

You see him eye the dressing room and go to grab the dress you just had on. You look at him a little stunned and questioning. “It suits ya too well ta let anyone else have it… it’ll be for special occasions.” He mutters as he grabs everything else from your hands and goes to pay. You guess you pushed just far enough, and smiled seeing him motion to you to follow him out the door.

That was not the reaction you thought you would get. Did you push it too far?

You get dressed again in your own clothes and pick up the stack you wish to keep, leaving the dress hanging up and thinking maybe it was too much. You step back out of the dressing room with your pile in hand and have a hard time looking him in the face. “Ready to go back to the ship?” you ask.

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off (Complete) | Ch 6: Fantasy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | SERIES | PREV

Summary: You and Steve have to navigate the aftermath of the overexposure to Mistress, and something tells you that your mood swings and inability to self-satisfy is directly related to the drug…

Length | Warnings: 4,030 | masturbation MINORS DNI

Fill: Adoptable ‘Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreads @mrsevans90 @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee

Fantasy

Steve doesn’t take sex lightly. He doesn’t take attraction lightly either, and that’s what makes everything so confusing, because he likes you. Most of what he knows about you comes from Bucky, despite the time you two have spent near each other, and while these positive, protective things he’s feeling seem logical, there’s no way they’re natural.

Bottom line: Steve doesn’t think he can trust his gut when it comes to you. His gut says you’re exactly the sort of girl he wants to get to know. He wants to bring you flowers, take you to a baseball game, maybe hold your hand as he walks you back from a date. All things he’s skipped right past, thanks to Mistress. All things he might not have wanted, if it weren’t for the way the two of you met.

All things he maybe shouldn’t want at all, if Bucky wants them too.

Steve levers himself off of you with a hand on the wall and one on your shoulder, careful to project as much respect as he can, despite what’s just happened. He can still feel the echo of your satin-smooth skirt on his fingers, and that’s private enough, given the other after-effects of the explosive kiss you've just shared. Backing away quietly, he stops after just a few steps to watch you, telling himself it’s not to admire the way the deep breaths you’re taking accentuate your breasts. No, he’s watching your closed-eyed expression shift between secretly pleased and embarrassed.

“Did you take out the earpiece?” you ask quietly.

“I threw it,” he admits, and your eyes open to look at him first in shock, then in amusement, and then both of you fully crack up. The laughter is such a release, such a relief, that he’s wiping amused tears from the corners of his eyes when the door opens.

Bruce sends you both giggling again when he says, in an Annoyed Dad Voice, “The preliminary test results are in.’

“So let me see if I have this right,” you say fifteen minutes later, folding your hands on the conference table in front of you. “You detected pheromones in the enclosure, an unusually high level of them.” Banner nods. “They’re recognizably pheromones but not anything you’ve seen before, and there’s two kinds?”

“Three,” Steve says in a stunned voice, trying to be helpful even now.

“Well, technically the third one is a combination of the other two, one from each of you, and it’s so complex I’m not sure I can call it a pherom--” Banner cuts off as Dr. Lyonne clears her throat beside him. “Sort of, yes.”

You and Steve are on one side of the long table, with the two doctors at the other. It feels like you’re at a hostile takeover meeting, where two sides negotiate how much freedom the defeated company will have-- except you and Steve are the ones who have been taken over, and the answer on freedom is as yet unclear.

“Okay, setting aside the third one, then.” You pull in a deep breath and let it out. There will be time to freak out about everything they’re telling you another time, when you’re not in the middle of learning about it. “You’re saying we were both hot and horny for an unnaturally long time with Mistress in our systems, and that made the drug… teach our bodies to create these pheromones? Are you sure you don’t want to go get the Ancient Aliens guy to deliver this news?”

Banner does a wince-chuckle and looks down at the table. When he looks up, his expression is the same bleak, apologetic one he’d started with. “Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous, but this is clearly alien biology. I doubt it helps at all, but if it hadn’t been for what happened to you two, we’d be a lot more in the dark about this.”

“You’ll need to study us to figure out how to reverse it,” Steve breaks in. You look over at him, note that his back isn’t touching the chair. If there’s an ‘official’ way to sit in a chair as a military man, that’s what he’s doing.

“If it helps, my husband and I are also submitting samples. I imagine we’ll need to come in and have you check to see if we give off any pheromones?” Dr. Lyonne says, looking to Banner.

He’s nodding gravely. “Yes. Without the accompanying symptoms, I doubt there are any, particularly not this long since the incident. At the level that we detected them from you two, though…” He gestures to your side of the table. “You say you were about forty, fifty feet apart at the performance, but both of you felt better last night, and even better today?”

You feel Steve’s eyes on you as you nod, and you can tell by Banner’s look of satisfaction that you’ve both responded in the affirmative; he pushes back from the table, obviously uncomfortable with the boardroom setting.

“Ok, we have an imperfect two-week sample, I’d like to have both of you come in every day for two weeks. Obviously I can’t take blood every day, but I’ll set up something to detect the pheromones.”

Dr. Lyonne swivels to face Banner as he paces the windows. “How about we split a lab in three, have each of them enter separately, meet in the middle after we get their individual resul--”

“We’d compensate you both for this, of course,” Banner breaks in. You see Dr. Lyonne’s wry smile and wonder if she’s used to having ideas so good her boss wants to move on before she’s fully articulated them. She seems like a strong enough personality to handle it, at least.

“I’m happy to help, but I can’t take any money. It wouldn’t be right.”

“We’re not paying you for sex, Rogers,” Lyonne says, a challenging look on her face.

Even though you’re not looking at him, you can feel Steve’s dismay. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t need to be paid for something I’d be--”

He cuts himself off, and there’s enough unsated lust simmering in your system to enjoy the possibilities of that sentence. I don’t need to be paid for something I’d be doing anyway.  

“Steve, you have to understand, it’s unethical for me not to pay you for this. The city, the planet needs the information we’ll be collecting, and I hate that it’ll take so long, given what we’re learning,” Banner says, walking over to grip his abandoned chair. He looks agitated but not angry. “Ideally you’ll both be anonymous, but how do you think anyone’s going to take my results studying an aphrodisiac if they realize that one of the subjects aren’t compensated for their time? No one will believe the results are genuine!”

“All right, but if we’re going to mention ethics, I want to point out that it’s not ethical to force Dee to participate in this at all, paid or not.”

Banner pulls in a breath, but you turn your chair and say, “Wait. Steve, I get it. You chose the serum-- but Tony Stark didn’t choose the magnet in his chest. Bucky didn’t choose--”

“Okay, I hear you,” Steve says, reaching out to put his hand over yours where you’d been holding on to the edge of the table. The immediate calming effect is almost annoying, and you glare at him for a second, sending his eyebrows skyward.

“You don’t feel that? It’s like a mini injection of Xanax or something,” you grouse.

A notebook slides across the table, followed by a pen you have to spin your chair around and pull free of Steve to grab before it falls to the floor.

“Write that down?” Dr. Lyonne’s scarlet lipstick’d grin is almost predatory.

“I feel it,” Steve belatedly answers under his breath to you as Lyonne and Banner confer across the room in urgent voices. You pause your writing  mid-sentence, biting your lip. This turns Steve bashful adorable, like that helps any, saying, “Shoot, sorry. I’ll just--” and getting up.

“I assume you want me to keep away from Steve except during the tests, but what about Bucky?” you ask aloud, covering for everything that’s chaotic inside your body and your mind right now.

Steve speaks up, quick and gruff. “That’s right, if the two of them want to start dating, how will that--”

“Steve! That’s not--” Your body is tuned for pleasure today, and this sends you images of Bucky you’ve never pictured with your waking mind before. A challenging smile, his arm held out in expectation that you’ll of course take it, the sexy fit of his leather jacket and your secret knowledge of what’s underneath… 

You press your eyes closed and open them to see three very interested pairs of eyes focused on you.

“Bucky is my friend,” you say, a twinge of guilt at the boundaries you’d just mentally crossed making your tone more brittle than necessary. “I was asking because the two of them live together. Are you expecting me to stay away from anywhere Steve could be, to avoid contaminated pheromone test results?”

Dr. Lyonne leans close to Banner to say something you don’t catch, and he nods before saying, “To be honest, I haven’t thought through all of the logistics. How about the two of you figure out a good time of day to stop by for testing, so there’s at least 22 hours between each, and I’ll get back to you on that question? Say, this weekend?”

“Four days,” Steve says. “Do you want us to stay apart in that time?”

You have no idea how you want that question to be answered.

“I uh, hmm.” Banner puts his hands on his hips and scrunches up his face, clearly thinking. “Better start the habit of once a day, so it’s easier, come Monday?”

“Phrasing!” Dr. Lyonne groans, waving Banner off with one hand and gesturing at the two of you frantically. “Run! Shoo! Before he starts getting more descriptive!”

You get home at lunch time and lean up against the apartment door after you lock it. Your roommate won’t be home for hours, and now that you’re alone, all you can think about is Steve Rogers’ frantic lips on yours.

Closing your eyes, you go through the motions of stripping off your ‘outside armor’ as you relive those heady moments. Toeing one shoe off leads to a few seconds of remembering the way his fingers dragged along the nape of your neck before he asked to kiss you. On your way to your bedroom, you drop your bag on the back of the couch, then steady yourself on it, thinking about that first exquisite swipe of his tongue against yours.

You almost turn your ankle in the hallway because you forgot to take off your other shoe.

The heat of embarrassment quickly shifts back to arousal when you’re finally in your bedroom, with the door locked behind you. That’s when you realize your keys are still in your hand. You usually hang them up on a hook, or at the very least, put them in your bag.

“Completely wrecked for Steve Rogers,” you say aloud.

Fuck, even his name sounds different to you. Instead of living in your memory banks as Bucky’s childhood friend, someone decent and good and loyal, he’s… well, right now he’s a taste in your mouth. One you can’t get enough of.

You leave your skirt in the middle of the floor.

Shirt and bra go flying in the general direction of your dresser. Something in the back of your mind tells you that it’s a terrible idea to associate that particular paragon of values and virtue with hedonistic, desperate pleasure, but you cannot possibly bring yourself to care. Not with the memory of Steve Rogers’ lips latched to your neck. Not with his need-distorted sounds of assent vibrating through you.

Your fingers feel clumsy as you rush your device from the drawer, accidentally striking the button that starts the pulsating rhythm you love most. Grateful for the privacy of a silent, empty apartment, you throw yourself diagonally on your bed. The toy in your hand sounds far too loud to be decent, and god, the ghost of Steve Rogers is invading every inch of you today, isn’t he?

There are places on you he hasn’t been, your mind supplies as you settle into the silky indulgence of your sheets. Setting the vibrator next to your head but not turning it off, you slide your hand down to slip the tips of your fingers past the waistband of your panties. Don’t touch your breasts. Pretend he wants to, but he won’t let himself.

That thought has you arching your hips up, your eyes clenched shut. God, your naughty mind is turning the taboos of this whole situation into something delicious, and you can’t be fucked to care.

Honestly, given the taboos of this whole situation, ‘can’t be fucked’ is likely to be true, and is that fair? No.

Grabbing your blanket, you throw the edge over your eyes and let yourself picture Steve Rogers trapped in the room, able to see you, unsure of whether to participate. Your nipples tighten at the thought, and you push your fingers down, finding your folds wet with the wanting of him. Shit, you’re in it now, because you used to let yourself imagine a faceless man, someone who wanted everything you had to give. Now all you can imagine is Steve, as though his broad shoulders have taken up the entire doorway in your mind, intimidating anyone else who might have designs on you.

“Oh, fuck!” you voice, grabbing the toy-- because the thought of a jealous Steve has ramped you up to Mistress levels of desire. You’d told yourself the whole journey home that the first thing you needed to do was try to come. Sure, you’d orgasmed today and it had been glorious, but this-- As you fit the toy exactly where you like it most (panties on for your imaginary guest), an outrageous thought occurs, and you're already indulging yourself, so why not keep going? “For science,” you gasp aloud, rocking your hips.

Would Steve disapprove of this display? Would he watch, or stop you?

Would he join you?

With your eyes tightly closed and the weight of the blanket preventing you from seeing anything, you can feel Steve's presence in the room, even though you know he isn’t there. The thought that your desire is linked with his, that maybe right now it belongs to him in a twisted, dangerous way heightens every buzz and touch, and your orgasm rolls over you with powerful certainty.

Bruce and Dr. Lyonne are deep in discussions of their plans when you leave, and Steve doesn’t want to interrupt. Truthfully, he’s glad he can be a help with these tests. As he rides up in the elevator to his apartment, the reassuring thought strikes him that few users are likely to resist the aphrodisiac pull of the drug. He hopes that means not many people are caught up in this strange cycle of desire and proximity.

Bucky’s in the living room watching a movie when Steve lets himself in. There are no messages for JARVIS to inform him about, and he grabs some water before walking over to see what film it is. Bucky’s face is wary, confused, even concerned, enough so that he doesn’t notice Steve until he sits down.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. This--” Buck hits pause on a scene that looks so similar to the torture he’d described under HYDRA that Steve grabs the remote and shuts the whole thing off. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got a--” Bucky feels his pocket, the surface of the couch beside him, lifts up a book Steve’s been reading to get to sleep over on the table. “Lost it already, that figures. Dee wrote out the scenes I should skip. It’s The Matrix.”

Steve hasn’t heard of it, but he knows what his friend is like. “This one of the ones you’re supposed to skip?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grins. “She’ll probably yell at me.”

“Only if watching it messes you up,” Steve says, shoving the rim of his glass to his lips for a sip, so he doesn’t say anything stupid about you. The secret that he’d touched you again burns his mouth like bourbon.

Bucky gets up and stretches, backing away from the couch so the movements don’t hit Steve. “You get those tests done?”

“You could have warned me you were planning to send her over,” Steve says. His voice sounds more unhappy than he’d meant to show, so he frowns, which makes things worse.

“Would you have gone?”

Steve tries to think of an answer that isn’t a lie, and when he can’t, he looks down and shakes his head. “What if I tell you Bruce wasn’t ready?”

“Banner was like a kid in a candy store, I can tell you that without even being there,” Bucky says. “You figure anything out?”

The array of ‘yes’ answers to that aren’t safe to say aloud, Steve decides. “He thinks it’s changed us, taught our bodies to make some kind of chemical that messes us up until we’re close enough to swap our individual versions, I guess. He wants us to meet up once a day for two weeks to test it, starting Monday.”

Bucky sets a firm hand of reassurance on his shoulder from behind the couch, and Steve lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“That’s good-- the part where he figures it out, I mean. The two of you haven’t been yourselves.”

“She doesn’t deserve this, Buck.”

“Good thing it’s you, then.”

Steve reaches up, squeezes his friend’s hand, and then gets up. “That’s not the message your fist sent me,” he teases. It’s a risky thing to say; the punch had been thrown after Steve’s low-ebb, frustrated, self-flagellating comment that Bucky was just mad it wasn’t him in the room with her.

“If you didn’t get the message, I’d be happy to send it again,” Bucky shrugs. “Your room’s ready, by the way. All new furniture put in this morning, while you were gone.”

It’s an out, and Steve takes it, grabbing the laundry basket of his clean clothes and heading into the hallway. As reported, his room is completely redone. He stands in the doorway and blinks at it for a few minutes, then asks JARVIS to dial up a number. He could do it on his phone, but this feels more appropriate.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says on the second ring. “Guessing you saw the room.”

“This is too much, Tony,” Steve says, walking over to touch the clearly antique dresser. It looks exactly like the one in his parents’ bedroom, so much so that he wouldn’t put it past Stark to have done the research to find out the exact model, rather than making a lucky guess.

“Don’t chew through your sense of obligation, Steve, it’s not all vintage. There have been much-needed improvements to mattress design and bed construction in those middle decades.” There’s a pause, and then Tony says, “You wouldn’t have stayed in there at all if I’d have done it starting out, admit it.”

He’s got a point, but Steve can’t let it go. “This had to cost--”

“Well, yeah!” Tony sounds amused, not annoyed. “Would you rather I spend that money on weapons? Tell you what, you try it out with your girl, and I’ll--”

“Tony!” Steve had specifically wanted to avoid thinking about you and his bed in the same mental breath, and Tony Stark had just blown those good intentions all to hell within five minutes of walking into his remodeled bedroom. That thought had come before the objection that you’re not ‘his girl,’ actually, and Steve’s stunned speechless with that realization.

“I saw you called with the room speaker, figured I’d rile up Barnes if he was around,” Tony says, completely undeterred. “Anyway, you’re worth it, end of conversation.”

The phone call cuts out without even an apology from JARVIS.

Steve looks around the room again. Every piece of his new furniture is familiar, not to mention entirely different from the utilitarian set up that had come with the room. He sets the basket down, noting that the blanket you’d covered yourself with that day is neatly folded and laid across the foot of the bed. Oddly, that helps with his qualms; just like the room, he’s been remodeled after a crisis, and things have been added against his better judgment. Even with all the same furniture back, things would remind him of you. The solution isn’t to change everything. It’s to adapt.

Just thinking about you is sending his heartbeat racing, but Steve tries to tamp back the impure thoughts and gets on with the task of putting away his clothes. 

The bottom drawer sticks as he pushes it back in. He has to blink a few times to regulate his emotions-- and then, a thought occurs.

Steve’s knock on Bucky’s bedroom door is loud and insistent.

“All right, hold on!”

When the door opens, Bucky’s in a tank top and shorts, and some of his long hair is stuck to his face with sweat. The image hits Steve in a place he hasn’t considered in years, in decades, really, but that’s not why he’s here. He shoves that all away and cranes his neck to see into the room.

“I knew it!” Bucky crows. “You wanted to see if they gave me 40’s stuff too, didn’t you? They did.” He backs up to let Steve in.

It’s the suite’s ‘master’ bedroom, and Steve sees that there’s a pull-up bar installed in the doorway to the private bathroom. Just like in his room, the furniture is achingly familiar, right down to the four poster bed and the color light shining from the lamp. He walks over to peer under the shade.

“I guess they can color them, now, ‘cause the old bulbs are illegal,” Bucky supplies. “You gonna be okay?”

“Tony said I was worth it.”

“You are.”

“Well, so are you,” Steve says, his voice thick. “I’m so sorry she was caught up in--”

Bucky punches his shoulder, derailing his apology, but then tugs him into a brief hug. “As long as I can have the two of you back, do whatever you have to. Now, get out of here, I have fifty more of these things to do.”

Steve nods and heads for the door. As he goes, he sees that there’s a rubber grip on the pull-up bar so Bucky doesn’t have to worry about damaging the thing with his metal hand.

Everything about his life in the tower seems to be tuned to his happiness, made for his comfort, encouraging him to feel safe and needed. The only thing missing from the life he used to picture back before the serum is someone to share it with.

Unbidden, he’s struck with an image of you in that gorgeous skirt looking up at him with obvious happiness and desire in your eyes. He can still hear the lovely, expert tones of your voice singing a song he’d loved hearing on the radio. You’ve challenged him, stood up for him, pleased him-- but most of that hadn’t been your choice, not really. Is there a way through this mess that leads to all of you at peace and happy, Bucky included? Or is that completely unrealistic, a fantasy borne out of his need to make decent a situation that is anything but?

Something deep inside him rebels, at this.

You’re a good person, that much is clear. You could have-- heck, you could have filed charges. You could have refused to have anything to do with him. Instead, you’d looked on him with warmth at the performance, and then participated in Banner’s tests in good faith, right up until you realized that the data would be deceptive. You are worth the stress and temptation that it will take to salvage this.

Steve can’t wait to try.

THE END

Next in the series...

mini note: it occurs to me that I should say, that gap in time between the mutual orgasm from last chapter and the chat at the boardroom involves some time for Steve to clean up, hah 💚

[allthingsfangirl101]

Simply Lovelorn–Keys

Keys' POV

I looked over at Y/N, my stomach doing a weird flip when a piece of hair fell in front of her face. I had to resist the urge to reach forward and move it for her. I took a deep breath as she tucked that hair behind her ear and fixed her glasses. I let out a small laugh, making Y/N look at me when I noticed it.

"What?" She asked.

I grabbed a nearby rag and used my water bottle to wet it. Using the rag, I cleaned the paint off her cheek.

"Thanks," she whispered. I laughed as she instantly went back to the painting she was working on. My heart jumped into my throat when she started humming her favorite song, Fantasy by Mariah Carey.

I've known Y/N most of my life. She moved in a few houses down when we were in middle school. Her dad started working with my dad. At first, we didn't really know each other. Our dads worked together, sure. Our moms would talk if they ran into each other at the store. But Y/N and I didn't talk.

Until the company picnic the summer after they moved here. I was eating a hamburger when I looked over and noticed her drawing in the dirt in the garden nearby.

"Whatcha doin'?" I asked. Y/N jumped and looked up at me.

"Drawing," she stuttered.

"You're really good."

"Thanks," she blushed as she looked away and went back to drawing in the dirt. I sat next to her and watched her.

After that picnic, when school started up again, I saw Y/N eating lunch alone. I walked over and sat with her. Ever since then, we've been inseparable.

Four years ago, Y/N and I got an apartment and moved to Cambridge together. I started going to MIT while Y/N started going to the Massachusetts College of Art and Design in Boston.

Y/N wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do once she got her degree. She talked about opening a gallery. She also talked about becoming an illustrator for children's books. She wasn't sure. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what I wanted to do. My plan was to code a video game that changed the world.

I was almost done with the game I started my senior year. I looked away from my laptop when Y/N put her paintbrush in the cup of water.

"What are you thinking for dinner?" She asked, rolling her shoulders.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, going back to altering my code. I heard Y/N giggle but I didn't look up.

"Keys," she sighed. She moved next to me on the couch and slowly closed my laptop. "You haven't eaten anything since I got home from class. Five hours ago."

"I'm fine," I said as I started to open my laptop again. Y/N sighed as she instantly closed it.

"Walter," she whispered, "I know how stressed you are, but you have to eat. How about I make that pasta dish you always scarf down?"

I looked at her worried eyes and my heart melted. Even before we moved in together, Y/N has always taken care of me. She constantly put me ahead of her, even though I begged her not to. It's what helped me fall in love with her. That and how protective I was of her.

"How about I help?"

                                * * * * *

Three days later, I was still glued to my laptop. The door opened and I instantly heard Y/N quietly singing.

"But it's just a sweet sweet fantasy baby. When I close my eyes, you come and you take me. It's so deep in my daydreams. But it's just a sweet, sweet fantasy baby."

I listened to Y/N's voice echo through the apartment, but I kept typing away.

"Keys?" Y/N stopped singing and called out. "You home?"

"In my room," I called back. I heard my door open more but didn't turn around. Y/N sighed as she walked in. She gently put her hands on my shoulders and leaned her chin on the top of my head.

"I was going to ask you what you're doing," she whispered, "but I could answer that question myself. You're working on your game."

"I'm so close," I sighed.

"You said that three months ago," Y/N mumbled. She stood up and hesitated before squeezing my shoulders. I turned around as she started to leave.

"Y/N," I sighed, "please don't do that."

"Do what?" She asked, wrapping her arms around herself and turning toward me.

"You hate when I get hyper-focused on a code," I said, leaning my elbows on my knees.

"You stop eating," she said, looking at her shoes. "Don't you remember the last time you got focused on a code? It was your senior project. I came home from class and you were barely conscious. I had to call an ambulance."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"At least take a break," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Please? I ordered a pizza. It should be here soon. Come take a break and eat something. We could watch a movie or something."

My heart sank when she rubbed her arms. She only did this when she started to overthink something. She looked up, her eyes hopeful when I stood up. I grabbed her hand and led us to the other room. We sat on the couch and started looking for a movie.

Two movies and an entire pizza later, Y/N started to fall asleep. I leaned her over so she was resting on my shoulder. I looked down and my heart got caught in my throat when I saw her smiling in her sleep. This was another thing I secretly loved about Y/N.

If I were to create a video game character based on Y/N, she wouldn't necessarily be the one that everyone wanted to be. She would be the one that only the best players used. The one that, if you knew how incredibly amazing she was, she'd be unstoppable.

I turned the movie off and sighed. I looked over at Y/N and moved some hair out of her face. I couldn't resist as I leaned down and kissed her forehead.

I carefully sat up and picked her up bridal style. I froze when she cuddled more into my chest. I carried her down the hall and to her room. I softly kicked her door open and walked in. I laid her down and slowly pulled her blanket up to her chin.

After watching her sleep for a few beats, I forced myself to leave her room. I went back to coding my game but my mind was on Y/N.

Before I even knew what love was, Y/N became the girl of my dreams. It wasn't until high school that I realized it. High school was when Y/N blossomed. She became the legendary artist at our school. Whenever the student council wanted a mural painted, they called her. She was the star of every student art show.

Which means, every "artsy" guy was after her. Every day, a new guy was talking to her, walking her to class, or offering to hold her books. They only did it once. Because after, I'd threaten them to leave her alone. She didn't know about any of this.

Then again, I didn't know why I was doing it either until I was telling my mom about some football player who asked Y/N to be his partner for a history project. The entire time I was ranting about how he was going to hurt her, my mother had a knowing smile on her face. My mom was the one who pointed out that I might want to be more than friends with Y/N.

I realized she was right. I tried to avoid Y/N the next day, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle going one day without her. Every day I'm with her, I'm more alive than I've ever been.

Y/N changed me. She made me the kind of guy I'd never thought I'd be. And I didn't hate it.

                                * * * * *

A week later, I was finally finished with my game. I had Y/N look at the graphics before sending it to a couple of different gaming companies. Ever since I sent them, I have been a nervous wreck. Y/N tried to help distract me but when she went to class, I was on my own.

Tonight, Y/N was having a student gallery. Each senior gets their own hallway in one of the buildings at the college. Y/N was really excited but even more nervous. She's always been nervous when showing other people her artwork. She didn't need to be worried. All of her paintings were beautiful.

I walked around the gallery, not really looking as I headed toward Y/N's hallway. I instantly knew when I got to Y/N's section. I've seen her working on some of them at home. I stopped, cold in my tracks when I saw one of her paintings.

"Do you like it?"

I turned around to see Y/N standing there. She was in a beautiful cocktail dress that flared out at her hips. She was nervously playing with her hands.

"I have seen you working on every single one of these," I whispered, unable to find my voice, "but I've never seen this one."

I turned back toward the painting on the wall. It was a watercolor of her and me.

A few weeks ago, I came home and Y/N wasn't there. I tried calling her but she didn't answer. After about half an hour of worrying and getting sicker by the minute, I knew where she was. I found her at the park by our apartment building, slowly swinging. I could tell by the look on her face that she was struggling. I didn't say anything. I walked over and sat next to her on the other swing. We sat there, slightly swinging for what felt like hours.

Growing up, Y/N and I always hung out on that swing set. In this particular moment that she captured, she was picking the petals off a flower while I gazed at her. If you hadn't been there, you wouldn't have known it was of me and her. You would've seen a girl and a boy swinging. But I saw one of my favorite moments with the girl of my dreams.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she said softly as she stepped up next to me.

"It's amazing," I whispered. I reached over and grabbed her hand. My chest tightened as she squeezed it in response.

"I'm really glad you're here," she said under her breath. I looked over and smiled at her. I felt a little bit of pride as I watched her face turn pink.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

I spent the next two hours watching Y/N interact with people viewing her artwork. She was kind, sweet, humble, and extremely charismatic. I couldn't stop watching her.

As much as I watched her, I watched the watercolor of us on the swings more. Whenever someone walked by it, I felt weird. Almost defensive. Possessive.

"You want to walk around and look at the other galleries?" Y/N asked, walking over to me. "I think I need a break from stressing over what people think."

"Or I can stay here and eavesdrop?" I smirked causing Y/N to laugh. My heart jumped into my throat when she gently touched my arm.

"Thanks," she chuckled, "but I need my emotional support best friend."

I grabbed her hand that was on my arm and looped that arm through mine.

"That's me."

                                * * * * *

Before the gallery closed, I had to do one thing. Once I was done, I stopped by to check on Y/N. Her hands were shaking as she watched her classmates say goodbye to their families and friends. I walked over and grabbed her hand as I stepped up next to her.

"It was a great show," I whispered. "You should be proud."

"You know I'm not a proud person," she teased.

"That's why I'm here," I said, nudging her shoulder with mine. "I get to be proud for you. Of you. And I am."

"Thanks, Keys," she blushed.

"You want a ride home?" I asked, slightly clearing my throat.

"No thanks," she sighed. "I have to help take down and clean up. Then my professor wants to talk about the night. I probably won't be home until later."

My phone started ringing, cutting her off. I sent her an apologetic look before answering it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Walter McKey?"

"This is he," I said, sending Y/N a look. "Who is this?"

"This is Antwan's assistant, Jeremy," the guy greeted. "He would like to set up a meeting at Soonami to talk about buying your game."

"Oh," I said under my breath. I cleared my throat, trying to speak normally. "That would be great. Thank you. What time?"

"Tomorrow, two o'clock."

Before I could say anything else, Jeremy hung up. I slowly lowered the phone away from my ear, still trying to wrap my head around that phone call.

"Who was that?"

"Antwan's assistant," I mumbled. I finally snapped out of it, looking up at Y/N. She laughed when I picked her up and spun her around.

"What is going on?" She giggled as I put her down.

"He wants to buy my game."

"That's amazing!" Y/N cheered as she jumped back into my arms. I spun her around, this time slower. When I stopped, she still had her arms wrapped around me.

"I knew you would get an offer," she whispered. She squeezed me once before breaking the hug. She looked into my eyes, and the longer we stared at each other, the pinker her cheeks got.

"So," she cleared her throat, letting me go and wrapping her arms around herself, "who just bought the best game from the smartest MIT grad?"

"Soonami."

That one word changed Y/N's whole demeanor.

"What?" I asked when I saw the look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I just. . . Is Soonami really the right publisher for your game?"

I opened my mouth, not entirely sure what I was going to say. Before I could stutter something out, Y/N's professor called for her. Y/N looked over her shoulder at her before glancing back at me. We stared at each other for a second before Y/N sighed and walked away.

                                * * * * *

After leaving Y/N's gallery, I didn't go straight home. I ran a few errands, stalling. I kept going over how fast Y/N's excitement turned to worry. I tried to figure out why she might be nervous about Soonami buying my game.

I walked into our apartment, my stomach sinking when I saw Y/N sitting on the couch with her knees tucked up to her chest. She was eating her favorite kind of ice cream out of the carton with a spoon.

"Bubble gum ice cream?" I asked, putting the groceries on the kitchen table. "That's your sad ice cream. I thought tonight went well."

"It did," she said, looking into the carton. She sighed, placing it on the coffee table before moving so she was sitting on the armrest.

"Is this about Soonami?" I couldn't help but ask. I walked over to the couch and sat on the cushion next to Y/N's armrest. I continued, "Y/N, I know Antwan's reputation, but Soonami is a growing company. They can help boost the game."

"I know that," she said softly, "but you have to admit this isn't where you thought your game would go."

"You're right," I agreed, "but I also know they are the only ones who gave the game a chance."

"There will be others," Y/N tried to reassure me. "Maybe you shouldn't jump at the first offer."

"What if there aren't other companies?" I shrugged. "Look, Y/N, I'm not acting like you aren't as much a part of my game as I am. You have been through everything. You were the one who tore me away from the screen. You were the one to encourage me to get help from Millie. You were the one who helped me design some of the characters. You've been by my side through all of it."

I hadn't noticed I had delicately placed my hands on her knees until I looked down. I instantly removed them.

"Maybe I am jumping into things too quickly," I cleared my throat as I continued. "I just don't want all our hard work to be for nothing."

"What does Millie think about Antwan and Soonami?"

"She's for it," I shrugged. "I'm telling you, Y/N, Antwan is awesome. He said all the right things and. . ."

"Just because he said all the right things, doesn't mean he plans to actually do them," Y/N mumbled as she looked around the house, avoiding my eyes. "I know that this is huge, but your game doesn't seem like it fits their niche. Maybe this can be a stepping stone or. . ."

Y/N stopped talking and froze. She stood up and walked into the kitchen. I held my breath as she pulled something out of my bag. She turned around, still looking at what was in her hands.

"You're the one who bought it?" She asked under her breath. When she looked up at me, she had tears building.

Of course I bought Y/N's painting of us on the swing set.

"What were you. . . When did you. . . Why did you. . . Keys?"

"I had to," I shrugged. "I couldn't let some stranger have it. It's between you and me. It's us."

Y/N looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. I gasped when she dropped her painting on the table before running over to me and wrapping her arms around my neck in a tight hug.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and looked at her painting which was facing up so I could see it. My heart sank when I felt a tear fall onto my shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered. She slowly pulled out of our hug but kept her hands delicately on my shoulders. "You've always been there for me, Keys," she said softly. "You've been my number one fan since you watched me draw in the dirt at that picnic."

"You've always been there for me," I chuckled. "How could I not return the favor?"

Y/N's tears started to fall again as she brought me in for another hug. As I felt her pressed to my chest, depending on me, I knew I'd never let her go. At that moment, I realized what character from my game I would be.

Lovelorn.

[xxputerxx]

Umm I really like your blog sir. Also umm you asked for fantasy's awhile back umm mine is being kidnapped and Stockholm syndromed. Like I start off really scared and angry but they are really nice to me and I slowly fall in love

I like that idea. You get captured by my military unit and I take a liking to you. Get a little protective

Bringing you warm meals I make from saving parts of mine. Getting you a warmer blanket and softer pillow. Stopping the other men from coming into the basement you’re held in

Apologizing for having to see you naked when I eventually volunteer to wash you (no way I’m letting them see you like this) and trying my best to be gentle about moving you around when I soap and rinse you. But I can’t help being extra slow, and delicate around certain areas. I try to hide it but you notice. I leave hard

Coming in with food everyday, and when you stop throwing it at me, I start staying and making you company

We don’t talk. You’re still my prisoner and we are far from friends but some part of me just needs to be near you. You’re the only person I’ve seen in a long time that isn’t holding a gun or dead. I like your company

When I’m there, you notice me glancing at you anytime you aren’t looking

Eventually you let me sit next to you when you eat. We talk in brief exchanges and you mention you liked reading. A few days later, after you finish eating, I pull out a slightly torn up, damaged book with burned edges. I apologize, it was the best I could find

I retie your restraints so they aren’t as uncomfortable. My hands lingering for half a second when I’m done having an excuse to touch you

I start staying longer after dinner. We talk more and more casually. Eventually I am leaving an hour before sunset. But there is no ignoring what this is. You are a prisoner and I am responsible for that. It’s my job

I am gone longer than usual when a soldier you don’t recognize comes down the stairs. He throws cold scraps of food on a metal tray down next to you.

Then grabs a bucket to fill with cold water.

He doesn’t say a word to you, just grabs at your dirty clothes and starts yanking them off. The force of him pulling at them is enough to throw you around and he slaps your head if you resist. Once you are inevitably naked, he throws the bucket of cold water on you. Then again, and again until you are shivering. He ties your restraints twice as hard. After your “bath” he turns to leave when he notices the blankets and pillows. He comes back and slaps you. Hard. You are not in a fucking hotel. He grabs the blankets and leaves

When I come back it’s late in the night. The basement has a small slit of a window for ventilation and the air coming through it is frigid.

I have a black eye. My knuckles swollen and darkened. Obviously there was a fight.

I come down with a blanket and fresh clothes, which are clearly just my undershirt and sweat pants for sleeping. I untie you completely. And check you for injuries. Running my hand along your face to check for fractures. Once I’m satisfied that you’re ok. I hand you the clothes. You struggle to get them on with your cold-numbed hands. I help you. I hold open the socks for you to step into them. Rolling them up your legs. I do the same for the pants. Looking into your eyes when it’s time to lift your butt so I can move them on to you. I glance down when you do. My breath almost catches. I place the shirt over your neck and very slowly pull it over your body. I barely manage to hide my glances

You are still freezing so I leave and grab my sleeping bag.

As you shimmy in, I hesitantly ask if you would maybe rather I stay to warm you up for a few minutes. Just enough for your body to start warming itself up. I’m worried. You could get sick.

When I climb in, to your surprise, I strip down to just pants. It’s so we have more skin to skin contact, for the heat, obviously.

The sleeping bag is tight. It was only designed for one person and despite my efforts there is no hiding that I am painfully hard. Every movement grinds you into me and I apologize while holding back groans.

Eventually we settle on being face to face in a hugging position. It’s the most comfortable

It takes less than 5 seconds from when I realize our lips are almost touching to when I kiss you for the first time. I pull back and wait for you to reciprocate.

When you do, things move fast. My pants are unbuckled and I move on top of you. The stupid fucking sleeping bag is so tight but I manage to pull your pants down to your ankles and line myself up with your entrance. My hand goes over your mouth. Firm. If I’m caught doing this it’s a write up at best but jail time at worst. I push in, slowly, and sink into you with my full weight. You feel so. fucking. good. We don’t have time to think. I start fucking you fast and deep. The only thing I hold back is how rough I can pound into you. My hips slamming into yours would be too loud. But the sound of us is inevitable. Breath catching, moans escaping, stifled groans and the sound of your wetness fills the small room. Between your voice in my ear and your smell and how fucking good you feel I cant hold it back any more. I look at you for confirmation. Speed up, then dump myself into you. Balls deep and twitching I can’t hold back my moan.

We stay like that for a long time, long enough that we fall asleep. I rush out in the morning. But I’ll be back tonight

[skzstoryvault]

Pastel Crimes (fluff, comfort)

F!Reader x Chan

Chan and his wife attend the wedding of someone in her family.

This is in no way connected or meant to be a reflection of the real person Bang Chan.

This is pure fantasy. Everyone would envy whoever married Bang Chan, no matter who they were. I thought this would be a very juicy, satisfying scenario.

Since it's a white people wedding, expect some micro-aggressions and boomer racism. Reader's family is misogynistic towards her.

The story stops right as the smut starts.

The "you" used here is not generic, I'm using it to allow myself some immersion on later re-reads. I know that's selfish but isn't all the writing advice telling us to write what we want to read? If you still find something in here to like, all the better - I hope you enjoy it and have a good time.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

***

“Your old aunt called me an oriental,” Chan says, causing a shiver of dread to go down your spine.

“She what now?!” You splutter. “Fuck me, she hit the bottle again, because when she’s sober she at least keeps her mouth shut. I’m really sorry, Channie. I… There’s really nothing that excuses it.” “You have nothing to apologise for. Old white people are racist and have no filter, but I knew that. I’ve been called worse.” “And at a wedding, too. See? This is why I never go to these things. I mean, on top of all of my family insisting that I’m gay and unemployed despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Every time we all meet it’s just… this shit.” “Hey, you’re doing great navigating this. And I’m having fun. The food is great, there’s some nice folks our age around and the bride and groom are lovely.” He says, amused. He’s a way better, classier person than you are, because you are ready to go out there and start a fight. “Besides, it’s nice to not be the centre of attention for a bit." "You know, calling me oriental the way people refer to those skinny long cats who pile together and meow your head off… that was kind of cute.” Chan carries on. “She saw us playing with the flower girls earlier and she asked me why I hadn’t put a couple of those in you yet. And why we’re married, if not to fuck with impunity. Something your sister and BIL also asked, in a less direct way. I guess they do believe you’re gay and I’m somehow just a very charitable friend who agreed to be your full time beard?” Mortification steals your breath, you want to say so much and nothing seems an adequate first reaction so you just gasp and hiss. “Channie- “ You start, feeling on the brink of tears. This is why you are low, low contact with your family. They openly told you you could do better, way better than your husband. He’s not tall enough. Not pretty enough, not rich enough, not white, and they just know all your kids would look fully Asian because the Korean gene would totally drown out the white one. You, on the other hand, know there is no better husband than Chan. He’s hot as all hell, is fiercely protective of you and, most importantly, he loves and genuinely sees an equal in you. You’re best friends and support each other through everything, and you genuinely enjoy each other’s company even ten years after getting married. The name thing is also a point of contention. You both kept your own surnames, since in Korea women don’t take the husband’s family name. But to your family, that’s just further proof you’re just married for the tax break and to dispel all allegations of you being gay. 

“I think it’s grand,” Chan continues. “They just don’t know you and never bothered to, and I think for that crime, they deserve to never be taken off the low information diet. You’d think that for being an only child, you’d be more loved. Like Hyunjin. His parents worship the ground he walks on.” “Hyunjin was a wanted child. And notably, a boy.” You say, sighing. “I’ve been justifying my existence since I was plopped out onto this Earth. Always asking for permission and apologising for daring to exist and wanting to do anything.” 

“You’re the treasure beneath my exploded church,” Chan says, referencing a book you gave him around the beginning of your relationship. Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist. “I’m so happy I got to know you and had the exceptional wisdom to make you my wife. Your family doesn't deserve you.” 

Family. This was a big theme all along the eleven years you’ve known each other. Chan having the seven members and viewing them as his actual children because he was and still is responsible for them. Them seeing him as their dad and cheekily testing his authority, but never his love. 

You somehow ending up not as a mom figure, but acting as a consigliere to Chan, like in a mafia hierarchy. His members now respect and love you just as much as they do their leader. 

“You and the members are my family. And I don’t care that we’re atypical and not the usual dad, mom and bio kids deal.” You say. “All of my older relatives and even my parents, they’ve been married for a lifetime but they can’t stand each other. They are just too scared to leave because divorce is lawyers and court and hassle and for the women, poverty. So they do not get to judge our relationship or you.” 

“Come here, baby. Real close.” Chan whispers, opening his arms. “Channie’s gonna make it all good.” 

You blush. Even after all this time, his comforting voice and freely offered hugs work on you like a charm. 

He enfolds you in his arms and brings you even closer to him, glueing you to his front and guiding your head to one of his shoulders, placing a dry kiss to your neck and sighing. It’s from this close that you feel it- “Chris? What’s the occasion?” You ask, lifting your head to look into his eyes. What could have given him a hard-on right now? It can’t have been the racism or the dysfunctional family interactions. 

“Uh- I-” He starts, folding an arm up and scratching the back of his neck. It’s one of his tells for when he’s nervous or embarrassed. “I haven’t told you just how hot you look in this dress. I’ve been managing a semi all day.” “Never change. God, please never change.” You say, shifting so you can kiss him. “You look smoking hot in the three piece suit too. Been wanting to tear you out of it in one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

You know he doesn’t believe you when you say he looks beautiful and hot in any outfit he puts on. But he’s grateful you’re always thinking of having your way with him, despite his lingering insecurities. Those aren’t just easily dissolved with a compliment or two. And it’s honest every time. He insisted you straighten his hair and he styled it the way company stylists used to for going on stage. He wore thin gold rim glasses instead of contacts to be comfortable and the suit he got matches with your dress. Both suit and dress are a vibrant chicory blue and he wore a white shirt with the first two buttons open and a midnight blue and gold pocket square. In your eyes, he outshone the groom, and the bride too, although you both fit into the dress code. But he cannot help being the hottest man at every gathering because he’s your husband and everyone is always drawn to him. Which is why you’re always thanking your luckiest stars for him. “You look amazing in the suit. And you looked even better when you took off the jacket to play with the kids. I was drooling watching you, and my sister thought I was looking at the kids and wanting some. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I was thinking at the time.” You say, amused at the memory. “I wish she would get off your back. Other than your old aunt with no filter, everyone else is giving me zero stress about kids. It’s not fair you get all the pressure and I get none. But I get why.” 

“Eh. In one ear, out the other.” You say. “I’ve been wanting to get you out of this suit all day.” He’s already undressing, careful but still hurrying. "Don't rush, baby, that's Valentino." You say, unzipping your dress and letting it fall to the floor, which leaves you in just a tiny string panty. “We do have the time.” He says, looking very affected by the sight of you. “By the time anyone misses us, we’ll be back.” “Don’t sell yourself short, Channie. You know I’m never done with you and you can go on for ages.”  “Yeah, good point. Well, I hope they don’t come looking for us then.” 

"It wouldn't be the worst if they did." You point out, taking his hand and pulling him close. "Might put those gay allegations to rest." He giggles. "According to Andrew Tate it's gay to have sex with your wife any time it doesn't result in a baby." Chan scoffs, clutching invisible pearls in mock- outrage. "Oh no! Turns out we were both gay this whole time!" He says, right before you two exchange a look and dissolve into giggles.

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Tuesday

Y'all can thank @astaldis for tagging me.

Flashback Scene from my Reeve/Rufus WIP featuring teenage!Rufus and bb!Reeve first meeting.

“You work here though, right?” The blond asked skeptically.

“I do, I’m Reeve Tuesti. I work in the Urban Planning division”

The name rang a bell actually, he was some hotshot up-and-comer that his father had been bragging about signing to an exclusivity contract before he’d even completed his Master’s program. He’d revolutionized how their Mako reactors operated within the first year of his employment and was already skyrocketing up the ranks of Urban Planning.

Which meant he was potentially an interesting and useful ally to cultivate.

At least that’s what Rufus was telling himself and not because he found the man’s earnest face and the kindness in his eyes appealing.

He made of show of pulling up the company directory and looked up Reeve’s company profile. “Alright, I believe you.”

“You’re pretty clever, aren’t you.” Reeve commented with an approving smile. “I don’t think I would have been that smart when I was your age.”

“Midgar can be a dangerous place.” He tried to ignore the strange little twist in his chest at that unexpected praise. Rufus wasn't used to adults praising him or being nice to him for no ulterior motive than to try and curry favor with his father.

“You’re right about that, I grew up in a pretty rural area of the Grasslands so it’s taken me a while to try and adapt to living in a busy city like Midgar.”

“Do you miss it? Living in a rural area?” Rufus asked curiously as they headed upstairs to level 64 which held the cafeteria and it was the final publicly accessible the building.

He’d never been to the cafeteria. His father wouldn’t be caught dead stepping foot in such a place and thus, neither was Rufus. It gave him a little bit of a rebellious thrill knowing he was bucking his father’s expectations once again.

That earned him a contemplative look and Reeve reached up to rub the back of his neck a little uncomfortably. It was clear he was trying to pick his words carefully which was understandable. No junior executive, even one with as much potential promise as this man would ever want to come across as ungrateful or dissatisfied with their position.

“I miss certain things, like my family of course. And I miss the stars and the flowers. But you can’t complain about the sheer convenience of living in a city like Midgar.”

The concept of missing one’s family was borderline impossible for Rufus to conceptualize. Even though he’d had his mother in his life for the first ten years of his life and he missed her still, he’d never a good example of what a semi-normal family life so such a thing sounded more like fantasy than reality to him.

“Though I could do without the amount of traffic. I’ve been trying to push through a plan to expand the public transportation systems to help with the commuter traffic in between the plates and the slums.” Reeve admitted with a wry-looking smile and some of the light in the man’s eyes had dimmed a little bit when he said that.

He was beginning to get his first taste of disappointment in realizing not everyone in Shinra shared his passion for bettering the city for the good of the common man.

Because he couldn’t stop himself from testing those around him, Rufus slanted a curious look over at Reeve once they stepped into the cafeteria.

“It sounds like you’re not having much luck with it though?” He was curious to see if this man was willing to complain about the company to a seemingly innocent civilian. If he did, that was definitely something he would talk to his father about. Reeve Tuesti might show promise but no one wanted a disloyal employee on their payroll.

“It’ll happen one day. There are simply other, more important projects to complete. Like finishing the walls to protect everyone from monsters and potential attacks. The SEPC takes it's mission of creating a better life for everyone serious. Midgar is going to be the city of the future, just you wait."

Rufus studied the man's sincere expression for any sign of artifice or tell-tale signs he was just parroting the company byline and was surprised to see the man seemed to genuinely believe what he’d just said.

Reeve Tuesti was either a lot better of a liar than he appeared to be or he genuinely did believe in his father’s dream of creating a city of the future. But the question was…had he been informed about the Neo Midgar project yet or not.

As for tagging other people, I don't really have too many writing buddies to tag. Blame my crippling social anxiety so anyone who wants to participate please do so and tag me!

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 38 - To Dream Alone

Chapter Summary: Gale sits with Church as he consumes another tadpole. The tiefling's training with Tavi doesn't quite go as planned, and Church finds himself making a decision when faced with a literal wish come true.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 177K+ words; Chapters 39/54

Excerpt below:

Tavi looks preoccupied for a moment, before looking reproachfully back at him. 

“All I want is for our world to be safe,” he says wearily. “For you to be safe. I thought that seeing this face would make you happy. I thought encouraging you to indulge in Astarion’s company would give you enough of something to live for. But I’ve seen your mind — you’re still the same fool, intent on being a martyr.”

“I don’t… live for people, Tav,” Church scoffs. 

“No, but you do try to die for them,” Tavi says pointedly. “The whole point of these powers is for you to survive at the very least long enough to defeat the Absolute. So no, I will not give you one more means to destroy yourself.”

They both stand stock-still — facing each other in tense, reproachful silence. 

“It’s not just for the sake of being a martyr,” Church says quietly. “Every terrible thing that has happened or is going to happen will be worth it if I can ensure the others come out of this intact. I want to protect my allies. My friends. Tav…” his voice shakes. “I wasn’t there to protect you. And I can’t let that happen again. Not to…”

“…Astarion?” Tav finishes for him flatly. 

“Well, he’s… among my friends,” Church flounders. “So of course.”

“Hells, when will you admit that it’s more than that?” Tav asks exasperatedly. 

The tiefling closes his eyes for a long moment, before sighing.  

“Tav… I know that I really do care about him,” he admits, choked. “Like I haven’t cared about anyone else since… you. But I don’t think he feels the same way. I think I’m just a means to an end for him, but…”

“Maybe you just like to be used, petal!” Auntie Ethel had cackled spitefully. 

Church looks defeatedly at his friend. 

“I don’t think I’m meant to be with anyone, Tav. I’m condemned. I’ll either be consumed by shadows in a few days or, best case scenario, in sixty-some years I’ll be like Withers in the ruins — a caretaker for Mother’s temple until I die.” 

He huffs frustratedly. “And I don’t know why I even bothered letting myself get attached to someone again, given that I know what’s to come…”

“You wanted to be known,” Tavi says gently. 

Church eyes him, frowning at the similarity of his phrasing to Astarion’s that first night they spent together.

“You wanted to be known,” Tavi repeats gently. “You wanted to be seen and heard. Understood. Remembered. And Church… you are known.” He hesitates before gently brushing his hand against the tiefling’s cheek. “You are loved.”

His hand drifts slowly to the back of Church’s neck, and the tiefling’s breath hitches as he stares up at his old friend. 

“I know everything about you,” Tavi murmurs to him. “Your hopes. Your fears. The things you’ve dreamt for a future you once never dared to imagine…” his mouth quirks up into a small, wistful smile. “…but you still imagined it, didn't you?”

“…yes,” Church breathes. 

“So, what did you imagine?” Tavi asks him gently. “For a scared blacksmith’s boy, marching off to be a paladin for the sake of his father’s dream?”

Church closes his eyes, reaching up to press his friend’s hand to his face. 

“I dreamed you wrote to me,” he chuckles ruefully. “Every month, like you promised. You came back to visit the village every summer, and it would be just like things were before. We’d run up to the top of the bell tower to watch the sunset. We’d tease Lydia and Mairead and prod them into sorting out their feelings faster. 

“Your father would warm up to me, but…” Church scoffs, “...perhaps that’s the most improbable fantasy of all. Still, I’d have dinner with you both on occasion. He’d stop leaving the tavern as soon as I walked in, at least. 

“I’d still set out from the village not too long after you, though,” he rambles. “I’d follow you to Neverwinter. I don’t think I’d try to be a paladin but maybe I’d join an adventurers’ guild there. I’d see you nearly every day we were both in town. Maybe we’d even work together. Either way, I could just… spontaneously meet you for drinks. Food. Maybe even dancing…” 

He sighs, stepping closer to Tavi. 

“…maybe eventually more, if that’s what we still wanted. Or maybe we’d have found someone else instead, but we’d still be friends. I’m certain of it. 

“But…” he chuckles sheepishly. “I used to imagine that you’d be my… first. Or by some miracle I’d be yours, even though you had a couple years of the big city life on me. I imagined it would have been just as awkward as our first kiss, but still in that way just as perfect, you know?

“And then no matter how things turned out over the years, whether we drifted apart or stuck together, we truly would know each other. We wouldn’t have had to make up for years of growth over a stack of letters. We’d have already… had this.”

Church chokes on a sob as he curls his fingers against Tavi’s chest. 

“They wouldn’t have taken this from us before we even got to try. I could have had… years. I could have stayed away from her and the shadows entirely and had a lifetime. I…”

His voice breaks off into a frustrated growl as his fingers clench into Tavi’s shirt. 

“…you wouldn’t have had to feel so alone,” Tavi nods in understanding. 

“Yeah,” Church says emptily, looking up into those infernal, honey-colored eyes. “…and neither would have you.”

Read from the beginning!

[v3nusxsky]

can i request lesso x reader with lots of fluff where the reader aren’t feel enough I mean whenever a person show any emotional affect towards her she immediately push away everyone and lesso didn’t give up she’s fighting for the reader and proves it that she is there for her anytime btw you’re amazing sending you lots of hugs

You kept coming back|h&c

*Authors note~ i love the idea of this as someone who it's hard to get close to I hope I can give this some justice. You guys spoil me with compliments I love you all*

Trigger warning~ trust issues, pushing everyone away. Hinted sexual assault

Prompt~see ask^^^^

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

People were notorious for letting you down, it's all you ever knew. How could you expect anything else from anyone? So you built walls, put up defences and shut yourself off. You would protect yourself at all costs and that was something you swore to yourself you would do. Part of that was to avoid all human interactions that included any emotional connection. People often view you as cold and distant so there wasn't exactly many people trying to emotionally connect with you.

With how resistant you were to form any bonds it was no surprise that you were indeed quite isolated. It was safe and comfortable and you often found yourself seeking solace in books, fantasy and factual books were your favourite. You found company in the stories and facts in the books, due to this you were quite knowledgeable in many subjects but you just didn't have the social connections to share it with anyone.

The one person who was trying to break down your walls and defences was the Dean of Evil. You caught her interest when you started at the school. Your preference for solitude and sitting in the corners of the room back to the rest of the population. It was intriguing to her, she was desperate to find out why you were exhibiting such strange behaviours. That was rare even for a Never. She made sure to observe from afar at the start. When it became clear that this was not a phase for you she began to become concerned. It was not common that even a Never wouldn't form of connection with at least one person.

Her first attempt at approaching you was met with a simple act of ignorance, you acted as though she wasn't there, you just shoved your head in your book and carried on. Lesso knew then you wouldn't give in so easily. Every day she made attempts to get you to open up, each attempt was unsuccessful. It was bothering you, you could feel your resolve awaking and that was absolutely terrifying. You had to keep her out and yourself safe. Your heart truly couldn't take anymore damage.

For the next few days you fought harder, any progress Leonora thought she had made was swiftly destroyed. Whoever had hurt you had done one hell of a job. The eviler sides of her admired the pain caused but the softer side felt the urge to shelter you from all things bad in the world. Her two views constantly battling against one another that she missed what happened to you.

Some of the Never boys had placed a bet, a bet they could sleep with you, you apparently had become the schools most popular target. Unfortunately the Never boys had one rule, the first to get you gets to do as they will. You were not aware of this until you were cornered on the way back to your dorm. You didn't know who it was, one of the downsides of you never forming an attachment to anyone, all you knew was you wanted to go. His hands firmly keeping you against the wall as he murmured just what he was going to do to you and how wining this bet would make him so well respected. His hands trailed over your clothed body and you truly felt sick to the stomach. The panic you felt causing you to freeze, you felt powerless, helpless and weak.

Truthfully you don't know how you got away from the situation, it was all hazy. All you remember was his cry of pain and your legs moving as fast as they can in an unknown direction. You didn't stop running, slamming doors as you made your way round the school until you some how found yourself in Leonora's office. Her cry of surprise at the sudden intrusion seemed to shock you back to reality, "darling? What on earth happened?"

One simple question caused you to fully break down, collapsing in a heap on the ground sobbing uncontrollably. Truthfully, you were tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of being alone. Tired of protecting yourself from affection as if you didn't crave it. Maybe that's why you threw yourself into her arms as soon as she was close enough to do so. Credit where it's due, she didn't even falter, hands instantly wrapping around you in a secure hug. Your body shook with the force of the sobs, she whispered and rocked you like a small child. Although she had no idea what would cause this, she could tell this was what you needed. How long had it been? She didn't know but here and now she knew that for as long as you desired it she would be your safe person. And for you, you finally let her in past all your protection, you answered her unasked question through whimpers, "I'm sorry, it's just. You kept coming back and" you took a deep breath, "I really needed this."

Word count~ 954