#he runs his hand up her calf to her thigh bc she says she wants a big ass tattoo and he has to measure ya know😏😏😏

[throwmethroughawindow]

sometimes i go through little phases where I find Bakugou one of the most attractive anime characters ever and I love everything about him and then a couple weeks later I wanna gouge my eyes out for thinking that and I wanna scrub all my fics of him off the internet

#mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #but I love him though #his mean temperament is everything #I want that man in my mouth #please #currently brainstorming ideas of deku bringing a female friend to a hang out w the squad #and Bakugou gets so jealous and wants to know how someone like deku got someone like reader #and reader flirts w Katsuki and tells him she wants a tattoo from him #and he runs his hand all the way from her calf to upper thigh #and then they FUCK #bc Bakugou wants everything deku gets and deku and reader are just friends #pls I want him to ruin me #anything I’d give for it #pls #he runs his hand up her calf to her thigh bc she says she wants a big ass tattoo and he has to measure ya know😏😏😏 #ya know w his big scarred hand #so big choke me pls

[kuroos-moon]

『The Pretty Third Year』

pairing: Oikawa Toru x Reader

anon request: can i pls hav a scenario where oikawa was practicing his serves and the f!reader was hit by the ball and when he came to her she saw his face and was like: “..god?” or smth like that skdhsj

a/n: ngl kinda got carried away with this one

wc: 1.1k

genre: just some fluff and hinting of future romance bc oikawa’s smitten lmao

warning/s: none

You had no care for the world at all as you stroll towards the almost empty volleyball gym, skeptical about your decision to give being their manager a go. 

“You won’t regret it, you’ll see, I bet you’ll get along with our captain,” Kindaichi grins. 

“Hm, now that you say it, Oikawa-san and y/n would click, childish minds and all that shit,” Kunimi nods, “up to you though,” followed by a shrug. 

Well, their words can’t have come from nowhere, even Kunimi agrees that you’ll love managing the team, and gaining a few more friends isn’t bad either. Poking your head through the doorway, you scan the place, immediately intimidated by the frowning third year by the benches. 

In an instant you hide outside, telling yourself that you could maybe make friends elsewhere and that being their volleyball team manager just ain’t for you. Right, you smile to yourself, relieved that you didn’t have to face any scary scowling third years. 

“Oy y/n I saw you, just come in!” You kinda want to punch an onion-head right now, but you keep it cool and stop moving, hoping the silence would be enough sign for him to leave you alone. 

“Maybe you’re imagining things.” Listen to Kunimi, please.

“Y/n just come in!” 

“Fine,” you grumble to yourself, legs begrudgingly carrying you towards the door. The last thing you see is Kindaichi’s horrified expression before you’re knocked to the ground.

For more than a few seconds, everything’s shifting and you couldn’t comprehend what was happening around you, your head hurt and you were beyond dizzy. Just when you’re about to fall to your side— your head no doubt bound to make contact with the wooden floor, a hand supports your head from behind while your back rested on something firm, warm and moist with sweat. 

Oh, it’s someone’s thigh. 

Your vision’s all blurry with your head pounding too much for you to understand the string of apologies and “are you okay’s” from Oikawa, who guiltily so— was the one to hit you with his infamous nasty serve. 

“Iwa-chan is she dead? Oh my god I can’t kill someone!” 

“Y/n are you alright?”

“Back off, give her some space, but seriously are you okay? Can I take you to the hospital?” Toru couldn’t hide the worry and panic in his voice as he looked back at your squinted eyes, his calf starting to ache from having to support you with his thigh but he couldn’t care less, no. 

Finally, you could see quite better, though you still had to squint your eyes as you looked up at the the third year who held you, the light a tad bit too bright behind his head. 

“It’s too bright,” you groan in pain, and you feel his hand brushing strands of hair off your face. “Is it now?” You hear him mutter mindlessly to himself under his breath before he slightly shifts, now blocking the light from your face. 

“Better?” He smiles, and when you could now see him clearly, it’s as if your brain and rationality flew out the window. “Pretty,” the word comes out in a genuine and awestruck tone, definitely clear and loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Oikawa Toru was indeed the prettiest person your eyes ever landed on your whole life— with his mint green Seijoh shirt, the material sticking to his chest because of his sweat, his handsomely disheveled hair that you could only imagine running your fingers through, and with his lips slightly apart as he breathed through them; chest rising up and down quite heavily, obviously because he’s been practicing too long. 

He smells so freaking great, and he was extremely close you’re gravitated to hold him. 

What really had you smitten and weak were his eyes though, with the way he looked at you, you could almost pretend he found you as interesting and beautiful as you did him. 

You snap out of it the moment you hear Kindaichi’s laughter. Oikawa was clearly surprised at what you had just said—speechless, eyebrows raised, and head cocked to the side in puzzle. 

Kunimi snorts from behind his captain, “she’s okay,” he says while trying to stifle his giggle. Oikawa’s caught in a dilemma, should he flirt and get carried away with the admiring look in your eyes or should he check on your condition first?

The latter, he tells himself. 

“Y/n-chan, was it? You okay? Does your head hurt?” He calmly asks you as he helps you completely sit up without having to lean on him. 

Toru being afraid you’ll collapse or get dizzy again, was still sitting at the balls of his feet, his thigh just behind your back and his hand unconsciously massaging your head. This doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone, of course— what a shocker, the Great Oikawa was genuinely this concerned even though you’re evidently okay now?

“Here,” he offers his hand, helping you stand up, the both of you failing to fight the fuzzy feeling in your chests at the contact. You may look like you were still battling the dizziness in your head but in reality, you were cringing so bad now that you’ve realized what you had just said. 

“Thanks, Oikawa-senpai,” you shyly mutter, your idiot friends giggling at your exchange. For obvious reasons, you can’t bring yourself to look up at Oikawa, “I’m really sorry y/n-chan, you appeared out of nowhere, you could hit me back if you like, though Iwa-chan already hit me hard too, wait, no, the point is, I’m really really sorry,” he brings his hands together as he slightly bows his head.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it,” you try to reassure him, instinctively grabbing his hands to have him retrieve himself from that position and at the same time planning your escape. “Uh, it’s late, I have to go,” you awkwardly say when he looks at you, and your eyes meet even if it’s just for a mere second before you looked away again. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks, eyes darting to his hands which you’ve held just seconds ago— he doesn’t want you to go yet. 

“Yes, uh, goodnight, and uhm well, take care,” you flush, cringing at every word that came out of your mouth. Take care? Wow, you sound so stupid. 

Before he could say something back, you’ve rushed out of the gym, his heart ultimately deflating after seeing you go. With a sigh, he turns on his heels to get back to practicing his serves— he can’t help it, there’s nothing he could do to see you nor does he have any reason to talk to you again. 

Little did he know you sat right outside the gym, on the first step of the staircase, with your hand on your chest at an attempt to calm down your erratic heartbeat. The image of his smile, his eyes, his face— breathtaking. His voice was velvet and his supposedly platonic touches were so immaculate for you that you still feel the tingles and the warmth despite being out there in the cold. 

Your friends were right, you’d love to manage their team.

or maybe you’ll love him, an involuntary voice from your subconscious makes you grow flustered all over again. 

“That sucked,” Iwaizumi comments just to piss him off more, referring to his 27th failed attempt at a decent serve. Oikawa groans, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “how annoying!” 

“Oikawa-san, you’ll see her again, you know,” Kunimi nonchalantly says without looking up as he scrolls through his phone, aware of how he’s got his captain’s attention in an instant. 

“What? What do you mean? I wouldn’t care less if I don’t Kunimi-kun,” he tries to brush it off, though he was beyond curious— when and how could he look back at those pretty e/c eyes of yours and hear you call him pretty again? 

“Y/n L/n, Seijoh first year, class 1-2,” he says with an eye roll. Oikawa grins— so you went to his school too, now there’s nothing to be down about anymore. Maybe he’ll accidentally cross paths with you in the halls and maybe he’ll accidentally strike up a conversation too. 

“So you guys are friends?” He asks, the subtle smile on his face never shaken off. “I guess, and just so you know, she came here because we asked her to try being our manager.” 

“Our manager?” He smirks, spinning the ball in his hands now with oozing confidence and ease, “even better,” he chuckles before tossing the ball in the air, and with full force sending it across the net, successfully hitting the floor with precision, speed and power. 

“Someone’s fired up,” Iwaizumi says with an eye roll, but his comment was ignored as Toru happily hums to himself, picking up another ball from the ground 

“Can’t wait to know you, y/n l/n.” 

General Taglist: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff​ @animebs​ @sunshine-hina​ @hajimesbbygrl​ @kellesvt​ @24hr7dysdizzy​ @arnxldss​

send an ask to be added

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! scenarios #oikawa tohru #haikyuu!! oikawa #oikawa toru #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu onseshots #haikyuu!! oneshots #haikyuu!! fluff #oikawa fluff

[lovelymaybankk]

midsummer - jj maybank

request - so can you do one where y/n is a kook /pogue like Kiara and they are at midsummers. JJ has a thing for y/n but she doesn’t know. Rafe and topper bring her alone in the Locker room to mess w her and have a reason to provoke jj. JJ comes in and tries to save you my fighting them, it is 5 against 1, so you help him fight and it rips y/n’s dress. Rafe talks shit and calls y/n a slut and finally y/n calms jj down after he wins the fight

a/n - I literally love this req actually sm wtf. its gonna be in lowercase again haha oopsies. and i changed 5v1 to 3v1 bc im cool

tw - swears, fighting, not necessarily a slow burn but it takes forever lol

w/c - 2.819

y/n sat at the edge of her queen sized bed, fingers running oh so carefully across the dress. the dress was a long, baby blue color which looked amazing with her eyes. the dress fell off her shoulders, a slit in the right leg. it fit her perfectly, complimenting her figure in the most amazing way. because of the tightness, she couldn’t wear a bra or else she may have died from how tight is was around her chest.

her legs dangled over the edge, barefoot trying her hardest to not touch the cold hardwood. the last place she wanted to go tonight was the midsummers party. but, growing up a kook life she had to go. thats the one thing about her life she hated. a kook.

a stupid name for being rich. she hated the title so much, that she had decided the past few months of her life to change. it happened the moment she met kiara.

“holy shit!” kiara ran across the beach, kicking sand up behind her. the two girls ran straight into eachother, falling backwards. y/n rubbed her forehead, looking up at the girl that she had crashed into. they looked at eachother the same way, realizing they somehow knew eachother. “you go to kook academy?” kiara finally spoke up, breaking the silence. and for a moment, she forgot what she was running from. y/n nodded, standing and helping the other girl.

y/n dusted the sand off her ass, looking back up at the girl. “kie! stop socializing with the kooks,” a boy hollered, running beside kiara and slapping her back before running again to two other boys. was it that obvious y/n was a kook?

“sorry about that,” kiara smiled to the obviously concerned girl. “thats my friend. hes a dick,” she whispered to y/n, which finally got a reaction from her.

“so, why’re you on the cut?” kiara asked, trying to start a conversation. 

y/n shrugged, arms crossing over her chest. “can’t stand my family anymore.” she laughed, rocking from the balls of her feet to her toes. she felt awkward, having necessarily nobody to talk to. she hadn’t lied when she said she couldn’t stand being with her family anymore. all they did was criticise her, saying she had to be more like her sister who had a bunch of friends. while y/n stood mainly by herself with maybe one friend.

kiara nodded, glancing back at the boys who were waiting for her. “hey, do you know how to surfboard?” she asked suddenly, catching y/n off guard.

“yeah, a little.” y/n shrugged, still rocking a little.

“wanna come with my friends and i?”

thats where y/n met the rest of the group.

ever since that day, y/n had joined the friend group. she didn’t fit in immediately. the boys weren’t a fan of her being there when kiara introduced her, but eventually they came around. one more than others. jj thought she was gorgeous, a funny girl who broke out of her shell. but, she was a kook. and jj hates kooks. so he would always pick arguments with her, but y/n never took them to heart.

they got along well. jj always shared his beers with her, knowing she can’t handle as much alchohol as him. he was the most protective of her than anybody, never letting her out of his sight. it wasn’t hard for the pogues to see that he had a crush. everybody but the two knew about it.

when y/n finally fit in, it was like she was always there. her and kiara both agreed on how much they hated the kook life, though there were some upsides, being on the run was a lot more fun.

controlling your own life. it was amazing. refreshing. just being free.

the memory made y/n smile to herself, standing from her bed finally to finish whatever she had left of getting ready. she was going for kiara. the girl finished her makeup, sliding on the sandals she was wearing and going down the spiral stairs. she finished putting her earrings and entering the car with her family. they rode in silence, entering together and eventually everybody left to do their own thing.

“kie!” y/n called from across the porch, running to the girl and embracing her. “i already know i’m not gonna make it her for long,” she sighed dramatically, getting a slap from kie.

“don’t worry, your boyfriend will be here soon enough.” kie teased, arm draping around the girls shoulder like jj’s had done so many times. y/n’s face flushed, hard to tell under the makeup she wore. “oh y/n, be safe. i don’t want you getting hurt,” kie continued to mess with the girl, making her voice deep as to make fun of jj.

“oh shut up kie. you act like i don’t see the way pope and you eye fuck eachother.” y/n retorted, shaking the girl off of her. this got a reaction from kie, the two fighting eachother while making fun of pope and jj.

“damn,” jj spoke to himself, quite loudly, walking towards the two girls. he wore a butlers outfit, hair somewhat slicked back but still messy and untamed. jj looked sexy, as y/n would think.

“see something you like?” kie gestured to y/n, making jj bite his lip jokingly.

“hell yeah,” his arm wrapped around y/n’s shoulder like kies had done earlier, making kie’s eyebrows raise. “how are you two enjoying the party?” he acted like a sever, pulling away from y/n as a group of kooks passed by.

“oh its amazing,” y/n joked, eyes batting aggressively to help convince the boy it was a joke. from behind jj, y/n spotted rafe, topper and their goons. her face pulled into a snarl, “bogeys two o’ clock.” 

jj turned, eyes rolling. “they look dumb,” he muttered, connecting eye contact with rafe before turning around. y/n hummed in agreement, kie doing the same.

“hey, i see pope,” kie pointed to the boy who was turned from the group. “i’ll be back.” she let out a brief smile, picking the edge of her dress up to move quickly towards the boy. this left jj and y/n alone, in a peaceful silence. 

jj smoothed down the button up he was wearing, looking up at the girl in front of him. he felt the note in his pocket, remembering why he was at the midsummer party in the first place. “i’ll be back, madam, i have to go give a note to princess kook.” he spoke in a posh accent, taking y/n’s hand into his own and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

y/n nodded, bowing respectfully at the boy and walking away in time with him. she went to the back, looking for her family. knowing she wouldn’t be able to find them, she weaved her way in and out of the many people and successfully entered the building. 

footsteps were behind her, but she ignored them. suddenly, a boy walks infront of her. hes much taller, dark skinned and y/n recognized him as kelce. her breath hitched, but she continued to walk, trying to go around the boy.

a hand grabbed y/n’s arm, tugging her backwards making her trip on her heels. “um, excuse me-” she tried staying polite but stopped when she saw rafe was the one holding her. seeing the boy made her writhe and try and free herself. “let me go!” she seethed, falling onto her ass.

rafe tsked, looking down the hall before shoving her into the mens bathroom. it was conveniently empty, which helped to bring a sick smile onto his face. topper followed in, while kelce took a moment before also entering.

outside, jj was looking around for you everywhere. he had given the note to sarah cameron, pushing past many people as he tried his hardest to spot you over the crowd. “kie!” jj called, spotting somebody he finally knew. “have you seen y/n?” he was worried. you never just disappeared without somebody. or at least without telling somebody. 

kie shook her head, not knowing. “last i saw she was inside.” she nodded her head towards the building, making jj sigh. jj glanced around, noticing he didn’t see the three dickheads either. this made his heart speed up. he tensed a little, ignoring whatever kie was saying and leaving to enter the huge building. 

and back inside, y/n was struggling to get out of rafes grip, being dragged around the dirty bathroom floors still on her ass. he gave her arm a rough squeeze, which will most definitely be leaving a bruise before dropping it. y/n hissed, recoiling back into herself in the far corner. topper and rafe stood above her, topper more uncomfortable rather than the boy beside him.

y/n looked at them, concern laced on her face.  “what do you want-” she hissed, her leg getting grabbed as rafe crouched to her height. he pulled her close to his body, her knee flush with the boys crotch. where the fuck is jj? the girl wondered to herself, pulling herself away from the boy.

jj ran down the long halls, opening every door to try and find the girl who he was looking for. finally he stopped to catch his breath, waiting outside of the womens restrooms. they wouldn’t be in there, he thought, but he might as well check. jj gathered whatever self esteem he had left, pushing open the door.

rafe’s hand slid up from y/ns calf to her lower thigh, making the girls stomach drop. topper crouched beside the boy, grabbing y/n’s wrists as she went to slap him away. she struggled against him, her mouth opening to scream but she felt like her mouth was dry. she felt empty, weak, trying hard to fight but she knew there was no way. kelce watched from behind rafe, giving y/n a look of apology, almost, before looking away. 

y/n regained her energy when she heard soft footsteps outside of the bathroom, letting out a shrill scream of help. it was cut short by a very rough- and non-consensual- kiss. she pulled away quickly, eyes filling with tears as she did so. her head slammed against the wall, sending a shock of pain through her head down her neck. when had she gotten so close to the wall? what are they gonna do to her? now her heart was racing, letting out a silent sob. 

jj heard the scream. he stopped, waiting to see if he could hear another. he rushed out of the womens bathroom, bursting the mens bathroom door open. he stopped, his ears turning red from anger quickly. seeing y/n in the corner, surrounded by three guys who he knew she despised made his blood boil. 

his anger got the best of him quickly. jj jumped into action immediately, throwing a punch across kelce’s face, catching him off guard. kelce hissed in pain,  clutching his cheek before quickly retaliating.

the fighting made rafe and topper release y/n quickly, the girl cowering in the corner in fear. there was blood flying around, staining jj’s shirt as he was obviously cornered. y/n cursed, standing as she watched rafe go to kick jj in the balls. she jumped onto his back, grabbing the back of his collar to choke the boy. he coughed, flipping the girl off with ease. he turned, kicking her shin roughly with a snarl.

jj’s arms were pinned behind him, topper punching his stomach and watching the boy double over in pain. kelce released his grip slightly, giving jj the opportunity to  reel his leg foreward, pushing it backwards into kelce’s crotch with whatever energy he had left. 

y/n stood quickly, her arm swinging, punching rafe across the face and hitting his jaw. the sudden burst of adrenaline gave the punch extra force, knocking the boy back and making him stumble. he snarled, lunging at y/n and knocking her to the ground, he held her down, tearing the gorgeous blue fabric she wore. 

anger surged through jj at the sight, topper going to hit him again. he dodged quickly, punching the boy in the gut and pushing him backwards into the wall. he threw atleast ten punches at the boys face and stomach, slumping down quickly with blood rushing from his nose and lip.

rafe ignored what was happening behind him, one of his hands caressing y/n’s face in a sick way. “you’d be much prettier if you weren’t such a fucking slut.” he hissed, slapping her across the face with anger. his face softened for a moment as he saw what he just did, but quickly returning to his normal resting bitch face.

y/n thought jj might’ve killed him. jj pulled rafe backwards, both of them stumbling before regaining their form. jj grabbed rafes collar, grabbing his jaw roughly. a surge of pain ran through rafe’s body, stopping him from fighting back. 

“you never. and i mean fucking never. call my girl a slut.” jj hissed, lifting his leg to kick the boy back. rafe fell, to tired to fight back. jj’s eyes looked at you, covering your chest where the tear was. he sunk beside you, anger still coursing through his veins.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t there,” y/n could tell jj was beating himself up for no reason, it wasn’t his job to look after you constantly anyway. jj shook his head, feeling so terrible. “what’d they do to you?” he asked softly, seeing as the girl looked a little stirred up but not awful. 

“he tried touching me. but im okay,” y/n cooed, arms wrapping around the boy. she didn’t care about the tear anymore. her hands wrapped around the back of jj’s head, holding him close.

“i’m gonna kill him. i swear,” jj spoke as though the boy wasn’t close by, though he may have left at this point (they weren’t paying attention to the three boys they fought off). y/n shook her head, staying silent. 

“is there an issue, gentlemen?” a guard opened the door, catching the five in there off guard. y/n looked at him with wide eyes, covering her chest again. 

“no there... actually yes.” jj started, clearing his throat and wrapping his arm around the girl beside him.  “we were in here for um, destruction of property.” he came up with something, smiling at the guard and squeezing y/n’s side as to tell her to go along with it.

“yup. and these men were about to escort us out.” y/n continued, smiling cheekily as she glanced at the boys around her.

“which is what you should do,” jj stood, helping the girl up.

“escort us. out.” y/n wasn’t the best at lying, but the guard seemed to believe them. he led them out, rafe catching their attention again

rafe let out a sly cough, muttering the word ‘slut’ under his breath. jj turned, ready to throw another punch but y/n caught his arm and stopped him.

“he isn’t worth it,” y/n said softly, leading jj back outside.

after jj taking a shot from a random man, and y/n escaping the wrath of her parents, the pogues escaped the party and ran to meet john b. y/n and jj stayed back, not saying much. there was plenty of awkward silence between them, both wanting to say something about what just happened but they couldn’t. y/n wore the blazer jj had on earlier, covering her chest from everybody.

“so.” y/n stopped walking, jj following soon and looking at her.

“so?” he seemed confused, stepping closer.

“your girl?” y/n brought up what he said earlier, a smile on her face. jj’s face dropped, hoping she forgot he said that.

“i have no clue what your talking about.” jj shrugged it off, continuing to walk. he sauntered away, trying not to show his embarrassment.  

“wow, okay.” y/n laughed, running to catch up with him. “guess you won’t wanna be my boy then?” she teased, arm wrapping around his arm and latching them together.

“well, who said that?” jj’s face flushed, grinning cheekily at the girl. the smiled at each other, before bursting out into laughter. they were far behind the group, turning towards each other.

it seemed like there was a gravitational pull between them. y/n’s hands cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a short but sweet kiss. jj’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling away from each other but shortly returning to each other again. they felt in that moment, like they were perfect for each other. and they were.

#jj maybank #jj x reader #kiara #kiara x pope #pope #pope heyward #john b #john b x sarah #sarah #sarah cameron #slow burn #fight #rafe cameron #topper #kelce #fights #blood #swears #swear

[sugarsugarmoon]

Seokjin smut pls & ty 💞

Summary: ksj x reader

Genre: smut, pwp

Warnings: swearing, oral sex (f. receiving), role play sorta ish I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A/n: inspired by the song “Holy” by King Princess. Seriously it’s my most listened song of 2018 and 2019. Check it out. It’s worth it. She’s the lesbian hero I needed as a teen. Also, I wrote this on my phone while sitting in dead stopped traffic for an hour on a mountain road today, and I’m not proofreading it. Deal with it. Will lyrics of songs I was listening to make an appearance? Will my phone have autocorrected everything into Spanish cognates bc I constantly forget to switch back to the English keyboard? I’ll never know.

WC: 757

You kick off your heels as soon as you walk through the door. You’d worn them enough that it wasn’t a struggle to wear them, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

Your navy gown swept along the carpet as you walked, rolling your neck from one side of your shoulders to the other. Seokjin had gone in a car separately from you for your and his safety. You knew it was necessary, but it didn’t mean you liked it.

You stand in front of the vanity mirror as you slowly unclassified your bracelet and slide the earrings out of your ears. Someone had sent over diamonds for you to wear to the red carpet of Seokjin’s movie, and you didn’t even want to know how much the were worth, carefully placing them in the box.

While you’re looking down, you feel fingers graze the skin on your neck. You jump, swatting at the hand that touched you, but when you look at the perpetrator, Seokjin’s brown eyes are dancing with amusement looking at you.

“Relax,” he whispers.

He turns you back toward the mirror. He runs his fingers across the delicate skin of your neck and shoulders. You reach up to unhook the necklace, but Seokjin stops you.

“Leave it.” His voice is raspy, and his eyes look tired in the mirror. His hands stroke the chain of the necklace, then he starts to unzip your dress.

“Yobu, you look like a fucking queen,” he says, his lips finding the shell of your ear, and his breath gives you goosebumps up and down your arms. You feel your nipples harden against the velvet material of the dress. You giggle at his words.

“Oh yeah? Then shouldn’t you kneel before your queen?” You joke back.

Seokjin commits fully to the bit, as he always does, and drops to his knees in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, your majesty, for such impropriety.” He bows his head, and you can see his hand creeping along the floor toward the bottom of your dress.

“What is it you desire?” You ask, choking back your laughter.

Seokjin slips his fingers under the hem of your dress and brings your foot and calf toward him. You wobble slightly, supporting yourself against the vanity. He kisses your ankle softly, then your shin, then your calf.

“I simply wish to sing praises to my queen. A fair and benevolent ruler who rules with a velvet tongue,” he states, lips still pressed to your skin. “Your highness, will you let me praise you?”

You can feel the blush spreading to your cheeks and between your legs. You nod once, and Seokjin stands, leading you  toward the bed. He pushes the straps of your dress to the floor, and it pools at your feet. He gently removes all of your red carpet undergarments with minimal struggles.

He has you lie back on the bed, ass right on the edge. He spreads your legs and traces patterns on your inner thighs. Seokjin’s mouth forms a small O, and he blows cool air against your folds. You hadn’t realized how wet you actually were until his breath hit you.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, but you let out a moan.

“Valiant knight, certainly you wouldn’t keep your queen waiting,” you taunt. 

Without a word, Seokjin laughs and buries his face between your thighs. He runs his tongue slowly back and forth across your clit. After a minute, his plump lips wrap around the little bud, and he sucks gently. 

Seokjin was incredibly skilled with his mouth, and he usually reduced you to a whimpering puddle. Tonight is no different. Before long, his slow, steady ministrations are causing a wave of pleasure to start building inside of you.

You feel the wave start to crash all around you as you come hard on his tongue. Your fingers lace into his hair and grip him tightly as he pushes your hips down hard against the mattress. You gyrate as much as you can against his face as you ride out the orgasm.

When you’re finally coming down, panting hard, you let go of Seokjin’s hair, and your hips still. He climbs up and kisses you deeply on the mouth and pushes the sweaty hair off your forehead.

“Did it please the queen?”

“Yes, brave knight. If you give the queen a moment to catch her breath, she’d love to show her appreciation for your commitment to your kingdom.”

You both giggle as you kiss gently, waiting to catch your breath.

#seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #hearts for bts #smutcentralnet #btswritingcafe #jin x reader #bts smut #jin smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #drabble games #sort of

[canumoveurseatup-no]

front row seats

part two to listening party - please read warnings before continuing to read, don’t read if any of those warnings bother you.

summary: why listen when they can just watch? and maybe even... participate?

pairing: bruce x black!reader (18+ as always), avengers x black!reader 18+

wc: 3k (did this on mobile so sorry for no ‘keep reading’ tan)

warnings: NASTY NASTY NASTY!! Please be 18+!! age gap, exhibitionism (fuckin in front of the team), voyeurism (the team watching you get fucked), creampie yet again, crying kink again (bc i’m a submissive whore and love it when ppl make me cry during sex), choking, daddy kink, crude language, squirting, masturbation, rough sex, subspace, toe sucking (not a fan of it but wanted to try writing it lmao), oral (male and female both receiving), anal play, orgy tendencies

a/n: just noticed i reached 3000+?! wow, it still amazes me that i even have followers at all and lovely people who appreciate my work. i hope y’all know i mean it when i say i love y’all bc you’re encouraging a passion of mine, thank you so much!

———————

“Okay but before you head off to fuck the night away...can we watch this time?,” Tony was not afraid to be blunt. He said what everyone else was thinking

“Tony, you can’t just ask people to watch them go at it!.” Steve was completely appalled by Tony’s actions but he was hoping deep down you and Bruce said yes

“Well everyone’s thinking it! My ‘listening party’ file is filling up. I demand front row seats,”

“Okay.” You and Bruce look at each other and just shrug. They’ve heard enough to make a whole playlist- might as well give them a mental visual download.

Sam’s eyes widen and he sits up straight in his chair, “Woah, seriously?,”

“We’re comfortable enough with ourselves to put on a show,” Bruce’s hand rubbed circles on your back which had you leaning into him.

Bucky was the first to stand up, rubbing his hands together, ready to get this show on the road. “Well slather butter on my ass and call me a turkey, this is great!,”

You snickered and shook your head, taking Bruce’s hand to lead him to the bedroom, “Barnes, don’t ever say that again,”

—————

“But I want that seat!,”

“No, I sat here first!,”

“Natasha, mooooove,” Tony stomped his foot like a child before just deciding to take the chair from under her and sitting in it. This would give him a perfect view of all angles.

“I’m gonna find your listening file and delete it all!,”

“You wouldn’t dare!,”

“Would y’all sit down and shut up!,” Sam had taken a seat by the window that way he’d have a good side profile view of you. Thor sat with a beer in his hand beside Wanda at the left corner of the bed, Bucky and Steve sat beside each other by the closet, they were farthest away, but the view was still perfect, Natasha, Clint and Tony sat at the foot of the bed, lined up like three musketeers.

The bickering stopped when they heard a sweet whimper fall past your lips. Your back was against Bruce’s chest and you held a body wand against your sensitive clit, Bruce kissing your shoulders and neck while twisting, pinching and tugging your nipples.

“Want you to get your pussy nice and wet for everyone, okay dove?,”

Your hips buck up into the head of the wand as you turned the vibrations up, “y-yes Daddy,”

“Oh she kills me with that,” Tony sighs to himself. If only you were calling him that. Tony wanted you so bad, more than anyone else if he did say so himself.

“Keep playing with that pussy, baby. Get yourself all slippery and creamy for us,”

Your hands shook as the realization hit that you were actually being watched. It not only terrified you but turned you on all in the same breath.

“Oh she’s about cum already, I can smell it on her. It’s delicious,” Thor takes a swig from his beer and cleared his throat while his eyes remained glued to your glistening heat.

“Is he right, dove? You about to cum?,” Bruce pinched your nipples harder making your moans fall on their ears like a beautiful symphony.

“Gonna cum,” you confirm.

He flicked the switch higher and your legs shook harder as you fought your body to keep the wand against your clit. You were easily overstimulated but you loved it due to the euphoria subspace brings in the midst of it.

“Gonna be a good girl and show them how cute you look when you cum?,”

Everyone was still surprised with the way Bruce talked to you. So encouraging yet sweetly nasty.

They all had their eyes glued on you. Not sure whether to keep their eyes on your pussy or your facial expressions, an internal conflict they all had to fight because both were sinfully enticing.

Bruce’s hands pin your thighs down as you threw the toy to the side once you started to cum. Their jaws dropped when they saw gushes of clear fluid coming from you. Your body convulsing as gush after gush came. Squirting right at the foot of the bed where the three sat.

“Oh Jesus,” Sam whispered to himself

“This... is why I wanted a front row seat,” Tony pointed to the wetness on your comforter.

“I can die happy after seeing that,” Wanda whimpered.

Right along with Wanda, you whimpered as well as Bruce wrapped a hand around your throat and fingers entering your soaking pussy. The wetness was explicit as it made sloppy noises while he finger fucked you. You couldn’t catch your breath with him choking you, you didn’t want to.

“Harder, Daddy!,” wanting it all. You moved against his fingers and clasped your hands over his to get him to squeeze your throat harder. You wanted your pulse to pound like ceremonial drums.

Steve was entranced with the way your eyes fluttered. So genuine and overtaken with pleasure, he watched the way your little toes curled, you were about to cum again.

“Who wants to finish her off?,”

“Me!,” Thor shot straight up and moved across the bed. Everyone groaning at themselves for being too enthralled in you to realize what Bruce asked.

He removed his fingers and held them to his side

“Can I taste her then?,” Wanda asked, eyeing Bruce’s dripping fingers, she was parched and only you could quench her thirst.

Thor pushed two of his thick fingers deep in you. Seemingly already knowing how to make you explode.

“You’re so warm,” Thor sighed to himself. Tony was jealous. He wanted to touch you or taste you. Hell all of them did, but Tony? He was willing to fight for it, as childish as that might seem. You were like a siren and he was a sailor falling for your song.

Thor moved to the side so everyone could see him pushing you to the edge. Wanda looked you right in your eyes as she sucked you off Bruce’s fingers and it happened again, your eyes couldn’t stay open, it sounded like you had water in your ears as you let out a moan that could put wolves howling at the moon to shame.

“Yes, Don’t stop, little dove,” Thor encouraged. You were about to clamp your thighs shut but Bruce wasn’t having it.

“Be a good girl and keep that pussy on display,”

Tears began running down your cheeks already, a little smile showing on your lips as you began coming down.

“She’s a cryer? They’re my favorite,” Clint groaned to himself. He loved pushing his lovers the edge of ecstasy, he loved pushing them over that hill to get their minds blank, cumming so hard they cry.

He wanted to make you cry.

Thor retracted from you but not before placing a kiss on your cheek, “You really are a good girl,”

He took his seat by Wanda and sucked on a finger to experience your essence. It was like drinking sweet, refreshing cranberry juice on a hot day. He let Wanda suck you off his other finger and you shook at the actions.

You didn’t have time to comprehend it though before Bruce moved from behind you to position himself between your legs, knelt at the foot of the bed, right at Tony’s feet. Bruce pulled you closer until his nose nudged your clit and he laced his fingers with yours.

“You hungry?,” You teased. Bruce was a sucker for eating you out. He made sure to every time, he relished in your taste.

“Always,” you felt his wet warm tongue graze your clit and your nails dug into his hands. You were dripping, two orgasms prior, you couldn’t help it. Your legs were raised and toes curled as he buried his face in you.

Your toes brushed Tony’s legs and it sent blood rushing to the head of his cock. Your coral painted toes looked beautiful against your brown skin. He took your foot in his hand and massaged it watching you before taking his next bold step and sucking your first two toes in his mouth.

Your breath hitched and you sat up on your elbows, eyes wide, watching him suck on your toes like a fudge pop before it melted. It was a sensation you never felt before but damn it had you giving Bruce more arousal suck up.

“Daddy you eat my pussy so. fucking. gooood!,” your head fell back against the bed and you fucked yourself onto his tongue, “Especially while Daddy Tony sucks on my toes,”

Bruce has no idea what was going on behind his back but he gauged your reaction, realizing you must like whatever his best friend is doing to you, even if it’s new.

Tony kisses up and down your calf while massaging the soles of your foot. You were pushed to another orgasm when Bruce sucked and nipped at your clit and Tony sucked your pretty, clean toes back in his mouth. You looked him right in the eyes as you came. More tears rushing to your eyes and falling down your hot cheeks as you came with a loud cry.

“Fuck!,” you’re left panting and dazed. Bruce crawls over you and kisses the shell of your ear before whispering,

“Been dying to see you get sloppy while sucking another cock... so pick one,”

You’re in shock. This went from everyone wanting to watch to everyone getting a go at you. But hey, you weren’t complaining. Not like they all weren’t pining after you.

“Sammy,” you huff in a confident breath, “I want Sammy,” you said loudly.

He heard his name and his eyes widened like deer in head lights, “Sammy what?,”

“I want you to fuck my mouth,”

“You sure?,”

He knew you and Bruce didn’t have a label but shit you might as well. He didn’t want to cross boundaries.

“I let a literal God finger fuck her and Tony sucked her toes,” Bruce sat up off the bed and motioned for Sam to take his spot. He undid his pants in a flash and you got right to business. Your face in his lap, ass up in the air, everyone wanted to either eat you or fuck you.

“Nat?,” Bruce said from behind her. She didn’t even look at him, she was too into the way you were gagging, too into the way spit dripped down your chin. Sam was having a field day and he was about to cum easily.

“Yeah?.”

“Go ahead and get a taste,”

She crawled on the bed toward your waiting pussy, your inner thighs were shiny from your pussy dripping cum. You felt her tongue on your thighs and it was much softer than Bruce’s, it tickled almost. She moved her tongue against like you were a melting scoop of ice cream ready to fall off the cone.

Then she went for the gold and it had you gagging more on Sam, he didn’t even have time to warn you that he was cumming. He felt bad that it shot straight down your throat but you swallowed it welcomly. You could tell he had a balanced diet just by the taste and you loved it.

Natasha position herself right under you so you were sitting on her face. You were so caught up in the feeling of her tongue that you didn’t even hear Bruce tell Bucky to get a taste too. Bucky was a major ass kinda guy. Everyone knew he loved your ass, so it didn’t surprise anyone when he straddled Natasha amd his tongue met hers as he licked from your clit all the way to your ass.

“You guys are killing me,” you had your head hung low and a pillow clenched tight in your fists. Sam finally stood up, his legs still feeling like jelly, went back to his chair to enjoy you lose your sanity.

“She likes sucking fingers, do your best,” he slapped Steve on the shoulder and when you felt his strong hand gripping your face you fell apart.

“Open up, dove,”

You followed the Captain’s rules and happily sucked his thumb while he palmed himself through his lounge pants. He loved the way your lips wrapped around his finger. Sucking like your life depended on it. Then he removed his thumb and thrusted his middle and finger in, making you gag just to see those pretty tears. Your gagging caused your walls to tremble around Natasha’s fingers and the way she moaned against you had you leaning into Steve’s fingers more. Then you felt a cool, slick metal finger push through your tight ring of muscle and it had you rearing back from Steve’s fingers to face plants in a pillow as you cum again.

“Oh keep cumming for me, Dove,” Nat didn’t hesitate to slurp you up like the last remaining bit of a slushee. Bucky’s finger felt so good in you and he kissed your cheeks. Your body fell limp and everyone pulled back from you.

“Daddy I need you,” you really just needed him in your guts right now.

Bruce realized the only one who didn’t get anything out of you was Clint, but in all honestly Clint was fine with just watching right now, another chance would arise.

Bruce came back over to you cradling your body in his before moving you on your hands and knees so you faced the team.

“You okay? What’s your color?,” his hands soothes over your hot body and he easily calmed you down.

“Hot pink,”

Hot pink meant you were great and right on the edge of subspace. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your clit, collecting some of your juices on him.

“Fuck, look at you. You like it when I let the team have turns with you knowing they’ve been wanting you?,”

He didn’t even let you answer before plunging in deep. A deep gasp from you filled the room.

“You liked feeling someone else’s mouth on your pussy? Someone else’s finger in your ass, dove?,”

“Oh my God,” You bit your lip and let your head fall on the bed until you felt someone’s hand lift your face. It was Tony.

“Be a good girl for us and keep that head up, yeah?,”

“Answer him,” Steve commented

“Y-Yes yes!!,”

Wave after wave of tingles had your stomach coiling as Bruce had your hips in a tight grip, getting as deep as he can. He was so deep he hit your cervix, it hurt a bit, but it was a good hurt that had you ready to cum and maybe black out from so many orgasms.

“You liked having another heavy dick in your throat didn’t you? You liked feeling a God’s fingers deep in your greedy cunt didn’t you, dove? You love people relishing in your fucking taste? Huh? Is that why you’re so fucking soaked for daddy?,”

Your vision was a blur of tears, Tony moved his hand to your throat and squeezed, making you gasp. He loved feeling like he had power, “Answer your daddy,”

“Yes, yes I love it!,” your squeal echoes in the room and You have everyone either clenching their thighs or palming themselves to the point of blowing one.

“Oh, oh God, Daddy harder, I need it harder,” you begged, body ready to fall limp. You never could trust your strength in this moment because you did fall limp and Bruce laid right into you, fingers finding their way into your hair as he tugged.

“C-Clint,” you called out for him, “Smack me, please,”

Tony scooted back so Clint could kneel in front of you like a knight to a Queen.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry and beg,” he whispered, holding your cheek so gently but the slap he delivered didn’t match at all.

“M-more!,”

“She’s deep in it now,” Wanda whines, she could always tell when you were in subspace. Each time Clint slapped you, your pussy clenched Bruce tight, ready to milk him dry.

“Fuck, dove,” Bruce keeled into your ear, “You’re gonna make me cum baby,”

Bruce kissed all over your shoulders, spread your legs wide so he could see your pussy taking him in, he loved the way your ass cheeks and thick thighs rippled with each thrust he made.

“You let them touch you but whose good girl are you?,”

“Yours, Daddy. Only yours!,” you sobbed, “only your good girl, daddy,” hiccuping and ready to cum.

“Cum for me baby, be a good girl and let go,”

He kissed your wet cheek softly and for some reason that action pushed you over the edge.

You raise up in your palms and rear your ass back against him to hold him perfectly at that angle. The team shivers at the way your eyes roll back into your head, it puts a demon possession to shame. You’re whining and whimpering and shivering.

“I want you to cum in me, daddy. Pl-please,” you groan as he spanks your ass. He flips you over and pins your hands by your head. Your mouth is wide open in a silent scream as you see his eyes and neck turning green.

It should scare you, but it just has you opening your legs wider.

“Yes daddy!! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,”

He just about hulks out as he cums with a sexy roar that almost deafens you. You’re staring up at him with a teary smile until you cover your face and let out a wail.

“Fuck! Th-thank you so much,”

He removed your hands from your face and kisses your tears away. Loving the salty taste they leave on his lips, “you’re such a good girl.” He calms you down with sweet words and a nice bath while the others set his room up the way it was before. He soothes you into a nap and goes to find the others once he hears your gentle snores.

“My glasses recorded everything, can I keep it or is that too much,” Tony sat with a glass of scotch and a bulge in his pants.

“That’s a Y/N question,” he shrugs, “She’ll probably want to watch it with you,”

The others still sit around dazed that all of that really happened. Sam’s legs are still twitching, Natasha, Thor, Bucky and Wanda can still taste you on their tongues and they can only hope to get more.

“How would you feel about...,” Clint shrugged, “Each of us having our own little solo fun with little dove?,”

————————

should i make a listening party series where everyone gets their turn?👀 lmk please

PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG!!!

tags- @blackreaders-assemble @vozit @yournonlocalpoc @retroxvailles @xye-weirdo @spideys-wife @here-for-your-bullshit @crawlingnightmares @hisxblackxqueen @dumbchick @warmchick @valentinevirgo @veryhellshdia @chonisberonica @mbaku-babygirl @kamahriii @siriuslycollins @eratotalles @motherhyuckerdude @valkyriesnymph @valynsia @the-carter-mob-don @blackmissfrizzle @flowersbound @zombz78 @beautifulbashfulblackqueen @prettyjewel93 @freddiedijon @michaels-endtime

[skinks]

HELLO. DO YOU HAVE ANY SPARE DILFWORTH/MAGGIE HEADCANONS 🥺 (love your writing more than life btw)

HELLO, thank you so much! Oh boy it’s difficult to come up with more stuff for characters you’re really only extrapolating a couple of pages about, but I like a challenge so here are some to build on the other big Maggie/Dilfworth post I made:

- so after the Airplane Incident they’re so engrossed in talking at the baggage claim about everything from music to shitty first jobs that Went misses his bag going around the carousel three times. In his defence Maggie’s laugh is a breathless, staccato sound like a xylophone of breezes and she runs one hand over the back of her head to grip the ends of her own dark hair every time she does, so who can blame him for trying to be his absolute funniest in between grinning like a man who’s won the lottery. Also in his defence, Maggie doesn’t leave after she’s collected hers (they both go to grab it from the carousel at the same time and kinda stare at each other, then at their touching hands. Went licks his lips a couple times and says “Sorry, don’t uh. Don’t misunderstand, I was only trying to steal it,” which makes her laugh again) and Maggie doesn’t leave because she’s busy hinting she’d like him to come visit her on campus some time, maybe next weekend? They exchange their landlines and she says “See you then, Doctor Dentist,” because there’s something about his nonthreatening calmness that makes her feel very bold in trying to ruffle it up.

- their first date is to the movies, because it’s 1971 and what else are you gonna do

- Went has the best poker face she’s ever seen, and she’d already been teasing him about being a dentist so when he asks her what snacks she’d like, she replies with a long list of the sugariest kinds they have. But he only whistles low and raises his eyebrows, sauntering off to the concession stand before she can reel him back. They eat all of it between them, and Went spends the whole movie muttering scathing put-downs about the poor choices the characters keep making and it’s the first time Maggie hasn’t ever cared about being shushed by the people in front of her

- also also also he picked her up in his car (and she’d also teased him about how she’s sure he could only drive a convertible bc he’s so tall and leggy that anything else would leave his knees up by his ears, but it’s not a convertible. It does have a sun-roof though, and after the movie they go driving, as Young People do in 1971 I guess and he’s like “Sorry the roof doesn’t fold down, I know you’d look great doing the whole Audrey Hepburn thing,” and Maggie just eyeballs him as she slides the sun-roof back. Then she’s standing on the bench seat and whooping, sticking her torso out of the roof like it’s a carnival ride and Went’s like 💕😬💕 as he holds her steady with one arm (over her dress, it’s the first date) for her dear, dear life

- I love the idea that Maggie likes sci-fi, for some reason. She loves Star Trek TOS, loves the music, wants to try and obtain a theremin for her thesis project. The first gift Went ever gives her is a signed copy of The Left Hand of Darkness when she takes him to an Ursula LeGuin talk at her college, and Maggie kisses the daylights out of him against a tree right there in the quad

- Went likes fishing and baseball and photography and fuckin... comedy records and he definitely got bullied at school for being a skinny nerd. Doesn’t have too many friends given that he’s moved cities and is generally kinda quiet, but Maggie’s friends like him. More importantly, Maggie likes him a lot, likes the endless antelope stretch of his legs when he props them up on any surface available, the lean lines around his mouth, likes how the veins on the backs of his hands form warm diamonds around the indents of his knuckles, likes that when she says “oh damn, is it raining?” rhetorically in the car at the first few drops, he rolls his window down and sticks his hand out into the wet and says “yes, Maggie, it’s raining. Wipers or no wipers, what’ll it be?” She likes to be the person he trusts enough to be silly and wry and sincere with. She likes to buy him records based purely on the cover art alone, she likes introducing him to classical music and she likes to drive his car so he can look at the maps and stick his head out the roof, and she likes that the wind makes him look like a cartoon blown up with dynamite, because he’s somehow always just in need of a haircut, and she is so, so scared he will be ensnared by the draft now that he’s left academia, as it has ensnared so many of her other friends.

- She makes fun of it, but she likes his name, “I like that Tozier has a z in it, of all things,” she says once. “I don’t know, it’s unusual. I never heard of a Tozier before.” And Went says, “Last of my kind. Like Tigger, in fact. You’re lucky you ever caught me in the wild,” as he very studiously and ineptly investigates her electric keyboard. She calls him Went most of the time, Legs when she’s particularly hot for him, but they do also have a lot of Wentworthy/Unwentworthy jokes.

- the first time they have sex is because they’re six dates deep and Went has yet to hear her sing.

- they’re lying top to toe in Went’s bed while they’re both studying (Went might be practicing dentistry now but he still has paperwork and journals to read) and he’s tapping her crossed ankle along to something she’s humming. “What’s that song? Maggie?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you sing it for me?”

“Oh, no,” she says, covering her face with her book. “No, it’s just some rock song, ignore me. I’m being disruptive to the study environment.”

Went waggles his eyebrows, examining the whole bare sweep of her legs. “That’s for sure. C’mon, you’re minoring in vocal studies, aren’t I going to hear you eventually?”

“Nope,” Maggie grins, and enjoys how warm his hand feels cupping the sleek of her calf muscle. “I’m shy.”

“The Maggie Avery I know isn’t shy, unless I’ve been wooing an impostor for the last nine weeks.”

She laughs and flutters inside, like her whole body is filled with whirling pillowfight feathers at the thought of being wooed, being courted, being allowed to exist as an interesting person and not just a skirt to be chased. At the fact that he knows how long it’s been and that he counts it in weeks, because even though they telephone a bunch, they can still only see each other at the weekends. Yeah, Carole King said it best. He makes her feel like a natural woman, alright.

“Wooing me.” She sets her book aside. “That’s what you’ve been up to?”

“Yes,” he nods, sitting up to mirror her, cross-legged. “Wooing.”

“Wentwooing,” she says, biting her lip. These games always prick up the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Damn straight,” he says, and oh, those dishy lines are breaking in lean waves around his smiling mouth. She’s a total lost cause for them. “Wooing was one of my very first Scout badges, actually.”

“Oh, so you’ve had practice?” She leans away in faux-disinterest, and her breathing picks up from somewhere deep in her body as he sways forward into the gap, like he’s charmed. She’s very aware of her heartbeat in odd places, pinking her bare heels pressed to the sheets under her knees, loud in the scoop of her clavicle. “I’m not the first to be subjected to a little Wentwooing, then, huh.”

“Not the first, no,” he allows, mild and reasonable as ever. No wonder he did well in medical school. She knows she’s not the first girlfriend, of course, just as he knows about her last ex and the others, and that’s the wonderful thing about him. He doesn’t act like other twenty-two year old boys she knows, he’s a grownup about it all. “But... I’d really dig it if you were the last. Maggie.”

She can’t stop smiling at the way he says it. Casual, contemplative, the look of a man who has cast his line and is happy to wait. It’s belied by the sound of him compulsively cracking his knuckles and the bones in his long bare feet. They’d both thrown on comfortable clothes after coming in from the rainstorm, and Maggie never knew it was possible to feel so at ease alone in a man’s room, a man’s apartment, a man’s spare boxers and faded varsity rowing tee the only things between that same man and her pretty underwear.

“I’d dig that too, Legs,” she says, and tucks her hair behind her ear to kiss him. He untucks it again and kisses her back with a heated mmph, touching her hip and her hair at once. Very light touches, but there’s something about them that makes her feel like he’s got her wrapped up completely. She swirls her arms around the back of his neck and deepens the kiss, as deep as she can manage with the way their knees are obstructive, and at the dragging quiet click of spit, Maggie finds she wouldn’t mind if he touched her firm and wanting all over, sometime soon.

She pulls back to see him flushed, his glasses kinda screwy. He makes a low sound, a sort of cross between a sigh of satisfaction and a groan of regret that their mouths aren’t still moving together. Both of his hands fall to her crossed legs, and he patters fingertips to her skin.

“I got that badge in Boy Scouts too,” he says breathlessly, after a second or five.

“No wonder you’re so good at it,” Maggie says, and raises three fingers in a salute. “Lots of practice around the campfire, hm?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe,” he chortles, saluting her back. “It’s a testament to your feminine wiles I’m even interested, what with my restricted training.” He gestures at her breasts. “We never covered those.”

“Liar, you had them pretty well covered last week,” Maggie teases, her inner thighs burning as she shifts at the memory, the back row of the Aladdin Theater, her tongue in his mouth and his big, gentle hands up her shirt.

“Earned my badge.”

“Well and truly.”

“We should get to work on uncovering them, then,” Went replies, tugging softly at the hem of his shirt she’s wearing, but his eyes don’t stray from her face.

“Wentworth!” She shoves at his hand, laughing again. She has a paper on syncopation due on Friday and a performance to prep for the end-of-semester recital, but she couldn’t care less right now. Lord, she’s so happy. What if it’s love, she thinks giddily, what if I love him, and he loves me. What then?

He dodges her play-slaps to take off his glasses because he only needs them for reading, and it’s just another layer falling away from between them. He’s not Doctor Tozier, he’s not that fucking geek, in the sullen-drunk words of her project partner Jack at a party last month, he’s just... Went. Just a man, as she is a woman. He’s cute and he’s acerbically funny and he makes her feel like they’re partners in some kind of crime, even though neither of them have so much as a speeding ticket. Maggie comes to a decision.

“Alright. I’ll sing the song for you,” she says, climbing off the bed.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, I actually—oh, here it is.” She rummages in her bookbag and produces the 7” single from its cardboard sleeve. “I bought it on Tuesday and forgot all about it, I was going to show you earlier. Such a dunce.”

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” Went says, shuffling back on his crossed legs to sit against the headboard. He looks genuinely eager. “She’s finally singing for me, don’t knock her confidence. Though, I guess we’re not getting any more studying done. Duncehood looms for the both of us.”

Maggie straightens up from the record player and unclips her hair until it falls in a dark torrent around her face. She shakes it out, feeling the strength of her voice build in her chest, feeling like she’s on fire from the glare of a stage spotlight. Getting into the mindset of a song is an important part of performance. “Would you rather study? We can study if you like.”

“No, no,” Went says evenly. His face is pink again and his eyes are very dark, watching her. “I think I’d much rather do this.”

So Maggie sings. The record cranks to a crescendo on the choruses like a runaway train and Maggie loses herself in it, closing her eyes and dancing. She’s an elegant dancer to classical music and an awkward one to rock and roll. Went is even worse, the pair of them clunking their bodies together at parties like a game of marbles because it’s funny that way, it’s funnier with two. But she tries not to feel silly, because she knows her voice is good. People tell her so. She knows it’s so, and she’s proud of her very own instrument nestled in the nave of her throat, and she wonders why it had been such a nerve-wracking prospect to let Went hear her sing. Perhaps it’s because she holds it so dear. She doesn’t know when his opinion became so important to her, but it is. The sound thunders up easily from her chest, controlled and so fluid she can almost visualize it leaving her lips like a stream, so controlled she can let the control a little loose whenever she wants to wail along with Marc Bolan, like the only rockstar in an oversized preppy shirt, get it on, bang a gong, get it on.

The record scratches to a close but she doesn’t feel finished, there’s still breath left in her yet. She segues easily into one of Went’s horribly cutting and clever comedy records, so she has an excuse for her face burning. It’s not because she can’t open her eyes and see his reaction, it’s because she’s singing about smut, of course. Every brush of the hems of his borrowed shorts against the ticklish backs of her legs, is felt. Her hair is thick and warm and her scalp is starting to sweat with all her uninhibited bouncing. Eventually she gives up and collapses to the bed, giggling and breathless. She buries her face into the covers feeling more ridiculous than she normally does in the vicinity of his generally impassive nature. He’s stable, somehow without being boring. It keeps her on her toes at least, that damnable poker face; she actually takes great delight in the way she finds herself coming further and further out of her shell, just to try and call his bluff.

“Gosh, I hope your neighbors like T-Rex,” she mumbles. She’s crouched with her knees and hands huddled under her, waiting for her fearsome blush to subside. Waiting for him to say something. She’s aware of his quiet presence at the headboard, just as she is so suddenly aware of the way his soft tee is riding up her hunched form, exposing her lower back to the fresh night air. “I’m—I should send them all an apology note for disturbing their Saturday evenings.”

“You should be charging them for the privilege,” Went croaks.

Maggie looks up at him, sharply. He stares back, still cross-legged with his hands stuffed down into his lap and a dazed expression on his face. She kneels towards him, feeling the residual magic of the music spark powerful deep through her body, between her legs. “You think I’ll pass vocal performance?”

“Jesus Christ, Maggie,” he says, unfolding his endless legs so she can straddle them. His hands are restless against her hips, moved from where they’d been hiding the thick line in his shorts. “And all this time I thought you’d been hiding the terrible secret that you’re actually a bad singer.”

She laughs against his neck. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, just awful. I figured you must be a banshee or something.”

“You did not, don’t joke!”

“I never joke,” he grins. He kisses her harder than before, restless hands squeezing at her ribcage, her thighs, just below the hemlines. Maggie presses her hips forward and grips fiercely at his ropy upper arms, gasping. “I’m deadly serious, that was—you’re a knockout at everything, it’s hardly fair.”

“Went.”

“Mags, I’m obliged to tell you I have one hell of a crush on you.”

“Went.”

“I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” he says, and Maggie’s stomach flips at the rare note of bemused, painful sincerity in his voice.

“Went, you can uncover them now,” she says, and shimmery heat floods between her thighs as he ruts upwards, abruptly.

“Sorry,” he pants, “what?”

“Take my shirt off, please. And I have a crush on you too, you dunce.”

He does as she asks of him and says, “Jesus Christ,” again, and a whole lot of other curse words and sweet things and silly nonsense that makes her laugh more than she’s ever laughed doing this with someone, and afterwards his hair looks the way it does when it’s his turn to stick his head out of the sun-roof.

He rolls off to collapse beside her. As soon as they catch their breath he says, “I’m gonna bring you breakfast in bed. Right now.”

“It’s 11pm!” Maggie wheezes, watching him stagger naked from the bedroom. The sight of his narrow waist flaring up into broad, bony shoulders is unbearable, now that she knows how it all feels between her legs and rippling under her hands. It makes her voracious for more. She aches wonderfully in all the right places, just like a good callisthenic stretch should.

It was quite a stretch, she thinks, and shivers, turning her head to breathe into the sweaty tangle of her own loose hair spilled across the pillow.

“Eleven is technically almost morning, isn’t it,” he calls back, clattering in the kitchen. “Plus you’ll need the energy, because we’re doing that again immediately. If you want to, of course,” he adds hastily.

“Of course,” Maggie snorts. Her cheeks ache too, from happiness. “We’ve got badges to earn.”

- anyway

- Her mom likes him too because he’s a dentist, Margaret, but her dad thinks he’s a hippie with a fake diploma because he still has sideburns lmfao. Went’s parents like Maggie, but it’s a lot to do with how she tries so hard to make them like her. She’s like, shaking by the end of day 1 of her first meeting with them like “I just don’t ever want you to have to choose,” and Went (absentmindedly fiddling with an old toy robot, they’re staying in his childhood bedroom) is like “Don’t worry, I’d choose you any time. I mean, I’d have to kill them but I’m sure they’d understand,” and Maggie’s like “I’m serious!” and Went turns to her and says, “So am I, Mags,” and then wraps all his long stick insect limbs around her refusing to let go until she’s laughing again

- He’s also very neat, he does all his own ironing so his work tunics are just right. More than once Maggie and her two roommates come back to the apartment during weekends to find him standing in socks and boxers and ironing piles and piles of everyone’s laundry, and he refuses to believe Maggie that this is weird. She thinks back to her old boyfriends who could barely flush a toilet and thinks hm, maybe it’s not so weird

- for the first few years of living together after they get married they can’t choose sides of the bed. Like, it changes all the time. “This is intimate anarchy,” Maggie says, after their tenth night in a row of switching. “I’m sure this is what the Summer of Love was all about.”

“Oh, I thought it was about cunnilingus,” Went says brightly, slotting a bookmark into his copy of Jaws and turning off the side lamp. “My mistake. Goodnight, love.”

“Wait!”

- Went comes into the delivery room after Richie’s born, looking more shaken than Maggie herself, ashen and stressed. “I could hear you screaming from out there,” he whispers, kissing her forehead and jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, bloodshot eyes locked on the swaddled bundle on her chest. “Darling. Oh, Maggie.”

“We’re alright now,” she says, hoarse. “I was just letting him know however loud he is, he gets it from his mother.”

“Him?” Went bleats, his eyes so wide. He still only needs his glasses for reading. “He? It’s a boy—we have a—”

“A son, yes,” Maggie says, and wipes at her cheeks. She’s had quite enough fluids on her face for one night, thank you. “Here, take him away from me before I lose my temper with him again.”

She nearly starts crying again when she sees how tiny the baby—Richard, that’s right, they’d decided on Richard for a boy—how tiny he looks in Went’s big, capable hands. They manage not to wake him in the transfer and Wentworth cradles him against his collar for a moment, looking lost. Then he seems to come back to himself, shooting Maggie one of his big, crinkly grins (and God, she’s still a lost cause) as he addresses the consequence of their actions.

“Did you do this?” Went whispers into the blue folds of blanket, pointing one free finger at Maggie. “Look what you’ve done to my wife. How dare you. She looks terrible.”

“Shut up,” Maggie laughs, as quietly as she can.

“She looks terrible and more wonderful than ever,” Went continues in the baby’s ear. “Is this your doing? We’ll make a good team, I think. Between the two of us she doesn’t stand a chance, by thirty-five she’ll be too beautiful to look at and then she might get some peace and quiet.”

“You’re delirious from the thin atmosphere, Legs,” she says. “Give him back, if you drop him from up there he’s done for.”

“I won’t drop him,” Went insists, “you had him for nine months, let me have a turn.” He holds onto Richard while she sleeps, but not before she grabs at his arm and sobs thank you for him, Went, thank you, and Went cries a little too and says what are you thanking me for, I’d get a participation trophy at most, which makes her laugh and say, if anyone deserves a trophy for their participation technique it’s you, and then she falls asleep before she hears his reply.

- they play so much rock and roll for Richie, Maggie makes up her own songs for him and sings to him all the time. Maggie only had older sisters, and Went was an only child so neither of them have very much experience with babies, but Maggie’s friendships with Andrea Uris and Sharon Denbrough from the neighborhood and from book club help a lot, they all seem to have wound up having their firsts in the space of a few months. She values language too much to baby talk Richie, and Went would be clueless as to how to begin, so pretty often she finds him deep in conversation about politics or baseball with Richie babbling in his high chair.

- as I said before, I hc that Maggie speaks maybe French and Italian, and Went finds it incredibly sexy. He can’t reply, of course, he just babbles along in Richie’s ridiculous Voices, it’s basically the Swedish Chef but French or Italian. He calls her Marguerite if it’s French, and Margarita in Italian (“That’s Spanish!” Maggie hoots, stroking his hair back at both temples where it’s frosting to silver already, and clasping her hands around the back of his head. “What do margaritas have to do with Italy?”

“Not Margarita,” Went says. He traces a line between all the pretty moles on her chest, sweeping down between her breasts to the one just beside her navel, the soft little rise of belly that sits in the cup of her iliac crest. That spot always flicks her hips forward with ticklish heat, and if they’re not careful then Richie might end up with a baby sibling Maggie’s not quite ready for yet. “Margherita, like the pizza. You’re cheesy, sweetheart.”)

- both of them smoked but Maggie gave it up when she got pregnant, and now Went doesn’t smoke inside the house. He of course gives it up for good after he gets cancer of the larynx in his late 50s when Richie is 30, which makes Richie quit too

- they love their son and just want him to be HAPPY even if they’re sometimes misguided about what would make him happy, but hey, so is Richie

#ficlet #long post #once more!!!! this escaped my grasp #officer these are my comfort heterosexuals #how lucky am i that Maggie May/Get It On/Carole King’s ‘Tapestry’ all came out in 1971 lmfao

[excvlsior]

about: *leo fowler.

basics.

full name: leopold kristoff fowler meaning of name: leopold = ‘people’ & ‘bold’, kristoff = ‘bearing christ’ nickname: leo, tadpole by some family members age: 23 date of birth: november 12, 1996 hometown: tallahassee, florida nationality: american ethnicity: dutch gender: demiboy sexuality: pansexual spoken languages: dutch, english profession: in lovell he’s a part time student and works at fowler’s flowers, but just the latter in st. louis

appearance.

height: 6′2″ eye colour: blue hair colour: auburn??? i feel like that’s the version of if someone had strawberry blond hair bt . strawberry brown instead??? idk it’s reddy-brown voice: pretty deep, surprisingly smooth jst feel like he has the personality of someone with a rougher voice bt . alas...... obnoxiously thick southern accent tattoos: c’est la vie on his ribcage, kristoff on his hip, ‘x’ on the inside of his middle finger done in shitty stick and poke, ‘L’ done in stick and poke on the side of his wrist, heart with a knife through it on his chest, tattoo inside his lip that says ‘pussy master’* :pensive:, ‘ouch’ on the bottom of both soles of his feet*, a hand giving the middle finger on the back of his left calf, dolly parton’s signature on the top of his thigh from when he got it at one of her concerts, a smiley face on his ass* >_>, a melting popsicle on the back of his right bicep*, ghost face mask on his right shin; * = he did them on a dare LKHSDGKLHLSDG piercings: lobes, right cartilage, industrial bar in his left ear, nostril, had an eyebrow and lip piercing when he was younger clothing style: pretty dishevelled and purposely ill prepared outfits, sometimes u can catch him in just plaid and khakis but more often than not he’s in something weird, his prized possession is a leopard print shirt that has a heart in the center, steals clothes from his aunt and uncle when he has nothing clean/can’t bother finding anything, been seen in marj’s skirts and leggings bc of this, and then on the other hand he’ll wear like a lime green tank top with a monster baseball cap worn sideways his style is just carefree and eclectic

health.

physical ailments: n/a neurological conditions: bipolar i disorder allergies: n/a sleeping habits: pretty much only falls asleep between the hours of 3-5 am, doesn’t matter if he works the morning or afternoon shift....... if he doesn’t work at all he’ll just sleep until his body naturally wakes up which is also usually around 3-5 pm KLSDGLKHSDGLKHDG exercise habits: doesn’t exactly have one..... he’s a pretty active and energetic guy so he’s usually up and about doing whatever anyway, also rides his bike everywhere since marj and steve r usually out with the only car they have sociability: loves being around people but he’ll eventually grow cranky, doesn’t necessarily need to be alone but at least with a different group of people if he gets to this point, the only time he actively doesn’t really want to see people is when he’s having a depressive episode but those don’t last too long as is drink / smoke / drugs: yes / yes / yes

personality.

positive traits: adventurous, courageous, determined, funny, gregarious, independent, quick-witted, tough, versatile negative traits: belligerent, cantankerous, foolhardy, harsh, impulsive, parsimonious, sarcastic, tactless, unpredictable, vulgar goals/desires: lowkey he’d never admit it but he just kinda wants his parents’ approval in the end, and also maybe to find something better than supervisor at a flower store (no offence to marj and steve its just not his dream) fears: staying committed and missing out on different opportunities/people that could change his life, the fact that he probably can’t do any better than be a supervisor at a flower store tbh hobbies: drinking, drawing a bit tbh, thrifting, loves collecting random knick knacks and is personally loving buttons rn, harassing his friends<3, making stupid tiktoks that somehow have gotten him a kind of big following habits: swearing obnoxiously without caring, yells in dutch when he’s frustrated which he’s mostly picked up on cuz everyone else in his family does it, stares more than what is socially acceptable tbh, refuses to walk under ladders

favourites.

weather: sunny with some clouds colour: dark green music: likes a lot of 90s and early 2000s rap and rock, old school country like he loves dolly parton LKSDHGKLHSDGLK rly enjoys elvis presley too, some edm or anything that he can jst dance wildly to movies: old school slasher films, screams his fav movie series ever food: spaghetti bt specifically w marj’s Phenom homemade meat sauce<3 drink: grape juice, whiskey sour

relationships.

father: steven fowler is his uncle but currently his legal guardian, he’s a co-owner of fowler’s flowers and is kind of a mess but in like the fun way....... LKSHDGKLHSLDG he just spends a lot of the day in nothing but boxers and socks w their cat on his lap watching the weather report if he’s not working, has the weird energy of someone who would be running like a joke shop instead of being a florist. archibald fowler is leo’s biological dad but he sucks Big Time, giant business typhoon i hvnt . figured out 100% wht sort of business bt hes got Money bt doesnt even rly want anything to do w leo he jst sees him as a massive disappointment bc archie’s nothing but a loser fart of a square. mother: marjorie fowler’s his aunt and other legal guardian also the other co-owner of fowler’s flowers, literally the sweetest woman on the planet like she’s never done anything wrong in her life n u can take tht to the bank. she’s a bit weird n super spiritual, their house constantly smells like random herbs and rly intensely of flowers and plants bc she makes so many home remedies bt she’s an angel a fkin ANGEL!!!!! renata kline’s leo’s mom n she’s like . fine ig she was pretty negligent n her best friend is a bottle of wine....... she rly peaked at a young age when she was a pageant girl n she still coaches n stuff now bt she’s obvs rly sad so leo tries not to lose it on her too much even tho he thinks she’s annoying LKSHDGKLHSLDKGKLSDG siblings: augustus is his oldest brother and he’s pretty cool, probs the brother leo is closest with even tho he considers him boring bt it’s only bc he’s . actually responsible n wht not they had a lot of fun growing up together tho when leo visited new york. mikhael is the devil, he’s actually a bit of a cunt n both him n leo have expressed their hatred fr each other without missing a beat i think they actually dnt hv any love or affection fr the other in the slightest SKLDHGLKSDHG. vaughn n leo r closest in age he’s not tht much younger n he’s probs the shiest of them, pretty soft spoken n well meaning, him n leo dnt rly keep in contact too much anymore bt theres a special place in his heart fr vaughn he’s pretty protective even tho he bullies him a lot bt thts besides the point. willhelm’s the youngest n it kinda shows he’s pretty idgaf attitude n rly blunt bt he’s also funny n probs the biggest partier outside of leo so he gets a pass whenever he rolls his eyes in leo’s face. pets: mitzie’s an 8 year old tortoiseshell cat who lives primarily on ppls laps shes literally more lap dog than cat significant other: n/a family’s financial status: middle class

extra.

zodiac sign: scorpio<3 mbti: estp - the entrepeneur enneagram: the epicure temperament: sanguine hogwarts house: gryffindor moral alignment: chaotic neutral primary vice: pride primary virtue: dilligence element: fire

#muse | leo fowler. #dabs my forehead #this took me a thousand years bt the deeds #finally done.

[fan-wicktion]

Date Night

MASTER LIST

warnings: fluff, and that’s pretty much it :)

a/n: WOW took forever bc school, but here’s one of the stories I wrote for the 1000 follower story giveaway! I hope you guys like it!

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

Jordan leaps from the taxi and nearly trips on the curb in her haste to get inside. She’s already late, and it's raining on top of everything else. Slightly damp and wild eyed, she bursts into restaurant. I hope he’s not mad…

When she spots his dark form waiting patiently at a table for two, all her anxieties wash away. Although John Wick is the most dangerous man in the world—and most people whisper his name like a curse—to Jordan he feels like home. John glances up, and his initial happy reaction quickly furrows into worry.

“You’re all wet!” He stands and pulls her to his chest regardless, then swings his jacket off and over her shoulders. It hangs comically far down her petite frame, nearly to her knees. John smirks and presses a kiss into the top of Jordan’s head, tucking a wet lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Ugh, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “It took forever to catch a ride, and then we got stuck in traffic, and I got out of class late to begin with—”

“It’s okay. You’re here now, aren’t you?” John’s eyes twinkle as he pulls out her chair for her. “Now let’s just sit and enjoy each other’s company.”

Swaddled in John’s coat, she falls into the chair with a sigh. I feel better already. Nursing school was, frankly, kicking her ass. These dates are a welcome break from it all, and getting to spend time with John Wick is a thrill in itself.

She doesn’t ask about his day, knowing he will only deflect the question. He watches her intently as she launches into a recap of her own, marveling at how he could have found a woman so…good. Her kindness radiates from her like the sun, and her ocean eyes glitter with something he fears he will never have again. Hope. Yet the past few weeks he has spent with her, John could feel something inside him warming—cynicism evaporating in the heat of her glow. But wow, he thinks, a flame igniting behind his gaze, I wish I could bend her over this table.

Jordan immediately notices the change in his demeanor; he suddenly feels more like a hungry wolf than her boyfriend. Jeez…for a guy who swears he’ll protect me at all costs…he sure does look like he’s about to devour me. Smirking, she brushes her foot up his calf and winks at him. He grips the table and opens his mouth to retaliate, but the waiter pops in with irritatingly perfect timing.

“Now, have we decided on our main course for the evening?” He continues on listing the specials, oblivious to the electricity sparking across the table.

John’s eyes are locked in silent war with Jordan’s as she shimmies her foot up to his thigh, teasing him under the table. Then with a flash, John breaks away and orders slowly. Lazily, almost. His body language gives no signal that he is or was aroused in the slightest, and Jordan drops her foot with a pout. Is he just messing with me? Wasn’t he the one looking sinful a minute ago?

The rest of dinner passes in languid comfort, the pair talking and laughing easily. Even in this happiness, Jordan can’t help but wonder what came over John. The man could be so secretive. He looks so tired sometimes.

“Come over tonight.”

This was not a request, but a command. A thrill licked up Jordan’s spine as she watches John close the bill.

“O-okay,” she says cautiously, “that sounds fun!” She had been to his house before, but this felt different. “What do you want to do?”

“Oh, I just want to spend some more quality time with my girl.” John slides her a mischievous look as they rise from the table. “And—” He snatches her waist and pulls her in close. “—have a little word about teasing me in public, missy.” John pulls her into a dirty kiss, then shuts it all down as fast as it began—the perfect gentleman once more. Confused and aroused, Jordan follows him to his car.

————————————————

John’s thumb traces soft circles over the back of Jordan’s hand as they drive back to his apartment, only breaking contact when it’s necessary to shift gears. The rain had ceased during dinner, thankfully. Stars glitter above them, a cool wind whipping through the vehicle as they leave the city. Music blares from the stereo, and Jordan sways slightly with the melody—eyes closed.

A clear, sweet note cuts through the sound of the wind. Taking his eyes from the road, John fills his vision with her. Golden hair whipping around her serene face, Jordan looks and sounds like an angel as she sings. He hasn’t seen her look this…free in a long time. School work and studying seems to have taken up every bit of free time she had left, and he doesn’t think she’s even had time to work on her writing projects—her favorite escape. A slight frown tugs at the corners of his mouth, but disappears immediately when Jordan opens her eyes.

“…What?”

“Nothing,” he smiles. “Just watching you sing.”

“Well watch the road!” She giggles and leans back again. “You look tired, baby.”

“I am tired.”

“Well…do you just want to relax tonight? We don’t have to do anything. Maybe take a bath or something…”

“That sounds perfect.” John smiles gratefully and gives her hand a squeeze as they pull into his driveway. They both deserve a night to take it easy.

He circles the car and helps Jordan out, gently taking her hand and leading her into his home. They step out of their shoes and head straight to the bathroom, and John gets some hot water running to fill the bathtub. As it fills, he stands and cups Jordan’s head in his large hands. She reaches up and covers his fingers with her own, staring up into his dark eyes.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” His face furrows into a serious look that makes Jordan’s heart drop. Is something wrong?

“What’s up? You look…worried.”

“I am.” He sighs. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now, but I’m worried about what it will mean. For me and for you. I—” he clears his throat. “Jordan. I— I love you.”

Blood rushes to Jordan’s cheeks, and she feels nearly faint as she returns his intense gaze. John Wick loves me? JOHN WICK LOVES ME! Holy shit!

“Oh, John…” she springs up and wraps her arms around his neck as he sweeps her into his arms. “I love you too.”

They slowly remove each other’s clothing and slide into the bath. Jordan leans back onto John’s chest, and he presses tender kisses down her neck. They melt into one another, blissfully warm and in love.

“Now,” John murmers, “don’t forget…I’m still going to have a chat with you about you teasing me earlier…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @feminemashinegun @mikaneonox @onebatch--twobatch @catsmieow @homesoutofhuman @lunilate @weird-civilian

#John Wick #john wick fanfic #fluff #Keanu Reeves #date night #one shot #cuties #i hope you like it

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Truth Pt. 10

Truth Master List

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: SMUT, no... really this is 95% smut. If that’s not your thing you can totally skip this or just read the last few paragraphs. 18+ y’all. Sorry bout it.

A/N: So I didn’t really intend for this to be what it is BUT I started writing and it just became lengthy intimate smut. I’ve said it before smut makes me nervous. I’m very open to feedback so please tell me what you think. (Also, I personally just don’t talk a lot during sex so I’m not one to write a lot of dialogue into my sex scenes. Ugh. Smut is weird for meee.)

I will say I had fun writing it so that’s good right?

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415  @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4  @piensa-bonito @handplucked  @buckysstar  @sam-jae  @marauder–harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom   @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes 

Cool metal fingers stroking your temple and warm flesh ones gently rubbing circles on your lower back wake you slowly. You open your eyes to see his soft expression. His lids at half mast, the corners of his lips barely turned up, all lit by a predawn sky.

Your heart stutters in your chest. Was he always this beautiful? Did you just miss it? A whole year wasted projecting your anger and hate and fear on him when you could have had this. The regret of wasted time is a familiar feeling and one you’d rather not focus on right now.

Cutting off that train of thought you press your lips to his. The fingers at your temple reach back and tangle in your hair as his tongue finds its way into your mouth. You welcome the taste of him, pressing your body close. He’s already hard as your hand slides over the front of his sweat pants.

You rub the length of him through his clothes. Bucky pulls away trailing kisses down your neck, groaning at your touch. The sound sends tremors through your body as his fingers slide further up, under the hoodie setting your nerves on fire in the best way.

As his right-hand catches your left nipple you roll to your back, reveling in the sensation. Tenderly he kisses you before lifting the hem of the hoodie to press sweet kisses to your abdomen. He inches his mouth up bit by bit, the hoodie moving up with him until he coaxes it over your head leaving you exposed.

This is different than before, even different than sleeping nude together yesterday. Now, you’re fully present, awake, in tune with every expression passing over his face, acutely aware of every insecurity you have. Your hands move to cover scars from battles, stretch marks, the way a week's worth of malnutrition left some parts of you less… pert than you’d prefer.

It doesn’t click that you’ve closed your eyes until you feel his hands over your own. His touch gentle but firm, moving your hands away. As your eyes open his lips press into your palms before he places your hands on his chest. One over the scars reaching from his left shoulder the other over a particularly large one over his right rib cage.

Tears burn your eyes. His wordless statement settling warm in your heart. So many scars between the two of you. Countless imperfections both visible and not. And yet…

“You’re beautiful, Bucky,” your voice a breathy whisper, not willing to disturb the quiet magic burning between you. Slowly you trace the scars, learning his unique topography, determined to commit it to memory. His eyes, soft grey in the golden light look down at you. Hands run lightly down your arms making goosebumps rise.

Sitting up onto your knees you replace your wandering fingers with your lips, determined to take away the hurt of each mark thoughtlessly left on his flesh. He doesn’t move as you scoot behind him, touching and kissing the scars from his arm and ones from old injuries. You can feel him tremble beneath your touch. His breath catching, heart thundering.

At his neck, you breathe in the smell of his hair, the spice of his skin. “Y/N,” he breathes out as your teeth graze the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. He turns, left hand pulling your face to his own. His kiss is rough, your teeth clashing a touch, both hungry for the other.

Your chest is pressed flush against his back, hands trailing down the front of him until your fingers catch the band of his sweat pants. You pull them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

As your hand wraps around his shaft, the other running over his balls, he moans into your mouth his hips thrusting forward a touch. Already you can feel your own arousal, hot and wet. Only a few strokes in he grabs your wrist, pulling it away from him and spins to face you.

His mouth is on yours, hands on your shoulders pressing you back down into the nest of blankets and pillows. When his fingers slip into your own boxers, sliding over your clit and dipping briefly into you, you cry out against his kiss. A smirk curls his lips as he brings his hand away, rising up to pull the boxers down your legs.

Quickly he frees himself too and hovers over you. His thumbs stroke your forehead, eyes staring intently into your own. You wrap your legs around his hips and he slowly lowers himself into you.

You moan, back arching pressing him closer, savoring the ache as your body stretches around him. Then you both still. For a few moments… or maybe forever… time didn’t seem to exist here in this room… you allow yourselves to just feel this. The connection, being as close as two people can be. In all honesty, you could stay like this until the end of your long days, grounded by his presence in and around you.

Both of you seem to have the same thought and your foreheads crash together as you both go in for a kiss. Belly laughs shake your bodies, smiles illuminating your kisses to come as he moves steadily inside you.

Bucky sits up, pulling your leg onto his shoulder, pressing deeper into you. His thumb strokes your clit and you can feel yourself light up, literally and figuratively. A look of fascination fills his face. You swallow your nerves, your questions, your fear. Instead, you force your mind to only feel him. His lips make a path up your calf, stubble tickling, as he continues that incendiary motion, his hard cock at just the right spot.

“Bucky,” you manage between gasps.

“Show me those stars, baby,” the look on his face says something else. That it’s ok, you’re safe, he’s safe, he trusts you.

Covering your mouth to muffle the wild cry you come so hard for a second there’s only pleasure, sweet and hot threading through every fiber of your being. It’s like your floating. A soft sweet laugh from Bucky brings you back to earth. Your eyes open, lids heavy, before bursting wide. Gossamer filaments of light are floating up from you, tiny pulsing points at the end of each one.

Eyes wide with wonder he reaches out to touch the fading bits of energy, you gasp, amazed you can actually feel where he comes in contact with them. You’d be horrified but nothing is on fire and he’s looking at you like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

He lowers himself back and you run your fingers through his thick hair, tugging just a touch. A purr of satisfaction rumbles in his throat and his lips meet yours. You nip at his lower lip and he slams into you.

“Fuck,” you groan into his neck holding him tight against you.

“Y/N,” he moans as he fucks you faster, arms wrapped around your back, cupping the back of your head.

You begin kissing his neck. Sucking, nibbling, biting. Each action eliciting a tantalizing groan or growl from him. Your nails run down from his shoulders to the dip of his lower back causing his whole body to shake.

“Oh god, baby,” his voice is a rumble against your ear. He catches your earlobe in his teeth and you gasp, matching his hard pace, your hips thrusting up wanting all of him now.

His arms unwind from around you. Reaching back he pulls yours down from his back, pinning them to your sides. You feel desire coil tightly in the base of your abdomen. Hungry eyes and full smirking lips look up from a veil of dark hair.

The pace of his hips ticks up, both your breath ragged as you hold the others gaze. His brows knit, bottom lip caught in his teeth. Your body arches up, arms flex against the steel grip of his hands.

You’re about to topple over the edge when he releases your arms, pulls your face to his and kisses you. Teeth and tongues and swollen lips crash together, wet and hungry. A few more thrusts and together you cry out, shaking bodies pressed close, the taste of his mouth and the salt of his sweat the most incredible combination.

Panting he falls to the side, collapsing on his back. You roll to your side and stare awestruck at him. His chest heaves, sweat glistening through the dark hair sprinkled over his torso. Thick thighs tremble, cock twitching just a bit.

“You’re fucking incredible you know?” He sounds drowsy, his right arm tucked under his head.

[Bucky]

You look at him, your hair tumbling over your shoulder, and those fascinating sparkling eyes stare disbelieving at him. How could anyone with eyes like that doubt what they could do to a person. Being with you was like magic.

He wants your lips again but his body is too tired to move. “Kiss me,” he sighs.

Somehow desire explodes in his chest the moment your tongue flits between his teeth. You were the only person he’d been with since he was… well himself again. Maybe he’s just making up for lost time.

“You’re not so bad either, old man,” you say lifting up, the ends of your hair tickling his face and neck.

He laughs, his fingers lazily stroking down your back. Your eyes flutter for a second before a mischievous grin fills your face. Without a word, you slide down between his legs and before he can say anything you take him in your mouth.

“Fuck!” The word bursts from him. His breath stutters and his hips thrust up. You pin them down with strong hands, your sparkler eyes looking up at him. It’s almost too much, he’s almost too sensitive, but he’d rather die than ask you to stop.

Groaning he runs a finger over your cheekbone, mesmerized at the image of your beautiful mouth on him. You drag your nails down his hip bones leaving quickly fading red streaks. If he let himself he could come like this, and soon. He’s got a better idea.

“Stop,” you do immediately and he stands. You stare up at him as you wipe moisture from your mouth. Christ, how could something so simple be so enticing? He extends a hand and you take it.

He pulls you up quickly. Grabbing your hips he lifts you. Automatically you wrap your legs around him, a smile filling your face. He plants kisses down your neck, loving the taste of your skin. You giggle at the tickle of his stubble. The joyful sound makes him hum with pleasure.

Holding you with his left hand he opens the door and carries you from the soft cocoon you both had been in for almost 24 hours and to the bathroom.

You slip from his grip as he reaches into the oversized shower, starting the water all three heads on, and steam, the heat instant. Stepping in he holds out his hand, you take it and follow him inside.

Immediately you lean back into the stream of water, soaking your thick hair, rivulets running down your body. His cock jumps and he swallows hard. You catch his rather slack-jawed expression and laugh a quick ringing sound that makes his heart soar.

Shaking his head he laughs too, pulling your wet body close to him, his cock throbbing against you. You begin to kiss his chest, nipping at his collarbones. The feeling shoots through his whole body.

Patience flees him. He spins you around, thumbs pressing the dimples in your low back. His tongue traces your spine causing a small moan to slip from your lips. You lean forward just a touch, lifting to your toes and he dips down, sliding his cock into you.

Your cry almost undoes him. Willing the muscles in his abdomen to relax he reaches his left hand around you pressing you closer into him, your back arching, head lolling onto his shoulder. The water on your lashes catches the light in your eyes and once more he’s dumbstruck at how spectacular you are, thankful you thought he was worthy of this intimacy.

He slides his hand down lower. When his metal fingers caress your clit you gasp, he almost stops until you hold his wrist in place.

“Bucky,” you moan, grinding against his fingers. He can’t help but smile. He’d been so unsure of touching you with his left hand but obviously, he’d been worried over nothing. Your jaw hangs open a touch and he fills your mouth with his kiss as you tighten around him.

It doesn’t take long for either of you. He strokes you while his right-hand steadies you fucking you slowly. As soon as you cry out he allows himself to release the tension in his body. Shuddering, he comes, moaning into the curve of your neck.

You turn to face him, moving wet strands of hair from his face and kiss him so tenderly, with so much care, it’s almost enough to make him cry. Would he ever be used to your tender hands?

“That was fucking amazing,” you grab his left hand placing kisses on his metal knuckles.

“It was,” he sighs out.

You both dry off and he lends you some fresh clothes to change into. Still loving the way you look in his shirt for some reason he can’t quite make sense of.

“I definitely need to go to my place,” you shimmy the sweats over your hips. “Can’t keep stealing your clothes.”

He shrugs, eyeing the curve of your ass under the knit fabric, “I mean… I don’t mind.”

You notice him gawking. With a laugh you tease, “Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

“Darling,” he pulls you to the place he’s sitting on the bed, “I don’t know I’ll even have enough.” You look genuinely shocked and he makes a mental note that he’s gonna make sure you know just how much he wants you, every damn day… until you get sick of him.

“Why don’t we head up there now?” He asks a shadow flits over your face, “I already said I’d help you reorder the place.”

You sigh, “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

The way you were acting he was expecting something far worse than food containers and undone dishes. He laughs a little as he looks around.

“I know it’s terrible, don’t judge.”

“Doll, this is nothing. I think you’re being a little harsh on yourself.”

You shrug, “Let me change and we can take on this shit,” you fling your hands around to indicate the whole apartment. He shakes his head at you.

While you change he starts to load the dishwasher. After about 15 minutes he’s almost done, about to hand wash the pieces that won't fit when he starts to worry. Turning the sink off he dries his hands and listens. In the silence he barely catches the sound of you sniffling from your room. He gently raps at the door, it’s not closed fully and swings open.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed surrounded by photos, tapes, posters, magazines. You look up at him and frantically wipe tears from your face.

“Sorry,” you begin to pick the photos up as he picks his way over the scattered clothing on the floor. “I just… I forgot I had this stuff out. I was trying to find something to… I don’t know ground myself and-” Your voice is gaining in speed, tone shaky.

He stills your hands with his. Your eyes meet his, tears sneaking down your cheeks. He wipes them away.

“You keep your memories displayed… I shove mine in a box under my bed…”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #the winter soldier

[blossom-hwa]

Run |2| - YUTA

I completed the story?? I don’t know how?? It’s probably really rushed bc I’m not used to writing action/romance stories but here’s part 2; part 3 and the epilogue will be out soon as well!

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Genre: action, angst, gang!au

Triggers: violence, somewhat graphic?

Word Count: 1.7k

Your gang is dead and only one person knows you’re alive. Since you know nothing but the gang world, you turn to working for those who killed your family. It doesn’t really bother you, but your identity gets found out by the wrong person on one of your... excursions. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

NCT Masterlist

You are covered in dirt, sweat, and blood by the time you arrive at the small place you share with Taeyong, having lost all your pursuers. Another bullet is lodged into your left arm, and all three wounds are still streaming blood.

“Y/N-” Taeyong stops short in the living room as he takes in the mess that is you. “Oh, hell, what happened?” He grabs your wrist and sits you on the couch, not waiting for an answer. You collapse onto the softness gratefully, and he goes into the bathroom, coming out with a first-aid kit.

“The Nakamotos know I’m alive,” you say hoarsely as Taeyong cleans your wounds. He stops for a moment, squeezing your arm a little harder, then goes back to cleaning.

“How? Actually, you know what, don’t answer. Let me finish, then you’re going to sleep. You can tell me everything tomorrow.” Taeyong sighs, wrapping your leg wound with clean, white bandages. You nod, too exhausted to argue.

Taeyong finishes after a couple hours (you think), and then you fall into fitful sleep on the now-bloodstained couch.

. . . . .

Yuta sits on a wooden table, gritting his teeth as someone cleans the knife wound in his thigh.

“So you thought you could take care of her on your own?” his father asks, scrutinizing his son with cold eyes. Yuta nods, his eyes closed.

A snort sounds in the silent room. “And I thought you could too. How did she get away, again? Through the window? You think she could be alive?”

Yuta nods again, opening his eyes. “It was only a three-story jump. Also, she was trained to get out of situations like that. She was part of the Lee syndicate, the one that crumbled years ago.”

Aito, his father, is silent for a moment. Then his laugh fills the room, a chilling sound. “I thought the only living member of the syndicate was the prodigy, Taeyong.”

Yuta shakes his head. “I remember her face. She’s obviously older, but still very much alive.”

“Name?”

“Y/N.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t come earlier for revenge,” Aito muses thoughtfully. Yuta snorts. “Y/N was never stupid. She wasn’t here for revenge.”

“She took the painting… you mean she’s the paid thief we’ve been hearing about? Shadow?” Aito’s voice is full of disbelief, but his son nods yet again. “I’m almost sure of it.”

“So what do we do with this information?” Seojun, Aito’s right-hand man, finally speaks up. His eyes are bright, flickering with eagerness at the possibility of a chase.

Whoever is working on Yuta’s leg finishes, sterile white bandaging covering the gash. He stands up, ignoring the pain. “We could have her work for us. We know who she is, and if she doesn’t agree, we can just expose her. A lot of other gangs have bad blood with her former one.” The tired, angry look in his eyes is replaced with a cold, eager expression. A small smile twists his mouth.

Seojun looks put out, but he nods. “That is a good idea.”

Aito looks at his son, eyebrows raised. “So how about I delegate the task of finding her to you, son? I hear she is extremely difficult to track down. Don’t fail this time.” He gets up and leaves the room, leaving his son gnashing his teeth in the living room.

. . . . .

“You stuck a knife in Yuta Nakamoto’s leg? This is priceless,” Taeyong chortles, about to fall off his chair. You allow yourself to feel a small stab of pride before punching Taeyong’s arm, forcing him to sit up properly. “Yes, I did. Moving on. The window was made of like, really strong glass or something, so I ran out bullets trying to shoot it. My scarf fell off, so he saw my face. I eventually smashed the window but the bastard called in help so I got two bullets in me before I jumped out. Then when I was running, I got shot in the arm. Done.”

Taeyong whistles. “Wild night. What do you suppose Nakamoto’s going to do with that information?” You sigh. “Blackmail me. Kill me. Who knows?”

“Then would you work for him if he blackmailed you?” You shrug. “I don’t know. Depends on what he’d make me do.”

“Fair enough.” Taeyong sighs, standing up. “I’ll go get you some food. I have things to do tonight so do whatever you want.”

‘Things to do’ usually means assassin business. You don’t ask for details.

. . . . .

After Taeyong leaves, you find yourself restless, impatient with your wounds and what little they let you do. Out of annoyance, you make the rash decision to go out on a walk.

It’s cold, so you bundle up but not too much. A scarf still covers your face, and you put on a pair of fake glasses. A gun and knife are hidden within the clothing.

More precautions.

You wander around the area where you live for a couple hours before deciding to head back. Taeyong must be finished, so he can take another look at your leg. It really hurts.

You are about twenty minutes away from your home when someone grabs your arm, forcing you into a narrow alley. Your glasses fall off and you hiss in pain, your hand itching to go for one of your weapons. You still, though, when a gun is placed to your head.

“Didn’t think it’d be so easy to find you, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, despite your fear of the man. “Didn’t think I’d see you this soon, Yuta. Anyway, aren’t you going to kill me now? Get on with it.”

He laughs. “Nah, I’m not going to kill you. Though it’d be nice to get revenge for what you did to my leg.”

“For the record, your gang members shot me three times- the shoulder, the arm, the calf. I don’t think you should be complaining.” You are probably getting yourself closer and closer to death, but you can’t help it.

“Cool. Hope they hurt. Anyway, like I said, I’m not going to kill you unless you try something stupid. I’m here to offer you a deal.”

Blackmail, then.

“Probably more like blackmail,” you mutter. Yuta hears this and laughs. “Yeah, I guess. So here’s the deal: you work for us or we let out your identity. Your choice.”

“What work would I be doing, then?” you ask, slumping against the wall. Yuta grabs your arm, hauling you upright again. “Hang in there, Princess. And stuff you already do. Stealing. Getting information. Hacking. Maybe killing.”

Your eyes narrow at the word ‘killing.’ “I don’t kill,” you say, all the teasing gone from your tone.

Yuta cocks an eyebrow at this. “You don’t? Then who gets rid of the witnesses?”

You swallow. “A friend.”

Surprisingly, Yuta doesn’t pry. “Well, I could take out the killing part. What about that?”

You eye him distrustingly. “Why do you want me to work for you so much?” you ask.

He looks you in the eye, finally lowering the gun. “You’re interesting. Not many girls I know would do dirty work themselves, much less roundhouse kick a boy in the head. Or jump out a window three stories high and live. I want to see more,” he says. You snort. “Interesting my ass. Whatever. Do you need this in writing or some shit? Can I go now?”

Yuta lets go of your arm. “Yeah, leave. Just come here again tomorrow. I’ll take you to my house.”

“Unnecessary. I know where it is.” You walk out of the alley, popping your head back in after a couple of seconds. “Thanks for the gun, by the way.” You wave the gun you managed to nick out of Yuta’s hand at him teasingly and vanish.

In the darkness of the alley, Yuta grins to himself.

Interesting.

. . . . .

The first few days of working for the Nakamotos are pretty bad. You aren’t used to taking orders for everything you do from people, after all. When someone hired you before, you did all the research on your own beforehand, forged all the needed documents, and essentially were on your own.

You’re still chafing under the watchful eye of Aito Nakamoto five months later. After a yelling match that probably almost brought down the whole house, you managed to get it through his head that you were going to keep hiring yourself out to others. He wasn’t happy, to say the least, but you’d gone up against gang leaders more pushy than he.

Yuta comes around probably way too often. He’s decent company when he’s quiet, but a. you’re pretty sure Aito isn’t happy about it all, and b. Yuta likes to poke around and ruin things, which are both traits you dislike. Sometimes he comes in with a wound or something and asks you to clean it up for him instead of going to someone more qualified.

He manages to grow on you though, despite him being the cold-blooded snake that caused you to get three bullets in your body. It’s strange. The cold stare he usually wears doesn’t show itself much when he’s around you, and you find yourself less guarded around him as well.

Still, you’re surprised and more than a little repulsed when Yuta comes stumbling into your little office, covered head to toe in dried blood.

“What the fuck” is all you get out before he collapses on a small spare chair. “Nakamoto, get up! Why’re you in here?!” Yuta only groans in response.

Sighing, you get to work cleaning up the blood.

When you’re nearly finished, he finally talks. “Thanks.”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Why are you in here, of all places? Don’t you have someone that can take care of you better than me? And why were you covered in blood?”

“Closest place I could find. Yes, but they’re annoying. Mission.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out and get some rest, Nakamoto. My tiny office isn’t good enough. Plus, I’ve got business in a few hours so I need to leave.” Yuta whines. “Get out.”

“Fine. But take me to my room,” he bargains. You groan. “Oh my God, fine.”

#nctwriters #smtownnetwork #kpop #nct #nct 127 #yuta #action #angst #slight fluff #triggers #violence #gang!au #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct yuta scenarios #run #scriptura-delirus

[vide0-nasties]

hello you wonderful human being 👋 send you questions 9, 16, 24, 26. have a nice day~

hello to you, too, anon!! 👋👋👋 i had a pretty decent day, and i’ve got some asra-heavy answers for you bc i’m a SUCKER FOR ASRA.

9. Does your apprentice have any special abilities that youheadcanon and cannot accurately be expressed in the actual game? What are they?

How strange she felt explaining her ways to another. No onehad ever…remained interested long enough to investigate her workings. But hereis curious Asra, growing evermore ravenous with every answer she nervouslyfeeds him with her fingers.

What’s that face for?This place reeks of iron. Really? You cansmell it? I can always smell iron, and it stings from my nose to my gut. Why? My mother was a selkie, one of thegentle folk, and iron hurt her. Are you aselkie too? No, but I have her attributes. Large fingerwebs, dapples, enormousteeth. I nearly can’t drown, and I can outswim everyone I’ve ever met.

“What about the travelling witches? The Sisters?” he asks,half-sleeping with his head in her lap. The scar is still fresh to her, but hewouldn’t know.

“After my mother killed my father, I was adrift at sea ninegruesome days. A doctor helped me escape imprisonment, because I looked nearenough alike to her to be hanged. He sent me to the Sisters with his word, andthey began to train me,” she tells him, fingers in his hair, sweeping his temples.

“I thought,” Asra yawns, sinking into her touch, “I thoughtyou already knew magic.”

She shrugs. “Some. My mother refused to teach me, wanting meslavishly dependent, but I watched her and learned. When the Sisters took me,my skills were a danger, out of control. They gifted me reins. For that, I playedthe butcher and spilled blood on their behalf.”

Asra’s eyes fly open, mouth drawn into a hard frown, takingher wrist in his hand. “You’re not a tool, Eustacia. Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s all I’ve ever been, Asra.” She smiles and tucks a curlover his ear. “If it soothes you, technically I am a duchess. I inherited myfather’s duchy when he died.”

“You’re a what?!”

#’s 16, 24, and 26 under the cut!

16. Does your apprentice have any scars or tattoos? Whereare they? Describe them?

“You’re stunning,”Asra breathes, staring at her naked body for the hundredth time, “I have to look at you.”

Over the course of her life, she has turned her skin intoher very own holy text—green-black ink hammered and needled into the pallor ofher hide.

Eight-pointed stars representing the eight winds of chaosmagic sit on the backs of her hands. Patterns of sacred geometry wrap aroundand snake up her arms, her legs. Over her chest are potent sigils older thanher mother, runes more ancient than time. With these runes, and help from oneof the Sisters familiar with chaos magic, her back has made into a nearencyclopedia.

Little grotesques fight for space among the symbols:sharp-teethed bats, roaring lion’s heads, boars, roosters, snakes. One leopardseal, on the back of her calf. A feral looking pig on the top of her foot, alittle red hen on the other. “Sailor’s superstition. Pigs and chickens can’tswim. Sailor blown overboard? God will take mercy on the animals, take them toshore.”

Asra comes to a rooster hanging from the gallows on theinside of her calf. He smirks up at her through his lashes. “I know there’s astory behind this one. Tell me?” he purrs.

“My cock hangs below my knee. You wouldn’t believe how manybets I’ve won with him.”

The lines from her bottom lip to the dip of her throat—spiraling,intricate tangles. The phases of the moon, down the center of her forehead. “Haveyou ever been fourteen-years-old and wanting to piss off your mother?”

A bloated scar over her shoulder—a glance from a sword. Alumpy one around her knee—nearly lost her leg to a cannonball, and would haveif not for powerful healing magic. Cross-hatching over her palms—“Curse workand quick sigils, you know that, Asra.”

Vengeful gouges in her brow, an angry canyon pinching thefold of her nose and hugging the lean apple of her cheek. “You know I wasglassed,” she mutters, running her fingers down his thigh. “You were rightthere.”

“I know,” he tells her, taking her face in his hands andkissing the pallid markings. “I’ll never forget.”

They find each other’s hands and the scars they put there.Bite through your lover’s hand, unstopping until blood is drawn, and your loveis truly true. They had, filling their mouths with blood, and they wear theteeth marks like wedding rings.

24. Outside of magic-related workings, does your apprenticehave any hobbies? Do others know about this hobby or do they keep it a secret?

Eustacia has to keep herself entertained while alone at theshop, and that’s easier said than done for a person with the attention span ofa gnat or minnow. Always, she’s midway through a hundred projects andactivities.

Dozens of half-read books lie around her home, while thesame four get read and reread until the spines fall apart. Six crocheted blanketsin various stages of completion hide in a trunk under the bed, countless skeinsof yarn and spools of thread in a spectrum of colors dominate a wardrobe thatwas once meant only for clothes.

Handmade jewelry is forgotten unfinished among mountains ofhomebrewed and boutique makeup, only to be plucked to safety months later,finished, and forgotten in one of a half-dozen jewelry chests scattered onshelves.

The bathroom is a cacophony of homemade beauty spells andmundane cosmetics. Blessed lotions, charged bath salts, enchanted body scrubs,towels uncountable with runes stitched into the hems with black or red thread.Body butters, face masks, hand crèmes, lip balms, under-eye serums, hairtonics, pots of hair-stripping wax, what feels like thousands of oils, and a crateful of jars of hair wax and pomade.

It’s a miracle that it’s feasible to step foot insidewithout being killed by an avalanche of product.

Her many handmade nail lacquers sit in a chest next to amassively overstuffed, well-worn armchair, along with nail files, cuticlepushers, more oil and hand crème, andthe ingredients needed to curse and un-curse her nails to be unbreakable.

Sometimes, she wonders how Asra can manage to keep hissanity in the utter chaos and confusion, but when he returns from his travels,he’s so well-adjusted she’s left baffled. He’s also a terrible enabler. “Here,I saw this and thought you might like to give it a try,” he tells her,grinning.

26. How does your apprentice sleep? Do they sleep with a tonof pillows and blankets or none? Do they toss and turn? Weird things they do intheir sleep?

“Pick a hand,” Eustacia tells Asra, apropos of nothing, twofists held up.

He’s wary, and has every right to be. Usually, when shepulls this, bad things happen. That’s what happens when your first personalitytrait is usually given as ‘dangerouslyimpulsive.’ “…Left,” he says, pointing.

She groans and drops her hand. “Fucking hell—fuck me—god dammit. Get up. We’re making the bed before…ugh, we’re making the bed before bed tonight.”

Really, it’s not nearly as much of a chore as she makes itout to be in her head, despite the inexcusable amount of jewel-tone downpillows and blankets. Even the massive rabbit fur blanket on her side isn’t toounwieldy. Asra stands back and admires the freshly made bed, and looks to herwith a smile. “Now, if we take baths, we’ll sleep like the dead.”

“If I sewed you to the side of my head, I would never have abad idea again,” she tells him in agreement.

By nature, she’s nocturnal, and running the shop leaves herhateful and sleep deprived. Asra keeps strange hours himself, but she’s closedthe shop tomorrow in celebration of his return, and he has to push himself tostay awake with her. Freshly bathed, wearing clean clothes, they do make it tobed before the night has burned away.

At first, she faces away from him, battling her physicalnature and neediness, but she loses the fight. “Asra…?” she whispers into thedark, knowing he’s awake and thinking too hard.

He needs no further question, and they tangle together. Asrapresses close in her arms, head against her chest, and she curls around him,burying her face in his hair. “G’night, Eustacia,” he sighs, relaxing.

“Dream sweetly, master,” she bids him, holding the nape ofhis neck. He’s the only thing that’s ever felt like home, ever since she wokeup hearing his voice, feeling his hands, and smelling his scent.

Through the night, she shifts and turns about, but they’rehardly out of contact. He presses against her back, forehead against her neck.They sleep spine to spine. They wake only to grope for the other’s hand.

Asra manages to force his way half on top of her, and shedoesn’t even stir, letting him sleep against his shoulder. He doesn’t stir whenshe makes guttural, jerking noises deep in her throat, teeth snapping togetherwhen her jaw reacts. He calls it clonking and says it helps him to sleepbetter, because it lets him know she’s there.

In the morning, the bed is completely unmade, they smile ateach other under the blankets, and they won’t bother to make it again for twoweeks.

#holler holler get $ #rags wrote a thing #Asra #OC: Eustacia #i didn't stick to the 300 word limit on half of these and i'm not ashamed #i'm surprised by the amount of fluff considering i'm me and i write what i write #thank you anon!! #Anonymous