#I don’t know if this has been done before but when I read this prompt I just had to
Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers x reader (Stucky Vampire AU)
Word Count: 596
Summary: Bucky and Steve bring you a gift.
Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club Kinky Halloween celebration and day 20 and the prompt monster and temperature play. Went with monster on this and brought back our favorite Vampire boys. This is sort of of a part 1 to something that will come later in the month. Hope you enjoy and thank you so very much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf
Warnings: soft, romantic feels, implied smut, light smut, teasing, mentions of blood (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)
**The two edits of Bucky and Steve in my moodboard were done by my beautiful friend Nix, they are not mine! All my love and thanks to her! 🥰
Kinktober Masterlist 2021
You stand at the large glass windows, watching as a soft but luminous light starts to fill the sky. The smell of the forest wafts through the windows, slightly damp with the dew of the approaching dawn.
“It’s always beautiful at this time, isn’t it?”
Bucky’s arm slides around your waist and you lean your head against his shoulder.
“It is,” you whisper, turning your gaze to him.
“Almost as beautiful as you,” he purrs, smiling softly.
His lips brush yours and you can taste the lingering blood, your heart quickening. You moan into his mouth and his hands slide up to cup your breasts. They knead the soft flesh as he presses you against the cool glass, reaching up to tilt your head back so he can better claim your lips.
Your fingers slide up his thigh and you rub your hand over the hardness confined to his pants.
“James,” you gasp.
“I would take you right here and now if it weren’t for the gift that awaits you in the sitting room. I want you to see it before the light of the sun paints the sky.”
You still and turn your body so you can look directly into his eyes.
“What gift could be better than this?” you ask as your fingers close around him.
He growls low, throbbing in your hand and his fangs flash against his plush lips.
“You’re a brat,” he admonishes, releasing you and taking your hand. “Come. We will have plenty of time to play tonight.”
You walk with him down the long hallway, the candlelight dancing off the lofty ceilings as the flames flicker from your movement. Before you even enter the sitting room the smell of fresh blood invades your senses and the rapid thrumming of an unfamiliar heartbeat fills your ears.
Steve stands alongside the couch, leaning against the marble side table that gleams in what’s left of the fading moonlight. You greet him with an intense kiss before acknowledging what he has for you.
The sound of the struggling human pulls you away from Steve’s lips and you look down into a pair of bright blue eyes. You smile sweetly, displaying your fangs when you see the two puncture wounds in the man’s neck.
“Did you two have a taste of my gift before me?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the stranger. “You know I don’t like things that have been spoiled.”
“Only to make sure he was sweet enough for you baby girl.” Steve answers, smiling devilishly when you grin and sit down next to your new friend.
You run your fingers through his lush beard before ghosting them down his broad chest.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing?” you coo, noting the way his breath hitches at your touch.
The man struggles against his invisible ties but the moment you press your finger to his lips he calms and the tension in his shoulders disappears. You ghost your mouth across his and reach down to graze your fingers over his thigh.
With a sigh he closes his eyes as your nose traces along the thick column of his neck and you gently nip at his pulse point. You can feel the blood rushing through his vessels and it’s hard to refrain from having a taste of your own.
“We thought you might like a new plaything,” Bucky simpers.
“Does he have a name?” you ask, looking from Steve to Bucky.
Before either of them can answer the man at your side speaks in a breathy whisper.
“Andy. My name is Andy.”
@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lookiamtrying @marvelgirl7 @musicalmuffindog1410 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @starlightcrystalline @suchababie @silentkiller2374 @creatingjana @moongreydreams @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @saiyanprincessswanie @in-umbra-gratia
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57 for ralvez? 😊
“-and I don’t know but he makes my heart run faster, and he makes my hands all sweaty and everytime we talk, I feel like my tongue is so much heavier because I suddenly stumble over all of my words and then my sentences don’t make sense:” Spencer takes a deep breath, then stops his ramble, looking up to Emily who has a smile on her face, “What is it?”
“Spencer, I think you have a crush.” She points out and puts her fork down. They are sitting in her apartment and she could finally nudge out what has been going on with him for the last weeks.
“I don’t have a crush. Teenagers get crushes.”
“Oh no believe me, you can have a crush at all ages.” She watches Spencer’s whole expression fall into itself, his mouth slightly hanging open while she for a moment gets concerned that she just now, for the first time, put the thought into his head, that he could be into men. “You okay there?”
He nods and takes another sip from his wine, “Have you ever- you know- thought about your sexuality and your-”
“I don’t care about his gender.” He quickly states, “I don’t see why many people have a problem with that but I don’t”
“That’s good then what is wrong?”
“Nothing” He picks up his fork again, read<y to carry on with their evening like nothing just happened.
“Well, what are you gonna do about it?”
“See what happens.”
“You are not gonna make a move?”
“I have been going to so many parties with Morgan just because I knew he would be there, I have done enough for now.” He brings out. They had met at Morgan’s birthday a few months ago.
“Okay brainiac, let me know what happens.” For weeks nothing happens, Morgan figures it out too but Spencer signals him quickly that he doesn’t think yet, that his crush is a good thing and that he isn’t ready to talk about it, until Hotch walks into the bullpen one morning visibly stressed out,
“Everybody, the people working on the floor downstairs will join us in here. There has been a water leak, there are free desks but some of you will have to share. I am sorry but there is no other way.” He moves aside revealing multiple agents carrying their stuff and Hotch shows them where they can sit until most of them have found their space and he walks over to Spencer, “You don’t have to share your desk, it’s totally fine. There are enough other people that can share theirs.”
Spencer was just about to thank him for being so understanding, when he sees Luke walking in, carrying his box with stuff, “You can sit with me!” He calls and Luke has a relieved smile on his face when he recognizes him, while Hotch looks at him in confusion. Normally even anyone touching his desk results in death glares for the rest of the day and that on a good day. “There is enough room for both of us.”
“Thank you so much” Quickly Spencer grabs a stack of books and places them under the desk before he grabs the second one, “I promise, I will be as clean as one can be.”
“I am not very clean nor organized but I am gone most of the time on cases anyway.” Spencer tells him and shoves everything onto his side, “Make yourself at home.” Proudly he points at the now empty half while Hotch after multiple hand gestures and looks from Morgan and Emily understands what is going on.
“Alright, nobody kills each other, please, this is temporary!” Hotch calls again and then grabs a stack of books from Spencer’s desk, “I am gonna keep them in my office so nothing happens to them okay?”
“I am gonna be careful with those, I promise.” Luke tells him and sits down on his side, opening his laptop, “And if I- you know- do anything that bothers you, I know you are not really a fan of germs, you can just let me know.”
“I will” When Spencer turns around he sees Derek throwing him a thumbs up with a proud smile and when Luke somehow always is ready for a lunch break when Spencer is and somehow always brings two coffees in the morning, his friend on the other side of the bullpen maybe does the same.
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+ Exhibit A
(From this prompt generator)
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telling their s/o that they talk too much
w/ oikawa, atsumu, and sakusa!
(a/n: thank you guys for requesting !!! i really liked this prompt so i decided to write for it :))
there is a little bit of blood in sakusa’s part, but not too much!!
all settings are placed in the timeskip! as always, thank you for your support😽💞)
you’d always known you could get a little talkative with those you were comfortable with
every time you got passionate about something, words just spewed out of your mouth
thankfully, your boyfriend was quite talkative too
you loved to listen to him talk about volleyball and the team and you loved to talk to him about the things you loved
you never figured that your habits had bothered him
but when he snapped at you about it one day, you figured you’d misread him
tooru sighs. honestly, he just wants to go to bed.
the day has been quite long. he overworked his muscles, which are now aching quite painfully, and he’s been exhausted all day.
but you’re still going on about something that he really doesn’t care about, and he doesn’t have the energy to pretend he does.
“they had these really adorable decorations at the store, and i was thinking about buying a couple for our apartment! but then i looked at the price tag, and i decided it was way too pricey anyway,” you ramble, hands flailing around as you talk. oikawa sighs.
“why are you telling me this again?”
you laugh. “well, i’m not done telling you the story! anyways, i walked around the entire store...”
you continue along with your anecdote, and tooru can feel himself getting more irritated with every word.
at a certain point, you realize he’s not paying attention, and sigh. you nudge at him.
“couldn’t you pay attention for one second? i’m trying to tell you—”
“maybe if you didn’t just talk all the goddamn time i’d actually want to hear what you had to say, y/n. i genuinely don’t care whether or not you bought those stupid things from the store, alright?” he mutters before getting up and retreating into the bedroom, slamming it shut.
you deflate, all of the excitement from earlier dissipating. you hadn’t meant to talk so much, but you really wanted to tell him about your day. you thought he’d want to hear about it.
you wait until he’s asleep before you cautiously slip into bed beside him, turning on your side and away from him.
the next day is much better for tooru. it’s a good day for the team; everything seems to be going well. he makes excellent sets and the team appears to be pleased with him. he feels elated.
he comes home, happy to see you after a long day of hard work. he finds you in the kitchen and wraps his arms around your waist, gripping you tightly.
“missed you,” he breathes against you. you smile at him, and he sits down on the stool across from the island.
“man, today was amazing!” he starts, looking back on the day fondly. he rambles about how great his sets felt and how the team just seemed to be on their game and how everything just felt right, and you nod along as he talks.
“what about your day?” he prompts, looking up at you eagerly. you open your mouth to speak, but close it. you shrug instead.
“the same as always, i guess.”
there’s an awkward silence as he waits for you to continue, but the words never come.
“really? that’s hard to believe,” he chuckles, hoping you’ll elaborate, but you kind of just laugh awkwardly, and he can tell that you’ve tensed up.
dinner is no better. it’s awfully quiet, and he’s never seen you like this before. he even throws out those stupid puns you hate, knowing you always laugh at them anyway, but you just look down at your plate and push your food around.
when you slip into bed wordlessly, turning the lamp off, he gets antsy and turns it back on.
“what’s up with you? you’ve barely said a word since i got home.”
you look away.
“that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” you ask, voice small.
he pauses. “what?”
you stare up at him, and there’s hurt swimming in your eyes that wasn’t there before.
“i just— i didn’t wanna annoy you again. i know you don’t like it when i talk so much.”
his heart begins to sink when he remembers how he completely turned you down yesterday.
he’s always loved how passionate you get when you talk about the things you love and everything that happens in your life. he didn’t mean to make you insecure about that; it’s one of his favorite things about you.
“that’s not true,” he whispers, sitting beside you and pulling you flush against him. “i love it when you get excited about things and wanna tell me about them. i shouldn’t have said the things i told you yesterday,” he mumbles regretfully.
you look up at him, hesitant. “i don’t want to make you mad again.”
he presses a kiss to your temple, dismissing you. “that wasn’t your fault, okay?” you nod, and lean into him.
“now, how about you tell me about your day?”
you’d always been pretty talkative when it came to the things you loved
you loved to go on and on about your favorite tv shows and your hobbies
thankfully, atsumu himself was generally outgoing
he was able to keep up with you in that aspect
even so, even he could only take so much
atsumu buries his face in his arms. he really just wants to sleep. but at the present moment, you’re still talking about that weird show you like.
“i was really disappointed in this episode. i mean, seriously? the characters were so well-written until they completely ruined them,” you huff, annoyed.
atsumu nods along, just wanting to turn over and go to sleep. he starts to zone out, thinking of tomorrow’s plans.
“i really hope the next episode is better. people are saying the manga is a lot better than the show, but i haven’t quite gotten to it yet,” you mumble thoughtfully. he groans, irritated. you look over at him curiously.
he grunts, not saying anything.
“well, like i was saying, the next episode apparently comes out tomorrow! i was thinking we could watch it together after you got home from-”
“could you just be quiet for two seconds? all of your rambling is getting on my nerves,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and closing his eyes. at his words, you stop, words forgotten.
you turn the lamp off and slip under the covers, thoughts still buzzing in your head.
the next day, atsumu comes home from practice, exhilarated and exhausted from the work, but happy. today felt pretty great, and he can’t wait to end it with you.
he calls your name when he opens the door, letting you know of his arrival. your response never comes, and he walks through the hallway to see you sitting at the table, headphones in.
you finally notice him at some point and look up, smiling sweetly. he’s about to ask you a question, but your attention is back on your screen, so he stays quiet.
he must say, it’s a little strange. you’re usually already jumping into a tangent about some random thing or asking him how his day was. the silence is a little unnerving.
he sits down with his dinner, hoping that if you see him sitting there, you’ll want to engage in a discussion with him, but you clearly have no interest in doing so. he sighs sadly and continues to eat in silence.
you finally put your headphones down and turn off your phone, and atsumu perks up.
“so, whatcha watching?” he asks eagerly. you stare at him blankly.
“oh, it’s nothing. just the new episode,” you mumble. he pauses.
“i thought we were gonna watch it together?” he answers, and the two of you stare at each other awkwardly.
“oh. i assumed you didn’t want to...” you trail off, looking away. atsumu shifts uncomfortably.
“well, how was it?” he attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere, and you shrug.
“it was okay, i guess.”
he waits for you to continue, but you just sit there, and the atmosphere is tense.
the two of you sit in silence for a while, and it’s uncomfortable.
“oh,” he laughs awkwardly. “that good, huh?” he says, but it falls flat. you just nod and look down at your plate. he winces at your coldness, but before he can say anything, you’re standing up and taking your dish to the sink. you rinse it and then leave, retreating into the bedroom and closing the door behind you.
he sighs, confused. he misses your obnoxious laughter and your endless anecdotes, and he doesn’t understand why you’re acting this way.
he opens the door to see you reading in bed, and he pads over to sit next to you. he lays his head on your shoulder and nuzzles at you.
“what’s wrong?” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over your thigh.
“nothing,” you reply, eyes still glued to your pages.
“seriously, what’s up?”
“i’m fine, tsumu.”
he takes the book out of your hands and forces you to look at him.
“you know you can talk to me, right?” he offers softly, and you scoff.
“really? because the last time i tried, you just told me to shut up. excuse me for trying to be considerate,” you retort, hurt.
his eyes widen and he sits up to look at you. you won’t make eye contact, so he puts a hand on your cheek and tilts it towards him.
“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, and you look at him reluctantly. “i miss the old you. i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
you sigh, shrugging. “it’s okay. i just take things really personally and i didn’t want to be called annoying again.”
he comes closer and nuzzles your nose affectionately. “you’re not annoying, okay? i love you.”
you laugh, tilting your head up to kiss him. he pulls back.
“wanna watch the new episode with me?”
in terms of being talkative, you were definitely way more talkative than sakusa
he was reserved and didn’t have much to say, but you loved to talk about the things you were passionate about
kiyoomi didn’t mind having a s/o like that; even though he himself wasn’t exactly outgoing, he enjoyed your company
but sometimes he got overwhelmed with you, and this was simply one of those times
“man, today was the worst!” you exclaim, dumping the potatoes into the pot. you turn the stove on and sigh.
“my manager was pissed all day and then got mad at me for leaving, and on time too! i had to stay and close because no one was able to cover the last shift and i had to do all of the organizing,” you complain, stirring the pot.
kiyoomi sighs. his head is hurting from today’s practice, and your loudness is only making it worse.
“not to mention, no one even bothered to clean up after themselves. which is fucking stupid, because i had to clean up after them. they’re like children sometimes!” you yell, hands thrown in the air. kiyoomi buries his face in his hands, agitated.
“and while i was cleaning, i ended the up dropping the knife on— kiyoomi?”
his head is on his forearms, and he appears to not have heard a single thing you said. you scoff, annoyed, and attempt to shake him out of whatever faze he’s in.
“babe, can’t you just listen for—”
“my god, do you ever just shut up? all you do is talk,” he spits, irritated, and puts his head back down.
stunned, you stand back, not knowing how to react.
you pad back over to the place where you stood, tending to the food on the stove.
sakusa doesn’t have practice the next day. his head is feeling much better than it did yesterday, and the pounding is gone.
he spends the day doing some exercise and doing some cooking while he waits for you to return home from work.
at hearing the door open, he perks up, and sticks his head out of the kitchen, watching you. he greets you, and you smile softly at him.
when you walk into the kitchen, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in. you tense up for a second, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. but you relax, and so does he.
“how was work?” he asks, and you pull away, moving to sit on the couch.
“good,” you respond, eyes on your laptop.
he pauses. you’re uncharacteristically silent, and it’s making him uncomfortable.
“that’s... good. do anything exciting today?” he asks, expectant. you shrug.
he shifts on his feet, feeling a little awkward.
“well, i’m making your favorite,” he offers, a little smile playing on his lips. “thought you could use it.”
you do look up at him at that, but all you do is nod stiffly and return to your work. he shrugs it off.
but dinner is awkward too. it usually takes you half an hour just to finish a portion of your food, the time spent with your mouth running on about some random thing, but you don’t talk at all. you get up and leave before he can even say anything, and his chest aches. he’s not sure why you’re being so distant.
sighing, he settles into bed, waiting for you to finish showering. but all of a sudden, he hears a whimper and a hiss, and he goes to see what’s wrong.
you’re sitting on the edge of the tub, clutching your ankle. there’s a deep cut just below the bone, and kiyoomi’s eyes widen in alarm. he rushes over and takes your leg into his hands, inspecting the cut.
“what happened?” he asks sternly, and you sigh.
“it’s nothing. had an accident yesterday, and the cut reopened,” you mumble, cringing at the pain.
“why didn’t you tell me?” he scolds, the coldness of his tone masking the worry under it. you laugh dryly.
“you need to tell me about these things, okay? i don’t understand why you—”
“i tried to tell you, kiyoomi!” you yell, frustrated. “i tried to tell you, and you told me to shut up.”
he freezes, eyes wide, before softening guiltily.
“i didn’t mean—”
“yeah, whatever. just, get out? i need to shower,” you wave him away, dismissal obvious in your tone. you pause when he starts taking off his shirt. “what are you—”
“isn’t it obvious? i’m coming with you.”
you scoff. “you don’t need to—”
he cuts you off by pressing a finger to your lips, and puts his forehead on yours.
“i’m sorry for the way i treated you yesterday. it was unfair to you,” he apologizes softly, and you nod. “i want you to tell me about these things, okay? even if they’re about you being a complete and total klutz.”
you pull back and smack him in the chest, and he laughs.
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Prompt: you faint during an argument; Kuroo and Oikawa edition
Warnings: fainting, slight mentions of panic, mentions of violence (he does NOT hit you, just misunderstandings)
Read other parts: akaashi and iwaizumi , sakusa and tsukishima , bokuto and atsumu , kita and tendou , osamu and semi
You and Kuroo had been silently ignoring each other for the day, both of you too angry to speak to the other, neither willing to cave and break the silence first. You’d been cleaning around the apartment, deciding to organize his desk that was a bit messy as he was in the bathroom. What you hadn’t counted on was your elbow knocking down his mug of coffee and spilling over his papers. Kuroo wasn’t pleased in the slightest, that was clear, but he also wasn’t the kindest to you when he got back, opting to yell at you for doing your cleaning while you claimed you only wanted to help. So now here you were, both of you stubbornly sitting across the table from each other eating dinner quietly.
“Can you pass me some salt?” You eventually broke the silence but were met with nothing. Looking at Kuroo, he didn’t seem to have heard you, but you knew better from the way his fist tightened a little bit. “So you wanna be petty? I said was sorry Tetsuro, it was an accident.” He glared at you.
“Yeah and now I look unprofessional because of you. I’m gonna go in with papers stained with coffee in the corner, how does that make me look?” Sighing, you put your utensils down.
“It happens! I was just trying to help, I’ve apologized so many times but you’re being an absolute dick about it. You can print new ones if it means that much to you,” you said exasperated. This only seemed to anger him further, his voice raising a bit, making you frown.
“Oh, and I just redo hours of paperwork? Because you couldn’t keep in your own space and leave my papers alone?”
“You’d been complaining about having to clear out the old ones to make more room! I just wanted to help you from being stressed!”
“Well now you’ve made me more stressed!” He stood up this time, hands slamming the table, glasses of water shaking a bit at the force. Stunned, you flinched back, heartbeat beginning to get erratic.
“For the hundredth time Testu, I’m sorry! I won’t go in there again—”
“Sorry doesn’t fix my damn papers y/n!” Standing up, you glared at him this time, anger beginning to spike. He was beginning to get awfully unreasonable about this, unwilling to just drop it.
“What’s your issue Tetsuro? You’ve been moody this whole day, and I’m sick of it. Get your attitude in check okay?” This prompted him to only get angrier, however, looking at you with a condescending grin.
“Oh I’m sorry y/n, I guess I can learn a thing or two from you about being less moody. You seem to ruin your boyfriend’s work and easily act like nothing is wrong so I suppose your good at shoving things under the rug!”
“Shut up y/n, you’re the most insensitive and self absorbed person I’ve met. All you do is wander around in your own bubble, no care in the world to who you’re inconveniencing or not!” Finally, tears of frustration rolled down your face, as you stared at Kuroo in shock. What was a minor accident on your part was beginning to escalate into something much larger in scale than it had to be, and Kuroo was beginning to drain you with his constant jabs.
“What else do you want—”
“You’re still sitting here talking about yourself! ‘I apologized,’ ‘I made a small mistake,’ ‘I was just trying to help,’ maybe I don’t need your help y/n, and maybe I don’t need you!” Despite trying to tell yourself he didn’t mean it, that it was just in the moment, his words cut deep.
“Why would you say—”
“For fucks sake y/n, again? All you do is make it so you’re the victim! My things got ruined! Mine! This isn’t about you! Not everything is fucking about you!”
“Shut up would you!” The room was beginning to spin and his voice was starting to make you flinch with each word. Slowly, you hugged yourself, tears beginning to fall more rapidly. “What was even going on in your head that you just had to go through my papers? You saw I was stressed! Did you really have to make things worse?”
“I really didn’t mean—”
“Well you did! You always do! I can’t escape the stress, not at work, not at home with you! What is so hard about leaving my things—” he never got to finish the sentence that he was screaming at you because before he could, you’d slumped into your chair, eyes closed, not responding as he called your name.
It took a bit, but eventually, Kuroo coaxed you awake, seeing your eyes flutter open from your spot on his chest as he cradled you to him. Peering up, you adjusted to your surroundings.
“Hey y/n,” he said softly. Sighing, you tried to leave him arms, but he wouldn’t let you. “I’m really sorry y/n, I overreacted and ended up overwhelming you. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Shrugging, you lay limply by his side.
“It’s whatever.” Looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows, he shook his head.
“It’s not whatever, I shouldn’t have—” he was interrupted by you turning around and facing away from him. “Y/n? Babe?”
“Just drop it Tetsuro, I’m not in the mood.” Heart sinking, he tried to turn you to face him, but you refused.
“Babe, I know you’re upset but—”
“Tetsuro, I’m pretty tired okay? You’ve yelled at me quite a bit and it’s been exhausting. I’m sorry I got in your way and I’m sorry I seem to bother you so much, so I’ll leave you alone more from now on and keep to myself.” He knew it was his own fault, but that didn’t stop Kuroo from feeling the guilt seep in, crushing him under its weight.
“I’m really sorry y/n, I didn’t mean any of it, I really do promise. I just snapped from the pressure. It was way too much though, I know that, and I swear it won’t happen again. I just... I don’t know, works been hectic, and I’ve missed you, I haven’t been able to spend as much time with you, and I just wanted a break but the papers getting stained just made me blow up.” Slowly, much to his relief, you turned, facing him once more.
“You could talk to me if you’re stressed, I’d have listened. I don’t try to make everything about me.” He shook his head, grabbing your hand and laying it against his cheek, kissing the palm.
“You don’t. I was being a dick. I’m really sorry y/n, I never meant to push you so far.” Sighing, you came closer, fully closing the gap between you.
“I’m sorry about your papers Tetsu, I should’ve known better than to invade your space in the middle of working.”
“You were just trying to help, and the worst my coworkers would do was make a joke here and there. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” You smiled gently at him, leaning in and kissing him briefly. Leaning his head against yours, Kuroo closed his eyes, basking in your presence. “I’ll never speak to you like that again, I love you okay?” Smiling, you cupped his cheek.
“I love you too Tetsu.” Once more, you closed your eyes, this time much calmer as you fell into a slumber in Kuroo’s arms.
“Tooru you know for our date this Saturday? There’s this place that opened—” Oikawa sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat on his phone. Looking up and meeting your eyes, he gave you a tired look.
“Y/n, I’m busy this Saturday too okay? I have more practice to do for the upcoming game.” Deflating, you looked at your hands.
“Oh,” you whispered. “But Saturday is date night,” you reminded him. Groaning, he threw his head back, looking at you once more with furrowed eyebrows.
“Y/n seriously? You can’t see I’m busy this week?” You felt your heart sink even more, staring at your lap dejectedly, earlier excitement gone.
“But Tooru, we haven’t had date night in two weeks, you canceled the hour before the first time, and then the second time you said you were too busy too. Are you really that busy on your day off?” Glaring at you, he scoffed, looking back at his phone.
“Well I have things to do right now y/n, if you’re not gonna understand, then I’m not gonna waste my time on it.” Tears welled in your eyes, the feeling of hurt, of your insecurities peaking that your boyfriend didn’t enjoy spending time with you as you did, starting to bubble up in your chest. As the tears slid down your cheeks, you sniffled, trying to wipe them away.
“W-what about Sunday? Maybe Sunday will be a better—”
“Are you actually serious y/n? Are you still on about the damn date? Like we don’t go on enough dates? Are you seriously that desperate to go out? We’ll have a damn date when I’m not fucking busy, jeez!” Frowning, you tried your best to wipe your tears, looking at him to defend yourself.
“I’m not desperate if we haven’t had date night in two weeks! We set that up so that we’d have a night to ourselves even if we got busy, and you’re just blowing it off—” once again he cut you off, rising to his feet and tugging at his hair in frustration. The muscles of his arms flexed tensely, veins popping as he got more worked up.
“You are so clingy! Maybe I just need a break from you, have you ever thought of that? Maybe extra practice is more enjoyable than being around you at this point.” This time, a choked sob escaped you as you stared at him in disbelief. Oikawa only rolled his eyes.
“Tooru, what has gotten into you?”
“Nothing! It’s you!”
“I haven’t done anything! You’ve been blowing me off, canceling dates, you’re on your phone during the few times we get to ourselves at home, I just miss you!” Laughing bitterly, he shook his head.
“You miss me? Jeez y/n, I live with you! What else do you need? Do you want me to merge myself at your hip?” Wiping your nose, you stood up.
“Tooru, stop twisting my words, I didn’t even say anything bad! I just miss the way we spent at least one night with each other! Don’t you miss spending time with me? You’re usually the one that needs more attention anyway!” Whipping his head around, he looked at you with narrowed eyes, pupils dark and cold, staring at you venomously.
“I’m the one who needs attention?”
“I’m the one who’s clingy huh? I need to be smothered 24/7?” Hands getting clammy, your heart raced in your chest.
“I suppose I’m the one who always needs to be coddled, so desperate for a damn date night huh? No concern of whether or not you’re busy?” Your breath hitched, panic setting in as his voice kept rising while he stalked closer and closer to you, face red and angry.
“Okay, let’s just drop—” but to your dismay, he cut you off once more, even angrier than before.
“Drop it? You wanna fucking drop it? After you started it?”
“You wanted a date so desperately didn’t you? Now you’re just gonna drop it? Make up your damn mind y/n because all you’re doing is pissing me off!” And just as he raised a hand up, you gasped, flinching violently. He paused midway to brushing the hair out of his face, eyes wide as he watched you fall back onto the couch behind you, eyes closed and body limp.
You opened your eyes again a while later, body sore as you sat up, trying to get past your disoriented state. A small sniffle rang through your room, and slowly you registered that your boyfriend was sat at the foot of the bed.
“Y-y/n?” Sighing, you stared at your hands. Oikawa let out a shaky breath, wiping away the tears. “Y/n you know... you can’t think... I-I’d never actually... I could never hurt you like that,” he whispered out eventually, heart breaking in his chest as the words left his mouth. Slowly, you met his eyes, seeing the pain in his orbs. Letting out a breath, you nodded.
“I know, it was just... things were escalating and it just happened so fast, my body acted before my mind.” He sniffled again, trying to reach for your hand. Grabbing it, he squeezed gently.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let’s go on that date on Saturday, I’ll take you on one on Sund—”
“I don’t really want to go on a date anymore. I just wanna be alone.” His lips trembled, face paling. Shaking his head, Oikawa looked at you pleadingly.
“I know I was wrong, you had every right to be upset over two missed weeks, so just let me make it up to you, I...” he trailed off when he noticed you wiping away your own tears.
“You said so many awful things to me over this date. It just won’t be enjoyable now, it’ll just seem forced. I don’t wanna go out anymore, and definitely not if you don’t want to.” Breath shaky, he exhaled, trying his best to keep his composure for you.
“No, I didn’t mean them. I was being a jerk, and I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I should appreciate you more. I’m really sorry okay? Please, I’m so sorry. I’ll... just let me take you on a date, or we can even stay in and have one indoors! I’ll cook, and we can build a fort, and I’ll spend the time you deserve me to spend with you.” Looking at you pleadingly, trails of tears streamed down his face as you stared at him. Despite the way he’d hurt you earlier, you saw the regret and sincerity in Oikawa’s eyes, and more than anything, you missed him. Nodding slowly, you sighed.
“Okay. I guess. But I wanna stay in, I don’t think I have the energy to go out this week.” Nodding rapidly, he came closer, his hand just stopping before he could touch you. Silently, he begged for permission. You nodded, giving him the sign to pull you into him.
“Okay, anything you want. I’d never ever hurt you y/n, not like that. You’re everything to me okay? I love you.” Leaning weight into him, you finally relaxed, letting Oikawa hold you tightly against his chest.
“I love you too Tooru.”
I didn’t feel like proof reading this so if there are any spelling or grammar errors let me know. I’ll look over it sometime tomorrow if I remember
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Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy Prompts pt. 2
Creators Involved: Tommy (p!), Tubbo (p!), Ranboo (p!), Punz, c!Philza, c!Techno, Foolish
One falling asleep in the other's lap
"Tommy! How was your stream?", you'd been waiting for your friend for about an hour, waiting for his stream to end.
"Eh. I'm tired.", he yawns, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as you.
"You promised me movie night last time and fell asleep. You have to this time.", you try to guilt him.
Last time this happened, he knocked out before the pair of you had even picked a movie.
"Tommyyyyy.", you whine.
He groans, lolling his head back.
"Fine. You pick the movie, I'm hungry.", he disappears to his kitchen.
You scroll through Netflix, finally picking a movie before Tommy returns.
"Press play, bitch.", Tommy mumbles, his mouth full of popcorn.
You press play and watch the introduction.
"I'm cold. Pass me the blanket.", you tell Tommy.
He rolls his eyes, but passes it to you anyway.
You catch him eyeing the blanket, and you laugh at him.
"We can share if you want.", you lift up the edge of the blanket.
He scratches his head, mumbling something under his breath.
"Was I supposed to be able to understand that?", you tease him.
"Can we do that thing we did the other day again?", he speaks clearly this time.
Your face scrunches as you laugh at him.
"You're going to have to be a lot more specific than that."
He lays his head down in your lap without another word, and you get the message.
You play with his hair, scratching at his scalp.
Soft snores start increasing in volume, catching your attention.
"Maybe one day we'll be able to finish a movie."
Reading a book together
You continue scanning the words in your book as Tubbo plops down on his bed next to you.
He liked having company after lore streams, and today wasn't any different.
"What're you reading?", he asks.
His voice lacks the normal energy, and you can tell he's exhausted.
"Um, it's called Little Women.", you show him the cover before continuing reading.
"What's it about? Short women?", he sounds so serious that you have to choke back a laugh.
"It's about these four sisters going through life pretty much. I don't think you'd like it.", you reply, flipping the page.
"Will you read it out loud?", his voice is quieter as if he's embarrassed to ask.
"Yeah, okay.", you nod.
He shifts to get comfortable, laying on his side to face you with his head resting on his arm.
You clear your throat before beginning to read the next paragraph.
"At nine they stopped work, and sang, as usual, before they went to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano, but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys and making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sang."
By the time you made it to the bottom of the page, you see out of the corner of your eyes that Tubbo's eyes are closed.
"Why'd you stop?", he sounds sleepy, but he's still awake.
"Okay, okay.", you continue until he's actually asleep, glad you can help comfort him.
Sharing a dessert
"It's done!", you announce as you pull the pan out of the oven.
You and Ranboo had made a cake out of pure boredom, and it smells pretty good for how awful the process was.
Ranboo skids into the kitchen, his socks allowing him to slide on the floor.
"Can we decorate it?", he's just like a little kid.
"It's still hot.", you laugh, shaking your head negatively at him.
"Can we at least try it then?", he pleads.
"Ranboo!", you scold him.
"What? It smells so good...", he whines; his eyes plead with yours.
"One of these days I'll figure out how to say no when you give me that look.", you mumble under your breath.
He pumps his fist, victorious.
You cut the corner piece, putting it on a plate.
He hands you a fork, and you each take a bite.
His face crinkles up and you immediately gag.
"What did we do wrong?", you gasp as you spit out the piece.
"I don't know, but that is disgusting.", he hisses as he washes his mouth out with water.
You sigh as you dump the cake in the garbage, your hard work wasted.
"Can we make another one?", Ranboo asks after giving the cake its respectful moment of silence.
"Are we actually going to follow the instructions?", you inquire, giving him a look.
"Probably not correctly.", he shrugs.
"Let's do it."
Caring for each other while ill
As you enter Punz's apartment after picking up food for the two of you, you realize it's pitch black inside.
"Luke?", you call.
You flip the living room light on, confused.
He knew you were coming, so he wouldn't leave without letting you know.
You set the bag of the food on the counter, checking his office to find it empty.
When you enter his bedroom and flip on the light, Punz lets out a loud groan.
You immediately turn the light off, your brows knit together in concern.
"Hey, sweetheart. You okay?", you whisper, not wanting to disturb whatever is wrong.
"Migraine.", he croaks.
"I'll be right back, okay? You just stay there.", you're careful to crack the door open just enough to leave without letting too much light in.
You turn off the hallway light, leaving only the living room illuminated.
Grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer and a couple Tylenol from the cupboard, you carefully return to the bedroom.
You tiptoe to his bedside, careful not to make too much noise.
Grabbing a towel from the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, you wrap the ice pack so it won't burn him.
"Luke, put this on your forehead.", your whisper is barely audible, but you know it sounds like you're screaming in his ear to him.
He grunts, pressing the pack to his forehead.
"You need to take these.", you press the pills into his hand, holding out his water bottle for him.
He swallows the pills, grimacing as he sits up to do so.
"Get some sleep, Luke. It'll help.", you kiss his hand as you take his water bottle back.
"Stay.", he croaks as you stand to leave.
You scoot next to him under the covers, snuggling into his side.
"Get better soon.", you kiss his cheek before resting next to him, not sleeping until you hear his breath even out.
Cuddling in a blanket fort
"You're finally done!", you cheer as Phil enters the door.
"Lovely to see you too.", Phil chuckles as he sets down his tools.
You jump up and give him a big hug and kiss, thankful for his safe return from the Nether.
"How did it go? You didn't get hurt, right? Did you find enough Netherite for that project you're working on? Did the portal travel go okay cause I know your stomach has been kinda touchy lately and-", Phil covers your mouth with his hand, laughing at your barrage of questions.
"Yes, I'm fine. Nothing went wrong; I managed to find enough Netherite. How has your day been?", he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head before beginning to take off his armor.
"It was pretty boring. Tommy stopped by and wanted to speak to you, but I told him to come back tomorrow. It must not've been urgent cause he didn't leave a message or anything.", you explain to him as he hangs his armor on the rack.
"Well, around here, boring is pretty good.", Phil jokes, ruffling his hair with his hand in an attempt to fluff it after being in his helmet all day.
"There's food in the furnace for you, and then I have a surprise when you're finished eating.", you tell him.
He quirks an eyebrow up, skeptical.
"Surprise?", he asks.
"C'mon, you're probably starving.", you ignore him, heading into the kitchen.
He polishes off his plate in no time.
"Okay, now what's this surprise?", Phil looks amused.
"Come on!", you pull him into the main room.
In front of the fireplace, you've created a fort of blankets and pillows.
Phil's eyes twinkle as he surveys the scene.
"Do you like it? Maybe it was kinda dumb, I just thought it might be cute to-", Phil just shakes his head with a loud laugh.
"Darling, you worry too much. It's beautiful. Shall we get in?", he bends down and ducks to enter the main opening.
You follow, both of you settling in each other's arms in front of the fire.
"This is amazing, love. Thank you for making this fort.", Phil kisses you again, a smile wide on his face.
"Anything to be in your arms."
The side door to your house slams open, and you jump in surprise.
A low grunt helps you identify who the offender is.
You continue sorting through the chests, trying to make them a little more organized.
Heavy footsteps catch your attention, and you turn around to see Techno looming over you.
"Well, hi there.", you grin at him, turning back to continue sorting through the chests.
He huffs at your lack of attention, and you find yourself being lifted off of the floor.
"Woah! What are you doing?", you laugh, wiggling against his grasp.
"Stop squirming.", he hisses, and you can't help but go limp.
"Can you at least tell me what we're doing?", you mumble right next to his ear.
He scales the ladder, not even flinching at the fact that he's carrying you.
He sets you down on the bed, immediately crawling in beside you.
You lay flat on your back, allowing him to rest his head on your chest.
You start running your hand through his long hair, braiding a few strands together.
"Do you want to talk about it?", you ask him softly, not wanting to upset him.
"Just missed you.", his voice is gruff, but you can still hear the affection in it.
You know there's more to the story, but you won't push him to tell you anything.
You continue scratching his scalp and playing with his hair until his weight gets heavier as he falls asleep and relaxes.
"Goodnight, Techno. I love you.", you kiss the top of his head as he lets out a soft snore, subconsciously returning the statement.
"Hey, cutie!", Foolish pulls up a chair next to your desk, gently rubbing a hand up and down your back.
"Hi.", you greet him back tiredly.
You had been working on an assignment for a few hours now, and you were past the point of brain-dead.
"What are you working on?", he scoots closer to peer over your shoulder.
You show him the screen of your computer, and he lets out a hiss with his teeth clenched together.
"Do you want help?", he offers.
"I'm done, I'm just checking over my answers.", you reply softly.
"How about you take a break? It'll help you when you come back. You'll feel better.", he leans his head onto your shoulder, driving his point home.
You sigh, looking over your many pages of notes.
"Okay.", you whisper.
He grins, immediately jumping to his feet.
"You wanna see what I'm working on for Tubbo and Ranboo on the SMP?", he questions.
You nod, just wanting to be with him and away from your work.
He takes your hand, guiding you to his office.
He sits in his chair before pulling you into his lap.
"Here, you can look around. WASD if you don't remember.", you occasionally play Minecraft with your boyfriend, but not enough to know the game.
You start running around the giant mansion he's been building, admiring his work.
As you start going up the stairs, Foolish's hands start massaging your shoulders.
"Noah, what are you doing?", you laugh, but you can't deny that it feels really good.
"Nothing.", he mumbles, kissing your shoulder.
When you finish looking around, he takes the controls from you, allowing you to lean back against him.
"Feeling any better?", he asks, resting his head on top of yours.
"Yes, thank you.", you rest your hand on his, snuggling up against his chest as he begins to build again.
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that’s all daichi felt as he stumbled from yachi’s office after he finished his interview, the dim light coming from the sunset washing the hallway in a layer of color.
he wasn’t sure what to expect at first when he’d been called in, the previous members downright refusing to share what they’d discussed, but he had heard whispers that whatever you talked about was... bad.
you’d disappeared into your room after your interview, refusing to let anyone but atsumu in and even then, atsumu came out of his time with you looking worse for wear. neither of you joined the rather tense game night and it was clear the others were worried, but daichi just couldn’t understand why.
why were all the other house members (besides osamu) suddenly so invested in you and your well-being? contrary to popular belief, daichi was not dumb — he knew this was a long time coming, more of the people who he thought were his friends abandoning him to join you.
well maybe not just you, but they seemed to spend an awful lot of time and energy on the woman who’d destroyed meiko’s life. he just couldn’t make sense of it.
he was even more thrown when sugawara, his best friend, joined the trend and stopped talking to him, supporting you to the fullest and avoiding him at every turn. it felt wrong, somehow, that koushi was no longer by his side but he didn’t know what to do about it.
they clearly had a difference in beliefs — sugawara was hard pressed to believe that meiko was some kind of horrible person and daichi... well daichi loved her. he knew he did.
these thoughts overwhelmed him to the point where he was unable to sleep, tossing and turning while his mind raced to unravel the mystery of what was going on in the house.
“fuck,” daichi sighed as he glanced over at his alarm clock with bleary eyes. it read 2:57a and he let out a loud groan. there was no way he’d be able to sleep like this. he wracked his brain for something, anything, to help and he came up with a memory of akaashi telling him that a warm mug of chamomile would send anyone right to sleep.
letting out another sigh, daichi stood to his feet and trudged out of his room and towards the kitchen, ready to finally get some aid but as he approached, the sound of soft voices hit his ears.
on the couch sat you and koushi; you were wearing an oversized shirt (that must have belonged to bokuto) and colorful pajama pants (his guess was that they were kenma’s) and koushi was wearing old sweats and a hoodie. he looked shaken up about something, his eyes rimmed red as he muttered something to you, whatever was said prompting you to reach out and pull him into a hug.
daichi felt like he was intruding and severely out of place, his mind screaming at him to just turn around and go back to his room but he knew if he did, he’d never sleep, his mind full of even more questions than he had before.
so instead, he chose to clear his throat loudly as he walked further into the room, the sound frightening the both of you and causing you to let go of one another.
you shot daichi an uneasy, tired smile as you stood, before patting koushi on the shoulder and leaving the room. sugawara watched you go the entire time with metaphorical stars in his eyes and his heart on his sleeve. daichi repressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead turning toward the kitchen to prepare himself some tea.
to his surprise, sugawara didn’t leave the room. he actually made his way to the kitchen and sat at the counter, watching daichi fill up the kettle and place it on the stove.
the silence wasn’t awkward or oppressive but it was heavy, the unasked questions hanging over them in the air. it was daichi who chose to break it.
“so, what was that about?” he winced at the state of his voice, cracky and weak but he powered through, chancing a glance at his old friend.
sugawara looked tired but also defeated, like he was simultaneously expecting that question and wishing that it hadn’t been asked. “i was apologizing.”
daichi knew he was staring incredulously now but he couldn’t help it. suga was apologizing? for what? what could he possibly apologize for? when he voiced this, koushi scoffed and turned away.
“are you kidding? we have so much to apologize for. we all treated her like shit.”
“but doesn’t she deserve that? she hurt meiko deeply!”
“nobody deserves what we did! nobody! god, daichi, yn has done so much for me and—“
“like what, hm? what exactly has she done for you?”
“i... i can’t tell you that.”
“can’t or won’t?”
the room fell into silence, a stark contrast to the shouting that had been taking place just moments before. both men were warring with themselves and suga was the one to give in.
“meiko assaulted me, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?” koushi’s voice sounded so weak, so broken, and daichi saw red.
“...what?” the words were uttered low and disbelieving as daichi clenched his hands into fists to keep them from quivering with rage.
suga ran a hand through his sliver locks before shaking his head. “i really don’t want to talk about this with you, daichi.”
“but you’ll talk about it with her.”
“fuck off, that’s not fair and you know it,” koushi spat, pushing himself to his feet as he was readying himself to leave. he looked so hurt that daichi couldn’t stop himself from grabbing his arm gently.
“i know... i’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, his brown eyes shining with unshed tears and sincerity. he just wanted suga to open up to him, for them to go back to the way they used to be but he was different now. they both were.
koushi shook his head softly and gingerly removed himself from daichi’s hold. “i’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he whispered before turning and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.
daichi was alone. again. he sniffed and wiped his eyes to get rid of any residual tears as he moved back to the kitchen to finish making his tea. not that it would do him any good—the information he was just given would definitely keep him up until morning.
he was having a difficult time processing what had just occurred and yet, he knew he was in the wrong on multiple occasions. he’d abandoned his best friend in his time of need and sided with his attacker. daichi couldn’t even claim that he was suga’s friend anymore with what he’d done. no, he’d earn back his place. he just needed to figure out how to make things right.
whatever it takes.
℗ poker face
whatever it takes
an - daichi arc start! skdjjd anw this chapter is a lil wack??? but i hope it at least gets the point across lmfaoo oh n daisuga are working out their issues! s not as cut n dry as the other friendships were but i think this way adds more ~flavor~ hehe don’t forget to feed me!! <:333
taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you
@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp
the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!
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Piercer!Suna Rintaro x F!reader AU
Contains : mentions of drug use, nipple play, fingering, m!recieving oral, finishing on your tits, and praise (on my good girl shit)
“Says he has four years of experience and the reviews look good too” your friend comments while mindlessly scrolling through the tattoo shop's website on your phone. An old college friend recommended the dainty shop to you, a year ago. She sang praises about her septum, that a talented dark haired man pierced.
“Never wearing bras again!” you echo back adjusting your crop top and plaid skirt in the bathroom mirror. Until today you only dreamed about having your nipples pierced. After years of only speaking about it, it was time for the deed to be done.It was exhilarating, that much can be said for the amount of photos of pierced boobs in your phone. The vast amount of jewelry options, excited you the most. Your favorite was a pink heart shaped ring that you bookmarked in your phone.
It’s no surprise that you were also yearning for the piercings to create elevated sensations during sexual activity. Unfortunately that would have to wait, per your own research for 7-10 months.
“Sucks that I can’t come with you, it’s my sister's birthday” your friend frowns, handing your phone back to you.
You honestly did not mind going alone to the piercing shop. You had piercings done before, in fact your nose and belly button is pierced. It was going to be quick piercing too, so there’s nothing to be worried about. You managed to convince your friend to drop you off at the piercing shop, before they left for their siblings birthday party.
You scrambled as you closed the passenger seat of the car, waving farewell to your friend. Before stepping in front of the dimly lit tattoo/piercing shop, you wanted to make sure you didn’t forget anything. Nodding to yourself as you peeked into your shoulder bag, okay I have my ID, money, mint gum, lip gloss and enough space to fit my bra in here for after.
It would have been easier if you ate one of the sour gummy bear edibles in your vanity drawer before you came or took a couple hits of your dab pen that you graciously lent your friend.
But here you are completely sober, ready to get needles probed through your nipples by an experienced stranger.
Pain is temporary right? You’re gonna look sexy, so it’s all gonna be worth it.
You attempt to push the door open, before you realize it’s locked. You hum, looking through the clear door, a tall figure appears from the curtained back area who presses a button, signaling for you to come in.
“Hey...Are you my 2:30?” he asks before closing the door behind you.
“Yeah, that’s me” you cautiously half smile as you made eye contact with him. He was attractive, almost too much. You glanced at his hands, decorated with skull rings and prominent veins. Sudden images of his ring adorned grip around your throat, invaded your mind. You almost missed when he asked for your ID.
“Thanks” he takes a quick look at your ID before handing it back to you. “You’re here for your nipples right?”
“Both or just one— looks like you can handle both hm?” He asks in a slightly flirtatious tone.
“Both for sure” you smile relishing in the innocent flirting you assume he does with every girl who walks in.
Setting your bag down on the jewelry counter. He showed you two options, both straight barbells, which are best for initial nipple piercing jewelry. Gold and implant grade steel. You reach for the gold. Imagining it would look angelic on your skin, until you can change the jewelry.
“Do I pay you now or later?”
Cheeks heating at the pet name choice. The shop was empty, just him and you. You can hear the faint sounds of caraphernelia by pierce the veil play on the aux. The song choice prompted a smirk on your face. Somehow forcing you to become even more attracted to the menacing dark haired man in front of you. He guides you behind the black curtain, showcasing his piercing area set up. The smell of rubbing alcohol was overwhelming.
You take a seat on his black leather tattoo bed. Legs swaying as you await the next order. At this point you’re worried if he can hear your heartbeat. You’re nervous, and it’s not just because of the piercings. Are you seriously developing a crush on someone you just met 5 mins ago? It’s definitely not a crush, you think to yourself. Just sexual tension.
But you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too..
“You look a little nervous, don’t worry I’m gonna take good care of you” he smirks, washing his hands in the sink next to him. He introduces himself, being that it’s going to be an intimate piercing, and he wants you to be comfortable.
His name felt like honey leaving your lips as you repeated it out to him. You laugh and introduce yourself as well. He giggled at your innocent demeanor. He already read your name from your ID but he won’t deny it’s cuter when you say it.
You swallow deeply as he sits on his gliding chair pushing the lever to make sure he is low enough for the piercing, positioning himself closer to you.
“So I need you to take off your top, are you wearing a bra?”
Why are you feeling this weird tension, it’s enough to make you sweat. You curse at yourself, hoping there’s no stains when you pull your top off. He keeps his pretty eyes on you as you slowly remove the crop top. Hastily folding it into your purse.
You reach behind your back to unhook the bralette, while Suna hovers over you. Fuck. Your fingers play with the clasp, but nothing opens. What’s going on, is it because of him. Or have you completely lost your mind.
“Want my help?”
“I-I Sure” you shiver, feeling his hot breath on your shoulder as he slyly glides his hands behind your back. There’s no way that simple action could make you wet, but the familiar feeling builds in your lower stomach. He delicately removes your bralette, placing it on the edge of the tattoo bed.
“There..it was a stingy broken clasp, but we are ready for business”
“You’re pretty good at that” he smiles at your comment, eyes wandering to your pretty tits that he was going to adorn with gold barbells. The plush skin was inviting and enough to make anyone weak. But Suna is a professional of course, he won’t dare to make you uncomfortable.
Little does he know that you wouldn’t care.
Typically the piercer has to awaken the nipples, they need to be hard to get the needle through. However, yours are already hard. How sweet are you?
Suna casually feathers at your thigh, “spread a little for me, I need to get closer”
Shit, your arousal was already beginning to soak your panties and now he wants to be even closer? While you’re vulnerable and in a skirt?
“Don’t worry— I won’t peak” Suna pats on the side of your thigh, slipping his hands in a pair of black latex gloves.
You push your hair behind your ear, adjusting yourself before sprawling your legs apart slightly so he can easily maneuver himself in between. His eye level is at your tits, guess that’s where there supposed to be. It still didn’t stop you from feeling like your heart was about to burst from the proximity.
Suna opens a prep pad of 70% rubbing alcohol “It might feel cold” he gently wipes the prep pad over your sensitive nipples. The sensations are enough to have you squirming. You pray your reactions come off as just regular piercing nervousness.
“Everything ok? can’t have you moving babe.”
“Just cold, m sorry”
He reassures you and rubs the hard bud in between his gloved fingers. While another reaches for the sterilized equipment. Your brows furrow and you let out an inaudible gasp. Have your nipples always been this sensitive? They don’t feel like this when you play with them.
It was definitely his lingering touch that ignited this feeling, and it felt good.
Suna repeatedly plays with your excited nipples rolling them with his fingertips. God, it’s driving you crazy. You want nothing more than to clamp your thighs together so you can sneakily get off. But he’s between them, dangerously close.
He grabs a marker to dot the area, cupping your breasts as he pulls at your nipples to make the marks. Shifting away from you to sterilize the barbell gold jewelry you asked to be pierced with. You can finally have a second to yourself, biting down on your lips as you impatiently rub your thighs together. Stopping right before he turned around.
Your shallow breathing was noticeable to him. He looked up at your expression, your eyes were lidded and your grip on the bed beneath you was tense.
“Don’t tell me”
“Don’t tell me— I’m turning you on”
Blood immediately rushes to your face, and you palm your breasts covering yourself as if he hasn’t seen you this whole time.
“That’s so mean” you whine, very flustered and wet.
“I won’t tell on you” he stands whispering into your ear, lips pressing against the shell, kissing gently. You tremble grabbing his arm, letting your breasts free.
“H-here?” You whimper staring into his pleasing eyes.
“You don’t think I’ll fuck you here, do you?” Your embarrassed gaze drifts away from him.
“Oh baby, don’t look so disappointed” he giggles, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze again.
“C-Can we just do the piercing” you begrudgingly say, letting the grip loose on his arm.
He admired the sensual look across your face, his gloved up fingers ghosting over the plump skin of your breasts before lacing over your nipples, making you flinch.
“Once these pretty tits are pierced, there’s no nipple play allowed, so it would be a shame if I didn’t give you what you want — one last time” his words echo in your mind, leaving you delirious with lust.
“Like no touching?” You pout arching your back into his palm, urging him to grope your breasts harsher.
“Mmmhh touch only to clean and no sucking, licking, pulling at them until they are healed— and definitely do not let anyone cum on your tits either”
“Oh…then maybe you should” you lick your lips in bliss, placing your hands at the sides of his waist. Hoping it’s enough to bait him into getting you off.
“Fuck” he groans under his breath. Suna’s never been this explicit with a client before. He blamed your undeniable beauty and lewd reactions. He wants to know if you made a mess on the leather bed. But he doesn’t want you to worry, he has to clean after every client anyway.
“Should what” he thumbs the band of his gloves, slipping both off. “You’d let me cum on your tits?”
“I mean it would be a shame to wait that long for any nipple fun” you tempt ,letting your fingers find his belt, giving it a slight tug.
He grasps at your hand, lowering it on his growing erection while pulling your lips to his,in a heated kiss. You palm him through his jeans. Letting out choked whimpers, when you feel Suna caress your breasts while exploring your mouth.
“Such a sweet little slut” he groans into the kiss tugging on your bottom lip, before moving down to the crook of your neck ,sucking eagerly. Fingers lightly pulling at your hard nipples, eliciting passionate moans from your swollen lips.
You can’t help but grind your needy cunt on the leather bed beneath you, feeling tingles run through your spine each time your neglected clit felt any stimulation. You move your hands up to his hair pulling on his soft locks as he leaves open mouth kisses on your collarbone, inching down to your tits.
“Nngh Rinta-!” You moan out as he tongues the skin around your nipple before closing his mouth on the bud sucking lightly. He doesn’t focus on one breast for too long making sure to leave you breathless. He holds onto your waist, letting you arch back as much as you needed too. “Lay down baby” he coos leaving your tits with a plop.
“Bet yer so desperate to cum, aren’t ya” he grins feathering his fingers down your bare stomach, toying with your belly ring. You shut your eyes, trembling under his touch. “Please ..ahh— please let me cum!”
He plays with the band of your panties before pulling them down to your ankle. You whine as he lifts your skirt up higher along your waist to reveal your wetness.
You hear what sounds like metal cling to the table beside you, you glance over to see his skull rings, one of which fell on the ground, but he doesn’t seem to care about that right now.
“An orgasm will help your nerves too won’t it? —that’s why yer so needy”
You bite down on the bottom of your lip, nodding eagerly. Suna growls at how wet you are, gliding a finger up and down your soaked slit. You feel the pad of thumb brush on your clit. Your toes curl up, knees folding in as you spread wider for him, your moans start to overpower the music playing in the shop.
He circles your clit, watching your chest rise and fall in pleasure. “Go on baby , play with those pretty tits for me” you inhale harshly as you reach for your breasts massaging them in your hands. Rolling your fingertips around your hard nipples.
Legs shaking as Suna traces the outline of your aching hole before pumping a finger inside, shortly adding another. He doesn’t remove the touch from your clit. Stimulating you into a whimpering mess. Your slick leaking onto his tattoo bed.
“mmph! hah fuuck” you shudder as you come undone on his fingers. Your orgasm ripples through you in waves. Hips bucking along with the motions of his fingers as he helps you ride out the orgasm.
“Good girl” he leans down to kiss you, tongue brushing against your teeth before you let him in.
“You’re so perfect, almost made me cum my pants” you groan reaching for his belt again. “L-Let me help —please” he lets you take the reign. Slipping down his pants and boxers, you push him down on the chair, getting on your knees. Gathering some spit in your mouth, letting it fall down his swollen tip.
You hollow your cheeks, covering your teeth as you bob your head up and down his thick shaft. Suna whines, carefully moving the hair out of your face.
“God” he marvels, it’s barely been three minutes and he’s about to bust his load down your throat. He stops you, urging you to push your tits together so he could finish on them.
“Nngh gonna cum y/n!” He moans watching the hot cum spurt on your chest. You take a finger and swirl the cum on your nipples before placing it into your mouth ,tasting him.
He shakes his head, catching his breath, pulling you back up on the tattoo bed. “you’re dangerous”.
“M’kay —we can pierce them now” you giggle trying to look for a towel of some sort because there’s no way you’re leaving without these nipples pierced.
© kenmasbb 2021, do not modify or repost
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Follow you - Chris Evans smut
The one where Chris becomes your roomate and finds out he has a domesticity kink... and more
Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, domesticity kink, friends to lovers, rommates au, pandemic mention, hair-pulling kink, daddy kink, cockwarming, kind of allusion to an age gap, but can be read as reader being into teasing chris
Word count: 4.1k
A/N: Thanks to @mollygetssherlockcoffee for reading this over and helping me make it better! You’re the sweetest person ever! this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!
“C’mon, sweetheart,” I’d been trying to convince her to close her laptop for the last two hours, unfortunately without any luck. She just glanced at me before returning to her document, and I groaned as I left the living room in search of what I knew we needed.
“Close the laptop and I’ll give you a sip.” This time when she looked up, she found me holding a bottle of my most expensive whiskey, the one she’d been dying to try ever since she first got invited to my place.
It was a tense moment of evaluation while she took in my offer and her workload, her head turning from her computer to me and then back to the device again, and I found himself growing anxious because of how desperately I wanted her company that night.
“Please?” I tried to convince her, even going so far as to pout - which at least earned me a giggle. I considered it a win, especially with the way it made my chest warm up. “C’mon, we deserve it! After the week we had?”
She frowned when she thought back on the stresses we had confided in each other for the last couple of days, and I watched with glee when she slowly closed her laptop, prompting me to wave my arms around in victory. “We?” She teased, getting up to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her body, making me laugh.
“Alright, so maybe just you.” I couldn’t really deny that my work “problems” paled in comparison to hers. “Listen, I’m only trying to help.” She narrowed her eyes at me, reaching out for the bottle and unscrewing it before taking the sip I’d promised.
“Shit, this really is good.” A smug smile took over my face as I wrapped my arms around her, walking us back to the couch before making us fall over it.
“Only the best for you, babe.” I watched her roll her eyes at the pet name, snickering at how it affected her. I knew it made her giddy and she hated it, it’s why I insisted on doing it - or so I told myself.
Something deep inside of me whispered differently, though. I tried to ignore it. She was my best friend and we were going to be living together for the foreseeable future. No one knew when this pandemic would let up.
And lord knows that nothing positive had ever come out of my investments in romantic relationships. So every rational thought in my mind was begging me not to overcomplicate this. I couldn’t stand to lose her friendship, anyway. That’s why I had invited her to spend lockdown with me - my need to know she was okay, and be able to have her around whenever I needed to vent.
She was the only one outside my family who got my anxiety well enough to help me work through it when I was feeling bad, and she had even been able to prevent me from having panic attacks more than once.
I just couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone other than her. I simply hadn’t anticipated how fucking horny this period of forced sexual privation would make me, and I never expected her to become a willing victim to my needs.
But boy, once the liquor hit and she ended up over my lap, shivering as she rode my thigh without a care in the world, was I glad that she did.
“Is this what you like?” I asked, looking up at her with my mouth hanging open, unbelieving of how fucking sexy she looked as she used my body for her pleasure. I didn’t even care that my cock was straining against my jeans, begging me to move her on top of it. As long as I could keep enjoying the show, being a part of it, I was satisfied.
“I wanna learn it,” I pressed, moving my hands to hold her ass, squeezing it the way I’d always wanted to do but never allowed myself to dream about. “I wanna learn how to please you.” She made me feel something I hadn’t felt before, in any of my past relationships. There was attraction, of course, but there was also this deep, familiar feeling that made me feel at home. It made me feel safe, and with the help of alcohol, I was desperate to explore it.
“Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back, drawing my attention to her breasts, the way they bounced in front of my eyes, unfortunately still covered. My mouth watered at the sight of it, wanting nothing much than to strip her bare and wrap my lips around one of her nipples.
“Don’t say stuff like that, Evans.” The comment threw me off, making me frown as I took a hold of the hair on the back of her head and yanked her to me, devouring her lips. They were soft - so much softer than I’d ever allowed myself to imagine.
“Why not?” I panted against her mouth once I was forced to separate from her taste of whiskey to search for some oxygen. She kept moving, her eyes hazy and glossed over, and it sent a pang of lust straight down my body when I realized it wasn’t completely due to the drinks we shared. There was also desire in there.
“You want to learn?” She asked, hands bunching up my shirt as she used her hold to grind against me faster. “Then fuck me, Chris.” She molded her body to mine, engulfing my lips once more as I laid her down on the couch, excited to have her underneath me - excited to see her naked body, explore it, get to know every little thing that made her tick.
I knew it would be a moment I’d forever remember, regardless of the amount of bourbon in my blood. I just never expected it to become something I was so eager to relive over and over and over again.
It was supposed to be a one time thing. When I woke up in the morning, I was ready to go back to being roommates. We were good at that. She was a morning person, by the time I woke up every morning, she already had breakfast ready for me, and then we’d go out to the backyard to let Dodger out together.
We’d sit and talk and then I’d go for a run - she’d have done her yoga already, while I was still asleep - I’d answer some e-mails, she’d work on her laptop by my side and the silence was just as comfortable as all of our late night conversations.
She’d sneak out to the kitchen and come back with a few sandwiches for our lunch, and then the rest of the day would go by with us doing whatever mundane task we had in mind, together even if we were doing separate things, and I didn’t feel suffocated.
I didn’t even run out of things to say. By the time dinner rolled around and I followed her back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes while she fixed us dinner - I wasn’t allowed to cook in my own stove, mostly because she was terrified of my food but hid it under the excuse of that one time when I started a fire - then we’d eat together, watch a movie together, talk until we fell asleep - always together.
I was shocked. It’d never been this way in any of my previous relationships. In fact, I was certain it was the reason why they had never worked. I’d given up on any realistic expectation of settling down precisely because of this: I just never expected to find anyone with whom a day-to-day life wouldn’t eventually grow boring.
It’d been three months and I still loved to wake up to her coffee. We still fell asleep every night side by side, too tired to move into different beds because we had laughed our asses off after skyping Scott.
And now that sex came into play in our relationship? I just knew there was no way I’d ever go back to being nothing but friends - or living in a place where she wasn’t the first person I saw when I woke up.
It sucked that it took a pandemic and a night of alcohol to make me realize that, but damn, was I grateful that I decided to open a bottle of whiskey that evening.
I kept waiting for the catch, the moment it would all go to shit, but it never came. Our lives resumed to how they used to be, only now I had this ongoing inner battle to not just bend her over the nearest piece of furniture when we were busy, and the ability to do exactly that whenever there was nothing else to do.
And for a while it was bliss. There wasn’t a nagging voice inside my head questioning this arrangement because it was theoretically perfect. I had a best friend, a roommate and a fuck buddy, all wrapped into one single person that I adored.
Life couldn’t possibly get better - until I realized that I wanted more. Talks of lockdown being over started and she had plans of going back to her place, of course, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her.
I wanted to see my family too, but I wanted to take her with me. Introduce her to my mom, see her get along with my sisters. Witness how she’d be with my nephews and nieces - I knew how much she loved kids. And that’s when it hit me.
I’d given my heart to her. Somewhere between the morning coffees and afternoon runs, the nights where I’d rant about all of my silly problems and she actually listened to them - really listened, never making me feel bad about what could only be described as rich people problems.
All the innocent little gestures, and the not so innocent ones - when I discovered she was exactly the nasty slut I’d always dreamed of, the way she would randomly drop to her knees and suck me off, even while I was on the phone. Most times she didn’t even let me repay the favor. She just genuinely liked to blow me.
She also liked to play with me randomly, like when we were watching a movie and she mindlessly reached for my crotch, rubbing me until I got hard. It almost always ended in sex, and I just loved it.
I loved it, and I loved her, and the idea of her ever sharing this idyllic lifestyle with anyone else made me irrationally jealous.
And that’s how I knew it. I didn’t want to mess it up. But how could I not fuck this up?
“Chris…” Her sweet voice called out to me, reaching my ears while I was hiding in my office, trying to get my thoughts in order so I wouldn’t just randomly blurt out what I was feeling for my best friend to my best friend.
To her credit, she didn’t try to force me to keep her company - but that only made me fall even deeper for her, leaving me a complete and utter mess while she went about her day as if nothing was wrong in the world.
“Yes?” I looked up to see her by the threshold, clearly reticent about invading my privacy. It made me smile, thinking back on all of the times my exes hadn’t been as understanding, even after I let them clearly know what I was needing.
“I made cupcakes, do you want me to bring you one?” The thought of her in the kitchen, baking a sweet treat just for me had my cock twitching in my pants. Biting my lips, I pushed away from my desk to finally get up and stretch my legs, taking advantage of the monitor to hide my hard-on.
“No, I’ll come eat them downstairs with you.” She smiled before leaving, and I soon trailed after her, walking into the kitchen to find the most delicious-looking little treats, just waiting to be devoured.
Much like her, I supposed.
I was reaching for one of them, already licking my lips in anticipation when something caught my eye, prompting me to raise my gaze and look at her again, but really look at her this time.
She was wearing an apron.
There was nothing inherently sexual about the damn thing, but the way she looked with it, going about her business in my kitchen like she owned the place… It just felt right, seeing her there.
And suddenly I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Y/N…” I started, leaving the cupcake back on the counter and brushing off the crumbs as I circled the kitchen island to go stand in front of her. She hummed before turning to meet me, smiling slightly to signal that she was listening to what I had to say.
But I didn’t know how to say it. So we just stood there, staring at each other until eventually her smile became a frown. “Chris, what’s going on?” I still couldn’t speak. Much to my absolute surprise though, she just sighed, wiping her hands on the apron while shaking her head, a knowing smile on her face.
“You’re stressed, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, that’s why I thought the cupcakes would be a good idea,” she explained nodding towards the tray where her sweet treats laid. “They’re a reward and a break all wrapped in one delicious cake.”
The comment was like a punch to the stomach - or a scalding wave of desire rushing through my body, straight to my groin. The idea of her thinking about my needs and catering (quite literally) to them just did something to me, and I didn’t know how to explain it - I don’t think I understood it myself.
“But since they didn’t work…” she continued, blissfully unaware of the conundrum she had put me into. “I know something else that will definitely work.” And just like that, the woman dropped to her knees in front of me, reaching for my sweatpants before I could find a way to close the mouth that was hanging open.
“I guess I’ll grab a sweet treat for myself.” She looked so devious, small hand encircling my already pathetically engorged member, that all I could do was whisper an, “Oh, shit,” when she immediately wrapped her lips around it, starting to suck me off without any preamble.
My fingers were white as I held onto the counter behind me to keep myself up. She looked so good, staring up at me with her lips wrapped around my dick, I felt like I was about to blow already.
Why did she have to be such a fucking tease?
“Oh, God,” I moaned when she managed to engulf the entirety of my member inside her throat, the choking noises getting to my head. My hand instinctively laced with her hair, first to hold her lips close to my navel, then to pry her completely off of my member.
“What’s wrong?” She questioned once she was able to speak, surprise written all over her features while I was still staring down at her slightly teary face and trying to find my voice.
“I-I have a problem.” There. I said it. I had finally made some progress in my goal to let her know what was going through my head. Only instead of curiosity, what I got was a confused expression from the woman still holding my dick, her eyes darting from my own to the member throbbing between her fingers.
“No, you don’t!” It would have been funny if I wasn’t so fucking frustrated. Yanking her by the hair, I complained, “Not that kind of problem!” pulling her to the living room so I could throw her on the couch, trying to ignore her moans of pleasure in the process.
I’d figured out pretty early on that she had a pretty serious hair-pulling kink, and if my plans of sitting down and having a level-headed conversation were ever in motion, they surely went out of the window the second she pulled my body down to cover hers and adjusted my cock so it would easily fill her.
“Son of a…” I groaned, letting my head fall down against her chest as the little vixen gleefully giggled underneath me, legs wrapped around my torso as she tried to thrust up and tempt me to move.
“Just wait a second,” I managed to reason, but she just shook her head.
“Fuck away your problem, Chris. Use me. I want you to.” Motherfucker. I really couldn’t catch a break with her. Just as she started to make me move again, my hand instinctively wrapped around her neck, lightly squeezing it just enough to get her to shut up.
“I wanna start a family with you,” I finally spilled, looking deep into her eyes as I tried to ignore that I was still balls deep inside of her. Her eyes widened, and now her mouth was the one hanging open.
I couldn’t really relish in it because she looked absolutely delicious and she felt stupidly heavenly to my throbbing dick.
A few seconds went by without as much of a reaction from her and I was about to pull out - despite still being achingly hard - but her legs held me tighter, stopping my plans of leaving her tight haven.
“You know…” She started to speak, a little out of breath, catching my attention as I finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye again. “When I first met you, I thought you were the epitome of a fuckboy.”
The unexpected sentence had me snorting, and then I just couldn’t stop laughing. Finally pulling away from her, she fixed her hair when she sat up and I did the same, shaking my head slightly as I rubbed my eyes.
Our own relative nakedness - well… mine, she was wearing her usual dress with no underwear under the damn apron - didn’t affect anything when I pondered over her words, until I decided to break the silence.
“I mean… I think I was?” She chewed on her bottom lip as she took in my response, analyzing it, weighing its validity in that gorgeous head of hers. I was nervous, but she hadn’t blew me off yet. And quite honestly? I’d do anything for that little hope that was growing inside of me.
“What changed?” Was her question, so unexpected I couldn’t help but question, “Huh?”
“What made you change?” It wasn’t an unwelcome inquiry, especially when the response became clear to me, lighting up my brain and warming my chest, spreading all over my body until I had no choice but to voice it.
“I realized I could have a future with you.” My smile was vulnerable but honest, and in her eyes, I could see that she knew that. When she threw one leg over my lap, straddling my hips, I allowed myself to breathe deeply again, leaning on the soft cushion while taking a hold of her ass.
“So, how are we gonna do this?” She non-nonchalantly asked, slowly rubbing herself against my still half-hard member. I groaned when I realized the implication of her words, knowing that the meaning paired with the feeling of her wet lips dragging along my cock would get it back up in no time at all. “You wanna do me right now?”
The brashness of the question made my eyes light up, as weird as it may sound. In that moment, it became clear just how perfect for me she really was, giving me what I needed exactly in the way I didn’t know how to ask for it.
“See? This is why I’m in love with you.” She rolled her eyes at that, making me laugh. I’d anticipated the gesture, I knew it’d take her longer to say it, but it was alright. The fact that she was willing me to give me a child was more than enough proof of her feelings for me, if her entire behavior ever since she moved in wasn’t already.
“Shut up and fuck me, Evans.” Throwing her back against the couch, she yelped in surprise when I took off my shirt and slapped the inside of her thigh, assuming my usual position of hovering over her smaller frame.
“Spread your fucking legs, darling. I’m gonna fuck you real good.” The way she bit her lip as I slowly penetrated her again showed me just how excited the prospect got her, and as I started to make good on my promise, her moans told me just as much.
“Holy fuck,” she commented as I pounded her ruthlessly, weeks of frustration and the rush of anticipation getting the best of me, and I was glad for the feeling of her nails biting into my skin because otherwise, I’d probably run over the edge of not even caring about her own pleasure as I chased mine.
“You gonna cum inside of me, honey? Make me a mom? Finally fulfill your dream of becoming a daddy?” Her words detracted me from my task of sucking bruises on the skin that was now mine to bruise, mine. I threw my head back, yelling a, “fuck yes,” as my hips sped up, desperate to fill her up, but I was determined to get her to cum before me.
“Say it,” she ordered, small hand circling my throat as best as she could, a throwback to what I’d done only moments prior. It wasn’t enough to choke me, but it did catch my attention. “I wanna hear you say it.”
Tears escaped the corners of my eyes as I blinked, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best of ways. “God, you are such a fucking tease…” She chuckled underneath me, giving my throat a squeeze before she raised up on her elbows to kiss my jaw.
“Better get used to it… daddy.” And just like that, I realized that I had yet another kink I hadn’t known about before her. Or maybe it was just her, and I was obsessed with the damn woman, painfully turned on by every little thing that she did.
“I’m gonna cum deep inside your little pussy, sweetheart,” I finally gathered myself enough to do as she asked me to. “You’re gonna belong to me forever now. Give me kids, make me happy. How do you like that?”
The mischievous grin she gave me told me everything. “I love it.” I knew this was her way of saying what she couldn’t yet voice, and I’d take it. I’d take anything she gave me, any chance I got to love this wonderful woman.
We came together, both riding our highs in deep ecstasy. I moaned when I felt myself empty all of my seed inside of her, incredibly excited about the prospect of starting our future together right then.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I cradled her face in my hands as I struggled to catch my breath, but she turned it to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm and I was breathless all over again. It was such a simple action, why did it get to me so much?
“You’re not too bad yourself, Chris.” I didn’t want to part with her warmth, so I just adjusted us on the sofa in a way that kept me inside of her, sighing contently as I realized I’d never have to sleep away from her again.
“I’m gonna stay right here all night.” I adjusted myself so I was resting my face on her boobs, perfectly happy to do just so, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she had a teasing smile when she called me an, “Old man.”
“And here I was, thinking you’d be able to go again.” Warmth filled my chest at the realization of just how badly she wanted me - just as much as I wanted her too. I was so damn ecstatic. Not even her pokes at my age would be able to affect me.
“Oh, darling… better get ready,” I warned as I adjusted myself to hover over her again, taking notice of the excited glint in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she stared back at me. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”
The next morning, I added a new kink to the list of random bits of information that were driving me slowly insane as I felt the overwhelming need to bend the woman that I now got to call ‘mine’ over the nearest piece of furniture and rail her until I had cummed deep inside her pussy: seeing her in my shirt while cooking breakfast.
Yeah, I was going to live a happy life by her side.
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HANAHAKI DISEASE —where one lie ruined it all before it even started; a lie that blossomed in the deathly hollows of your souls
CHARACTERS. Scaramouche; gn! harbinger! immortal! Reader
WORD COUNT. 2k words
THEMES. major character death. talks about immortality. mentions of pain and descriptions of how hanahaki disease works (all are maintained at the minimum as much as possible)
WARNINGS. WILL contain spoilers from the Inazuma arc. I’m going all out here so please don’t read if you don’t know/want to know the spoilers.
NOTES. probably my favorite angstober! scara’s character is really complex and also fun to write for! and just saying, i’m okay these past few days lmao these angstober writings i have are projections from my past probably and also mixed with how the characters are when they are in the situation of the prompts~ i hope you guys are enjoying what i put up so far! look forward to the next ones especially since it’s venti, kazu and xiao hehehe.
ANGSTOBER MASTERLIST || DO YOU LIKE MY CONTENT? SEND A TIP HERE!
SCARAMOUCHE always lies.
A man full of deceit, a man without honor; those were what he is known of. And yet you stayed loyal, stayed true; a puppet in love with its master, you breathed only for him and him alone.
It was not enough.
He who dripped of blood and hate was crippled by the purity that love gives—he cannot reciprocate them back to you, and you were blind enough to be bound by his chains.
Love is not for him, nor shall it ever be.
“Lord Harbinger, we’ve got orders from Lord Pulcinella, sir.”
His piercing eyes dropped to where his lackey was, kneeled in front of him, head bowed down as a sign of respect and submissiveness, “Speak,” he says.
He could only groan after the orders were said to him, never minding the eyes or ears that may be listening to him, knowing full well they would zip their lips anyway even if he does complain even for a little bit.
“Leave, tell him I’ll do it,” he sighs, waving off the Fatui member before resuming his review of the files of the plan that was supposed to be done soon. A never ending cycle, it seems, his work is. No matter how much of a great thing being on a high position is, he’s still tasked with several missions that were entrusted upon him due to the demand of a Harbinger’s eyes.
“You seem stressed, Balladeer,” he needn’t have to look up and see who it was, he knows that voice anywhere to even give effort into determining them by appearance-wise.
“And what are you doing here? Again, I might say,” his eyes were closed as he internalized the frustration of your sudden presence—a mere telltale sign that his day was about to get worse than it already was.
“I just received a new mission, Zero, you can’t possibly give me another one right after that hectic one you gave me last time,”
Crossed arms, raised brows; you looked down on him as you hummed, “I’m just here to visit you, Balladeer, don’t be frightened.”
“I’m not-” he sighs, cutting himself off, “Are you not busy with your own mission? Because I am and you are distracting me.”
You, on the other hand, refused to stay any longer as you chuckled and fluttered your way out of his tent, cloaked with the power of Anemo and emerging once you were outside, the mere sight of you prompting the Fatui members to stop and bow down.
“Lord Harbinger! To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Ignoring their greetings and responding by just a smile, you walked away and kept it all in—trying to, that is.
It all came out when you were out of sight, making sure that you were before you opened your lips and coughed out.
It hurts, damn, it really does.
A burning sensation down your throat and its prickles traveling further down; there’s not much time for you.
Hunt or be hunted; be cruel or be stepped on; be powerful or suffer the consequences. He was your weakness—always has been, and always will be. You’re the most powerful of all Harbingers, for fuck’s sake, and yet fate decides to meddle with you, forcing you to fall on your knees and to your doom the moment you fell in love with him—out of all people, why did it have to be him?
It started when you first observed him on his mission in Mondstadt. Or wait—actually, scratch that. It started when you first saw him being “repaired” by the others, for “enhancements,” they say. You were supposed to be heartless, to be cruel, to not feel pity towards the boy who’s merely just a “failure” of the gods.
But you saw yourself in him, and you were already gone before you could have expected.
Time and time again, you would check on him. The seeds of pity growing its roots on your lungs; and dead, unbeating heart.
“Do you know your name?” you could recall how his eyes looked at you, gazed into you as if he could see your soul and engrave it with its stare. Every second counted as you waited for his response.
“Kunikuzushi,” he answers before looking away, “but I refuse to be called with it anymore. I have a new name.”
“‘The Balladeer’, that’s what they called you,” you say, crossing your arms and walking towards him. When you sat yourself down next to him, you were aware of how wary he was of you, defensive even. You couldn’t blame him, but neither did you care at that time.
“How do you like ‘Scaramouche’?”
“‘Scaramouche’,” you turned to him again, facing him and meeting his eyes, “as your new other name. ‘The Balladeer’ is just your code name as a Harbinger. You’ll have to think of another name so others wouldn’t call you by your real name. Like for me,”
You held out your hand in an attempt of a late handshake, “You can call me Y/n, but I have a different code name that they gave me. So? Are you going for Scaramouche?”
You guided him, let him adjust onto the new world he had gotten himself into, gave him advice on matters involving your line of work, provided him with a company of whom he could put his trust on despite the environment the two of you were in.
You didn’t know that you were slowly caring for him, much more than you should.
Alas, it was alive—love had risen from the depths of your empty soul, and you initially liked it, having only experienced it for the first time. Surely he feels the same, doesn’t he?
“What are you trying to say? Get to the point.”
You’ve always known he has a sharp tongue. Regardless of the truth behind his words, he always had a harsh tone accompanying them. That day, you wanted to tell him about your feelings, to share with him the truth of the humanity that you have left.
And you were held back, not because of your itchy throat or that you had fallen onto the depths of deceit as well, but it was because of the coldness of his eyes.
He doesn’t love you, and maybe he never will.
“Nothing,” you say, but before you could expand it;
A cough. You let out a cough at that time and it never stopped. You tried to hold it in as you smiled and shaked your head, heading out of his tent and soon to yours. But halfway there, you coughed out something other than just plain air.
Soft as a leaf and smooth as one as well, you knew very well what it was but how in the world it had been inside of you was out of your own knowledge. It was a curse—one that you thought was untrue and would never happen to you, but here it was, beckoning the truth of the calls of your heart—its desire for someone who doesn’t feel it back.
A flower petal, that’s what it was. And everyday, you cough one petal more than yesterday; each day is a countdown to your life, each day is a memory of the puppet who became the master of your life.
SCARAMOUCHE always lies, but he never lied to you.
But lies… are they of similar to secrets?
“Don't call me that,” he says, earning a confused glance from you.
“Call you what? Balladeer?”
He stared at you, as if he was expecting that you already knew what he was talking about. It’s not like you’re a mind reader, but even if you were, your body’s energy had dried down to a fraction of what you had before.
Standing is even proving itself to be more difficult than it actually had been.
“What do you expect for me to call you then?” your voice, which you couldn’t mask the exhaustion of, was soft, despite being intending the opposite, “Why must you bother me for such a thing, I’m really busy right now, Scara.”
It was a slip, and your eyes were far away from his face when it seemed to have lit up momentarily before he scoffs, turning away in preparation of walking out of your tent.
The moment he stepped out, something felt odd. Actually, he’d felt this way these past few days for some kind of reason. The rational part of him wanted to go and check back on you, but the pride that swelled on his chest, almost encasing the mechanical heart he had always had, stopped him from doing so.
A step, a few more steps—they were heavy, as if a chain was tied on his ankles; slowing him down, urging him to stop. Why?
He did not dare to figure it out.
It was Fatui Harbinger’s duty to be strong—to stay strong, or else they’ll get cut down on their own.
“You’ve grown weak,” they’d say. You could hear them in your mind; whispering, murmuring, yelling at you a couple of times.
Despite all of this, it was his voice that was louder than everyone else’s; “Love is for the weak, if you continue acting up like that, your rank would not matter anymore.”
You were the first—the only Harbinger that stayed all throughout; the only Harbinger that was closer to Tsaritsa, that was trusted by Her Majesty the most. It was a shame, really, for you to end up like this.
All broken from the inside and out.
That night, you knew that your time was up. Hundreds of years of serving the Tsaritsa, all for it to end not even halfway through her plan to change the world—all because of love.
Love; how ironic that such a pure feeling could kill, could hurt, could inflict a physical pain that resonates with the emotions that you were supposed to feel.
It was truly such a shame.
Crawling from the depths of your chest, encasing your heart with the stems of a beautiful plant—Clematis. Purple was the hue of its petals and so were the orbs of his eyes.
Ironic. Everything is so ironic.
As the world fades in; dust did you come on Teyvat, thus dust did you return and remain.
“Lord Harbinger!” The call he heard first thing in the morning caught him off-guard. With the stupidity of people most of the time, it was no surprise to him that they’d rather he threatened them after such a mistake.
“This better be good or else-” his sentence was not even finished yet when one of them cut him off.
“Harbinger Y/n! Something has happened to them, my lord!”
How dare they interrupt him when he’s speaki—
His subordinates were a witness to how quick he was on his feet, how the panic in his eyes held the truth that was hidden from you. It was no secret that you were fond of the Sixth Harbinger, but as no one knew of your predicament, it was the same with his feelings for you.
Poison—love was. Love is a poison that he knew and prevented but soon fell under as he slowly reaches for you and your body.
Frankly speaking, you were not there anymore, and that thought drove him mad until he was in a fit of coughs.
Purple was the color of his eyes and so was the petal that escaped his lips; dressed in dark red—the color of life and death.
With hands and knees dropped onto the ground, his gaze stained the face that he had always looked up to; had admired from afar; the weakness that he had ignored this whole time. Harbingers are not supposed to have weakness, but he had you; unknowingly having you do the same to him.
Love is a curse, and it apparently hit both of you down.
Love is what he felt for you, but it was a secret that he will have to bury alongside you and him.
TAGLIST (send an ask to be added~)
@softlybeloved @rim0na @icecappa @cozykaii @scaraslover @beastielevi @cursedraiden @thesatanofpizza @izayanna @stellumi @coco-goat-milk @nonniechan
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open invitation | jjk
⏤ pairing: duke!jungkook x duchess!reader
⏤ genre: nobility au, historical au, married au, angst, fluff, and smut
⏤ rating: M
⏤ warnings: dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, some swearing, traumatic childhood memories, mention of death, gender inequalities, oral sex (f&m receiving), hickeys, body praising, a small spank, office sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, riding, and breeding
⏤ words: 7,439
⏤ summary: jungkook never wanted to be a father for reasons that you ignore but after a year of marriage, you’re more than determined to become a mother.
⏤ author’s note: wow this is finally out! i’ve been working all weekend to make this good and i really hope you’re going to enjoy this! this is my first ever historical fic, i’ve loved history for a long time and mixing two passions of mine together is something pretty exciting! i want to personally thank @hantaev for reading a big part of this and giving me her honest feedback 💜 i hope you enjoy this fic 💜 don’t hesitate to give me your feedback, love you 💜
⟶ 14. “you really wanna have sex here?” from this prompt list
As always for the past year, Jungkook disappears the entire day. You totally ignore what he does, the only thing you know is that it is related to his duchy. Well, your duchy too. When he accepted to take you as his wife a year ago, you became the duchess of his duchy but you never considered this as yours.
Because you only earn it by loving someone. You didn’t work hard to possess anything or you didn’t inherit it from your father. Jungkook’s grand-father worked hard to become a duke and started building this huge castle, something that his son and grand-son kept improving. You literally have done nothing but fall in love with him.
“Has the doctor come to check up on you?” Your mother asks while you drink tea.
Your mother came today to visit you, she loves to come unannounced and see how everything is going on between you and Jungkook.
Luckily for you, you got to be born into a powerful family. Your great grandfather used to be a king, a very powerful and respected king. It is more than an honor for you to be related to him, and today, you’re more than thankful to have had the opportunity to meet him in the ten first years of your life. He loved you just as he loved all his descendants.
Your great grandfather had ten children, your grandfather being his last son which made him a prince. Unfortunately, you never had the chance to meet him, he passed long before your birth. Your father barely knew him because he was only two years old when he tragically passed away in a horse incident. Your father was his second and last child, so he inherited his duchy. Since you were born as a girl and you have brothers, they are going to take over all the prestigious titles your father has when you’ll have nothing.
Being a woman is something that always bothered you as you grew up because all you wanted was to do the same thing as your older brother but society kept reminding you that it wasn’t for you. You were supposed to learn how to be the perfect wife and mother. You just couldn’t do the same as your brother, it wasn’t acceptable for a woman. Your mother was always there to remind you of that.
She’d always complain that her only daughter wasn’t ‘feminine’ enough which angered you greatly. You were leaving in a golden cage, everybody was telling you what to do and how to behave. You truly hated everything.
“There’s nothing to check, mother.” You put down on the table your cup of tea. “I’m doing just fine.”
Well, you know that she’s referring to a possible pregnancy because to her, giving an heir to Jungkook is your only job. She totally ignores that she’s never going to be a grandmother. There are several reasons behind it, both you and Jungkook having your own reason.
For sure, your mother isn’t aware of it otherwise she would have never accepted the marriage in the first place. When you met Jungkook, you both agreed to never have children together without ever explaining why. At that time there was no need for a further explanation, you were in love and both wanted the same thing.
Your mother cocks a brow as confusion grows in her eyes. “Are the two of you fulfilling your marital duties?”
Knowing her, she’d be ashamed if she found out that her daughter and son-in-law are doing everything they can to not procreate. To her, it doesn’t make any sense to be married if there is no intention of creating descendants.
“Mother,” you say as you come closer to her. “I already told you that everything is fine in our marriage.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Yn.” Her tone is harsh and cold.
Unfortunately, your mother never showed you any ounce of love, and you guess she never will show you any. All she cares about is how people will perceive her. Will people think that she’s the perfect wife? Will people think that she’s a good mother? Will people only talk in a good way about her children? Will someone ever want to marry her children?
Appearances always come before you.
That’s why now she’s constantly around you lately. You’ve been married for a year, people are already talking about the fact that maybe you can’t have children, and that’s making her nervous. All these years of preparation can’t be shattered just because your body can’t bear a child.
Plus, this will be her fault. If your body can’t produce an heir to Jungkook, it will only be her fault because she was the one who brought you to the world. If something is wrong with you, she’ll only think that it’s her fault.
“As I told you a week ago, we are fulfilling our marital duties.”
During the past year, you’ve never had the strength to tell her that you don’t want to become a mother. You know how she’ll react. She’ll add even more pressure on you to get pregnant. You already have enough of it when you go to dinners and balls, and everybody asks you why you’re still not carrying a baby.
“I’m really starting to believe that it’s not the truth.” You take a deep breath before adding some distance between you and your mother. This conversation is going to take a turn that you won’t like. “Everybody is already asking me too many questions.” Her stare is emotionless. “It’s been a year and no heir in sight.”
If there were any miscarriages, she could understand why you wouldn’t be pregnant at the moment but there hasn’t been any announcement, neither a good nor a bad.
“It’s the truth, mother.” You answer again, trying to not show any emotion. “You’ve taught me all the important duties I have to accomplish as a wife. If I am not bearing any child yet, maybe it is because God has decided that it isn’t the moment yet.”
As your mother is a great catholic, the excuse of God choosing the timing for a baby seems to be your last excuse. You perfectly know that in some weeks or days, you’ll have to tell her the truth. But even if you hate her for not having shown you any love, you wouldn’t be able to live without her around you. After all, she’s your mother.
She takes a sip of her tea without looking at you before putting her cup down and looking up at you.
“You’re right, Yn.” She replies. “God is the only one to choose when you’ll bear a child.”
In your case, God has nothing to do with it. You and Jungkook have simply decided that you’d grow old together without any children around you.
“My mother is starting to suspect that we are not fulfilling our marital duties.” You breathe out.
You’re currently sprawled out on your shared bed, your hand strongly holding his hair while his tongue is buried deep inside your cunt, licking your folds vigorously. You gasp as you’re completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his wet muscle lapping your arousal, mouth falling open while you watch him. He glances up at you, eyes shining with lust and adoration.
This is a look that he always gives you when you’re sharing an intimate moment. You and Jungkook have been more than fulfilling your marital duties as your mother would say. Your sexual life is more than active, and you’re for sure not going to complain about it. Hearing him groan your name as he’s thrusting deeply and harshly inside you is the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life.
“Well,” he starts saying, his voice vibrating against your cunt, and making you moan at the feeling, “she’s not totally wrong.”
Your clothes are scattered across the floor of your immense room, and your body is covered in his hickeys. Your husband has always been careful enough to never leave hickeys in places that others might see. Although he loves wild sex, he doesn’t want others to know how you two like it.
He brings one of his fingers down to stroke over the lips of your pussy before he presses gentle kisses on your clit, loving how you’re contorting of pleasure. Over the past year, Jungkook has learned how to please you properly. Today, he can say without any hesitation what you like and what you might not like.
“It’s not true.” You whine before your hand pushes his hair, making him groan against your clit.
You’re sure that all the maids and valets working in the castle are perfectly hearing the two of you enjoying some good time together. To be honest, you’re even surprised that the entire high society isn’t aware that the two of you have a strong sexual appetite. All they seem to pay attention to is the fact that you’re still not pregnant.
When you look down at him again, you see him smirk. To him, your mother is partially right. If you were totally fulfilling your duties, you’d already be a parent. He’s sure of that.
“If we were properly accomplishing our duties as husband and wife, I’d be coming inside you and not outside.” He presses another kiss against your clit. “We aren’t doing things right.”
Before you even add something, his tongue slips again between your folds, licking it as if was the last time he was doing it. Your thick and hot arousal runs down to his tongue easily.
You both know that all the rumors around you will start growing bigger, pressuring you more and more to fall into what people expect of a ‘happy’ marriage. For the two of you, there is no need for children to be completely happy. How things are right now between you are perfect and nothing else is needed.
For the past week, the rumors around your fertility have been growing strongly, making you feel more and more uncomfortable about leaving your house. You hate being the center of attention, and since nothing has been happening lately, people only have eyes on you and your stomach.
“What’s on your mind, my love?” Your husband’s deep voice makes you look up at him.
This morning, you went to the modiste to choose a new dress for tomorrow’s ball organized by the king, your cousin. As you share blue blood with him, you were naturally invited with your husband. But nothing happened as you expected. All eyes were on you, wondering if after a year you’d be carrying Jeon’s next heir.
As you were trying to distract yourself from all those eyes, you realized that you never knew why Jungkook never wanted children just as much as you never told him your reasons.
“Why don’t you want to become a father?”
Although it was natural to not come inside you during sexual acts, the topic of children was taboo between the two of you. You only quickly discussed it before he asked your hand for marriage to your father, relieved that you both wanted the same. Today, you wonder what would have happened if one of you wanted children. Would you have got married? Would you be parents now? Would you be happy?
Jungkook is visibly surprised by your question, his fork falling from his right hand while his eyes widen with astonishment. This is something he never thought he would have to explain to you but yet, deep down he knew that one day, you’d ask it.
“Well,” he starts saying while he composes his posture on the wooden chair he’s sitting on, “it’s quite simple. I don’t want any human to go through what I went through.”
Remembering the past has never been easy for him. He still remembers perfectly the night he told you about his terrible childhood. That night, he cried so much because never in his twenty-five years of existence, he had to tell someone about how painful it was to even breathe when he was just a young boy.
“I lost both my parents at the age of five in a terrible fire, I was completely left alone with my brother.” He closes his eyes. “I became a duke at the young age of five, and my uncle decided to torture me because he was jealous of a young boy. I was treated like a dog because I inherited everything my uncle always wished to have.”
You also close your eyes as you imagine everything his uncle did to him. That man was a monster, that’s the only way you can describe him. No one should go through what your husband went through.
“We don’t know what tomorrow is made of. What if we have a child and we die the day after? Who would take care of them? Would that person take good care of them or would they treat our kid just like I was treated?”
Sadness fills his eyes, making your heart feel so much sore. You perfectly understand his reasons and you’d like to tell him that there would be someone who would take good care of them. But you’d be lying.
You stand up before walking towards the man you love, his eyes only opening when he feels your body sitting on his lap. Your hands find their way to his neck, playing with the strands of his hair.
“I understand, Kook.” You press a kiss on his lips. “I just wanted to know.”
Feeling your fingers playing with his hair eases him. Since the passing of his mother, there were no other arms that could appease him. He spent a huge part of his life looking for someone that could make him feel like his mother did but he found nothing before you arrived in his life and showed him nothing but love.
“I’m sorry to have brought back those memories.” He closes his eyes again before pressing his head against your chest. Right now, being in your arms is the only thing that he needs.
“Don’t worry, my love.” He whispers, his breath caressing the skin of your cleavage. “You needed to know.”
You slowly open your eyes before turning your face to your right to check if Jungkook is still in bed with you. To your surprise, your husband is awake and looking at you with a bright smile on his face.
“Good morning, angel!” He says before he presses a gentle kiss on your forehead.
Under the bedsheets, both your bodies are completely naked, your body still sore from all the things your husband did to you last night. After his confession explaining why he doesn’t want to have children, he wasn’t really feeling well. So, at first, you just both laid in bed, cuddling for Jungkook to feel the warmth of your embrace but the cuddling changed into cockwarming before turning into a wild night of sex.
“Good morning, my sweet prince” Your fingers push the strand of his hair standing in front of his eyes. “How was your night?”
“After last night, I was pretty tired so I slept very well.” You press a kiss on his toned chest.
Hearing that he slept well relieves you a lot, you would have felt guilty if Jungkook hadn’t slept last night because of you. His well-being and happiness always come before your own. That’s what love is all about, putting your lover first and making sure that your love is enough for them.
“But now, you need to tell me why you don’t want kids.” He says, his eyes locking with yours.
You press your head against his chest, avoiding his gaze. You don’t want to look at him as you explain yourself, especially because this won’t make you feel comfortable. It’s the first time you’re going to say it out loud.
“I don’t want to give life to children that will grow up in this fucked up society.” You admit. “My mother never loved me, and I know she’ll never love me because I was not the girl she dreamed of. All I wanted my entire life was to be like my brother, to live freely but as a woman, I was constantly reminded that I couldn’t be like him. I had to keep my virginity for my husband, I couldn’t fall in love outside marriage and I was constantly told that to be the perfect wife I needed to bear an heir.”
Your childhood was far from being a happy one, and you hate your mother for that. She never let you enjoy it because she wanted to form you from a very young age but deep down you know it’s not her fault, it’s society’s fault. You’re sure everybody pointed out to your mother that you weren’t behaving as a young girl should. You’re sure everybody pressured your mother to change you.
Jungkook totally agrees with you. For the past few years, he has been trying to help women how he can but he’s literally fighting alone against a very old society. There’s no way he can do anything but he makes sure at his small scale to change things. For example, every single person working for him receives the exact same wage if they have the same position. There’s no distinction between genders.
Your husband strokes your back to give you some comfort and strength to keep going. He’s more than thankful that you’re telling him the reasons that led you to choose not to have kids.
“Everything is so unfair for women.” You hold him tight against you. “We don’t have a voice and if we try to have one, we’re directly shut down.”
You gather the small courage you have to look at him. All you can see in his eyes is how powerless he feels at the moment. Yes, he’s a man and he can’t understand what you feel because nobody expected anything from him. But he sees how everyone is so demanding when it comes to women.
“How can I raise a daughter and tell her that she’s less than her brothers? How can I destroy my daughter’s childhood based on what is expected from her in the future? I can’t do what my mother did to me. So, since I am young, I decided that I will never have children.”
Of course, you know you’ll never be like your mother but you’re just so scared that you’ll do the exact same thing if you ever give birth to a girl.
“I don’t know if this can reassure you in any way, princess, but you’ll never be like your mother. I know that if we had a daughter, you’d encourage her to be who she would want to be.” His caresses on your back never stop, comforting you in more ways than you expected. “Plus, I’d be by your side, helping you raise our wonder woman.”
A big smile spreads across your face. You don’t doubt that Jungkook would stand by your side and help you to raise your daughter but in any way, it’s not going to happen. Both of you don’t want any children.
You press another kiss on his chest before slowly leaving a trail of wet kisses down on his body. Small moans escape his pretty lips but once you arrive at his lower stomach, you stop, looking at how hard he already is with only your kisses.
Pushing his back against the mattress, you place yourself in between his muscular legs. His teeth sink into his lower lip as he looks at his extremely sexy wife. The vision of you close to his hard cock is something that always drives him completely crazy.
“I could come with just this sight.” He says, trying to hold back the wave of pleasure building too strongly inside him. “My naked wife in between my legs, fuck, I promised that I never thought you’d accept marrying me.”
“Well, your naked wife is probably very crazy to have accepted to marry you.”
Before your husband can even add any other word, your mouth wraps around the head of his cock, swallowing his leaking precum in the process. Your husband gasps at the feeling of the warmth of your mouth around him.
“Oh, fuck…” He throws his head back while grabbing tightly the sheets and the muscles of his abdomen tensing. “Your mouth feels so good.” He says his last word with much difficulty because nothing feels better than this.
Jungkook’s eyes marvel at how cute you look when you’re sucking him off. Even after one year of having the best sucking of his life, he can’t help but find you extremely cute when you do something so dirty.
As you swirl your tongue around his tip, your hand reaches up to caress his balls, making him groan louder. His groans only encourage you to keep going, so you suck him off as if your life depended on it.
“Fuck, princess, carry on doing that.” His hips jerk forward into your mouth, a smirk growing in your face as you delight your husband just like he loves it.
The King’s ball happened yesterday night.
To say that everything went wrong is literally an understatement. All night long, your mother kept sending you killing gazes because you were the center of every conversation. A year ago, at the same ball, you and Jungkook were introduced to the world as a newlywed couple. All hopes were that you’d give pretty babies to that man. But here you are, a year later and without any child.
The pressure of your woman’s condition never felt heavier than last night. Jungkook felt it and was deeply sorry that you had to go through that when it’s on you both. This wasn’t just a decision you took, it was decided between the two of you.
Like the gentleman that he is, he dragged you out of that event barely an hour after it started. But since then, none of you has said a word.
After passing minutes looking for you in the castle, he finds you in the garden, sitting over a blanket and looking straight in front of you.
For the past hour, you’ve realized that things are going to grow harder as time passes. People are going to judge you and discriminate against you because you’re not giving any heirs to Jungkook. There’s no way that you’re going to survive this. It was just too hard yesterday and you don’t want to live that again.
Plus, you’re sure that you’ll never find the strength to tell the truth to your mother. She’ll hate you even more than she does now, you’re just a shame for the whole family. You just can’t face this anymore, you don’t have the strength anymore.
The only way to appease all this is to have a child.
After one hour of internal self debating, the solution is simple. Both you and Jungkook will have to face your fears. Your childhood was shit but you can give a good one to your own children if you really want it.
“Talk to me, Yn.” He says as he sits next to you and looks at the horizon.
“I’m not strong, Jungkook.” You say without looking at him. “I’m just a weak girl that can’t stand her own position.”
“Don’t say that because it’s not true.” He retorts. “You’re the bravest woman I know.” His eyes go from the horizon to you, worry growing as he realizes just how broken you look.
“You’re only saying that because I’m your wife.”
God, he hates when you think like that. Every word concerning you that leaves his mouth comes straight from his heart. Not once he thinks to compliment you just because you’re his wife.
“Stop with this nonsense, Yn.” His jaw clenches. “You know me, I would never say it without meaning it.”
Your eyes now glare at him because you know he’s right.
“I just can’t go through another event like yesterday.” You finally tell him. “And I know it’s only going to get worse with time but I am not strong enough to face everyone’s judgment.”
Your husband grasps your hand, his thumb tenderly caressing it.
“My family is also going to hate me if I don’t give you an heir.” A tear streams down your face. “I’ve just come to the realization that I have to get pregnant to make them stop.”
Unfortunately, the pressure is winning over your wishes. You’ll have to bear a child, something you didn’t want just to stop all those rumors.
“I know we both don’t want it but I know this will destroy me way more than having a child.”
Your husband comes closer to you, holding tightly your hand in his.
“As much as I’d hate someone to go through what I went through, I can’t just sit back and watch everyone destroying the only person I care about. I’d be just selfish. I know it’s not what we wanted but this world is built in a way to push people to do exactly what it wants.”
His words come as unexpected for you because you thought that he’d be strongly defending his position of not wanting kids. But right now, all he seems to care about is you.
“Plus, our child will have your brother and your father if something ever happens to us. Those two people love you beyond comprehension and I know they will take good care of them.”
Jungkook has been thinking a lot about it, and he realized that there are only two additional individuals, aside from him and you that will protect his child from people that would want to take this duchy from them.
Your father will for sure be the first person to come and protect his grandchild. As he’s a duke too, he will without any doubt make sure that your child will be properly prepared for being the heir of this duchy.
And your brother will do the exact same thing as your father.
“And raising this child in this unfair world, well, we can just make sure that we explain to them what the world expects from them but we can also show them that they can be whatever and whoever they want.”
You come closer to your husband before hugging him tightly.
“All I want is for you to be happy because to me that’s the only thing that matters. The rest, we can work on it together, that’s what we have been doing for an entire year.”
Jungkook holds you strongly in his arms. This also surprises him that he’d put his fears aside but when it comes to you, he’d do anything and everything just to make the world better for you.
The marriage is about the two of you, he can’t just think about himself and what he wants. What you need is now his top priority.
“I just need to think a bit more about it, I want to be a hundred percent sure of this.” You tell him.
You don’t want to rush this decision based on how society looks at you. Yes, it will be better if you ever get pregnant but then, there’s the whole after. A child is a person you’ll need to take care of forever.
“I need to go to my office to take care of some things but I’ll leave the door open. I’ll be ready when you are.”
You move back to look at him, your eyes searching in his for something that will comfort you. A smile reaches his lips before he presses a kiss on yours.
After another hour of reflecting if having a child is indeed the best solution, you finally come back inside the immense house that is yours. With a determined step, you walk to the room that serves as your husband's office. As promised, his door is slightly open, letting you see him work.
For a moment, you stop and look at him.
The man sitting on his chair has shown you nothing but love, and patient since the day you first met him. When you were little, you were convinced that you’d never get married because all men want is to have a succession. You pushed away a lot of men interested in you with this speech of not wanting children which would drive your mother crazy. But Jungkook appeared and showed that love and having kids are two distinct things. You can love but not want a child but you can also desire to have children without loving your partner.
You take a step closer to the door before entering his office. The room is quite huge for an office but well, you’re living in a castle so every room is pretty big. Thankfully he’s alone in his office, his valet isn’t near him as usual. His face lifts when he hears you closing the door.
“I’m ready.” You tell him, making him smile instantly.
You sit on his lap, your hands around his neck, and eyes locking together. His hands find their way to your waist, pressing you tight against him. Jungkook kisses you like it’s the last he’s ever going to do it. His grip on your hips tightens, bringing your body even closer to his. You can feel him grow in hardness just underneath you, and teasingly, you grind your hips against his.
“You’re really sure you want this?” He asks when he pulls away.
“I guess being pregnant can’t be worse than having hundreds of people talking about my supposed infertility.” You press another kiss on his lips. “And I have you so everything is going to be good.”
Jungkook licks his lips, that simple action turning you on. Unconsciously, you bite your lower lip, your hips grinding against his.
“Then, we should try to conceive that baby.” He runs his thumb over your swollen bottom lip.
Thankfully, you’re only wearing a simple dress that he can undo in seconds which will simplify things for him. Occasionally, you wear fancy dresses that are a literal nightmare to undress. But Jungkook is very grateful that a simple dress is always enough for you, it’s easier when he gets all horny.
“You really want to have sex here?” You say, looking around to see if there’s anybody in the office.
“Why not?” He raises an eyebrow as he smirks.
This will be the first time you two will have sex in this room. Usually, everything happens in your bedroom, it’s more intimate. Outside the bedroom, it feels like it’s just two horny teenagers having sex in a handsome castle.
“Anybody could come inside and see us.” You whisper.
A giggle escapes his pretty lips, and you fight the urge to touch the small wrinkle in between his brows. He’s extremely adorable when his face expresses happiness.
“Everybody working here has been hearing us for the past year so I think seeing something won’t shock them at all.” He replies.
Your face heats at his words, feeling a bit uncomfortable to the thought of everyone hearing you moan with delight. But deep down it was something you knew, you just wouldn’t admit it. Jungkook makes you scream like an injured animal when you’re sharing intimate moments. You hide your face on the crook of his neck with embarrassment, his large hand caressing your back.
“Don’t be so shy, my love.” His lips press a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “We both know that you’re more of the bold type.” He murmurs those words in your ear, definitely sending shivers down your spine. You back away to look at him.
“If you really want it, then we can copulate just right here.”
His face leans closer to you, his gaze filled with lust.
“Let’s create that small human being.” His voice is so deep and low that it makes your heart race fast.
It will for sure be an interesting story to remember later. A child procreated over this desk chair.
As you look into his eyes, you understand straight away how desperate your husband is. The urge to be inside you is clearly visible on his face, and luckily for him, you’re not in a mood to torture him. Both of you stand up to quickly undress.
Once you’re both naked, Jungkook can’t stop looking at you. “You look like a goddess. I’m so lucky to have you as my wife.”
A smile appears on your face as you hear your husband’s words. Your eyes get lost on his perfect body, sometimes you wonder if God himself didn’t hand-carve your husband. His body is so perfectly sculpted, your eyes completely hypnotized by his hard cock. When he’s hard, he’s pretty big, leaving you to wonder how on earth such a massive thing can enter inside you.
Taking a step closer to the man that you promised to cherish until your last breath, you whisper: “I’m equally lucky to have you as my husband.”
Softly, you push Jungkook to sit back down on the chair, and he complies unflinchingly, eyes full of excitement. You sit back again on his lap before you kiss him with so much passion.
As the kiss gets intenser, you sense him growing harder under you. The feeling of the tip of his cock brushing against the cheek of your ass turns you incredibly on. Your husband becomes aware of it when your arousal starts to run down to his hips.
“Someone seems excited.” He whispers against your lips.
A roll of your butt against his crotch makes him groan against your lips, a playful smirk growing in your face.
“I’d say that the two of us are excited.” You smash your lips against his for another languorous kiss. His hands slowly go down on your body, caressing gently every part of the body that he has grown to love more and more every day.
His hands keep going down on your body, never stopping once he gets closer to your core. Your breathing starts to get choppy. He swipes one finger along your slit, making you gasp at the contact and a soft moan escapes your mouth. A sound that Jungkook loves to hear.
Your husband wastes no time before dipping two fingers into your heat, his fingers now covered with your wetness. As much as he’d love to make love to you roughly right now, he needs to prepare you for it to not hurt you. He’s perfectly aware of the size of his cock, he has seen many times how your body would tense when he pushes his length inside your velvety walls.
“Wow, my love.” He mumbles, his fingers not moving inside you. “You’re incredibly wet.”
His fingers move out of pussy before sliding them in again with ease. Another moan leaves your mouth, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his fingers filling you up. Quickly, he starts moving his fingers at a fast pace, his eyes never leaving your pretty face contorting of delight. That’s a sight he clearly enjoys.
“You’re so pretty.”
Praising during sex is something that he completely adores to do, he simply enjoys reminding you how beautiful you are. A dazzling smile spreads across your face, a smile that brightens his world constantly.
He inserts a third finger into you, preparing you for his massive member. The stretch caused by his third finger is delightful, a lewd mewl leaving your lips. You roll your hips against his, his cock getting harder by the obscene scene.
His exposed neck appeals to you, and you can’t help but bring your mouth to his skin before torturing it with your tongue and teeth. A deep groan escapes his sweet lips as he keeps fingering you at a torturous pace.
“Are you ready, my love?”
As much as he’d love to give you pleasure with his finger, his needs are also torturing him. If he doesn’t push his cock inside you right now, he’ll come undone against your fluffy ass cheeks.
Leaving his neck, you look proudly at the little mark you gave him. It is not the first time you leave love marks on your husband’s neck, and he doesn’t mind it at all. His friends will for sure make some nasty comments but those little marks remind him just how much you love him. So, he adores it when you torture his neck with your tongue and teeth.
Jungkook’s fingers slip from you while you lift your ass to place your hips behind his cock. You take a proper glance at the beast between your bodies, his crotch is mouthwatering.
“Do whatever you want to do with me, my princess.”
Your husband loves to let you play with his crotch, the way your eyes sparkle each time you do what you want is alluring to him. It’s like he’s giving candy to a five-year-old child. Jungkook leans against the chair to let you take over.
“You’re always so beautiful.” He smiles, his eyes never leaving your face.
Both your hands hold his length, making him groan at your soft touch. Slowly, you start stroking his member from up to down, spreading all the precum over his veiny cock. As soft groans escape his pretty swollen lips, your walls clench, wanting nothing more but to be filled by his length.
After a few more strokes, you halt before you lift your ass, rubbing his head on your entrance, and making the two of you moan with pleasure. Slowly, you push him inside you while his hands sit on your waist, his thumbs caressing it softly.
“Yn…” Jungkook hisses, breathing hard.
You sink further down on him, burying his cock completely inside your wet pussy. He throws his head back as he finally feels you around him. This is the best feeling, it is like you’re sending him straight to heaven with your soft walls. With his head thrown back, you can see the veins in his neck pulse.
Even if he prepared you with his fingers, his monstrous cock stretches your walls enormously. Every time he penetrates you, it just reminds you that your core will never get used to his huge size. Your hands rest on his shoulder, trying to stabilize yourself while your pussy gets accustomed to his size. But besides his monstrous size, you enjoy the fill of him.
“You’re always so big.” You mumble while his chest swells with pride.
“And you love it.” He smirks.
Of course, you love it, especially because he knows how to use it to give immense pleasure. Things would have probably been different if he was a complete mess in bed.
“Ride me, baby.” He whispers before giving you a gentle slap on your right ass cheek.
Holding on to his muscular shoulders, you slowly raise yourself off his length, his fingers sinking into your waist as you almost pull off him. You know for sure that his fingers will leave some bruises on your body but you couldn’t care less about it right now. The only thing that matters right now is the intimate moment you’re sharing with your husband. You open your mouth and moan while staring at each other.
Never leaving his dark orbs, you push yourself back down, taking all of him inside you. Jungkook lets out a loud and high-pitched moan, you’re sure that the entire household heard it. You move your hips again, starting to ride him as if your life depended on it.
“You ride me so well, princess.” He groans into you. His words make you grin, proud of all the delight you’re giving him.
You buck your hips faster, wanting to make the both of you come as soon as possible. Although it is incredibly exciting to make love in his office, you’re scared that someone comes in and sees the two of you.
“I’ve had the best teacher for the past year.” You wink at him, making him chuckle.
Before Jungkook nobody had touched you, your mother would have never let that happened. She would have never let any man destroy the honor of her only daughter, and for that in some way, you’re very thankful of it. Your husband has been teaching you everything about the art of making love.
“Well, you’re a good student too.” He replies while you bounce up and down on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass.
The sound of slapping skin combined with your moans quickly fills the room. Now that your husband confirmed that everyone in his castle has been hearing your lovemaking moments, you imagine someone hearing at his office door. Weirdly enough, that thought gets you even wetter.
“You’re also the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jungkook grunts while he watches you humping on his cock. “And if our child takes after you, they’ll be the second prettiest human walking on this earth.”
His sweet words make your heart flutter. You totally ignore how cute and adorable your husband can be during such a dirty moment but it always makes you incredibly soft.
“I love you, Kook.” You whisper before pressing a sloppy kiss on his lips.
You throw your head to the back as you enjoy riding his cock. Unintentionally, you clench your walls around him, his eyes rolling back at the action. He loves it when you squeeze him with your tight walls.
When you slowly grow tired of bouncing on him, he starts to thrust up at you. You’ve been doing such an amazing job to give to the two of you pleasure, and now it is his turn to do the same.
“Oh my god, Jungkook.” You moan loudly.
Jungkook grunts in every thrust. Quickly, the pace of his thrusts quickens but his cock also goes deep inside you, making him hit your sensitive spot over and over again mercilessly. And it feels so damn good. Your walls clench around him again to snatch a hot moan out of him. Your moans get louder as he hits your sweet spot over and over again. Slowly but surely, you feel a familiar wave of please building inside of you.
“This time, I’m going to come inside you, my love.” He tells you. “You’re sure you still want a child?”
This is typical of Jungkook. Until the very last moment, he wants to be sure that you don’t change your mind. Another thing that you deeply love about him.
“I am sure, Jungkook.” Both your hands cup his sweet face, his eyes scrutinizing your face as he wants to be sure that you really are sure of it.
His dick twitches inside you while he keeps thrusting into you at an erratic pace. You clench around him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Since you’ve had all your first times with Jungkook, you don’t know how it feels to be filled with his seed. So, you’re curious to know how it will be.
“Oh.” He growls when your pussy clenches around him once again.
“Come for me, my sweet prince.” You whisper in his ear.
Your sweet words were exactly what he needed to come inside you. A lewd moan escapes your mouth when he pumps his hot cum inside you, pushing it as deep as possible inside you. Your nails dig on his shoulders, biting down your lower lip while you stare into his darkened eyes.
This feeling of his hot cum filling you is incredible and it makes you see stars. This new experience is marvelous. You quickly follow your husband when you reach your own orgasm. Jungkook keeps grinding your ass on his cock to fill every part of your walls with his warm semen. Nothing has to go to waste if you want to procreate.
You bury your face on his neck and nuzzle his strong scent while panting hard as you calm yourself. His huge hands stroke your back as you both try to come down from your high. The two of you only hope that this first attempt is successful.
“I love you, Jungkook.”
Besides saying those three words, you don’t know what to say to thank him for putting aside his fears for you.
“I love you even more, my love.”
What you both ignore at the moment is that your first try was indeed successful. At that precise moment when you were cuddling, you both created life.
⏤ tag list: @s0seo @huhuehuey @prdshobi @bonnyskies @swinterr @nervouskiwi @hopetookmysoul @liljooniecutie @jangsiyeon @pinkyxpeach @delicate-snow-flake @bangtanolan @y00ngiverse @studycrastinating @gukbeoki @outrokookies @soulstaes @preciouschimine @galacticxcosmos @pj-0295 @letterwen @fan-ati--c @aretha170 @takochelle @moekoi02 @jellycake2109 @rjsmochii @paperpurple @min-nicoleee @doiemarkzen @drumsofheaven @xxchoixx @kokoandkookie @koremis @stiphy917 @bemyketchup @jinsalpaca
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SDV's 1.5 update contains content that plays into racist, colonialist, and imperialist myths and beliefs.
Disclaimer: I loved SDV (which is a given, considering I have an SDV sideblog lol?), and I'm not writing this post to get people to boycott the game or stop liking it or whatever. I just want people to understand why this content is harmful, how it might be affecting your biases and beliefs, and think of how they can engage with this media without exacerbating the harm that it does. I'm Filipino, and I don't speak for all POC or all brown people, but I felt deeply hurt and betrayed by the content update. Please keep that in mind before you interact with this post. Explanation under the cut because of 1.5 spoilers (obviously) and because this got long.
(I will block people who clown on this post. Keep your opinions to yourself unless you also have firsthand experience with the issues I describe.)
I was already wary of the 1.5 content update because of how the previews featured ~tropical~ and ~exotic~ stuff, but I decided to give it a shot because maybe I was being too hasty with my judgment.
I wasn't. I made a new save to play with the 1.5 content update, and at first, I was having a great time! The new special orders made gameplay more exciting and varied! I could finally get rid of the nursery from my house without mods! The remixed junimo bundles made me change my usual game strategy. And then, I finally unlocked Ginger Island.
It seemed cool at first, but I had a sinking feeling growing in the pit of my stomach as I kept playing. It got to the point that I started nursing a stomach ache and lots of anger that took me days to shake off. I know SDV has never been a shining example of racial/ethnic diversity and sensitivity (I mean... there's a reason why mods like Diverse Stardew Valley and a bunch of other diversity mods exist lol). But while the lack of diversity in the pre-1.5 content is more of a missed opportunity, the 1.5 content is just... actively harmful and hurtful, imo. Here's a breakdown of the issues with the setting and the characters:
Ginger Island, along with the Fern Islands in general, is a tropical island that is clearly based on islands in the Pacific. Its features include fertile soil and an abundance of natural, foragable resources. And for some unknown reason, it has no native human population.
Many islands in the world are uninhabited by humans, and there's always a good reason why. The island's environment may be too hostile, it could be too small to sustain human life, it could be sacred or otherwise culturally unacceptable to live there, or some disaster may have occurred to wipe out the local population or cause them to flee. Some uninhabited islands are nature reserves or privately owned. The point is that if an island is habitable, people are bound to call it home.
Writing Ginger Island as an uninhabited "tropical paradise" feels like a copout. It's as if the game is saying, "don't worry, you're not colonizing this land because no one really lives here! You're not stealing this land or anything because it's up for grabs and is just waiting for the right person to come along to develop it and turn it into a resort for other people who don't live here!" But that claim rings hollow when there are so many signs of civilization there, such as literal computers and ancient structures. And the canon reason for the existence of these things is that dwarves, non-human creatures, lived there once. I just think it's ridiculous and harmful that the game completely ignores and erases the existence of the people who lived and still live in the places that Ginger Island is based on and goes even further to use non-human creatures as stand-ins. I don’t think I have to explain why this isn’t good, considering that people of color have been compared to animals and treated like animals to dehumanize us and justify our oppression for ages.
To really hammer in my point about whitewashing and erasure, all the human labor on the island is done by a flock of parrots that you pay with golden walnuts (i. e., resources that you get for free from the island they live on). There's even an anthropomorphized bird who's a shopkeep! I get that creating a whole cast of human NPCs to fill a town would have been way too much work for a content update, but CA didn't need to use a bunch of animals as stand-ins for non-white human characters. There’s a troubling trend of creators prioritizing animal characters over characters of color, and CA plays right into it. He seriously chose to create more anthro characters instead of adding characters of color to the game in a setting that in real life has populations that are primarily made up of brown people. The game includes brown people's land and cultures, but it draws the line at brown people themselves.
The erasure of brown people and the portrayal of our lands as wild and untamed have been used to sanitize the narrative of colonialism for centuries. Pretending that our lands were wild tropical paradises that were ripe for the taking is pretending that colonizing forces didn't use violent, dehumanizing means to subjugate or wipe out countless peoples and cultures in order to make these lands available. Ginger Island's erasure of brown people just perpetuates this colonialist myth, and the context in which it does so disgusts me: the farmer, who already runs a successful farm that was inherited from their grandfather, goes off to a tropical island they have no personal connection to and uses its natural resources to expand their business further. They also open up a resort on the island for the enjoyment of other privileged people from their homeland, and going there is treated as a luxury. This is a classic colonizer narrative, and I cannot believe the game forces players to colonize an island in order to win.
I'm honestly amazed that the amount of feedback about the lack of diversity in SDV didn't prompt CA to create characters of color. I'm amazed that he chose the setting he did and still didn't bother to create any characters of color. The fact that all three of the new human characters who live on this tropical island are white makes me go a little apeshit, to be honest! I hate all three of them for a variety of reasons, so I'll go over them one by one:
My reasons for not liking Birdie are primarily related to misogyny (lady spent literal decades in isolation on this island moping over her dead husband?) and ageism (if you tell her to live her own life, she tells you that she's too old to???). Sooo they're not really related to the rest of my discussion here, and I won't get into them further. Moving on!
White historians, archaeologists, and paleontologists have been stealing and plundering artifacts, relics, and fossils from colonized lands for centuries. These white scientists would send their “discoveries” back to their homelands with little regard for the people they stole from. I’ll acknowledge that Professor Snail doesn’t bring the bones and fossils off the island, so his character isn’t as awful as it could be, but he still canonically has this line:
I really just don’t understand why it was necessary to make this character white when making him a character of color could have easily prevented the uncomfortable real-world implications of a white man coming to a foreign land to plunder fossils without asking anybody for permission. If he he’d been created as someone who traced his ancestry to Ginger Island and wanted to study the island’s biological history, his character could have been so sympathetic and even admirable to me! But his character as it is just makes me think of this meme:
Here are some links for further reading about colonialism in paleontology and other social sciences: 1, 2, 3, 4.
I had a hard time figuring out how to write about this character because the way CA wrote him is arguably one of the most racist parts of SDV. So many aspects of his character left me speechless and appalled because I cannot believe people are still writing shit like this in the 2020s.
I’ll start off with his storyline: this white child gets stranded on an island and is raised by animals. When the farmer meets him, he speaks in broken English to show how “wild” he is:
As the farmer continues to interact with him, he begins to speak more “proper” English:
Wow... he’s becoming more “civilized” because of the farmer’s influence!
As his story progresses, he reveals that he’s lonely because he doesn’t fit in among the other birds. Eventually, he leaves behind his non-human family and assimilates into a primarily white, Western-coded society because that’s supposedly where he belongs.
This whole storyline is made possible by the problems with the setting that I mentioned earlier. Leo wouldn’t feel so lonely and out of place if there were people on the island. He wouldn’t be depicted as wild and animal-like if he had an adoptive family made up of humans instead of parrots. But because CA chose not to have native human characters on this island, Leo can only be around other people if he leaves his home and family behind. As a result, Leo’s story has very uncomfortable parallels with how colonizers have historically separated indigenous children from their families and cultures and forced them to assimilate into the dominant colonizer culture because they considered indigenous cultures to be savage and barbaric (1) (2).
Leo’s whole narrative unintentionally implies that a good life in a good community can only be had in civilized white Western societies. I’m honestly having trouble with further explaining why Leo’s whole character makes me feel so gross, so just read up on the White Man’s Burden, The Jungle Book and other works by Rudyard Kipling (1) (2) (3) (4) (5, PDF download link), and even Tarzan (1) (2).
Leo’s character is also used to further whitewash non-white cultures:
Poi is a Polynesian dish. Mango sticky rice, which is also a recipe that Leo teaches you in-game, is a Thai dish. In the letter, Leo says that the dish is from his home and enjoyed by his non-human family. Considering that he probably learned these recipes on Ginger Island, and that the only “people” who could have taught him this recipe are literal animals, including these recipes in the game in this way just reinforces the equation of brown people to animals. I’m not Polynesian or Thai, but I know that if CA had included a Filipino recipe in the game and not only had it taught to players by a white character, but also passed off as something from the white character’s culture, I’d be angry. I’ll repeat myself: The game features brown people's food and cultures, but it draws the line at brown people themselves.
I don’t think there’s any way to tweak or edit Leo’s character to fix the issues I described. No matter how we change things, he’s still an orphan raised by animals coded as indigenous people, and he assimilates into the dominant white Western culture. The only way to address these issues is to completely redo his character and even the setting of Ginger Island. Here are some options that I’ve thought of:
Leo is related to someone in the Valley and stays with them for part of the year.
Leo lives with his human family and community on Ginger Island.
Leo’s parents are specifically from Stardew Valley/Pelican Town and he wants to visit in order to reconnect with his heritage.
This list isn’t comprehensive, but it does show that there are so many alternatives to having yet another Mowgli story in Stardew Valley.
I don’t think that CA had bad intentions when he made this content, but the fact is that he did create this content. I’m not calling him a bad person. However, he does have a lot of racist, imperialist, and colonialist biases that he has yet to unlearn. Considering the setting and subject matter of the new 1.5 content, he really should have hired some sensitivity readers to avoid creating harmful content. The man’s sold over ten million copies of his game, and he certainly has the resources to put together a sensitivity team.
I can’t look at Stardew Valley the same way I did before 1.5, but I’m not going to condemn the game as a whole. I might play the game again someday, but I absolutely won’t be going back to Ginger Island. If you’ve enjoyed the Ginger Island content, then good for you! Please just keep all that I’ve written here in mind and accept that that content hurts some people like me.
If you’re a content creator, I urge you to get sensitivity readers if you’re featuring cultures that you’re not a part of to avoid making the same mistakes that I’ve discussed here. Creating from a place of understanding and respect can only make your work better and more accessible to a wider audience, especially to the people whose culture you’re borrowing.
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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”
PART 24: OH...HI
after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.
─── corpse husband x reader
─── soc. media + written fiction!
─── word count: 3.8k
author’s note: we did it joe.
ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.
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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.
Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.
She is not impressed.
“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”
Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.
“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.
“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”
“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”
And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).
So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.
“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.
“That implies that I’m always tactless.”
“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”
“And I can!”
“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”
...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”
Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”
“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”
She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”
“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”
“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”
“I’m not nervous!”
“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”
You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”
And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.
Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.
You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.
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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]
The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.
A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.
The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.
You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.
“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.
His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.
Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.
You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.
You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.
He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.
You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.
He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.
Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”
He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.
Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!
“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”
Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.
“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”
“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”
Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.
So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.
You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”
Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.
After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.
“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”
He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”
“Side hoe, then-”
You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.
The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.
“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”
His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.
“But I’d be a worm.”
“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”
“But you’d be human.”
He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”
“Those are the rules.”
“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”
“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”
“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”
Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.
“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.
“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”
You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.
Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”
“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”
“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”
God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”
His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”
Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.
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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai
more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙
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Quarantined!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Brat!Reader (18+)
A Haikyuu HQ Server Collab | Prompt: ‘I told you to stay still.’
Tings: hate sex, shower sex, voyeur kink, exhibition kink, overheard masturbation, waxing, swearing, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, anal play, humiliation/degradation, cum eating, spit, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, mentions of the corona virus
A/N: I didn’t even like this man when I started writing it, now I want to fuck him into oblivion. For this very reason, I am tagging @karasunosimp and @sugardaddykenma because I saw what you said about him and I want to be cheeky.
Thank you to my wife @thisisthehardestthing for beta-reading!
Also, ‘pantherian’ is a word in this fic, I will not accept critique. ‘Panther-like’ is a garbage word and society has evolved beyond the need for it.
Taglist: @mindninjax | @whats-her-quirk
More Feral Hours: https://patreon.com/zodesune
“Hold the elevator!”
As you push through the entrance to your college apartment, you see the chrome doors slide open in front of an exceedingly tall man. He steps inside, his dark curls bouncing ever-so-slightly, and you feel a spark of recognition. When he turns, holding his arm against the doorway like the action disgusts him, you pick up your pace, trotting in high heels across the bright, empty lobby. His dark eyes follow you above his starch-white face mask, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Thanks,” you call out breathlessly. I know this guy. What was his name?—Fuck!
Your heel catches in the groove, sending you barrelling straight into him. With pantherian reflexes, he reaches for you, stopping you from clattering onto the ground. You find one hand on his surprisingly generous pectoral, the other on the toned bicep that swells beneath his team jacket. With your chest pressed against his lower half, your legs straddling his flexed thigh, you find your body clamouring for another round even though the slick in your underwear has barely dried.
Time slows as you gaze up at the towering volleyball player who saved you. Even in your tipsy state, you don’t miss the way he looks down at you, his pupils dilating and his brow twitching as his eyes flit from your face to the place where your breasts meet his body. He smells like lemon balm and fresh-cut basil, with the sharp scent of disinfectant, as though he recently stepped out of the shower. You wonder what it would take to get him back in it, with you.
“Thank you, uh, Sakura, right?” you blink up at him slowly. Through the haze of your lust, you hear the elevator ding.
Then the asshole drops you.
“What the hell?” you land on hands, elbows, hips, and heels, a tangle of limbs at his feet. You already know your thigh will bruise badly; you won’t be able to wear another skirt all week.
“Which floor?” he asks passively, reaching over you to press the button to his own.
“Are you fucking serious? What is your problem, dude?” you pick up your bruised ego as you clamber to your feet, swiping non-existent dust from your outfit to stop yourself from throttling him with your bare hands.
“You shouldn’t invade someone’s personal space like that. Which floor?” he answers coolly.
With a fierce finger, you jab your own floor—two above his—and whirl back to him, rage coursing through you.
“I tripped!” you rip your mask off one ear, leaving it dangling from the other. “You think I wanted to face plant in front of a complete stranger? Why even bother catching me in the first place, then?” you snap. In spite of the fact that he towers over you, the volleyball player has backed into the corner, trying to make himself disappear. What the hell is his problem?
“Put your mask on,” he glares, his voice firm and resonant in spite of his recoil. “You’re getting your germs all over the elevator.”
Your mouth opens wider, which only makes him more irate.
“This is an enclosed space,” he growls. Furiously, you fuss with the damned thing, ready to rip into him the minute it’s back over your face.
Ding! Before you can blink, he’s out of the doors, throwing you a disgusted glare over his shoulder as he strides down the corridor. You watch the motion-activated lights click on with each stride, illuminating his path down the beige hallway like he’s some kind of celebrity. With the way your school reveres its athletes, he probably is. Dickhead. If you never see him again, it’ll be too soon.
Why hasn’t he called?
You flop onto your bed, feeling annoyed. It’s Tuesday, which means it has been four days since you hooked up with your friend-with-benefits, though after the way you rode him, you had hoped he might consider becoming more. You can take care of yourself—and have already done so twice today to stop yourself from quadruple texting him like a fool—but it’s the principle of it.
Your Saturday night had been going perfectly until the moment you bumped into Sakura. With no bars open anymore, you and Yari had turned from a casual flirtationship into friends with benefits, meeting up nearly every second night to get your insides rearranged. It probably wasn’t a wise idea to be going out and about when the number of cases was rising, but it was only ever the two of you at his place, what was the risk?
The phone rings and you snatch it up so quickly you feel embarrassed for yourself. When you see the unknown number, you clear your throat, putting on your most polite phone voice.
“Hai, this is Y/N. May I help you?”
“Good afternoon. I am calling from Shinjuku Public Health Centre. We are in the process of contact tracing for a patient named Yari Chin; do you know of this man?” a flat voice on the line answers.
“Yes, I do,” you sit up, tucking your legs beneath you. Your forehead already feels tight from frowning.
“Yari-san hosted a ‘gathering’ at his home last week, and all six participants recently tested positive for the virus. You were amongst the people he came into contact with. Were you at the aforementioned gathering?”
“N-no,” you stammer, “I was with him alone.” You glance around the room, trying to understand why the walls are suddenly closing in.
“In what capacity?” her voice drones, prying into your personal life with all the tenderness of a rectal scan.
“U-um?” you twist your bedsheets into your fist, clutching so hard your knuckles stand out.
“How long were you with him for?” she sounds tetchy.
“A few hours,” you bleat, the small sound feels too loud in a room now the size of a shoebox, each wall compressing you in.
“L/N-san, you are required to undergo a test at your closest medical clinic within the next 24 hours. Please limit your contact with all people, including your immediate family, before the test and whilst you await the results. You are a student at Keio, correct? Your university’s hospital has a localised Covid centre and will be taking over your case,” she barrels through without waiting for any response. “Please compile a list beforehand of everyone you have come into contact with since meeting Yari-san, in order to facilitate faster contact tracing. Should you test positive, they will instruct you on how to proceed. Thank you and good day,” you hear the phone click before you have even processed half of her words.
Like a walking ghost, you assemble the contents of your duffel bag, your mind reeling whilst your body functions on autopilot. You find yourself packing socks and underwear worth a whole month in case you cannot come back, wondering whether that tickle in your throat from earlier was dehydration or the first sign of the virus, clutching your forehead to hold back tears you have no reason to be crying, yet. Whilst you wait for the residence assistant to arrange the special Covid-related campus shuttle, you sit on the corner of your bed, typing through gasps and watery eyes as you trace your contacts back several days.
Everyone else has been keeping to themselves, so you have only spoken to your friends on video chat, and your suitemates have already moved home. But of course, you had to go against everyone’s advice and traipse off campus just to have some asshole screw you, one who couldn’t even be bothered to text—unless he’s dying, oh man, please don’t let him be dying. He deserves a lot of shit, but not that. What if you get even more sick? What if you make other people sick? Frantically, you type out the incredibly short list, your fingers jerking as you type the last name.
1. Food delivery driver, < two seconds
2. Maintenance person, in my room fixing aircon for 10 mins
Shit. The guy who nearly murdered you for breathing on him. It would be so much easier to let the hospital contact him, save yourself the mortification of telling him yourself. But that would make you no better than Yari.
You type a frantic text to the resident assistant, asking her for his contact details. The phone rings thrice before he picks up.
“Who is this?” his gruff tone makes your heart spasm, your resolve withering to a dry husk.
“Um, hi, Sakura-san. This is the girl from Saturday?” The silence on the phone is thick with disinterest. “The one who bumped into you in the elevator,” you peep, your voice as thin and fragile as a glass thermometer.
“Why do you have my number?” he clips.
“Um, I am so, so sorry, but you need to get tested for corona.”
If you thought his silence was deafening before, this one is enough to make your ear drums bleed.
“I-I came into contact with someone who tested positive, shortly before I bumped into you. I’m so sorry, I had no idea. They will officially contact you once I’m at the hospital, but I wanted you to hear it from me, because, well… Um, the RA has arranged a shuttle, it should be here in thirty minutes, so if you would like to be on the safe side, you can come with me to the hospital now and get tested anyway—hello?”
The call goes dead.
When you see him sitting at the back of the shuttle, he does not look or talk to you. Whilst you sit upon the cold, stiff hospital benches, a requisite two metres apart, he does not acknowledge your presence. When you are jointly addressed by the nurse and admin officer about waiting for your test results, he does not utter a word, merely nods.
It is only when you arrive at the stripped down lobby of the on-campus guest residences that have been cordoned off for quarantine, when the admin officer informs you that you will be required to remain here for a minimum of fourteen days, including any additional days pursuant to your test results, and when he directs you to the joined, two-bedroom, serviced apartment that you will not be allowed to leave thereafter, only then does Sakura deign to look at you. He gives you the filthiest, meanest glare you could ever possibly fathom. You don’t need to see the bottom half of his face to know that his disgust is visible on every inch of skin. You feel infinitesimally small, worse than a louse that scrabbles across the ground, more vile and disgusting than the decade-old gunk that rims a sewer pipe. When you burst into tears, it only makes his sneer deepen.
“Can’t we have single rooms, not in a suite?” you splutter to the admin officer, who stands three metres away from you in full protective gear. He regards the both of you like filthy creatures, fixing a firm stare as he answers.
“We have limited housing left, because of kids like you who put your own… entertainment above others’ wellbeing. There is no option to change rooms,” his voice is a gavel, a firm judgement. “Meals will be brought to you regularly, and you may order groceries, care of the reception, where they will be disinfected and brought up to you by one of our masked staff. The same goes for any clothing, toiletries, and… other hygiene products you may need,” he looks pointedly at you, making you want to flip your skin inside out and disappear from existence.
“A nurse will come by to administer a follow-up test every four days. You may not leave this apartment, or you will be expelled from university and heavily fined. Understood?”
Beside you, Sakura is engulfed in the thickest, blackest flame of fury. It radiates from his body, burning you, not like scorching flame, but like the coldest ice. Turning on his heel, he enters the apartment and strides towards the open bedroom on the right. Before you can even utter a word, he slams the door hard enough to rattle its hinges.
At 7pm you knock timidly on his door.
“Sakura, they’ve delivered some dinner. In case you’re hungry.” No response. You try again. “It’s bento: zakkokumai and nimono. It’s already getting a bit cold… It looks halfway decent, but I prefer cooking my own food. Maybe… maybe we can place an order for groceries together? I don’t mind cooking for us,” you trail off, straining to hear any sound from behind the smooth, wooden door.
“Sakura?” you give one last, feeble attempt, only to hear a grumble, a sigh and a string of muttered expletives in return.
“Uzai,” he grits. Pain in the ass.
Message received, you slump and skulk through the living room, taking a seat at the square dining table beside the kitchenette. Your bedrooms are across from each other, with a bathroom beside his and a small study beside yours, equipped with a yoga mat. The kitchen, lounge and dining area fill the wide, rectangular space leading to the main door. The apartment is decent, certainly larger than your own dorm rooms, and you feel grateful to be there rather than the quarantined student residences on old campus, where the rooms are smaller and don’t come with aircon.
As you sit in the dining chair, one leg tucked against your chest while you pick at your meal, you eye the three empty chairs around you.
“You know, for someone named after cherry blossoms, there’s nothing particularly pleasant about you,” you grumble to the stale kitchen air as you take a sip from a can of peach tea.
“That’s because my name isn’t Sakura,” the wry voice behind you makes you shriek in surprise.
“Don’t scare me like that! Look, now I’ve spilt my tea all over the table,” you huff, stropping over to the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink. You wipe the surface down vigorously until not a drop is left before giving a quick spritz of surface cleaner and a second wipe in case any of the sticky liquid is left behind. When you look up, you find him staring at you with a curious expression, though it is quickly replaced with contempt once again.
“I’m sorry,” you give an exasperated sigh, “for getting your name wrong, and invading your personal space, and making you sick.”
“And getting me stuck here for two weeks. With you,” he adds, his gaze acerbic over his mask.
You clench your teeth and take a deep breath, tactfully changing the subject.
“Why are you still wearing your mask indoors? We’re going to be stuck here for two weeks either way, so…” you trail off, giving a shrug before taking your seat at the table. “Maybe we should set some ground rules?” you gesture to the seat opposite. He remains standing.
“Don’t touch my things, don’t make noise, especially not during class hours,” he rattles off a short list. “I shower first; I want to be in and out before you get your germs everywhere. Got it?” he picks up the bento box and fishes utensils from the drawer, pointedly avoiding the ones you set out for him. You want to call him out for being the rudest person you have ever come across, but you hold your tongue—at the end of the day, you’re the entire reason why he’s here.
“Wait, you didn’t tell me what your name was,” you call, twisting around in your seat.
“Sakusa,” comes his clipped reply.
“Ah, so I wasn’t far off at least!” you attempt to sound cheery. “My name is—“
The door slams in your face once again.
You keep to your room, avoiding him. You only hear him leave to collect food or shower. Still no text from Yari. You can’t stop daydreaming about his mouth on your body. That fucker.
In the early evening, you hear the door to the study open and shut in quick succession. After some time, you hear a quiet grunt that makes your ears perk up. When you strain, you hear what sounds like sit-ups, then push-ups, then goodness knows what else. For over an hour, he goes at it, grunting and panting through the thin wall. When your mind starts to roam, remembering the feeling of his taut muscles pressed against you, you shove your earphones on and watch back-to-back episodes of Aggretsuko, waiting for your turn in the shower so you can hide your moans with running water.
Your grocery order arrives. You cook a meal of zosui, making double the portion of the rice soup for your surly housemate, adding extra salmon and egg for protein. Sakusa exercises twice, in the morning and at night. You have nearly run out of episodes of Aggretsuko.
Yari posts a string of stories about his boredom in hospital; his symptoms are mild, yet he still can’t find the energy to text you back. You block his contact and take an extra long shower, drawing out your frustration through your fingertips.
Sakusa leaves a stack of notes on the kitchen counter—his contribution to groceries. The thought of him enjoying your food makes you smile. Feeling bored and lonely, you consider knocking on his door to insist that if he eats your food, he has to eat it with you, at the dining table. The memory of his sneer makes you shrivel inside. You finish your meal and retreat to the safety of your room. The follow-up test is perfunctory; the nurse swabs you quickly and leaves without delay.
You while away the evening reading the latest chapters of your favourite fics, each one more salacious than the first. Your restless mind and desperate body are driving you to distraction, not helped in the least bit by the increasing decibels of the grunts from the study. Sakusa’s order of free weights and resistance bands arrived earlier in the day, and he has wasted no time unboxing them and revving up his workouts. It seems you aren’t the only one going stir crazy.
After you hear him leave the shower, you can barely wait to get into the privacy of the bathroom. It feels too risky to touch yourself in your bedroom; without any music playing, you feel paranoid that he might hear across the corridor, yet with music, you feel certain he will bang on your door and tell you to keep it down. So you wait patiently until you can slip under the sound of running water, cresting waves of pleasure over and over, as many times as you need to. Plus, the sensation of your brain floating into the steam above you and your legs buckling beneath you makes your orgasms so much better. Every night you leave the shower feeling sated and renewed, your skin scrubbed clean and a little raw from the scorching water.
Tonight, you take your time after the shower, putting on a mud mask and reading through fluff fics whilst it dries (there is no need to read smut and get yourself riled up again), and following it up with elixir, serum, moisturiser and finally, your favourite night time oil. By the time you are through, your skin glows all over your body. With your towel wrapped around you and your hair pulled back from your face by a fluffy headband, you exit the bathroom in the highest of moods.
You smack into a bare chest. Sakusa is on his way out of the study, wearing nothing but a pair of long, dark-green pyjama bottoms and checkered house slippers. Between his rippling abs and his startlingly handsome, unmasked face scowling down at you, you don’t know where to look.
“Uzai,” he huffs. You aren’t sure if he’s insulting you or greeting you.
“What, are you trying to make your own sauna in there?” he winces as clouds of water vapour waft from the open door behind you. “This isn’t a damn holiday resort,” he snips.
“Sorry,” you bleat, though you don’t know what you’re sorry for. “I just like piping hot showers, I don’t feel clean unless it’s hot enough to take my skin off,” you make a feeble attempt at a joke, trying to sidestep the towering figure blocking your way.
“I didn’t think being clean was a priority for you, germ,” he gives a wry barb.
“Excuse me?” you blink up at him. “Are you implying I’m dirty?”
“Considering how much of your stuff you leave lying around, I would say it’s an observation, not an implication,” he answers cooly, his mouth twisting slowly into a sneer. It looks even more frightening without his mask on, though you can’t seem to take your eyes off of his disarmingly handsome face. You cross and promptly uncross your arms over your chest when his gaze flicks down to where your breasts are pushed up, peeking above the top of your towel.
“I may be messy, but I’m not dirty,” you snap. “I wipe down every surface, and I clean more often than you, actually. If we’re going to talk about dirty, how about we address the fact that you shed like a wolf and you never wipe down the bathroom sink after you use it? Half my time in there is spent wiping away all your hair, you caveman.”
He looks taken aback; you might be the first person who has ever called him dirty. You find your eyes fixated upon the light peppering of hair that runs between his pecs, and force yourself to look away.
“If you make sure I don’t have to deal with any more of your wavy strands, then I won’t leave my stuff lying about,” you lift your chin into the air, mostly to avoid looking at the smattering of hair that you noticed above the waistband of his trousers. “And why the hell are you shirtless?” you snap, more annoyed at yourself than anyone else. “This is a shared space,” you mock the pejorative tone he threw at you in the elevator.
“You’re one to talk,” he glares at the towel you forgot you were wearing.
“I-it’s too humid in the bathroom for my pyjamas… and you’re normally not awake right now. Why are you prancing about in the study this late, anyway? Don’t you have some precious schedule to stick to, princess?” you scoff, trying not to sound as flustered as you are.
“I came into the study because you were being too loud today,” he answers, his face flat and bored.
“Oh come on, I wasn’t even playing music. What, is the shower water too loud for you now, your majesty?”
“No, but your moaning was,” he answers.
“Doke,” he pushes past you, clipping your shoulder. Get outta my way.
Sakusa slams his door in your face. Again.
You do not want to leave your room.
Every time you think of last night, you crawl right back under the covers. Sakusa has heard you moaning every single night. He can hear you through the wall. So, not only are you an absolute dork and a pain in his arse, you are also a pervert because no matter how hard you try, you cannot ignore the fact that it turns you on.
The rumble of your stomach and the alluring call of coffee force you from your room. Pressing your ear to the door, you listen for any sign of movement. Once you hear the click of the study, you brace yourself, waiting for the first groan as he stretches. As soon as he does, you dart out to the kitchen, hurriedly whipping together some toast and strawberry jam, and boiling water for coffee.
“Can you make me a cup?”
“Ack!” garbled curses force their way out of your lips. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I should put a bell on you, you’re like a fucking cat,” you yammer, furiously wiping down the goop that splattered from your knife onto the counter and your shirt. Without thinking, you lift the shirt to your mouth, raising the hem as you lick flecks of jam from it. Sakusa’s eyes flick to the curves of your exposed torso, before looking away, bored as ever.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he sighs, walking back to the study with his water bottle half filled.
You stand at the kitchen counter for several minutes, munching absently on your breakfast, replaying his nonchalant encounter. He seems entirely unfazed by anything you do, least of all the moaning, which should be a relief, yet somehow only makes you more annoyed. It bothers you to no end that whilst you are constantly a dithering mess around him, he never seems to give you any reaction other than boredom and disgust.
“How’s it going with the coffee?” his voice makes you startle, though less so than before.
“How’s it going with your big ass forehead?” you snap automatically, fetching your coffee mug from the counter. Sakusa’s thick eyebrow twitches as he regards you with a look of mild amusement. Well, at least that’s something, you grumble to yourself as you stomp back to your room.
Sakusa’s workout is particularly long and hard tonight, with grunts and groans so strong and rhythmic that you’re nearly foaming at the mouth. Even with headphones on, you can still hear him pounding into your brain. After an hour, with no signs of stopping, you storm out of your room. You find Sakusa upside down in the doorway, hanging by his knees from a pull-up bar as he folds his whole body in half. All thoughts leave your head when you see his shirtless torso, every muscle glistening with sweat, dripping onto the towel beneath him. His whole body ripples as he pulls his head up towards his knees. As he comes down, your eyes are drawn to the jostle at his crotch, bringing a curiosity so overpowering you nearly groan aloud.
“What?” Sakusa snaps you back to decency.
“Can you shut the fuck up?” you snap without thinking. Your eyes fly as wide as saucers, your hands clamp over your mouth, Sakusa stares at you upside down, his eyebrows pulling him to the floor.
“What?” he draws the word out like a sword from its sheath. Every hair on your body bristles under his threatening gaze.
“I am so sorry, I genuinely meant to say ‘can you keep it down’, I just—I got,” you pause to draw oxygen through your alarmingly tight throat. “You’re distracting me,” you wince.
“You have a filthy mouth, warugaki,” Sakusa smirks, resuming his sit ups, grunting just as loud as before. You blush furiously, your cheeks feeling hot and tight beneath your skin. No one has ever called you a brat before.
“I am a distraction to you?” he keeps you rooted as he reaches up to palm the bar, his long fingers wrapping around it with as much possessiveness as if it was his own pipe. When he pulls his legs down, you watch the undulating muscles as his spine unfurls.
“Wet?” you murmur. “—What?” you shake your head.
“Am I a distraction to you?” he asks nonchalantly, swiping the back of his hand across his sweat-soaked forehead.
“Y-yes,” you mutter hoarsely.
“Good. So are you,” he thwacks his hand in the air, splashing you with thick droplets of his sweat. Your face is splattered, some of it goes in your mouth, and before you can even begin to process your shock, he clips, “now get out, I have to finish my workout.”
You walk back to your room in a daze, with the taste of salty sweat upon your tongue.
With no classes today, you had stayed awake until the early morning, crawling through seasons of your favourite show in spite of how tired you were. Every time you closed your eyes, he was on your mind: what was he doing, what was he thinking, what did he mean? You couldn’t get to sleep even if you tried.
After finally passing out and sleeping through the whole day, you wake up when it’s dark, feeling disoriented and groggy. Your dreams were filled with naked bodies cresting over waves, and you find the telltale signs of your arousal swishing between your folds.
Ugh, why? you groan at the ceiling, before slipping your hand between your legs. You bite down on the corner of your pillow as you circle your clit to completion, but the effort of stopping each moan in your throat leaves you feeling unsatisfied. You groan again before rolling over and undressing for the shower.
The corridor is dark when you emerge in your towel; Sakusa must have gone to sleep ages ago. In the shower, you can still feel the need within your cunt, and you bite your lip wondering whether to indulge yourself. Screw it. You brace one hand against the glass shower-front, letting the water run over your back as your head falls forwards. Each soft moan brings a gust of steam against the still-warming glass as you build to an orgasm, as slowly and quietly as you can. Knowing that Sakusa is asleep makes you feel less guilty, but you still have to be quiet.
Unnnnnhhhh, you change position, leaning against the ledge of the frosted window, letting the breeze that slips through raise goosebumps on your arms. You cast your mind to the faces and scenes of your favourite smut, unable to focus on a single one. Every thought leads you back to Sakusa, that infuriating man. Would it be messed up to think about him when he’s right next door? You bite your lip, pretending to deliberate when you know full well what you’re about to do. You close your eyes, slipping two fingers around your clit, down to your opening, where you swirl them around like water down a drain, before plunging them into your depths.
“What are you doing!”
“Fucking hell, Sakusa!”
You implode and explode all at once. Sakusa stands in the open doorway, headphones jammed over his ears, staring slack jawed at your naked body. You slam your thighs together, bringing your free hand over your chest. The little modesty over your covered mound is undermined by the fact that two of your fingers are still buried inside you.
“What the fuck, you pervert?” you screech.
“What are you doing in the shower, bakayaro?” he rips off his headphones.
“I’m showering! What are you doing awake?” you wail.
“It’s only eight pm!” he thunders. “I told you I have to shower first!”
It occurs to you too late that you’re still standing there yelling at him, stark naked. Somehow it feels indecent to remove your fingers from your tightly clenched cunt in front of him.
“Get out, for fuck’s sake!”
Sakusa beats a hasty retreat, looking as bewildered as you feel.
“Close the fucking door!” you yowl, and when he reappears you nearly choke on water vapour alone. Did you really see what you think you just saw? Right before he swung the door shut, Sakusa Kiyoomi had a raging boner pressed up against his shorts.
You can’t stop thinking about it. You have to, but you can’t. You gave Sakusa a hard-on. You would feel chuffed if you weren’t so mortified.
You don’t ever want to see him again.
But you also want to fuck him so badly it hurts.
Now, the question is, did he get a boner because he wants to fuck you, or because he wants to fuck, period?
You tap your finger against your nose before the answer dawns on you.
Does it matter?
You don’t have to like someone to sleep with them, right? You can still hate someone and make them cum so hard they black out, right? You flip open your laptop and look up the best hate-sex smut you can find. One hour and a whole lot of squirming later, you feel ready to put your plan into action.
You lay out a skimpy lounging-around outfit: a pair of tiny shorts, an open-zip hoodie and your favourite bralette. But before that, you decide to take a long, morning shower. Once you step into the water, you nearly lose all resolve. You start off hesitantly, testing your confidence with low moans. As you picture him lying in his bed on the other side of the wall, stroking what appears to be a considerable length beneath his boxers, your inhibitions slip away like soap suds.
Unnnnnnh, you let your voice fill the room, glistening with the mist as it catches the light. Fuckkkkkk, you groan, pressing one hand to the wall to steady your quivering thighs. Sakusa, you think, moaning louder than you’ve allowed yourself before, and damn, it feels good.
You give it another minute or so, slowing down to grope your breast, scratch your thigh, run your hand over your ass and give it a firm squeeze, before you finally feel ready to moan his name.
The door swings open. Yes!
“Can you shut up? I’m on a conference call and my teammates heard you, bakayaro,” he snaps before slamming the door shut, leaving you stunned.
Furious, you slam the water off in time to hear a muffled, “Sorry about that, my housemate really sucks.”
That’s the second time he’s barged into the bathroom whilst you were naked. Third time has to be the charm. You want him to storm in there and fuck you against the shower wall, take out all his frustration on your body.
“Sakusa,” you cry, conference call be damned. “Mmmmm, fuck,” you sigh, jilling yourself so hard and fast that the sound of your palm hitting your thigh bounces off the walls. You hear his door wrenched open and your heart rate jumps, your chest fluttering as you rub your clit even faster. Sakusa storms through the door, and rips the shower door open in a fluid, furious motion that ends with his palm around your throat. He presses you against the wall, the shower drenching his clothes, and you feel like you’ve ascended to heaven; it’s too good to be true.
“Warugaki,” his tongue scrapes the word like a claw. “When I ask you to do something, you do it,” he hisses.
You crane your neck up at him, your chest heaving, your body clamouring for him.
“Please,” you pant the only words you can muster. “Please fuck me, I can’t take it anymore.”
Sakusa presses his body against yours, towering over you, sliding a hand down your side, between your legs, over your drenched lips. You gasp when he enters you without warning, a single digit pressing in to feel how wet you are, an entirely different sensation to the water cascading over you. Sakusa withdraws his finger and brings it to his mouth. Without thinking, you open yours at the same time, your tongue running over your lips as you watch him suck your juice from his finger. He scrunches up his mouth and spits, a glob of your slick and his saliva sliding down your breast and stomach before it’s washed away by the water. You moan, feeling angry and revolted and so wildly aroused you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“Filthy,” is all he says, scrutinising every inch of your face.
“Make me clean,” you gasp, bucking your hips against him. His expression falters, darkening so alarmingly that you fear you have offended him.
“I can’t,” he grits.
“Why not?” your brows knit together.
“I—” he sounds choked. Your lust-heavy haze clears and you take his face in your hands only for him to shake angrily out of your grip.
“What is it? You can tell me,” you speak softly, as though to a wounded animal.
“I’m not clean,” he shakes his head.
“You have a—”
“I haven’t waxed.”
“Oh. Really. Is that it?” you release the tension in your shoulders, rolling your eyes at his astonishing drama. You lean past him to shut the water off. “I can wax you, Sakusa,” you look up at him, trying to mask how badly you want to rip the hair from his body.
He stands there for what feels like ages, thinking. Occasionally, he shoots you a spiteful glare. You really want to finish showering, get dry and get on with your day, but it’s a bit hard to with his hand still around your neck. It’s only a minute later (though it feels like a year) when he answers.
“Fine. You wax me and in return I will sleep with you. Once. I shouldn’t even be doing you that favour, considering how much you owe me for getting me into this mess,” he huffs.
You should feel annoyed, but the prospect of tearing hair from his body before he tears you in half makes you far too excited to care.
It takes a few hours for the delivery driver to arrive, but decidedly longer for reception to accept, decontaminate and send up the package. In the early evening, Sakusa knocks on your door to summon you. He has removed all his bedding and placed a towel down, with the necessary utensils laid out neatly on the adjacent desk. You don a pair of gloves with a self-satisfied smack and begin churning the sugar wax on the wooden spatula.
“Have you done this before?” he asks, eyeing you warily.
“For myself, yes, but never for anyone else.” Tactfully, you refrain from telling him how you cannot wait to see him cry in pain. Spreading the clear, golden wax over the hairs on his chest, you take a cloth strip and smooth it over the wax.
“Are you ready?” you feign concern, and without waiting for a response, you rip the strip off with glee. Sakusa doesn’t flinch. Disappointed—and admittedly, a little impressed—you quickly press and rip the few flecks of wax remaining before moving onto the next part of his body.
When he lifts his armpit, you catch his fresh and bright scent, citrus, bergamot and a prickle of sweat, a smell that shoots straight to your crotch. You shift and cough before applying the next dollop of wax. Not once does he flinch, no matter how vicious you are with the waxing strips. Admittedly, with sugar wax, there is a limit to how vicious you can actually be. In contrast to his thick, black locks, his body hair is sparse and fine; he’s no stranger to waxing. By the time you finish with his legs, underarms and chest, you feel drained. After a quick snack break, you return, your jittery anticipation giving you a renewed burst of energy.
When he tucks his thumb beneath the hem of his boxers, you hesitate.
“What? I’ve already seen you naked, so what’s the problem?” he looks at you, unimpressed as per usual.
You sigh and brace yourself, but you’re still not prepared for your body’s visceral reaction when he unsheathes his cock. You know he’s a tall man, but you didn’t know he had one. Hanging limp between his legs, his cock is still larger than Yari’s fully erect. You can’t help it when a moan forces itself from your lips, and your attempt to mask it in a cough only makes you splutter and choke for real.
“Grow up,” he sighs, though you don’t miss the faint blush dusting his cheeks. After a sip of water, you are ready to continue. You are more delicate this time, making precise strokes of the paddle as you catch all the hair in the wax. You are astonished by the softness of his crotch, the tender skin and the plush pads of flesh, things you never paid much attention to on a man before. His veins look dormant, like sleeping volcanic fissures beneath the smooth, pink-purple surface of a mountain. With no foreskin sheathing him, you take in the prominent lip and the full, peachy softness of his head.
“May I?” you ask politely, clinically, waiting for his nod before you shift his shaft to the side. The hair growing around the base feels too close for comfort.
“Should I leave this bit?”
“Why?” he raises himself onto his elbows, staring at you through half lids.
“Won’t it hurt?” you ask.
“Just do it,” his lip curls as he sinks back onto his back, texting languidly. “My teammate says hello,” he turns his phone towards you, showing you the snap he has taken of you bent over his cock, your face cut out of frame as you carefully apply wax. A stream of howling messages follow it.
“Are you serious? Ask first, dude!” you yank the strip off in annoyance, making him hiss, his cock twitching in your palm.
“Keep that up and I’ll return the favour,” he glares.
“I can handle pain,” you smirk, though the thought of him biting and spanking you is far too distracting with his meaty cocky in your palm. Waxing his balls is far trickier than you expected. There are so many folds, so many. His skin is soft and squishy, and you have to resist the urge to giggle every time you prod a place on his scrotum and the skin around it starts shifting like waves, all on its own. Balls are fascinating things, and especially tender, as you find out when you catch a stray bundle of hairs from a different section when you pull.
“Kuso,” he sieves the swearword through his gritted teeth, his body folding as he clenches his ridiculously defined abs. “Bakayaro! Be careful!”
The most shit-eating grin spreads across your face. You are utterly delighted. Of course, you aren’t entirely evil, so you won’t do it again, for now. But you can’t wait to make him cry out like that when he’s pounding into you.
You clear your throat and quickly finish his front side. His backside proves to be far more challenging to keep your thoughts straight. Before you can ask what he would prefer, he flips over onto all fours. An image of pulling his hair back with your fist whilst you milk him from behind invades your vision. It takes all your effort to stomp it out and think clean thoughts.
“All done!” you practically screech.
Sakusa sits up, taking in your work with a curt, satisfactory nod.
“Your turn,” he sits up.
To say the man is precise would be an understatement. Meticulous would work. Exacting, methodical, perfectionist, neat freak. Not an ounce of hair remains on your body. He waxed your fingers and toes. He even waxed your nipples, a sensation that made you clamp your hands over your mouth so as not to embarrass yourself. Your legs and arms were not a fuss, but every strip on your sensitive skin that makes you wince and whine only draws a look of derision.
“Have you done this to someone before?” you chirp as he spreads your labia with absolute professionalism, his expression even colder than his slender fingers upon your skin.
“Yes,” his answer is perfunctory, but it only stokes your curiosity. You lay on your back gazing up at him, your legs spread in a butterfly as he methodically plies and pulls, and the idea of sleeping with him seems so distant. That is, until his fingers pawed the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance, and you buck your hips involuntarily.
“Stay still,” he grunts, spreading wax on the inner swell of your outer lip, his brow knotted in concentration. When he pulls your other lip away with his thumb, you wriggle in spite of yourself, bringing your leg up sharply.
“I told you to stay still,” he growls, shifting onto the bed to straddle your thigh and keep you pinned down. Having his body hanging over you only makes it harder to stay focused, and your eyes roam from his raven curls to the strikingly beautiful moles above his brow. You smile to yourself; they look like a colon, punctuating all the thoughts in his mind. He catches you smiling and you turn it to a scowl, dropping your eyes to the knotted tree branches that are his thighs. As thoughts invade of grinding your clit against them like a pestle to his muscular mortar, you forget that he can see how turned on you are until he swipes up your lips with a cloth, making you jerk.
“I can’t wax you properly if you’re leaking everywhere. Try to control yourself, germ,” he grunts.
“Stop calling me a fucking germ, you asshat!—nnnnnaaaaah! Fuck! Sakusa! Be gentle,” you gasp.
“I thought you said you can handle pain. Roll over,” he grabs your hip and pushes you onto your side, exposing your ass to him. With one hand, he spreads your cheek and with the other, paddles wax onto your skin.
“Control yourself,” he clips.
“Stop te—mmmmmfffff!” you gasp as tingles of pain course over your skin. You’ve always found the sensation weirdly enjoyable, but you’ve never had the added strain of wanting the fuck the person doing it to you.
After a few quick pulls, you’re finished, and nearly vibrating in anticipation. You follow him into the bathroom, almost drooling at the sight of him pulling down his boxers again.
Sakusa steps inside first, lathering his body with soap to remove the last vestiges of wax. You now stand outside the shower, slack jawed, as you watch the shimmering bubbles coat his skin. When you reach out a hand to open the door, he levels a glare that stops you in your tracks.
“Wait your turn, brat.”
Unable to make his hand budge, you wait. When you switch places, he towels himself dry before leaning against the counter comfortably. You look up at him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his razor sharp gaze. He softens his face.
“I like to watch,” his lip curls.
So you put on a show, lathering every limb before scrubbing with your nylon wash cloth. You have a separate, gentle wash for your labia, which you squeeze into your palm and turn away from him as you lather it between your folds with your bare fingers.
“Show me,” comes his command. You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see the filthy look on his face.
“Touch yourself,” his voice is low, gravelly.
You spread your legs wider, rinsing off the last suds before you begin to run your middle finger around your sensitive bud. As you move faster, the sensation begins to sting a little, your delicate skin still sensitive from the waxing. You plunge a finger into you, drawing more slick to coat your skin, moving out of the water stream so you can focus. Sakusa watches you all the while, languidly stroking his growing erection.
Fixated on his full, meaty member, you stroke the inside of your walls with rising pressure, imagining how good it will feel when he fills you, rams into you, bottoms you out—that is, if he’ll even fit. It’s not his girth you’re worried about, though it is respectable. The man is long, dangerously long, and even with his gigantic hands, his nimble wrist is still working considerably to spread his precum over his shaft.
He looks divine, leaning against the counter like a marble sculpture, coils of Adonis upon his head, dark and forbidding eyes as cryptic as the great Hideyoshi himself, and firm muscle built from years of exertion, casting shadows in deep ridges where the overhead lights cannot reach. He’s breathtaking. If only he weren’t so exasperating.
You stroke yourself faster, harder, bracing yourself against your cool glass cage, desperate to be freed. Sakusa’s watchful eyes see your intentions the second before you move. With a slam, he fixes his hand over the partition, keeping the door tightly shut, no matter how hard you push.
“Sakusa,” you whine, absolutely outraged.
“Stay right there, germ,” he grins only with his eyes, his mouth twisting as he bites into his lip, pleasure racking his body. So close yet so unbearably far, you press your body desperately against the glass. With your arm wedged in between, your strokes and rubs become more erratic as you fervently chase your release. Each gasping breath presses your breasts, your thighs, your chin, your lips to the glass as you undulate in open-mouthed ecstasy. Through the steam, you never take your eyes off Sakusa, watching how deliciously his muscles strain and contract, wanting to touch him, lick him, scratch him, make him cry your name out loud.
“Fuck,” you groan, dragging your chin up the glass.
Sakusa shudders, even closer than you are, and you want nothing more than to see his face contort in pleasure, to see something other than a sneer paint his striking features.
“Are you gonna cum?” you pant. “You think your hand is any match for my pussy? Are you really gonna cum standing out there when you could be in here fucking me? I wanna ruin you, Sakusa, I wanna make you fucking filthy,” you groan, rising to your tip toes as your body strains against the partition. Close, he’s so close. “Where are you gonna put all that cum, huh? Are you gonna make a mess everywhere? You know you want to cum inside me, so open the fucking door, you piece of shit,” you growl.
Sakusa’s expression is wild, evil, and you know you’ve crossed a line. With a few sharp, tight pumps, he cums, spurting white reams all over the glass and floor. You pause, taking in the sight with a mix of arousal and revulsion, but have no time to bring yourself to climax before he yanks open the door and you nearly fall forward.
“Yes, fuck, finish me off,” you grope at his chest. Sakusa takes a broad, cum-covered palm and fists your hair, pulling you off him so sharply that you mewl.
“You have such a disgusting mouth, germ,” he smiles like an alligator, all teeth, no mercy. “Might as well put it to good use.”
You yelp as he brings your face to the glass, giving you a close look at his cum trickling down it like some depraved Pollock painting.
“Clean up my cum,” he commands. “Lick it.”
When you struggle against his grip, he presses his body against yours, his arm in a vice on your hip, his softening cock flushed against your ass.
“Clean it. With your tongue,” his voice is like an iron chain, binding you, holding you down. But you can’t, it’s too repulsive to even consider. Sensing your stubbornness, Sakusa shifts his hand, sliding it over your mound and finding your swollen bundle of nerves more than ready for his torture. You buck your hips and moan, nearly losing all strength in your legs. Just when you feel the promise of your climax, he stops, gripping your hair harder.
“You want to cum? Lick it, warugaki,” his words drip with menace.
“Please,” you struggle, which earns a sharp tug of your hair. “Sakusa, no,” you sob.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, germ? To be filthy? Do it. Show me how dirty you are.”
You clench your thighs together, all your resolve breaking under the crushing weight of your desire. When you part your lips and press the tip of your tongue to the glass, Sakusa nudges you forward so your entire mouth gets a taste. You can’t even protest, for he plunges his fingers into you, making you moan even wider. It doesn’t take much for you to cum, his fingers pumping inside you and his palm crushing your clit as you writhe in his arms.
Once you fall still, feeling humiliated, you try to wipe the gunk off your face, but he catches your hand before bending his head to give you a full, messy, all-consuming kiss, his tongue decimating your mouth.
“Get back in the shower and wash off, I’ll clean up in here after,” his voice is jarringly soft. “I’ll order us some dinner.” Sakusa plants one more kiss before he strides out, ass bare, leaving you blinking in the bathroom wondering what just happened.
“I’m never sleeping with you again!” you huff.
“We never slept together in the first place,” he deadpans, scooping a generously loaded savoury pancake onto your plate: okonomiyaki, the ultimate comfort food.
“Well, I’m not gonna do it!” you stab the pancake with your spoon, making the bonito flakes sauté into the air.
“Yes, you will,” his tone is non-negotiable. “You owe me.”
“Do I look? Like I give a fuck?”
Sakusa slams his spoon down, wrenching your chair closer so he can lean over you, crowding your space with his presence. “Listen, you little brat, I’ve been stuck in here for a week listening to you sex yourself every day, watching you prance around half naked, smelling you everywhere I go in this damn apartment. I didn’t go to all that effort of waxing you just so you could decide to wimp out like a loser. What? Are your feelings hurt because I made you taste my cum? You poor thing. You’re lucky you got quarantined with me, because I know how insatiable you are, and I never finish anything until I’m satisfied. We’ve got a whole week left, germ, and maybe I’ll keep fucking you even longer to make up for all this trouble you’ve caused me. So shut up, pick up your spoon and fill that filthy mouth of yours with food before I fill it for you.”
You stare at him in a stunned silence.
Sakusa leans back in his seat. “Can’t have you passing out on your blood test tomorrow.”
“Blood test?” you parrot.
“I requested blood tests for the both of us when they take our swabs. I need proof that you’re clean; I don’t like using a condom. So eat,” he commands. You chew on autopilot, wondering what on earth you’ve gotten yourself into.
You can barely think straight. Your jittery nerves make the day pass by at a snail’s pace and at breakneck speed, all at once. You barely register the early morning test, the fully-suited nurse taking your swabs and drawing blood from your inner elbow. Sakusa saunters around you, entirely unbothered, all but ignoring you unless you address him directly.
When you creak your eyes open, you sigh. All the nervous anticipation from yesterday has fizzled to nothing, for you have no idea how long the test will take. You crawl through your online classes, keeping largely to your room, and only in the late afternoon do you decide to get out of your pyjamas and reenter the land of the living.
Your shower is the perfect temperature, with all the hot water in the geyser to yourself. It washes over you, unlocking the tension in your muscles. The memory of two days ago makes you feel heated, so you turn away from the glass.
Your ears perk up when you hear the door open, feel the sudden draught ripple over your skin. The cool air is replaced by a warm body that presses against you from behind.
You moan at the mere touch of his fingertips gliding down your arms, your nipples pebbling as bumps of pleasure bloom across your skin like a meadow. Sakusa’s broad hands slide over your breasts, grasping them and squeezing them, pulling you against his chest.
“The test results just came in.”
You say nothing, though your breaths come in deeper and faster.
“You’re clean,” he smirks, sounding a touch too surprised. You whirl on him, ready to hit him with your sharpest insult, but he holds your hips instead.
“Why do you have bruises on your thigh, by the way?” he murmurs.
“That’s from where you dropped me, you asshole,” you scowl.
“I’ll try not to drop you this time,” he grins, lifting you upwards. With your back pressed against the cool tile, you expect to wrap your legs around his waist, but he keeps lifting you higher, hooking his shoulders beneath your thighs. Your head bumps the ceiling, and you yelp.
“Ow! Watch it!” you snip.
Sakusa unleashes his retort between your legs, lashing your clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping you up like he’s collecting a debt. You feel dizzy, both from the height and the sensation of his tongue exploring your folds.
His palms and fingers grip your thighs, spreading you wider for him, pressing so hard against your skin that he might leave a new round of bruises. You moan, carding your fingers through his soft, silky waves. It looks like a picture: his face buried between your glistening thighs, the water bouncing off his muscular shoulders, the steam shimmering beneath the warm bathroom lights. Your eyes slide shut, preserving the memory, your moan travelling down your body freely, no longer held back.
Your legs start to twitch as he sucks your clit, your body shudders when the tip of his tongue flicks you mercilessly. Never before has it felt so good to let your frustrations out, and you both seek revenge upon each others bodies: hair pulling, skin scratching, fingers bruising, clit nipping, making you squeal.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” your words blur into one, broken only by short, sharp gasps.
“Filthy little girl,” he growls between your folds, lifting you impossibly higher so that his tongue can reach the tight opening of your ass. You whine at the novel sensation, and start to giggle at the absurdity of the scene. If you were to tell anyone this happened, they wouldn’t believe you.
“This is insa—uuunnnnhhhh!” your words rise three octaves when the tip of his thumb pops straight into your asshole. Even with his spit, the abrasive feeling of the water on his fingers makes you cry out in discomfort and ecstasy. You cum with your hands pressed flat against the ceiling, but before you come down from your high, he drops you, making you shriek for the split second it takes for his arms to encircle your waist. Bending his thighs, he braces you against the wall, releasing one hand to pump his shaft and line it up to your throbbing opening.
“Wait, I need a second,” you gasp, pressing your hands against his chest.
“Too bad,” he grunts, thrusting his tip into you. Your head lolls backwards, your body arching towards him as his hand gropes your ass like he’s trying to pop it. With a few rolling thrusts, he pushes deeper until you can feel his tip graze your cervix. You gaze down in alarm at how much of his shaft is still left.
“It’s not gonna fit,” you mewl.
“It’ll fit,” he grunts.
“I’m not a fucking suitcase!’ your whine turns to a guttural moan as he thrusts in once more. The cocky bastard looks down at the three fingers-width of shaft that won’t go in, grinning like an absolute savage before he holds your hips against the wall and starts pounding into you. You cry out his name over and over, feeling delirious, your vision going white.
“Ugh,” Sakusa rolls his eyes, stopping you halfway down his dick. “I can’t feel anything with this water everywhere.” He wraps your legs around his waist and exits the bathroom, pulling a towel with him as he goes. You suck on his neck, tasting the sparkling lemon soda that is his skin, thrusting your hips to keep the pressure building. Sakusa pulls out of you and plonks you on your feet in front of him, rubbing you down with a towel, as though it’s his greatest inconvenience. When both of you are dried, and he has run a gentle pass over his dick with the towel, he casts it to the side and sinks to his knees. He spits onto his fingers and lathers your folds, your clit, your hole, before plunging his fingers inside and latching his mouth over you. When your second orgasm bursts upon his fingers, he mutters to himself.
“There we go. My turn,” he looks up at you with darkness in his eyes, and you just know you’re in trouble.
So this is why volleyball players have such strong thighs? you think to yourself as you prop yourself up on one hand, your legs scissored with his as you grind each other on the floor. The slow, circular motion makes every inch of your silken walls stroke his shaft, and from the way his head lolls backward as he props himself up, the feeling must be phenomenal. Your thighs start to quiver from the strain and he throws you a pitiful look.
“What? I’m not used to gymnastics when I fuck,” you blow out air.
“You’ll get used to it,” he promises before flipping you over. With your knees on the yoga mat and your ass pressed against his lap, Sakusa kneels upright and lines his tip to your hole. When he enters you again, he presses your back down until your face is flush against the mat. You taste the vestiges of his sweaty workout as drool escapes from the corner of your mouth. Sakusa’s strokes become faster, hitting you in just the right spot and you groan endlessly. From his own grunts and pants, he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. He’s certainly captivated by your puckering hole, still fluttering from the memory of his thumb. Sakusa spits onto your asshole and swirls his finger around before dipping it in, making you arch even deeper.
“I’m getting close,” he moans. “Where’s that dirty talk from yesterday, huh?” he goads you, but you’re too blissed out on the mat to respond with anything other than ‘fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’.
“My filthy little princess,” he pants. “Nasty little germ, trapping me in this house, thinking you can corrupt me, hmm?” Sakusa falls forward, pressing his mouth to your ear and his chest against your back as he whispers, “I bet you never thought I would be dirtier than you, did you, brat?” His curls tickle your nose and you whine, jerking your hips to meet his thrusts.
“Need to cum,” you moan into the floor, the sound filling the whole room.
“Say you’re sorry first,” he grasps your neck and pulls you upright with him, tightening his thumb and fingers on your pulse points, making you feel like you might collapse from overstimulation in every direction.
“Say you’re sorry for everything. Say you don’t deserve to feel this good,” he grits, snapping his hips into you, his balls hitting you from behind. “Beg me to cum inside you, to make you clean.”
“Fuck,” you gasp, thinking about how much you hated the man, how bad he made you feel for what you did, how thoroughly he’s tearing you apart.
“I’m not sorry!” you cry. “I’d do it—ah! Do it all over again—mmmmh—-just to fuck you like this—“ you’re cut off by an orgasm bursting through you, wrenching the words from your mouth. As you clamp around his cock, Sakusa shudders and groans, giving you quicker, shallower thrusts, his cock head overstimulating your entrance, forcing its way in and out of your tight ring of muscles. In one swift movement, you turn around and force him deeper onto his knees, straddling him, flinging your arms around his neck as you ride him. Your mouth latches onto the pale satin of his neck, licking, sucking, biting with abandon, leaving a trail of scorched earth in your path. When your face nestles into the soft skin above his clavicle you suck with a vengeance, trying to break the skin while your nails tear into his shoulders.
“Ow! Y/N!” he cries, bracing his arm beside him so he can snap his hips up into yours.
“You look filthy,” you grin, pushing his hair back from his forehead, your face twisted in evil glee.
“Fuck!” he yells before he explodes inside you, his cock pumping white, hot cum into you like a canon. He pulls you down on top of him, and you lay panting over him, every twitch of his cock igniting an aftershock of pleasure.
“So that’s what it takes to make you swear?” you chuckle lazily.
A short time later, you sit on the small couch together, waiting for your dinner to arrive as you flick through movie choices.
“I still don’t like you,” you kick his thigh playfully, burying your hands and face under the hoodie he loaned you after your shower. Sakusa’s fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling you further down the couch so he can lean over you, eclipse your body with his.
“I know,” he smirks. “I think that’s what turns me on.”
Before he can silence your snark with a kiss, a knock at the door startles you. Sakusa strides to the door, pressing his ear against it, as per protocol.
“Yes?” he calls.
“Good evening, sir. We have had a few noise complaints from your neighbours who have heard you, erm, arguing. They have asked politely if you could keep the shouting to a minimum, please?”
Sakusa looks over at you, and for the first time all week bursts into a genuine laugh.
“Sir?” the voice outside sounds confused. “Will you keep the noise down?”
“No!” Sakusa calls, closing the distance to your awaiting arms.
A/N: A lot of you have been asking for a part two, and I have exciting news! I’m turning Filthy into a longer story! I wanna take this enemies to lovers story and ride it hard (pun absolutely intended). I’ll be posting work-in-progress chapters on my Patreon, so if you like my work then please support me!
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they use you for a bet
warnings: none.. i think
characters: sakusa, suna
a/n: this prompt has been done way too many times, however i want to write my own take on it, also … idk if any of you are expecting angst bc i will assure you now that some of these ARE NOT ANGSTY, i think lsjadkds ...idk how else to describe it tbh
(oh god i just looked back on the request and they said angst but i was done with sakusa’s before i went back to the request omgksjhfjhdsf)
also i'm not rlly proud of this one hngg
Dating Sakusa has always been one of the most shocking things that happened to you. You remember how he asked you with a blush on his face if you wanted to go get dinner with him. The memory brings a smile on your face whenever you think about it.
Now going two years, the both of you had your ups and downs and moments wherein you didn’t understand one another. However, that only made your relationship stronger, when the memory flashes through your mind, a fond smile appears on your face.
“What’s got you smiling there, baby?” You hear the deep baritone of your boyfriend’s voice say from behind you. You shook your head before letting him intertwine his fingers with yours. “Ah, just reminiscing some memories, I guess.” You say, Sakusa smiled at the carefree expression that was etched into your face.
“And what might that be?” Your boyfriend asked, a teasing smile on his face. You scoff at him before swaying your intertwined hands together.
“How you seemed all blushy when you asked me out.” Sakusa rolled his eyes at your statement. “I told you, it was cold!” “Sure it was, ‘Yoomi.” Your boyfriend scoffed before hugging your waist comfortably and burying his face to your neck.
“Kiyoomi?” Sakusa pulled away as he heard the voice of his former captain say.
“Oh, (Y/N)’s here too!” Iizuna said as Sakusa pulled away from you. A polite smile was etched to your face as you bow your head at him.
Iizuna’s eyes drifted down to your interlocked hands before a laugh erupted out of him.
“No way! You guys are still together?” He asked as if he couldn’t believe it. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?”
“Ah, it’s just that I didn’t expect Sakusa to stay in a relationship after I graduated glad to know the deal actually got you a girl.” He laughs, you could feel Sakusa’s hand tense in yours. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“What?” You blinked, confused. Iizuna’s laughter died down before he looked back awkwardly to his junior who was giving him a death glare.
“She didn’t know?” You let go of Sakusa’s hand and faced him. “Didn’t know what, Kiyoomi?” You knew where this was going, but you wanted to hope for the best and think that somehow Sakusa was begrudgingly pulled into a prank.
“Oh… oh shit.” Iizuna muttered to himself, knowing he probably caused a fight or a potential break up between you and your lover.
“Sakusa? Do you need to tell me something?” “I think I see Komori, I’ll go ahead and greet him.” Iizuna quickly excused himself, leaving you with your boyfriend who looked at you guiltily.
“(Y/N)...” “Save the sad dialogue, I just want to know.” You say, trying to ignore the clench of your heart, but if the two years with Sakusa taught you anything, it’s that he will never tolerate anything that will make him uncomfortable, but for you he’d make an exemption.
“Before Iizuna and our upperclassmen graduated… they made a challenge to see if I would be able to get a girlfriend before they leave.” Sakusa starts, you nod, urging him to continue.
“To be honest, I didn’t know why I accepted that challenge. Perhaps I was tired of being called anti-social and unable to get a girlfriend. Dumb move on my part.”
“So… why me?” You couldn’t help but ask. Sakusa looked at you straight in the eye before speaking.
“At first, I wanted to give up on this challenge because I wasn’t interested in anyone. Not until Komori suddenly brought you up. And...” You raise an eyebrow at his words, urging him to continue. “And…?”
“Komori said that when he mentioned your name, I blushed.” Sakusa mumbled, you hid a small smirk at his words.
“Well. How long was this challenge supposed to last?” “Ideally, it was supposed to be a month at most… in my standard.” You roll your eyes at his statement.
“I wonder how many times you said that, is it like… a free trial that renews every last week of the month?” You couldn’t help but joke.
Truthfully, the news did shock you. Then again, you knew better than to doubt his feelings, especially now when he has actively tried to make your relationship work since the start.
You knew Sakusa could never fake his feelings.
“(Y/N)... I-” He cleared his throat. “I admit it was a shitty thing for me to do.”
“Not going to lie, it was.” You answer, he looked at the ground guiltily. “If you could redo when you asked me out, will you?” You asked, not even trying to hide your curiosity at this point.
“To be honest, no.” Your eyes widened at the bluntness of his tone. “Because I don’t know if I would’ve ever confessed to you if my seniors didn’t push me to this challenge. It’s a miracle that you even said yes in the first place.”
You gave him a soft smile, shocking him. “Honestly, I don’t think the past even matters.” You truthfully say.
Sure, it may have seemed as if you were taken advantage of, but you were a smart girl. You knew that Sakusa would never stay or commit to a relationship that he wouldn’t want to.
“You’re not mad?” Sakusa asked, a bit shocked at the lack of reaction.
“A bit shocked, I supposed.” You say, “I mean… anyone would be shocked if they found out their boyfriend of two years was using them for a challenge.” You say. “...oh god it does sound bad.”
You laughed. “You think?”
“God, I’m sorry. Just… I mean everything since the start, please know that.” Sakusa said, you nod, letting his hand intertwine with yours.
“I know, Kiyoomi.” You reassure, squeezing his hand. “Didn’t know your highschool self was dumb though.” You tease.
“You love me though.”
“That, I do.” You smile, letting him kiss your forehead.
The bell of your last class has rung, signalling the end of the day. You were giddy, knowing that you were about to see your boyfriend.
Being with Suna made you feel as if you were always floating on a cloud, as much as he seems reserved and only expresses emotions when he sees the twins quarrel, you knew he was much more than that. People couldn’t see the way he acted with you behind closed doors.
With your boyfriend in mind, you had a lovestruck gaze on your face as you put your stuff inside your locker.
Once you slammed your locker door shut, you were greeted face to face with your friend who looks like she ran through a marathon.
“Woah, you look like you’ve been through hell.” You joked, trying to hide the concern in your voice as she calmly grasped your hand.
“You know I would never want to hurt you, right?” Your friend asked, you tilt your head to the side, confused and a little bit scared.
“I’d rather you hear it right now before you get hurt in the future. Please, (Y/N). You know I wouldn’t lie to you, right?” You nodded your head slowly.
Of course she wouldn’t lie, the both of you trusted each other to a point of death.
“Of course, (F/N). What’s wrong?” You tried calming her down, she looked at you as if she was pained to say it.
“I overheard the twins and Suna talking about you.” You blinked, not knowing what was wrong with that statement. To be honest, you felt your heart warm at the thought that Suna talked about you to his friends.
“And… isn’t that what boyfriends are supposed to do?” Your friend frantically shook her head. “They were talking about you… about how Suna is using you as a bet.” You laughed.
“(F/N), don’t you think you’re watching too many dramas or reading too many romance mangas?” You reply, trying to ignore how your heart dropped in a split second. “Suna wouldn’t do that.” You say, trying to convince yourself more than her.
You knew (F/N) would never lie to you, especially regarding things like these.
“(Y/N), you know I am the biggest shipper of your relationship.” She said.
“Maybe you misheard...” “You can distinguish Miya Atsumu’s voice miles away and I heard him loud and clear when he asked Suna how the bet was going.” You blink, trying to prevent the lump in your throat from getting worse.
“(Y/N)...” “I think I need a moment.” You say quietly, “Thank you for telling me, I think I have to talk to him.” Your friend looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself and nodded.
“Text me when you need me.” You nod, before heading the opposite direction to the gym.
You didn’t know if you wanted to see Suna at that moment.
As soon as you got home, you changed and turned your phone off. Not wanting to talk to anyone as your friend’s words kept coming back to your mind, as much as you tried pushing it away, it just wouldn’t. As if it were a broken record that kept playing.
You probably spent a good few hours overthinking, before you hear a knock on your door.
Without thinking, you open the door and see Suna behind and typing on his phone.
“Hey.” He says once he sees your face and a small smile was etched to his usually deadpanned look.
“Hi.” “You didn’t come to practice today.” Suna says, entering your house.
“Ah. I was tired.” You curtly responded. Suna immediately noticed the shift in your mood. Normally, you would be happy to see him, but you looked as if he was the last person you wanted to see. Which was true as of the moment.
“Is there something wrong?” Suna asked, a hint of concern laced in his voice. You give him a smile, to which he knows is forced, before shaking your head.
Something was definitely wrong. Suna thinks to himself as he watches you situate yourself on your bed.
“(Y/N). I know something is wrong, tell me.” Suna says, shaking your figure.
“It’s nothing, Suna.” “Suna? Something is definitely wrong.”
“Please stop.” You whisper, trying to stop the lump in your throat from getting worse. Suna was on guard immediately. “Baby?”
Your friend’s words from earlier invaded your mind once more, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.
“Baby?” Suna’s arms were around you, you tense in his hold, your boyfriend immediately releasing his hold on you.
“Please stop using me.” You whispered, Suna’s eyes widened.
“What?” “(F/N) heard you and the twins… about how you’re only dating me as a bet.” You say, trying to put a strong front but failing as tears uncontrollably streamed down your face.
“She heard that?” “So it’s true?” You wiped your eyes before looking at him.
Even looking at him hurt.
“(Y/N)... it isn’t how you think it is.”
“It’s a simple yes or no question, Suna.” The way you said his last name made the middle blocker feel a pang on his chest.
“I-... yes, but-” “Get out.” You interrupted, eyes looking down as you spat out your words.
“Baby-” “No. Please, not now. I don’t think I can look at you right now.” You say softly.
Suna wanted to explain. To ease your thoughts, but he didn’t know how to begin. He was tongue-tied.
“Leave.” You say again.
You felt the bed shift, somewhere in your mind, you wanted Suna to tell you that it was a prank, to say that he paid (F/N) to participate in this sick prank. But you knew that wasn’t the reality that was happening now.
You didn’t see the defeated nod that Suna sent you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says quietly, as if he didn’t know what else to add.
Tears were building up in your eyes, once you hear the door shut, you let them loose. Sobbing hard onto your pillow. With a shaky hand, you turned on your phone, ignoring the numerous messages Suna probably sent before you turned off your phone earlier and sending a text to your friend.
You were right
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Puppy | R.L
Paring: Young!Remus Lupin X Fem!Reader
Summary: Remus has a long day at Charms.
Prompt: Listening to them while they vent.
“No, and get this.-“
Remus had been ranting for the last ten minutes on the common room couch. The flames gave his face such an ethereal glow. His usually pale face looked a pale orange, and his brown eyes turned golden. Pale pink scars turned white and looked breathtaking.
“-he’s such a bastard, lemme tell you.” Remus continued about Professor Flitwick, “I tried and tried to tell him! But nope, apparently ‘dogs don’t exist at Hogwarts; therefore, it isn’t true’. Little does he know a dog is living in the Gryffindor tower right under the daft idiot's nose!”
Y/n could barely withstand to hold back her laughs, “All this because Padfoot thought it was funny to eat your Charms essay?”
“Yes!” Remus exclaimed in frustration, “Bloody idiot.”
Remus sat hunched forward now, elbows on his knees and hands rubbing his eyes; Y/n began scratching his back, “I couldn’t even use the full moon excuse because that isn’t till ‘nother two weeks.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
He sighed, “No, there’s nothing you could’ve done about it.”
Y/n continued to scratch his back, not knowing what else to do. After a couple of minutes, Remus’ back started to ache, and he laid his head on Y/n’s thighs, back now facing the couch. Her hand didn’t stop, though but instead migrated to his hair. Sometimes she’d hit that sweet spot behind his ear, making him whimper in pleasure.
Meanwhile, he was utterly entranced with her beauty. Merlin, the golden flames made her look like Aphrodite herself. He was sure - 100% sure - that if Aphrodite were to come to earth, she’d take the form of Y/n. Her eyes were filled with an orange hue, and her hair was silky.
Y/n had picked up her book the minute Remus’ head his her thighs, knowing that he didn’t like moving once comfy. He got a perfect view of her expressions as she read, the sadness, the confusion, the anger, the giddiness. Sirius and James would’ve teased him had they been in the room, but Remus couldn’t help it.
Eventually, she caught onto his stares, “What’s on your mind, Moony?”
Godric, he remembered the first time she called him Moony. It melted his entire being. He couldn’t remember the nickname being so sweet coming from Sirius, James, or Peter, but from her, it was covered in the sticky coating. It made a pink color flush on his cheeks, and a soft smile appear on his face when she called him the nickname.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Remus questioned, cupping her cheek, “Indeed you have, Rem.”
Her cheeks were pink too, “You look like an angel. No- no- that’s not right. It isn’t as accurate.”
Y/n adored this. His thinking face, trying to come up with the perfect compliment or metaphor. Remus’ thinking face always showed up in class, planning pranks, reading, writing, and she absolutely loved it. The way his nose crinkled just the slightest bit and his eyes would squint just barely.
“A puppy?” Y/n repeated, confused, “Why a puppy?”
“You have that playful glow, yet you’re jaw-dropping. People stop and stare to admire, yet you’re so waggish.” Remus explained, “And how I’m so grateful you chose to be my puppy.”
Her stomach erupted with butterflies at the nickname, “Your puppy, huh?”
“All mine.” Remus whispered, pulling himself up to kiss her.
His puppy, all his. Remus relished in the feeling of her lips on his. So gentle, so soft. Y/n’s hands ran through his sandy-colored hair, and he deepened the kiss. Letting his tongue run along her bottom lip gently. Y/n responded, immediately opening her mouth for him, allowing Remus’ tongue to taste the sweetness inside her mouth.
As they pulled apart, a string of saliva connected them. Y/n’s cheeks were flushed a brilliant magenta, and so were Remus’. His hair disheveled from her hands running through it. His stomach fluttered, and his heart was racing. Carefully Remus nuzzled his nose against hers before laying back down on her thighs.
His girlfriend picked her book back up as Remus shuffled to get comfortable. After five minutes of shuffling, he found a place of harmony. Y/n grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over him. Her free hand went to his hair and scratching behind his ear, pulling him to sleep.
“Get some sleep, Remmy.” Y/n murmured, “Be here when I wake up?” Remus asked softly, almost falling into a deep sleep.
Y/n smiled, “Always.”
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Friends to Lovers: Lovers Edition
Creators Involved: cc!Dream, cc!GeorgeNotFound, cc!Sapnap, cc!Karl Jacobs, cc!Quackity, cc!Wilbur Soot, cc!Awesamdude, cc!Punz, c!Philza, c!Technoblade, cc!Foolish Gamers
Warning(s): Like one mention of sex
Note(s): Make sure to read the first part before this one :)
Part One here!
You sit next to Dream in a chair, leaning close to see his middle monitor.
Austin asked him to call into Sapnap's Love or Host for advice, and you knew he wouldn't pass up the opportunity.
He taps a button on his keyboard, muting himself on Discord.
"Bored yet?", he teases after he hears you yawn.
"Shush.", you shoot him a look.
It's almost two in the morning, and you just want Sapnap to pick a freaking date.
"I can hang up, and we can go to bed.", he offers, tilting his head to rest on top of yours.
You know that's all you want, but you won't make him.
He sees the conflict in your eyes, so he decides to make the decision for the two of you.
Dream types out a quick message to Austin to let him know that's he is logging off for the night.
Soon enough, the two of you are curled up with one another in bed.
"I'm glad you got off.", you yawn again as you attempt to stay awake longer.
"Me too.", he chuckles.
You snuggle as close to him as you can, absorbing his body heat.
This is something you can't believe you went so long without.
It's only been about a week and the two of you haven't really labelled anything yet, but you're in no rush.
All you know is that you love him and he loves you.
That's more than enough for the two of you.
"I love you.", you mumble.
You can feel his heart rate pick up when you say it.
He smiles happily, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.
"I love you too."
You glance between your two finalists, George and Quackity.
You've known since Austin gave you the list of people attending who was going to be your winner.
Whether or not he chooses Love or Host, you already know that you want to explore something more than a simple Minecraft date.
You and George have already been on three virtual dates in the two weeks since your LOH was announced.
"Okay, y/n. It's time for you to make your decision.", Austin prompts you.
You type in the name that's been plaguing your mind all night.
"y/n has made her final decision. The Love of Host winner is...", he trails off for dramatic effect.
You glance nervously between the two people on your screen.
"GEORGE!", Austin yells.
George's mouth drops, and his cheeks tint a reddish shade.
Quackity immediately begins whining, but Austin removes him before you can even say anything to him.
"Now, y/n. What do you think George picked?", Austin questions.
You stare at George, honestly not sure.
"He could go either way, he's sneaky like that. I don't even know honestly.", you admit.
George does his stupid exaggerated giggle, purposely trying to make you nervous.
"y/n, George chose...."
You cross your fingers, silently praying for a good result.
"LOVE! GEORGE CHOSE LOVE!", Austin screams into his microphone.
Your eyes widen and a huge grin spreads across your face.
"George, why did you choose love?", Austin asks him, obviously loving this.
"Because I love them.", he shrugs.
"George!", you gasp.
"Chat, I can't tell if he's joking or not.", Austin whispers into his mic.
"I'm serious.", George shrugs.
You're slightly surprised by his boldness.
"y/n, what do you have to say about that?", Austin shines the spotlight on you.
"I love you too, George."
How is your Minecraft date supposed to top that?
"Lay down.", you point at Sapnap.
He looks around, him slightly shifting on the couch.
"Why?", he smirks at you.
"Not that, you nasty. I want cuddles.", you slightly poke out your lower lip, pouting at him.
"Okay, you big baby.", he mutters as he lays down on the couch.
You plop on top of him, making him utter a soft "oof."
"What are you two idiots doing?", Dream groans as he sits down on the opposite couch.
"What's it to you, jealous boy.", you mumble, head buried in Sapnap's neck.
"If you're going to have sex, I join or it doesn't happen. That's my couch.", Dream jokes.
"What the fuck, dude.", Sapnap lifts his head up to send a glare in his direction.
You lazily launch a pillow in Dream's direction.
"Missed me.", he taunts.
"Shut up, I'm enjoying my Sapnap time.", you mumble.
Dream doesn't hear it, but Sapnap does.
You can feel his cheeks heat up.
"Love you, Sappy.", you whisper, pressing a soft kiss in the crook of his neck.
"Love you too, y/n.", he whispers.
You get a notification that someone needs buzzed in to your apartment.
"Hey, y/n. It's me, Karl.", he relays for you.
He sounds a little tired, and you can hear something rustling.
"C'mon up!", you chirp back to him, allowing him through.
Minutes later, you jump to your feet when you hear a short knock on the door.
"Hey K-oh my gosh!", your mouth drops when you take in the sight in front of you.
"Can I come in? Please?", his pleas are rushed.
His arms are full with various bags and a big bouquet of flowers.
You step aside, letting him in.
He carefully drops everything on your table, and you can tell he's glad to be done carrying it.
"Okay, I got you some stuff.", he claps his hands a few times.
"Some stuff?", you giggle, looking at the various things spread on your table.
"Okay, well I got you flowers. They smell really good, and they're your favorite color! Then I got you all these snacks and a couple movies because I thought we could have a movie night. I got this really pretty bracelet for you. Then I got you this stuffed hedgehog. There's no reason, I just thought it was cute and you're cute, so I got it. The last thing is this giant, fluffy blanket! It's huge and sooo soft.", he places your hand on top of the blanket, and you agree with him.
"You're the sweetest.", you sigh happily, putting the bracelet on.
"Happy six months.", Karl pulls you into his arms, giving you a big kiss.
"I'm lucky to have you.", you reply.
"Take that back.", he narrows his eyes.
"Never.", you smile.
"Hmm, you owe me a movie night then.", he hums, pressing another short kiss to the top of your head.
"Good thing I have a lovely boyfriend that got us stuff to do so.", you tease him.
"Sounds like a great guy.", Karl muses as he pulls away from you.
"Depends who you ask.", you joke.
When you wake up, you pick up your phone and see a few texts from Quackity.
So last night wasn't a dream after all.
You clear your throat and attempt to sound a little more awake before pressing the green call button.
It rings three times before the line connects.
"y/n? Hey!", Quackity greets.
You can hear his smile through the phone.
"Hey! I didn't wake you, did I?", you make sure.
"No, no, no.", he quickly assures you.
The line falls silent, neither of you quite knowing where to start.
"Did you mean what you said yesterday?", you decide to speak first.
"Yes.", his answer is so confident.
"So, what are you going to do about it?", your question has a teasing tone, but both of you know that you're serious.
"I'd like to take you on a date."
You let out a small huff, slightly amused.
"And how are you going to do that?", you humor him.
You don't live close, so you know he doesn't mean an in-person date.
"I have the perfect idea.", he informs you.
You wait for a moment, but he doesn't say anything.
"Do I get to know?", you laugh.
"Oh, right, right.", he giggles as he realizes he didn't tell you.
"Let's do a cooking date. Like on FaceTime.", he suggests.
"You're a horrible cook.", you tease.
"Only with American food.", he replies, a bit annoyed.
"Send me an ingredient list then. I trust you.", you smile at your phone.
You hear him hyping himself up under his breath, not-so-quietly celebrating his victory.
"I have to stream with George, but I'll text you after?", he offers, a giant grin on his face.
"Looking forward to it.", you smile.
When the two of you hang up, both of you can't wipe the smiles off your face.
"Do you have any diamonds in your ender chest?", Wilbur asks you.
"No.", you reply after checking.
The only thing you have in your ender chest is a set of armor and the sword Wilbur gave you all those months ago.
You're coming up on one year of being together, and it seems like just yesterday when he gave it to you.
"y/n?", Wilbur questions you.
"Sorry.", you apologize for not hearing what he had asked of you.
"What are you thinking about, darling?"
Your heart flutters at the nickname, and you're a little surprised he has decided to say it on stream.
"I still have your sword in my ender chest.", you inform him.
He lets out a soft "aww."
You look at your other monitor to see his stream chat blowing up and teasing him.
"Chat, shut up.", he lightly chides his chat for pointing out his rosy cheeks.
"You gotta tell them the story.", you egg him on.
His chat starts rolling three times as fast, begging him to tell them.
"Basically, y/n didn't believe me when I said I loved them. I gave them my sword to prove a point. That's the story you wanted so bad, chat.", he rushes through it as to get it over with.
He's not one to show true affection in public because he prefers to keep you all to himself.
"Wilby over here is so down bad that he gave me his sword when I asked.", you joke.
"y/n!", he hisses, leaning back in his chair.
He runs his hand through his hair, an amused chuckle passing his lips.
"You know you love me.", you hum into your mic.
You love the way his lips quirk up into a giant grin.
"I do, I do."
"You have so many family members.", you tease Sam as you take a seat at one of the tables.
Sam sits next to you, nodding.
Both of you are tired from talking about your new relationship all night, and you can't wait to go home and cuddle with Sam.
He places his hand on top of yours, flipping it over so he can hold it.
You squeeze the slightest bit, and he returns it with a reassuring smile.
You watch a few kids run through the adults, giggling as they try to dodge everyone.
Sam lifts your hand that he's holding to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand.
"Sam.", you giggle at him.
"There you two are.", Sam's mom takes a seat next to him.
He scoots over a bit to make sure there's enough room.
"How has your evening been, y/n?", she asks you.
You glance around the room, and you can't help but notice how happy everyone is.
"It's been great. Everyone is so nice.", you affirm.
Sam squeezes your hand, a soft smile on his face.
"We're tired though, Mom. Think we're going to head out soon.", Sam informs him.
You're slightly glad he picked up on the fact that you're tired, but you also find that you don't really want to leave.
"I'm glad you both came.", his mom stands to hug him.
"And we all think you're perfect for our Sam.", she whispers in your ear as she hugs you too.
You blush a little at the praise, happy to know they like you as much as you like them.
Sam leads you out of the house, hand still intertwined with yours.
"What did she say?", he questions you, slightly curious.
"Nothing.", you tease.
He leans down to give you a kiss before resuming the short walk to the car.
You really did get lucky.
You watch the landscape fly past as Punz switches lanes.
"God, I hate slow drivers.", he groans as he presses down harder on the gas pedal.
"They're not slow. You're going twenty over the speed limit.", you laugh.
He tightens the grip on your thigh where his hand has been resting, a silent warning.
As he attempts to move the car back into the right lane, a sudden resistance catches his attention.
"What the fuck?", Punz mumbles as a light flashes on the dashboard.
You push yourself up a little bit to see the back tire dragging.
"The tire.", you tell him as you sit back down in your seat.
He pulls over to the side of the road, flipping the hazard lights on.
Punz lets out a frustrated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair.
"This seems oddly familiar, doesn't it?", you lightly tease, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
He looks confused for a second before smirking.
"I guess you're right. This is what brought us together.", he moves his hand to take yours.
"I'm going to call to get the car towed. And have someone come pick us up.", he mumbles as he scrolls through his phone.
Punz has a short conversation with someone over the phone before hanging up.
"They'll be here in fifteen minutes.", he relays the information to you.
You take off your seatbelt, lifting the armrest between the two of you.
He quirks up an eyebrow.
You scoot across the middle, leaning against his side.
You rest your head on his shoulder.
Your boyfriend now understands what you're doing, and he wraps his arm around your waist, tugging you closer.
"I think you're bad luck when it comes to tires.", he teases lightly.
He leans over, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"That's not nice.", you joke back.
"You know I don't mean it. I love you whether or not you cause tires to pop.", Punz tilts his head to kiss your lips.
"I love you too."
"Happy birthday, buddy!", you cheer as you lift Tommy out of his crib.
The little boy is turning three today, and it's your first time officially celebrating his birthday as a member of the family.
Tommy babbles out some words that you can't quite piece together as you set him down on the ground.
He's more confident on his feet these days, but he still stumbles like any other kid.
You pick out a pair of overalls for him, a red and white shirt underneath.
The hallway is quiet, so you know that the other boys are still asleep.
After Tommy is ready, you carry the toddler down to the main level of the house.
You create a batter for pancakes, wanting to make a special breakfast for the young boy.
Thundering footsteps alert you as the brothers rush down the stairs.
"What's for breakfast?"
"Are those chocolate chips?"
"Can I have some?"
"I want three pancakes!"
"Okay, okay, boys. Go play outside until breakfast is ready.", you suggest.
They race to pull on their shoes and get out of the door.
A slower set of footsteps makes your ears perk up.
These footsteps signal the person you've been waiting for.
"Morning, darling.", Phil wraps his arms around your waist, peering over your shoulder to see what you're doing.
"Morning.", you tilt your head enough to give him a short kiss.
"Pancakes?", he mumbles, slight surprise in his tone.
"It's a special day.", you reply with a smile.
"Who's special day could it be?", Phil teases, pulling a silly face at the toddler in the high chair.
Tommy sets down the crayon in his hand.
"I'm three!", he announces to Phil.
"You are?", Phil fakes surprise.
"Tommy, tell him the word I taught you yesterday.", you prompt the little boy.
It's the first time Tommy has properly pronounced his "w."
Phil grins widely, picking up his son.
"That is so good!", he praises the boy.
"Do good?", Tommy tilts his head as he looks at you.
"You did great, buddy.", you reply with a big smile.
Phil lets him down to wander.
"You're such a good parent, y/n. I'm so happy to have you.", Phil gives you a giant hug.
You give him a kiss again before he helps you begin to make the pancakes.
"How many more minutes until the boys come running?", you tease Phil as you pour in the first circle of batter.
"Five.", you guess.
"Phil!", you hear Wilbur shout.
"You'll owe me later.", he whispers before leaving the kitchen to tend to the boys.
"Techno, hurry up!", you beg him.
He chuckles, pulling off his cape and hanging it by the door.
It's the last night to read the latest book Techno has found.
The book is incredibly boring, something about enchantments, but you just like hearing his voice as he reads aloud.
You make grabby hands for him as he nears the couch.
He lays down, pulling you practically all the way on top of him.
It only requires one of his large hands to hold the book.
"Okay, what page were we on?", he asks you.
The two of you know that he is only asking you to test your memory as he knows exactly what page he ended on.
"53.", you answer confidently.
"Good.", he praises.
He begins to read from the book, his voice hardly fluctuating between each syllable.
His voice mixed with the uninteresting knowledge makes you sleepy.
Your eyes fight to stay open as he continues reading.
Techno notices, so he lowers his voice the slightest bit.
You eventually shut your eyes, your eyelashes fluttering the slightest bit as you fully relax.
He continues reading for a few moments, just to make sure you're asleep.
When he stops, he adjusts the slightest bit to be able to see your face.
He places a gentle kiss on your nose, smiling at the way your nose crinkles.
"Goodnight, y/n.", he whispers, cradling you against his chest as tight as he can.
"I think I'm going to raid...", Foolish trails off as he tries to choose who to send his viewers to.
"Punz. I'm going to send you all to Punz.", he decides.
You wait until you hear his headphones hit his desk to open the door.
"Are you done?", you whisper, still being careful.
"Yeah, come in!", he grins at you.
You happily plop onto his lap, his arms immediately connecting around your waist.
"How was your stream?", you ask him.
Punz's stream is up on his screen from his raid.
"It was good. How has your afternoon been?", he plays with fingers on your right hand.
"It's been pretty relaxed.", you reply, leaning your head back against his chest.
"I'm glad. You deserve a break every once and awhile.", he mumbles, kissing a spot just behind your ear.
It sends shivers down your spine.
"I just came in to ask what you want for supper.", you finally speak up for your original purpose of entering the room.
"I say we order something and go cuddle while we wait.", Foolish offers.
You twist your upper body to be able to make eye contact with him.
He leans forward, a long kiss pressed to your lips.
"Good idea.", you giggle when you finally pull away.
2K notes · View notes
My Girl | B. Barnes
pairing: (tfatws) bucky barnes x female!reader, slight SLIGHT john walker x reader
warnings: no-no words, john walker, tfatws spoilers?
synopsis: first he takes the shield, and then tries to take you? not on bucky’s watch
a/n: oh man have I missed writing for bucky
Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List
“John!” You exclaim, hopping into the vehicle and giving him a brief hug. “Wow, look at you!”
He laughs, stepping back, showing off his new uniform. “It’s different, isn’t it?”
You nod, mouth open. “Yeah, really.”
“You guys know each other?” Bucky asked, taking a hesitant seat.
“Yeah, we went to high school together. We went to prom together one year.”
Walker chuckles, “Yeah, it was a fun time.”
You force a laugh. “Maybe for you, I remember that night very differently.”
Walker shrugs, and Bucky doesn’t read the slight tension between you. He’s too busy keeping himself in check, his jaw tightening at your friendly interaction. This was the guy replacing Steve.
How could you like him?
He was never going to amount to the kind of person Steve was, not even half.
But here you were treating him like he was.
“(L/N), you went to prom with this guy?” Sam asked, the same disproving expression on his face.
You give a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah, high school prom. Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?” He said, giving you a cheeky smile.
You roll your eyes at the two boys, sitting back next to Bucky and across from Walker.
You were well aware of the strong distaste towards Walker, and honestly, you don’t blame them. Even you were still slightly bitter about it.
But Walker had been your friend, Sam and Bucky would give him enough shit anyway, might as well be the nice guy.
Though, if you had the chance, you would gladly snatch the shield from his hands. Walker was a good person, as far as you could remember. But the only person worthy of that shield was Steve. You knew that.
But until Walker does something unworthy of it, the shield belongs to him.
“How’d you end up here?” Walker asked, gesturing between you and the boys. Clearly, he’s only talking to you.
“What do you mean?”
“How’d you end up working with them? I mean, don’t get me wrong. Mad respect for you both, but I just think you’d be more helpful with me. Clearly, we won’t be working together.”
Your lips part unsure if that was an insult directed at Bucky and Sam, and if you should give some sort of snarky response.
“My first priority is them, John.”
The said boy holds his hand up in defense. He can sense the accusatory tone in your voice. He really doesn’t want to piss you off of all people. He needs you on his side, not theirs. “Right, sorry, (N/N). I should’ve known.”
Bucky’s eyes narrow at the use of the nickname. His hands are clenched together as he resists the urge to slap the smirk off of Walker’s face. Bucky could care less about your past with him. If given the chance, he would gladly shove that shield down his throat.
Walker was the enemy, no questions about it.
“You look great by the way,” Walker smiled. “I don’t think I said that earlier. Just as beautiful as prom day.”
Before you get a chance to reply (not that you had one, you were debating between telling him to be professional or a simple thank you), Bucky grabs your arm.
“That’s it, we’re leaving,” He said as the driver stops the vehicle so the heroes can jump out.
“It was just a compliment!” Walker called out, laughing to himself. “I’ll see you around!”
Bucky shakes his head, sending Walker a death glare. “No, you won’t.”
Walker quirks an eyebrow at the ex-assassin, but then the vehicle starts up again, and he’s gone.
As soon as he is, you shake yourself from Bucky’s grip, eyeing him up and down. “What the hell was that?”
Sam stays silent, trying to hide the grin on his face as he knows what’s about to come.
“That was fucking Walker flirting with you!”
“No, okay, listen to me, he doesn’t get to prance in here all Captain America thinking he can save the day and take my girl.”
Sam chokes, coughing loudly to cover it up. He repeatedly hits his chest, looking away.
Once he’s done, you look to Bucky, eyebrows raised. “My girl?”
Bucky smacks his lips together, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant,” He sighs, “I don’t know. Walker just gets on my nerves. If you like him, that’s fine, and it’s not my place to intervene.”
You scoff, a smile spreading across your lips. “I don’t give a damn about Walker. There’s only one person that has my heart anyway.”
Bucky’s lips quirk up into a smile. The action is so minimal you almost miss it. “You’re talking about me, right?”
You shrug, “I only see one jealous super soldier boyfriend.”
“I wasn't jealous!” Bucky huffs.
“Right,” You said, rolling your eyes before smirking. “You’re not denying the second part.”
“Maybe I don’t want to,” Bucky whispers, the air around you growing thicker as he takes a small, tentative step towards you.
“Oh my god!” Sam shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. “Just kiss already and agree to a date. Some of us have a life to get to.”
Bucky chuckles at Sam, but he listens and grabs your face between his hands before kissing you softly.
You smile into the kiss, grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer.
“For the record,” You said when he pulled away. “The night ended horribly with Walker because he tried to kiss me.”
— END —
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*playing with fire//spencer reid*
summary: Spencer and Reader don’t get along at work, but when they have to pick up a book from Spencer’s apartment for a case and Reader won’t leave his trinkets alone, things get messy.
pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
category: smut and some angst!
content warnings/includes: unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it, please!), fingering, dirty talk, argument, praise, discussion of murder/description of a dead body, choking (not really; more like hand lightly around the throat), use of pet names (sweetheart, baby); Spencer is kind of dominant in this and there’s some conflict but nothing serious. let me know if there’s anything else to add!
prompt: “why don’t you make me?”
word count: 5.1k
A/N: hi everyone! this is for the @spenciebabie fic contest and i’m super excited eek! i've been meaning to write this for a while but i've just felt so blocked recently that i haven't been able to really commit to it until now. did i make some shit up that isn't factual at all for the story? yeah lmao. anyway, this is my first time actually writing for a specific phrase prompt so i'm sorry if it sucks-- ok sorry happy reading!
UPDATE: it won the contest!! 🥺 yay! thank you everyone for reading.
masterlist / part two!
I flip through the open file at my desk, waiting for Penelope to get back from her lair. it's strange being first in the conference room. Hotch is finishing something in his office, JJ had to make a call, and the others are on their way into work. I'm all alone, and I don't mind.
my eyes scan over the details of the case while I wait and snack on my apple. it's a case in DC, so at least we don't need to use the jet. I hear the door open and, without looking up, start talking to Penelope.
"did you bring me a coffee?" I joke.
"why would I bring you a coffee?" the sound of Spencer's voice makes me jolt so hard, I drop the papers. he's standing in the threshold of the conference room with a mug, stirring his drink.
the moderately bubbly feeling from before disappears at the sight of him.
Spencer and I don't like each other very much. ever since I joined the team a while back, he's been nothing short of a snob. I don't know what his problem is, but he avoids me at every turn and ignores my input during case briefings-- or he corrects me with some of the useless information he's got stored in that pretentious brain of his.
"I thought you were Pen." I shrug and turn my eyes back to the papers. there's an awkward silence as he pulls out a chair across from me and sits down. he doesn't have anything to look at because Garcia has all the folders with her, so his eyes move about the room before settling on me.
"can I see?" he asks.
I glance up cautiously. Reid's hair is messier than usual today, all curls and stubble. his eyes are tired, swimming with an irritation that only makes me want to frustrate him more with my sing-song voice. "no."
I crunch into my apple. "just wait until Pen gets here."
Spencer rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, scoffing. I can feel the hostility radiating off of him as he mutters under his breath. he’s incredulous.
"what's wrong with you?" I ask. it’s hard to keep from smirking at the way it gets under his skin. I’m only playing, but he gets riled up.
"me? what's wrong with you?" his voice goes to a slightly higher pitch, like he can't believe me. and admittedly, I'm acting a little juvenile-- but only because he's usually pretty rude and I would like to inconvenience him.
"nothing's wrong with me,” I shrug, flipping the thing shut and leaning my elbows on the table with a pleasant smile. “I'm a delight."
Spencer suddenly reaches over to snag it, but I'm quicker and slap my hand down on top.
"you're done reading!" he complains like a child. I'm about to protest when Penelope wanders into the room with a stack of files. Spencer's fingers are still pressed to the folder while he tries to slide it over to himself. I glare back. now that he wants it, I do, too.
"hey, stop that!" Garcia slaps Reid's hand. he flinches and moves, which causes me to send a victorious smirk his way. the tech analyst points a neon-painted finger at me. "don't you get all cocky, either, Y/N."
I cross my arms over my chest and take another bite of my apple, Reid and I staring each other down. he’s much more irritated than I am, but that’s what makes it enjoyable. sometimes a vein in his forehead will pop out when he’s really mad, and that’s a marker for me to back down. it’s not there now, though.
"you're immature." he says quietly while he opens up the file that the blonde just handed him. I roll my eyes and start a conversation with the other person in the room. as team members start to filter in, Penelope keeps looking between the two of us as if she's still bothered by our interaction. she's tried several times now to get us to be friends-- forcing us to sit beside each other during drinking games, making us each other's Secret Santa last Christmas-- everything she can think of, but it just won't work.
some people aren't meant to be friends.
she starts to detail the case for us-- which includes the murders of several prostitutes-- and I focus on her presentation. but Spencer's eyes are digging into my face from across the table and it's taking everything in me not to engage. if he has an issue, he can take it up with me when we're not working. it would be a hell of a lot easier, however, if he would stop.
by the end of the briefing, I'm clenching my fists beneath the table and hoping that Hotch pairs me off with Prentiss so that I can just get out of here to focus on something that actually matters.
but of course, that doesn't work out as planned, either.
"Rossi, JJ, I want you two to head to Janet Kingsley's apartment-- try to find out if you can find anything about where she found her clients," Hotch glances around the table. "Y/L/N, Reid, talk to the ME--"
"uh--" Spencer opens his mouth to protest, but one warning glance from JJ makes it clamp shut in defeat. Hotch finishes delegating and everyone gets up to leave, the genius still seething. I raise an eyebrows as I stand.
"who's being immature, now?" I whisper as I brush past.
the lengthwise slash marks down Janet's forearms are deep, red, unnerving. like something out of a horror movie.
"I'm guessing the cause of death was exsanguination?" I ask the ME. he's studying at his clipboard, but lifts his eyes to mine when he responds.
"yes. it was quick, too."
Spencer straightens up from examining the deep gashes in her skin. his hands are stuffed into his slacks, exposing the holstered gun at his side.
"it actually seems like the work of a livestock farmer," he walks around the table, never taking his gaze from the corpse as he uses a gloved finger to point out the wounds. "he sliced open major arteries for maximum efficiency."
"clinical." I observe. Spencer nods and crosses his arms over his chest.
"y'know, despite the victimology, our unsub is likely from out of town."
"not many livestock farmers in DC." the ME makes a dry joke that nobody laughs at. my brow furrows.
"well, that messes with our profile. how are we supposed to find out where this guy's from, then?"
for a moment, the insufferable genius goes completely silent. his irises move rapidly over the ceiling as he thinks to himself, gears in his brain turning almost visibly before us. the ME watches him with a veiled confusion.
this is another thing I despise about spending time with Reid: whenever we meet new people for cases, all they do is coo and gush about how smart he is. they're just feeding his ego when they ask about his stupid PhDs and the innumerable other degrees he's working on. as if he's some sort of intellectual god and they're ready to worship at his altar.
he acts like it's no big deal, but the impression of their admiration is evident from the way he behaves toward everyone else: doesn't listen to anyone about anything. he lives in his head.
when he starts to examine Kingsley's corpse with a focused expression, I wait for him to voice his thoughts.
"there can be some distinct regional differences sometimes in the way that the process is completed, though. especially in the South, depending on the livestock." he's checking for markers on her body.
"like?" the fact that her body has been treated like butcher meat makes my skin crawl.
"well I don't know. I just got a book about it but I haven't had the time to read." his tone is quick, biting, and I scowl at the unnecessary reaction. who reads about that kind of thing, anyway? the ME glances between us; even he can feel the tension. I want to say something back, but it would be unprofessional and this really isn't the place to start bickering about his manners.
"we can ask Garcia to search it up, then--" I pull out my phone.
"there's no need. my apartment is a seven minute drive from here and the book will have more detailed information," he interrupts me, snapping the gloves off of his hands and turning his attention to the ME. "thanks for your time."
"no problem,” the balding white guy still seems wary of us. “let me know if you need anything else."
Spencer struts hurriedly out of the room. all I can do is give an apologetic smile before following. our footsteps echo in the hallway.
"what the hell was that?" I snap the second we're out of earshot. Reid swings open the door of the building, holding it for me. his gait is already pretty fast, given his long legs, but he's going even faster right now. I have to practically jog to catch up.
"what." it comes out as a statement.
"the snippiness?" I jab my thumb backwards toward the place. he doesn't seem fazed.
"sorry. I don't like not knowing things."
"so?" I scoff. "you made us look like idiots, Reid. we're in the fucking FBI. you can't walk around pitching fits like a child."
Spencer stops in his tracks, right before the car, turns to me. there’s something else there, although I don’t know what it is.
"we don't have time for this."
I make a series of shocked noises. where to begin? I want to punch him for that, turning this on me like I'm the one wasting precious hours. he gestures to the vehicle in front of us. his lips are pursed. "let's just get this done, shall we?"
I'm pretty sure every muscle in my face is taut with frustration. as much as I want to march over and slap him, he's right: we don't have time to argue about anything. I'll need to tuck away my anger for later.
we get in the car and head to his place, the silence deafening as I stare out the window. something is happening and I don’t know what it is; he would never confide in me for any reason, especially because he barely confides in the other members of the team. thank god it's a short drive, because I'm about five seconds from losing my grip on reality and yelling.
Spencer's knuckles are white around the steering wheel and I can feel his anger. if it’s only directed at me, I don't know; I'm assuming he's partly upset about not knowing the answer to the butchering techniques. but even then, it's irrational and childish. if he can't get over the fact that sometimes he's just not going to know things, then he needs to grow up. that's the way the world works.
I follow Spencer up the stairs of his building. the only sounds are the creaking of the steps as I look around, along with the rattle of old pipes. I've never been here, obviously. it’s pretty, and I’m even more surprised when he slips the key into the lock to let us in. his living space fits him perfectly: green walls laden with works of art, books shoved into every possible nook and cranny, antique lamps. a teacup rests precariously on a stack of newspapers.
"of course you read the paper." I mutter to myself as I shut the door behind me. Spencer turns his head to glare at me.
"what was that?"
"nothing." he heard me.
"it should be around here somewhere." Reid starts to sift through the countless titles that litter his apartment. it takes everything in me not to point out that he should make a system for all of it.
while he pokes around, I start to explore. afternoon light slips through the curtains, illuminating floating dust particles and casting the wood floors in a soft glow. it's something out of a movie, a Victorian air that makes me feel strangely comforted.
of course, I won't ever admit that. my eyes flit over to his crouching form as he goes through a leaning tower of books beside the desk.
I sigh and tap the glass surface of a ship in a bottle. the plinking sound catches his attention, but he doesn't say anything, so I continue on. a couple pictures are framed on the wall of him with his mother, some of the team (which I'm shockingly included in), but not much more photographic memorabilia. everything seems encased in literature.
I spin to see him opening a volume to its table of contents. he flips through a couple pages while I observe the velvety soft cushions of his leather couch. everything about this place screams warmth in a way that I didn’t anticipate. there are threads of insanity throughout, too-- stray papers and uncapped pens-- but for the most part, I find myself charmed.
"find what you need?" I wonder aloud.
"yeah. there's a picture here that's similar to the markings on Janet's body. I'm gonna call Garcia and see what she can find." he doesn't even look up to say it, getting on the phone quickly while I continue my deep dive into his belongings. half of me expects him to correct my behavior, although he doesn’t seem to mind enough.
after about five minutes, I make my way to the desk. he's still talking to her, arms crossed over his chest while she lists some results.
"--I'm assuming rural Virginia." he says. I can't hear the other side of the conversation, but I don't need to. I twirl a fountain pen between my fingers and run my eyes over the scribbled notes written in the margins of academic journal papers. Spencer glances at me once, warning me to stop with his eyes.
I don't stop. there's a particularly interesting globe on his desk. it's topographic, lovely. my fingertips brush over the shape of Asia and Reid clenches his jaw. despite the garble of Penelope's voice on the phone, he speaks directly to me.
"don't touch that."
I smirk and push on the globe, spin the world on its brass axis with the tip of my finger. he watches it intently, then refocuses on my face. there's a flame there that makes my spine tingle. he's angry with me, and I sort of like it.
"he would likely have no mother, maybe a cheating father-- his hatred of women probably stems from the lack of a consistent maternal figure." he doesn't take his eyes off of me while he talks. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and lean over the desk to grab a couple of his pens. every movement draws his hazel irises. I can see him getting increasingly annoyed.
there's an abrupt sound of triumph from Penny's end, followed by her cheerful voice, and Spencer nods.
"perfect. if Hotch and the rest of them head over there, we can wait," he dares me to keep playing around. I don't disappoint: both hands on the sphere, I spin it and wait for him to get off the phone. the expression on his face is murderous as he signs off. "thanks, Garcia."
the click of the button seals my fate. Spencer doesn't say anything to me at first.
"any progress?" as if I didn't just hear the whole conversation.
"I told you not to touch my things." he ignores the question.
"I was bored."
"do you know how old that globe is, Y/N?” a rhetorical question that he doesn’t wait for me to answer. “it's worth at least a thousand dollars." he's trying to maintain his composure. I don't want him to.
"a thousand dollars for something you already know so well?" I push. the muscles in his jaw jump for a millisecond. he swallows.
"take your hands off it." he orders. I release my bottom lip from my teeth and feel my heart hammering in my chest. he's so pretty when he gets like this, so angry. like he's ready to teach me a lesson.
Spencer and I argue often, but the arguments never amount to much. they usually dissipate quickly and leave us with an unresolved tension that follows us around the office. we avoid each other because if we don't, we both know what's going to happen. and maybe I'm a little bit afraid of how much I want him to let loose on me, how much I want to feel those vengeful fingers around my throat. sometimes I add fuel to the fire because it excites me.
which is why the next words are charged: "why don't you make me?"
Reid walks over silently, suddenly wraps his hands around both of my wrists with an iron grip. I don't deign to breathe as he moves forward, pushing me into the wall. a shiver runs down my spine at our position. blocked in.
"like this?" Spencer looks down at me, pupils enormous. his face is so close to mine-- closer than it's ever been. full, pink lips forming every word and begging to be kissed. I nod, unable to respond coherently. he's so beautiful.
"no attitude now, huh." his smirk makes my stomach flip with excitement. I stare into his eyes and pray that he does something about it. my ensuing silence causes him to release one of my wrists to gently wrap around my throat. he doesn't press, only tests the waters. "good girl."
I feel myself grin eagerly, the low register of his voice and the way he takes in my features causing me to squeeze my thighs together. he hasn't even kissed me and I'm soaking wet.
"wh-- what about the case?" through the fog in my mind, I recall our obligations. we can't be more irresponsible than we already have been.
"they don't need us right now, baby," the pet name sends goosebumps over my skin. "we'd just be sitting in the station, anyway."
relief. because all I want right now is to break the rules, to make him mine right here in his own apartment. and I want him to claim me, too. Spencer sees my doe eyes, the playful taunts that have vanished from my lips.
"what am I gonna do with you?" he lowers his mouth to my jaw, dragging his teeth across my jawline before scattering my throat with love bites. my free hand tangles in his hair. I wonder, as he starts to suck at my jugular and moves his grip to my waist, if he can feel the rapidity of my pulse. how it beats for him, even when it shouldn't.
I try to speak through the gentle waves of pleasure he's causing with his mouth right now.
"kiss me." dripping with need. Spencer stops his thorough work on my neck to face me again. his gaze bores holes into me, a pink excitement evident in his cheeks before he cups my cheek and dives in to press his mouth voraciously to mine. it's messy at first, both of us already too hungry for each other to care much about grace, but we find a perfect balance. he tastes like mint gum and when his tongue dances over mine, I moan.
so many small arguments, coarse words, hateful glances. as if that would be enough to deter everything else within us, including the general attraction I've always felt towards him. and it seems he's been attracted to me, too, with the way he groans into my mouth and rolls his torso into mine.
"Spencer." I breathe. he lets my other wrist go, losing control of his need to touch my body and yanking my hips to his. I squeal at the force.
"such a pretty girl," he murmurs affectionately. my heart flutters at both the compliment and the genuine meaning when he says it. I lift my leg to wrap around him and get the friction that I crave, and Reid pushes further. "you'd be even prettier with my cock inside you."
my heart palpitates at the thought. I don't know how much longer I can take the waiting, my hips rutting up against his in any pathetic attempt to stimulate myself. he takes my earlobe between his teeth and tugs.
"please." I beg for more. he's trying not to give in, but the way my fingertips tug on the ends of his hair drives him wild. it's in the way he seeks any way to grab and hold me. he quickly undoes the buttons of my shirt and licks over my bottom lip.
feverish. he parts my shirt, presses our foreheads together when he peers down at my chest. reaches up to cup my tits over my bra while he pants. I watch and secretly pray for him to put his mouth back over mine. all I can feel is the weight of his body and the delicious atmosphere we've created together.
one of his hands slides between our bodies, under my skirt, rubbing over my panties. part of me is embarrassed by the inevitable wet spot awaiting him, but he bites his lip and moans while beginning to circle over the lacy fabric.
my mouth drops open at the pleasure, bucking against his hand. he smiles.
"Spence, I need more." I choke out between whimpers. I'm going to go insane from the desire swirling in my stomach. he raises his eyebrows.
"Spence?" repeats the nickname back to me. I've never used it before.
"mhmm." I whine. he increases the pressure on my clit.
"I like that," his voice is dangerously low. "you're a little brat, but you know you're mine."
my jaw clenches to withhold the sinful noises that I want to release. it would be so easy to give in immediately, to let him know just how much he's right; but I like the way we function together. although my IQ isn't as high, I can certainly hold my own-- and he knows it.
"not yet." I taunt. his movements hesitate for a moment.
and then he slides his index beneath my panties and dips into my wet center. I yelp and feel my hips jump at the sensation, then start to roll enthusiastically against him. I can't help myself.
"you sure about that?" he smirks into my cheek.
I mumble something mindless, likely an unconvincing denial, without halting my own actions. he chuckles and kisses my neck. "speak up. I wanna hear you say it."
"fuck me." I whine. Reid grunts as he rocks himself into me at the sound of my begging. his finger curls inside, brushing against my walls, and I gasp. the heel of his palm works my clit, keeps me going. I'm going to lose my mind if he doesn't put it in, soon.
"be patient, baby." he ruts and my hands move from his curls to the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning them with all the concentration I can muster. he adds another finger to my pussy. I'm fumbling, but I don't care at all once I tug them down.
his cock hits his stomach and I see him for the first time. Spencer kisses my neck and sinks his teeth in when I wrap my fingers around it, his quiet sounds of pleasure muffled. I pump him a few times, swipe my thumb over the tip to gather his precum. he starts to buck into my hand.
"so greedy." I giggle. Spencer nips at my skin before pushing me harder against the wall.
"watch your mouth."
"or what?" I taunt him again, knowing there's nowhere else for him to go. he wants the same thing-- desperately, it seems. we lock eyes; regardless of how we act together after this, something will inevitably be different. a tension broken. all I want is to cross that line. and when he takes hold of himself, I pull my panties to the side. even though he teases my entrance to torture me, I let him sink inside without hesitation.
at first, the intrusion makes me tighten. there's no air in my lungs from the way he stretches me out, my head gently falling back against the wall. Spencer groans deeply as he grabs my hips and keeps pushing. my eyes squeeze shut.
"Spence-- fuck--" my stomach muscles tense.
"so tight." he moans, finally to the hilt. neither of us moves for a moment, our breaths the only sound. there aren't enough words to describe how full he makes me feel. all I can do is admire his flushed skin and the vein in his forehead that sticks out from restraining himself. I never thought it would make an appearance for this reason.
"keep going." I grip onto his shoulders and move a little to urge him. he responds quickly, pulls out and thrusts back in. my body struggles to accommodate at first, but soon I settle into it.
he's trying to keep from absolutely shoving into me, stuttering his movements and biting his lip while gripping my waist with a stifled passion. we're pressed together.
"I've wanted this for so fucking long." he admits through gritted teeth, finally giving into his desires and slamming into it. the thrust sends me up the wall a bit and I squirm with pleasure.
"me too." I pant through the sounds he's eliciting from me, his lips finding their place against my collarbone. I feel like I'm in heaven with the way he digs his fingernails into my flesh to pull me down onto his cock.
"all that attitude--" he's rough. "just because you wanted me to fuck you."
I let out a low, lecherous moan. his voice is so fucking sexy in my ear, each word dripping with a pent-up craving. I want to give him everything, hand it over, get on my knees and submit. he's got his flaws, but so do I. "mhmm."
"I knew it..." he presses his lips to mine, swallowing my sounds and showing a fondness that I didn't expect. "acting so innocent when all you really want is to be fucked."
I grab the back of his neck and use the leverage to roll myself down on him, his dick hitting different angles. there's a pressure on my clit from the position, and it's perfect.
we came here to find a book and now he's fucking me against a wall. I don't want to be anywhere else.
"it feels s-so good." I whimper. Spencer grabs my other leg and lifts me up so both are wrapped around his waist. it's a whole different feeling, deep enough to brush over my cervix, and I cry out.
"I bet it does," he squeezes my skin and picks up the pace until he's relentlessly thrusting into me, every second another opportunity to make me scream. his name tumbles from my mouth over and over, a repetition that only brings me closer to the edge. he's loud, too. "taking my cock so well."
"I'm close." I tell him, the quick pulsations of my walls helping him along. he goes harder.
"I can feel it--" he drops his head onto my shoulder. "right there, baby, that's right. take it like a good girl."
my entire frame tightens as I cling for dear life to him, each push sending me up the wall before I sink back onto his length. the wave comes, crashes over me and wraps around my lungs until there's only the pressure in my stomach, building-- snapping.
"Spencer, oh my-- fuck, fuck, fuck!" I lose control, jaw dropping wide before he kisses me to silence the sound. his tongue meets mine hungrily. he groans and pulls away reluctantly.
"where should I cum?" the words are raspy. my eyes roll back into my head while I pull him against me.
Spencer nods, reunites our lips and cups my jaw with one hand. it's gentle compared to how hard he's railing me, but a slow grin spreads over my face through the kiss. ecstasy when he shudders and tenses, stills himself to release.
the sensation makes me close my eyes. Spencer's breath hitches while he watches my reaction. the flutter of kisses over my cheekbone, my temple, makes me relax. I feel the tension in my limbs melt away. I want it again. god, I want it every day.
he gives a few more thrusts to keep his cum inside me, the helpless noises that pour from my mouth only further incentive. I'm floating, letting his hands run over my form with the kind of appetite that only comes with months of yearning.
neither of us tries to move away at first. part of me doesn't want to leave this perfect place. where we don't fight, where things are easier. like a spell. if we disentangle, I'm scared that we won't be able to return.
our heart rates slow. Spencer won't take his eyes off of me.
"we should get back to the station." it comes out hoarse, probably because I just spent my voice screaming his name. I can sense him deflate a little, and part of that knowledge comforts me. at least I'm not the only one.
silence as we try to figure out how we're going to handle this. he pulls out and I take a second to regain my composure before I move. he looks me up and down again as if to memorize the details of my figure. my fingertips work at the buttons of my shirt. I need to go clean up.
"we... we can leave this alone, right?" I clarify. my eyes cut to his. Spencer swallows as he tucks himself back into his pants. nervousness floods my chest as I notice his hesitation.
“honestly,” he purses his lips. “I don’t wanna leave it alone.”
my stomach drops. “what?”
“I think we could work around it.” he says, more confidently this time. it hits me a moment later.
“like... friends with benefits?” the idea almost makes me laugh, lips turning up slightly at the implication. he smirks.
“we were never really friends, but yeah, that’s the idea.”
I turn over the idea in my head. it doesn’t need to be a big deal, no dating or actual emotions. just pure fun when we feel like it. it won’t affect our jobs.
“okay.” I agree. he raises his eyebrows, semi-surprised.
“sure. as long as there’s nothing else involved.” I narrow my eyes a bit, baiting him to play along with our usual dynamic. he bites his lip slightly.
“trust me, that’s not a concern.” it’s a joke and I punch his shoulder playfully. he lets out a slightly boyish giggle, ducking out of the way.
“rude.” I pout.
“go get cleaned up so we can leave!” his voice hits that higher register again and I throw my hands up. he points to the bathroom. I pause before I go in, hand on the door jamb while I turn my face just slightly to peek at Spencer. he’s toying with the book from earlier, distracted and too beautiful.
what did I just get myself into?
part 2 here!
taglist (lmk if you wanna be added!)-- @voidsfilm @reidsconverse
1K notes · View notes
omfg i just finished reading indelible and i...don’t even know what to say, i already know it’s gonna be the only thing on my mind for next 3-5 business days ✋ your writing is seriously so amazing! :3c
i noticed you were open to prompts a few days ago, and on the topic of L, i’d love to hear something about his needy s/o bugging him while he works at his desk. fiddling with the button of his jeans from underneath it, weaseling herself into his lap, stuff of that nature. thank you very much in advance! <3
a pleasant distraction — l lawliet x fem!reader
warnings/tags: 18+, nsfw, porn with feelings, oral sex, teasing, multiple orgasms, too much banter (seriously, I can't control it), reader is a needy little brat with a penchant for domination + L is stubborn. you complete each other ♡ // wc: 3.3k
note: I'm so glad you enjoyed Indelible, thank you so much for your kind words and spicy request! I got carried away (shocker), the req going a bit off the rails because I have zero self control & also no beta so apologies for grammar mistakes and the like. hope you like it, anon! ^^
[bonus points if you can name the image source]
L can say without an ounce of hesitance, that he has genuinely never been annoyed with your presence before; a compliment he cannot confidently bestow upon anyone else...say for possibly Watari (although there have been moments where the elder gentleman had toed the line).
The sleuth is well aware he has a tendency to put others off; he isn't affable, can easily lose interest in the chasm between mentalities, and is self-aware enough to recognize: putting blame on lack of intelligence is just another ticked box on why he simply cannot partake in camaraderie.
But it's different with you—a simple explanation for an affinity L can never seem to effectively encapsulate. You're witty and smart, brutally honest and passionate. L trusts you; has found solace in you by doing the unthinkable and sought you out for your company alone, and thus far you've done an incredible job maintaining your unbothersome presence...until now.
Truth be told, he was expecting some form of retaliation on your part. Analyzing human behavior is a key component in detective work after all, but he must admit...desire is not among his strong suits.
"Are you aware that it's been four days since you've left this room?" It's a sweet purr with an edge of accusation; slicing through the silence, jolting him out of his thoughts by it's close proximity—and, where it came from.
L is caught by the sharpness of it, but more so, the fact that you are nestled underneath the desk, glimmering eyes peering up at him impishly.
He'd watched you moments prior, deftly delivering a fresh tray of coffee and sugar before disappearing beyond the plane of his vision, but he was drawn back into his current task and, admittedly, forgot that you were there.
The way your fingers dance along the loose fabric of his jeans, light pressure against his shins, tells him you're also aware he's forgotten—but not just this instance. No, he's forgotten the last four days, and it seems you've grown tired of waiting.
"Yes, I am aware. You're not asking me an obvious question to hear an obvious answer, are you?" L reaches forward, plucks a single sugar cube from the ornate bowl and pops it into his mouth, averting his attention back to the monitor. "You're feeling neglected, I assume."
Striking your tongue against your teeth, your hands smooth down the insides of his thighs, venturing with light pressure that eases his legs apart. L tenses when your fingers dance over the crotch of his jeans, flicking the fly of his zipper with a playfulness that contradicts your tone;
"what a surprise; worlds greatest detective needs solid evidence to discern that his girlfriend is horny."
"I'll admit, deducing sexual desires isn't my forte." He murmurs, "I'm well aware I've been neglecting you, although we've established the importance of my work—"
"Yes, yes—'the pursuit of justice is paramount'," you recite, shuffling in closer until you can rest your temple against the inside of his knee, drawing his attention downwards, "you've got so much passion for your work, L...how's about sharing a piece of it with me?"
Gazing up at him with a coy little smirk, L returns the look with a vacancy that already answers your question. "Forty-eight hours. That's my estimate on the remaining time this case will take to solve."
Two days feels like an eternity from now, and you're smart enough to know he's high-balling the time, crafting the illusion that once he does finish this case—earlier than expected—you'll see it as his own form of desperation: finishing a case early because he simply 'couldn't deny you anymore'. It's that subtle, benign brand of manipulation that worked on you in the beginning, but now you're fluent in his mentality—and unwilling to wait.
You play with the fly listlessly, your other hand daring to glide directly between his legs, pressing your palm against his length through the denim. His twitches at the contact, and as you glance up at him through your lashes, you can see him swallow thickly, the pronounced shadow of his Adam's apple bobbing.
"You've bragged to me about your ability to multitask on an almost inhuman level, do you remember?" You softly ask, smoothly unzipping his pants, letting your other hand rut casually against his steadily hardening cock.
"I don't recall bragging, no. I've stated facts, but never bragged." There's an airy quality to his voice now, giving him away, "but yes, I am capable of extreme multitasking."
"Extreme multitasking? Are you implying something, L?" Mischief laced in your tone, you bite against the smile that tugs on your lips.
"It seems the one with the implications is you." He counters quick, his piercing gaze flicking downwards to square with yours, stoic still as you pop the button on his jeans, "if you're going to distract me from my work, please do so without teasing."
"What kind of distraction would I be, if I didn't tease you?" You sing-song, smoothing your palm up to join the other and giving a coaxing tug on his jeans, spurring him to lower his legs so you can nestle in closer.
"A pleasant distraction." He breathes, relenting as he lifts his hips just enough to shuck the layers down mid-thigh, his cock springing forward, stiff and flushed pink at the tip. Like he's trying to divert attention to the fact that he is clearly interested, he tacks on, "you've always searched for satisfaction beyond the physical."
Another fact, shuddered into the silence of the room as you wrap your fingers around his length.
Quirking your head slightly, "you act like you don't love it...if I recall correctly, you told me you enjoyed when I tease you."
Working his cock with a steady pump of your fist, you lean in close enough that your breath ghosts the tip of him, already leaking beads of pearlescent precum.
"Under proper circumstances, I do." He grits out, "indulging your need for mental dominance is not something I'm particularly keen on, at the moment."
You raise your brows, "Oh? It's me who has a need for mental dominance?" As though emphasizing, you tighten your grip on the upward stroke, twist your wrist to wring out a satisfying, choked-up sigh from him. "Would you rather I say nothing at all?"
"If you would like my honest answer, I'd rather you put your mouth to use, elsewhere." His inflection is a twist of sarcasm and poorly constructed indifference—and his way of asking for more.
A pulse of arousal thrums between your thighs, makes you rub your knees together as you shift, "is a proper admission out of the question?" You purr, feeling self-satisfied at the tremor that shakes him when you lick a brazen stripe from the base of him, to the head.
Pressing a single kiss against the ruddy tip, you peer up at him once more, finding him staring intently at the monitor, knuckles white as he grips the armrests of his chair. It's a shoddy attempt at feigning disinterest, but an attempt nonetheless—and that just won't do.
It's with a bit of good-natured malice that you take him in your mouth, lave your tongue over the tip twice over before letting him slip towards the back of your throat all in one seamless motion. The sharp gasp L gives is gratifying, your attention locked onto his face as you watch the way he slowly falls apart.
Hollowing your cheeks, sucking him lewdly on the drawback, you breathe through your nose and sink back down, fighting the innate urge to gag on his thick cock as you do. L's tense expression whittles down with the heat in his face, his wide eyes slinking to that lust-fogged, half-mast gaze you'd been itching to see for the past week.
He sighs your name, pries his hands from the armrests and gently takes your head between them, slender fingers threading through your hair, "you're...incorrigible."
Humming in response, reveling in the shiver that rattles him, you let one of your hands dip down between your legs, under the thin fabric of your skirt to press blindly against the dampened gusset of your underwear. The way L's gaze fixates on yours, softened with budding desire as he pants into the still air makes you burn with need.
The pressure isn't nearly enough, you need so much more; 'feeling neglected' doesn't touch the surface—you've been starved of him. The heady taste of him on your tongue is bitter and satisfying, but the throb between your legs is aching with need.
Squeezing the base of his cock, you pull back from a particularly deep down-take with a breathy gasp, feeling slick web between your lips, knowing your face is heated and wanton, hoping it has the desired effect. L shudders, absently bucks his hips like he's following the wet, hot chasm of your mouth, letting slip a small groan that tells you it most definitely did.
"Do I have your undivided attention now, L?" Keeping yourself close enough to press a lingering kiss against the head of his cock for emphasis, you stroke him lazily.
L nods his head, stuttering out a beautifully breathy "yes," but he wouldn't be the man you love if he didn't attempt some semblance of ego-damage-control. "Your...tactics leave no room for ignorance."
"Is that so?" You tease him, slide your hand up his shaft to press your thumb against the hyper-sensitive nerves below the head, giving a little lick that makes him visibly jolt. "Perhaps I should switch tactics then...wouldn't want you to lose focus, would we?"
"I think we've well and truly passed that threshold." He grits out, tightening his fingers in your hair as you start rubbing your thumb against him. "I...I suppose I could take a break, for a few minutes."
You can hear the scuff of his toes digging into the carpet, feel the way his thighs tense with your elbows resting above his knees; but most of all, there is a blooming pride in your chest—you've successfully seduced and distracted the worlds greatest detective, and now it's time to revel in the spoils.
"A couple minutes?" You query, letting your touch slip away from him as you slink out from under the desk.
L's breath is shallow against your mouth as you level your face with his, wriggle yourself onto his lap with your knees straddling his waist, his hard cock pressed against the dampened fabric of your panties. You give a fluid roll of your waist, grinding yourself against him as you bury your fingers in his thick hair.
"Surely the renowned detective L is deserving of more than a couple minutes," a gentle, neat little tug has his head angled back, the ivory column of his throat exposed as he gazes at you through the slits of his lidded eyes, "don't you think?"
"Deserving and desiring are two separate things." He exhales, his long fingers dig into the crescents of your hips, "I would argue I'm deserving of nothing of the sort."
"Says you. Luckily, I disagree." Dipping down, nuzzling your face beneath his sharp jaw, you slowly suck a bruise onto his porcelain skin, "besides...I think I'm deserving of this—" a gentle bite on the drawback makes him inhale sharply, one hand flying from your hip to tangle in your hair, bucking upwards absently.
"Then please, take what you deserve." L breathes out, the desperate cadence in his tone making goosebumps stipple your skin.
You've got him where you want him; his composure broken down enough he's on the verge of pleading—but there's just one more thing.
He's not wrong; you do search for satisfaction beyond the physical.
"What is it I deserve, exactly?" You lave your tongue along the tendon of his throat, follow it up to take his earlobe between your teeth. L shudders, tugging on your hip as he ruts into you.
"At this rate...an accolade for patience." He's still grasping onto that inherent need to remain the one in charge, to be right, calling you out on your own wicked desires.
"Deflection." You murmur against him, sucking below his ear, rolling your hips forward enough that you're grinding along the length of him, slick seeping through your panties.
"Premeditated." He counters, slightly strangled. "You never wear skirts."
"Of course. Convenience makes seduction easier."
Against the heated tension in the air, L chuckles breathily, "absolutely...you've got me where you want me, haven't you?"
Drawing back, gliding your tongue along your lower lip, you square your gaze with his, revel in the heat on his cheeks, the glassy, distant look in his eyes.
A brevity of silence, an unspoken internal debate, then L moves his hand from your hair to your cheek, cradling your jaw. "You are deserving of attention...and affection. The same might not be said of me, being the one who's failed to give that to you—"
"—but desiring and deserving are two separate things." You finish for him, mirror the gentle smile that he looks at you with, before closing the sparse distance between your mouths.
He tastes distinctly sweet; the heated kiss feeling like a sugar high, lighting you up from within after so long without it.
"Yes," he agrees with a muffled hum, deftly working a hand downwards, eagerly slipping his fingers under the narrow strip of fabric, tugging it aside as you raise your hips, "they certainly are."
It's rushed; patience and teasing cast aside as you wrap an arm around the back of his neck, break the kiss and lean forward with your mouth against his temple, one hand clutching the armrest as the head of his cock catches on your slick hole.
You don't hesitate to roll back onto him, take him in with one swift, searing glide until his cock is entirely sheathed within you, your thighs pressed flush against his angular hips.
L sighs sharply, your name whispered on the tail end of it, the sound lost beneath the debauched, satisfied moan you give.
"Oh...fuck, L." You whine, curl your fingers into the hair on the back of his head, "I've missed you." With a slight shift of your hips, the thickness of him felt everywhere, you start an indigent bounce of your waist, losing yourself in the way he fills you so perfectly.
L has no witty comeback this time; his mouth is open, lips against your throat as you press your cheek against the crown of his head, eyes screwed shut, blindly chasing pleasure.
Wrapping his arms around your waist, secure and deceivingly strong, L starts pushing and pulling you, coaxing you into a desperate pace that shatters the once still silence of the room; the obscene smack of skin, the audible slick of your arousal, the low, throaty moans he gives against your throat—he's missed this too, and however distant he is, for you he will come closer;
"I've...m-missed you, too."
His admission sparks something within you, makes your stomach tighten, your silken walls clench around him with a responding whimper. You pull on his hair, detach his mouth from your neck where he's been sucking mottles of purple, and quickly capture him in a messy kiss.
L reacts quick; licking past your teeth, shifting an arm high enough that he can tenderly grip the nape of your neck, bucking his hips up to the offbeat of yours, meeting you at the halfway point with enough force it rattles your spine.
It's fast and a touch on the rough side, your position on top him letting his cock drive so deep it's edging painful, but that sharpness is doing everything to whittle you down, your orgasm rapidly approaching; imminent, unstoppable.
"L...I-I'm...oh God, I'm g-going to c-cum—!"
Your voice pitches to an airy squeal, faces so close you can't look anywhere but the endless depths of his blown pupils—close enough L can see the crystalline wet of tears on your eyelashes.
He doesn't look away; he keeps you locked in that unflinching stare, groaning brokenly against your mouth, tasting of lust, "do it—I want...want to feel you."
Pleasure knots in your gut, tense and taut, and it's the pitched gravel in his voice that unravels it all at once; your thighs stiffen, spine innately arching enough that your head drops back, ecstasy arcing through your nerves like electricity—you cum on his cock with a cry of his name, pull on his hair fiercely to drag him into you.
His mouth finds your throat again, teeth grazing your skin as he grits out a stuttering groan. You're so tight around him, sucking him in, suffocating him; his fingers dig into your body subconsciously, yanking you down as you writhe in pleasure.
The way he pushes and pulls you is steeped in baser desire, carnal in a way that juxtaposes everything he is—drunk on lust, intoxicated with your body, L thrusts up into you unrelentingly, stretching out your orgasm until it feels like a perpetual stupor. Clinging to him, barely keeping your head above the surface, his voice is heard distantly, muddled in the fog.
"I'm...going to—w-where—" all his fine verbosity shatters on his tongue, reduced to a breathless, stuttering, groaning jumble of words; but your name, moaned out with urgency, is concise enough.
"Inside—" you gasp, "cum inside me, L—" gathering your bearings just enough to pull his hair once more, you put distance between you two, forcing him to look at you.
Through ragged breath, body tingling with residual waves of your orgasm, aching still but moving in time to his increasingly desperate thrusts, you brush your hand through his hair, drawing it back from his eyes.
"Feels so good, L...you feel so good—" you praise him, feel your heart flutter in your chest and your stomach swoop at the high moan he gives in reply—but it's the ineloquent, crass swear of "fuck" he grits out that takes you most.
You inhale sharply, grip his hair and squeeze around his cock, "oh my god," the fact that you're capable of reducing him to this, capable of rendering him to a thoughtless, lust-mad iteration of himself...it's enough to make you cum all over again—and you do.
It's weaker than the first, but it still makes your entire body sing with euphoria, rocking against him fervently, grinding your clit against his hard pelvis. The friction breaks him, has his hips buck up jerkily, falling into his release with a reedy moan.
He's always been inclined to hide his face when this moment comes; burrowing into the hollow of your throat, nestling between your shoulder blades, flinging an arm over his eyes—not this time. With a firm hold of his hair you tether him in place, bear witness to the way he comes undone;
and it is beautiful: his lips are parted, letting his noises fill the space between you; the acute awareness in his eyes replaced with a glossed over, delirious type of distance that only comes in these moments—when you're here to distract him.
His expression is twisted with a look more akin to agony than anything, lost in it as he cums deep inside you. You drink it in, stare into his eyes and ride out the last of your orgasm as his movements steadily slow, dissolving into a weak, trembling roll of his hips.
L's eyes, which had remained open through the intensity of the moment, slowly close. He gives a steadying exhale, loosens his grip on your body, and you don't stop the breathy giggle that bubbles up in your throat.
Brushing back his hair, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his sweat dampened forehead, "thank you, L."
"I feel as though I should be thanking you." He mutters, exhaustion felt in his voice, "I didn't realize how much I needed this."
"Thank me for being annoying? How unlike you." Teasing, you stroke his hair absently, admire his relaxed disposition; he looks as though he might fall asleep any moment.
You certainly wouldn't mind falling asleep either; his softening length still inside you, bodies slick with sweat, content to be a mess together—
"I've never found you annoying," he shifts, looks up at you with a sincerity that makes you blush;
"a pleasant distraction is rather fitting."
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