#i haven’t drawn in a long time and it shows….

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

[astraystayyh]

inhale, exhale.

model!hyunjin x photographer reader. mutual pining and tension and flirting. friends to lovers.

prequel to Breathe, so i highly recommend reading the second part if you haven’t already hehe. reader is wearing a dress/heels.

hyune gives me photoshoots and i give you brainrots in return it is the natural circle of life.. i hope you’ll enjoy this one too 🥹 feedback is highly appreciated as always <3

Hyunjin’s eyes are piercing, locking onto your figure with an intensity that seems to capture you in place. He’s leaning casually against his sleek black car, one leg crossed before the other, arms folded over his chest, unmoving as the sound of your heels echoes against the cobblestone.

Instead, he tilts his head ever so slightly at your approach, his eyes tracing the contours of your silhouette, setting ablaze the scarlet fabric of your gown with their fervent scrutiny.

It was those very brown eyes you first noticed when Minho showed you Hyunjin’s portfolio. You now know that he is drowned in a sea of accolades regarding his physique— his sculpted proportions, the tantalizing curve of his lips and the seductive caress of his fingertips against them, and above all, his alluring aura and the way he works the camera as if it as an extension of his being.

But it is his eyes that have drawn you in first. Piercing, even through a stack of printed photographs in Minho's hands, burning through paper to ensnare your attention. Even more so, when these same eyes found you for the first time, in an outing your best friend Minho organized— an aspiring photographer shaking the hands of an established model, it was a match made in heaven, per se.

Though heaven was the last thing to grace your mind as you looked at Hyunjin, at the way he carried himself with a grace, and a slight cockiness that only comes from knowing your worth.

You caught his eyes multiple times across the dinner table, your knees grazing his underneath it. You returned home with his perfume imprinted into your skin from the lengthy hours you spent talking over drinks, long after Minho went home to his lover, and three cats. You knew then that Hyunjin could never be just a friend to you.

You are even more sure of it tonight, a fleeting four months later. Minho, the heir of your country’s biggest talent agency is hosting his parent’s annual party, gathering photographers, models, and artistic directors alike, a chance to network and score deals you wouldn’t find elsewhere.

Hyunjin insisted on picking you up.

You pause barely a few inches away from Hyunjin, close enough for him to behold the glitter gracing your eyelids, shimmering beneath the moonlight. Smelling his perfume feels like coming home, and you close yourself for a millisecond longer, allowing yourself the electrifying pleasure of being a mere breath away from him.

“Hello, love,” he speaks softly, and his words morph into invisible fingers trailing down your spine, igniting goosebumps in their trail. You’ve never gotten used to this nickname and the way it stumbles so easily from his lips, as if you could, one day indeed, be his love, a reality hovering just beyond your grasp.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” you smile and his placid facade cracks a little, a glint of a grin shimmering on his lips. He drinks you in, his scrutiny deliberate and unhurried, his gaze moving languidly across your form, flickering between all your features as if he beheld time between his palms, and all his seconds could be spent admiring you. It is only when he seems satiated does he speak again.

“You’re beautiful,” he says earnestly, and you don’t miss his choice of phrasing, you’re beautiful as opposed to you look beautiful, as though it matters not what you are clad in, but the fact that it is you wearing it.

Oftentimes, your compliments to him feel superfluous, your words faltering when you think of the many times Hyunjin must have heard the same adjectives describing him. Yet tonight, you cannot conjure a sarcastic retort to drown his sweet words, not before his ebony suit and the satin shirt peeking beneath it, worst of all, the delicate cascade of gold necklaces that glisten mockingly underneath the stars, taunting you, almost, for being able to graze Hyunjin’s skin when you cannot.

So, you settle for the truth.

“So are you.”

“Complimenting me quite easily tonight?” He smirks, and you respond with an exaggerated eye roll, leaning in closer.

“Forget it. You're actually insufferable.”

He mirrors your movement, drawing nearer until your breaths mingle in the space between you both. “I am actually very lovable, thank you very much.”

“Says who?” you challenge, a hint of defiance coloring your words. The kiss he imprints on the tip of your nose comes like clockwork at your words.

“You,” he grins, and you falter, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness of his gesture. Heat rises to your face, a blush betraying your composure, even beneath your already pink-kissed cheeks, and you curse inwardly at your own vulnerability.

You hate him. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to kiss someone this badly.

He observes your reaction with amusement, a knowing smile playing upon his lips as he taps the car door once before opening it for you. “After you, love.”

Stepping into the sports car feels like walking into Hyunjin’s essence— the rich cognac and oak notes ricocheting off the interior, the scarlet red cushions echoing the passion Hyunjin seems to carry within him.

And amidst the opulent interior, the small water lilies keychain you brought him seems almost out of place, as it dangles from the rearview mirror. Yet, it makes you feel as if part of you has intermingled with Hyunjin’s being, even in the most simplest of ways.

“Are you nervous?” Hyunjin asks ten minutes into your ride, his fingers drumming along the edge of the steering wheel. Your gaze drifts to the golden rings adorning his fingers, each one bearing the iconic emblem of Versace's Medusa. In another life, he could easily be their ambassador and muse.

Hyunjin’s eyes are piercing, not only because of the flames they dip your body in but also because of the gentle way they unravel your layers, understand your silences more than others grasp your words.

“I am. It’s my first time coming as a graduate, you know? What if I don’t leave a good impression on anyone?”

“Impossible.”

Had someone else uttered those words you would have been inclined to contradict them, but Hyunjin speaks with utmost certainty, as if his words are the only conceivable reply to yours.

“Okay.”

His fingers trail along the shell of your ear, delicately tucking a stray lock of hair behind it. The breaths in your chest ebb and flow more rapidly, you don’t know if it is from nerves or his touch.

“Inhale with me,” he instructs, and you follow his lead, synchronizing your breath with his. His hand glides down your jawline, a gentle caress that soothes your racing pulse. “Exhale,” he murmurs, and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, comforted by the weight of his touch.

You know the ghost of his fingertips will remain with you as the night wears on, a reminder that he is near, just around the corner, waiting for you to call him.

“You’ll do well, I’m sure of it.”

The gathering is held in a different location every year, and this time, Minho chose an intimate setting—a dimly lit hotel bar, graced by the warm glow of chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, brown leather seats surrounding glass tables, and extravagant flower arrangements.

For a split second, your back instinctively hunches, a reflexive response before this detailed showcase of luxury. But then you straighten your spine, comforted by the sound of your clicking heels against the polished floor, and Hyunjin's warm palm against your lower back.

You reach for a drink from a passing tray, the glass cool against your fingertips as you swirl the cocktail within. You take note of the numerous guests, as you cast a glance around the room, each one a titan in their creative field. Hyunjin stands at your side, his shoulder brushing against yours, as he too takes his time in assessing the room.

“Seems kind of boring,” Hyunjin remarks, his voice laced with a hint of disinterest as he leisurely sips his drink.

“Seems like your scene,” you tease, flashing him a playful grin, and he arches a brow in response.

“Oh yeah? And what is my scene?”

“An intimate setting with romantic lighting and jazz music,” you explain, taking a step closer and resting a hand delicately on his arm. “And some wine,” you add, though his attention is captivated by the movement of your shimmering lips as you speak. “And pretty people eyeing you all over the place.”

“Are they?” he counters, his hand sliding slowly to your waist, drawing you nearer with a subtle pull. “I only see you.”

“Really?” you challenge, trailing a finger tantalizingly slow along his jawline, “Then make sure your eyes never leave me throughout the night.”

His gaze remains fixed on your retreating form, a mixture of bewilderment and desire swirling in his eyes. He mutters a curse at the sight of your backless dress— it seems more than likely that you are a killer sent to end him by the end of the night.

It’s a few hours later, and Hyunjin has exhausted every social bone in his being, each interaction draining his reserves of charm and charisma. All he craves now is rest, and the comfort of his home—it turns out that, lately, it is more and more wherever you are, rather than the confines of his house.

He spots you sitting in a secluded corner, bathed in the soft glow of a solitary candle. A gentle smile graces his lips as he observes you, engrossed in nibbling at the snacks laid out before you.

Do you even realize how beautiful you are?

“You’re whipped,” Minho's voice interrupts his thoughts, Hyunjin does not contradict him.

“Is it that obvious?” he replies with a hint of amusement, his eyes never flickering away from your figure.

“You should see how you look at them.”

“Is it weird that everywhere we go, the world seems to narrow down to them alone?” he admits, a tinge of uncertainty coloring his words. The silence that follows from Minho makes a scorching heat creep up his neck, so he unbuttons his shirt for a bit of respite.

Minho shakes his head, a small giggle escaping his lips, before offering a reassuring clap on Hyunjin’s back. “I’ll see you around.”

Hyunjin quickly strides towards you, eager not to waste any seconds far from you, propelled by a longing that grips him like a second skin. He thinks you’re much closer to his heart than the necklaces brushing against his bare chest.

“Found you,” Hyunjin announces with a grin as he settles onto the couch across from you. Your body relaxes once you recognize him, your smile blooms akin to the first petals unfurling in spring.

“See, you didn’t look at me all night,” you pout teasingly and he chuckles, tipping his head back.

“I actually was. I was looking at you, through my heart.”

“How does that even work?”

He hesitates for a moment before his next words spill forth, unfiltered and raw. “I don't need to see you to know that you are near, I just feel it.”

A moment of silence hangs between you before you smile sheepishly, tilting your head to the side in wonder. “How was your night?”

“Productive but tiring, and you?” he replies, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the warmth of your presence.

“I got a booking, a big one,” you announce with a grin, and his own smile mirrors yours instantly, his happiness following yours as if tethered by an invisible string.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think I'll need your help. It needs to be in a bathtub and I know you are busy so it’s okay if—”

“I’m all yours,” he interrupts without hesitation, and you nod, heart swelling with gratitude.

It is quiet then, as you rest your head against the corner of the couch, and Hyunjin mirrors your gesture, his gaze never wavering from yours. The soft flicker of candlelight casts a warm glow upon his bare skin, the one unveiled by his unbuttoned shirt. And your mouth suddenly feels dry, and your heart suddenly aches, for him alone.

He brings his hand near his face, his rosy lips brushing against his knuckles, as your eyes trace the contours of his face— it seems to possess an otherworldly radiance, with dark locks cascading like silken strands, as if meticulously arranged by the hand of Aphrodite herself. Surely, she would adore him too, as would anyone who had the privilege of knowing him.

But you believe your adoration surpasses that of most.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to rest delicately on his knee. “For finding me again.”

In response, his eyes soften, a gentleness that transcends mere words seeping into his gaze. He's no longer just around the corner; he’s right behind the door, both your hands poised on the doorknob. It is only a matter of time before one of you takes the plunge.

“Thank you for letting me find you.”

#skz au #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #it’s 1 am pls excuse any mistake #ill post this and sleep

[cloudcastor]

soriku week day 1- holy

#my art #soriku #kh #something something the end of the world feels very church like with the chorus music and being Hioly requires sacrifice etc etc #Hioly….HOLY #anyway also wanted to show sora’s face since we always see riku’s #i haven’t drawn in a long time and it shows…. #idk if i’ll do every day but #sowiku!!!!!! give me strength in these trying times #sora x riku #kingdom hearts #soriku week 2023

[bheaste]

y/n being smaller than Wally is making me wheeze

Listen ol buddy, ol pal. I made an intricate AU of welcome home where Wally is 1-3 inches taller than y/n….

And that’s it. That’s the AU. Very original, yes?

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #I will draw the canon height tho #just testing my art skills right now #I’m pretty rusty #I haven’t drawn in a long time #ask

[sugargliderowl]

Crowley Sketch Study 🍷

Also Good Omens 2 was REALLY GOOD. I WAS SO HAPPY UNTIL THAT LAST MOMENT.

#good omens #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens crowley #anthony j crowley #it was such a good show!!! #we love mr gaiman #also yes I just did this because I haven’t drawn profiles for such a long time #i’ve done paintings and all but not people #and if it was it was for practice and funsies #sgo art #sgo sketches

[silentgrim]

your art has been so cute and it's so sweet of you to do too! i keep looking forward to seeing whoever you end up drawing next :)

aaa thank you!!! 😭 i’ve been really insecure about it,,, tho i’m glad you like it! you just gave me a confidence boost so thank u! 🤍

#i have a long list of sims to draw #just need to fight for some time i’ve been really busy these days #luckily today i have the day off 🙏 #so we’ll see! #i do feel like i’m improving #which is a big plus! definitely my goal of this drawing adventure #considering i haven’t drawn anything since middle school…so like 10 years or so #my art teacher form that time was a HUGE asshole #she really bullied and degraded lots of kids #she got fired eventually #right when i entered highschool tho #but she had caused enough damaged to lots of kids myself included #so yeah #it’s been a huge step showing my art on social media! even tho i want to choke myself after posting it #anyway #much love to you anon!! 🤍 #thank you!!! #ask #anon

[dekariosclan]

NSFW Gale Headcanons (18+)

Some (soft and sexy) thoughts about being loved by the Wizard of Waterdeep…

Gale doesn’t “dabble” in things. He has no interest in being a Jack of All Trades. No, Gale wants to master things. He wants to be the best at things: Magic, the Weave, Wizardly knowledge, etc. For him, true joy isn’t in trying something different, but in becoming an expert in his favorite subject. And guess what? His new (and permanent!) favorite subject is YOU.

Gale, while waxing poetic, has often compared himself to a book: “I require only your gentle hands to turn my pages.” And this is true of how he thinks of you, as well. You are his most treasured Tome, one that he intends to study thoroughly again and again, delighting at finding new passages that he may have overlooked, or finding new meaning in a sentence he’s read a thousand times before. And like a beloved novel written by a favorite author, he will never grow tired of reading you.

But he wants more than to just understand you. He wants to know how to captivate you, the way that you’ve captivated him, body and soul. He loves you more than anyone, and he wants to show you, in more ways than just words and professions of love will allow.

He wants to know exactly how to pull you into an embrace and where to place his lips on your neck to make you shiver. What words to whisper into your ear to make your knees go weak…and to make you wet. He wants to know what secret fantasies you have, no matter how outlandish they may seem, because aren’t you clever? You’ve gone and made a wizard fall in love with you, and nothing is impossible for a man who can craft illusions with his hands—nevermind what he can do with his tongue.

And Gale wants to indulge you. He wants to please you, because he will never grow tired of seeing the endless depths of love and adoration in your eyes when you look at him. Something he never saw, no matter how hard he looked, or how long he looked, into Mystra’s eyes.

One important note: Gale is a monogamous lover. He is not a boring lover.

He wants to know how to make you cum the fastest. How to make you cum the hardest. He wants to make you scream his name so loudly that the Gods can hear it. He loves to taste you, after a grueling trek, after a cleansing bath, in the night or in the morning. He’s made it his personal mission to worship your body in every way possible.

Gale will run his fingers (and lips) gently over your scars. He doesn’t find them to be imperfections. They are key chapters in the story of you, and all the more precious because they make you real. A real human with real flaws, just like him.

Lingerie will be met with an appreciative rumble from Gale, (he always enjoys discussing what’s on your hind—ah, MIND…) but he honestly finds you gorgeous in all states: Dirty or clean. In or out of your armor. Naked or clothed.

He rather likes it when you tease him, especially on the battlefield, when his eyes are already drawn to you like a moth to a flame. The way you position yourself a certain way to allow him to see a hint of your naked thigh under your armor is always…appreciated.

But if you really want to drive him wild? Buy him a book detailing some new positions for lovemaking that you think he would be interested in (and that you haven’t tried yet) then watch as his eyes roll back in his head with pure lust. And if it’s a first edition copy? He might actually pass out as all the blood leaves his head for…another part of his body.

After you both have worn yourselves out reenacting the positions described, and often (at your insistence) more than once, he’ll lie awake thinking about how much he adores you until you both drift off to sleep.

And then…at other times…

…he’ll lie awake and stare up into the cosmos, his arm around you as you sleep with your head on his chest, and he’ll think of how he once dreamed of becoming a God. And how it was you, and the thought of losing you, that stopped his foolishness, and allowed him to rewrite his story. To prevent it from becoming a tragedy.

Then he’ll press a kiss into your hair, softly, so as not to wake you, and thank all the Gods above that he’s not one of them.

He couldn’t imagine how unbearable eternity would have been, if it meant he couldn’t have you.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3

[onelittlespiral]

FML:Relax

From the moment I arrived, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had come on vacation to kick back for a few days and get some action, but the resort had nearly no women and was instead populated with almost all men. They seemed like nice guys when I talked to them, certainly my kind of guys with how jacked they were. Or at least I thought so.

“Hey cutie, wanna come spend some time with daddy?”

“A newbie! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle and sweet with you.”

“You looking to top or bottom?”

I realized I must have come on the Gay Days, and the men there were not shy about coming on to me. I tried to politely excuse myself whenever they turned the topic to sex. I spent a lot of time at the pool trying to just relax and have a good time, but it was starting to tick me off.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.”

A man came and sat next to me. He was a scruffy guy, tanned and huge like most of the rest of them. The scent of sunscreen and BO rolled off him. His arms were wrapped in some nerdy tattoos but their size clearly showed he worked out hard. If he wasn’t here this week I would assume him to be a good pick for a gym bud.

“Yeah, first time. Didn’t realize I booked…uh…this week. Not really my scene.”

Something in his demeanor changed. It was hard to describe, but I felt a lot more at ease. He leaned over and began whisper to me,

“If I’m being honest. It isn’t much for me either. But fuck these gay guys know how to party. They’ve got just about anything you could want to take, and basically just pass the shit around. You ever actually tried poppers? I was fucked up bro.”

Maybe it was finally meeting another straight guy but I began relaxing.

He continued, “I got some stashed if you want to swing by and try some shit out.”

Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be such a wash.

I stopped by his room later that afternoon. He greeted me at the door and invited me in as he promised to show off the goods. The room was trashed. The floor was strewn with dirty shirts, shorts, and jockstraps. Shot glasses and beers were stuck to the tables. The bed was drenched in sweat. I stepped in and took a seat on the couch, cautions to avoid the mess. He sat down next to me.

“So, what have you got?”

“You now babe,” he said, throwing his arm in the air.

“Whaaaa…haaa” I started before my brain was afloat.

I slowly leaned forward, drawn in by the thick musk that radiated from his pit. I tried to resist but soon my nose was pressed against it as his sweat filled my brain. I tried to pull back but he rested his arm against the back of my head, pinning me as my brain shut down on the fumes. It wasn’t long before my tongue lolled out of my mouth.

“There you go. Relax. Good boy.”

Good boy. It echoed in my brain, bouncing till it was the only thought left. I quivered in anticipation as I continued to drink in his scent and let his hair tickle my face.

“Yeah, lap it up big boy. This is right where you belong. It was designed just for you, to trap guys and help them fit in a bit more.”

What did he mean by that? But as he told me to lap it up, it was no longer good enough to just smell. I gave a hesitant lick. It only took one as his sweat swam across my mind. All functionality shut down as I worshipped that pit. As I did, I began to feel a change. Deep within an itch, a need developed. A need to be desired by this man… no. To be desired by men. Any who would have me. I felt a new power flow through me, a revitalized energy and strength. He pulled my dumbstruck face out of his pit and gave my hair a quick tousle. His hand glided down my cheek to my chin, and with a firm flick of his wrist pulled my lips to his. He pressed my face to his in a deep kiss as new memories filled my mind. Memories of long nights dancing and drinking at bars. Days working out getting shredded before hitting the sauna for some fun. Of pride parades and glitter in my beard. The longer he kissed me the more I felt myself grow completely comfortable in his arms. I belonged here, with all the hottest guys living it up for a week at the resort. I had been coming here for years to show off, party hard, and fuck into the early morning. My old self was being flushed away, leaking out of my cock, while the new personality filled in the gaps.

My body began to change where his hands brushed over my body. Arms swelled as biceps grew to mounds on my arms. Pecs hung heavy with muscle. Thighs and legs sent slow rips through my shorts until they had burst through, leaving my swelling cock to fight the jockstrap underneath. Feet inched across the floor as my toes curled from the strain. Every inch writhed beneath his touch. He pulled me back to inspect me.

“Damn you’re turning out well, some of my finest work.”

I mumbled in agreement, still stuck in a state of ecstasy as I felt new power surging through me. “Time to seal the deal.”

He slid his jock down, and the full force of his sweat and musk sent my brain swimming. I couldn’t resist as he slid his cock down my open throat, balls deep, and began face fucking me. As his bush filled my nostrils, pre slid down my throat in a steady stream. I felt warm all over, as a deep tan set in. I had come to this resort for years and loved sunbathing and showing off my muscles. The heat persisted, turning to a sweat, the sweat turning to a deep funk. It was the same smell invading my mind and body as he continued to thrust, deeper as my body adjusted to years of sucking men off. It felt like no surprise as a dusting of hair covered my pecs, then pushed down my stomach before my shaved down bush exploded. My pits filled in to better capture my own smell, and keep me just a little high on my own supply.

“Fuck yeah little bro, you’re gonna be so good out there.”

He slipped a hat over my head, and my mind filled with a new purpose. To kick back at this resort and fucking party. To feel pride in who I was and become one of the community. But, most importantly, to grow the tribe and bring more guys into the fold. I felt his cock tense in my mouth as my mind slowed down to accept my place as a gay god, to worship my bros and be worshiped. As thick ropes shot down my throat, I felt strong. I smelt rank. And I was fucking home.

The next day, a new guy showed up to the resort. Skinny, shy, out of place. I came over to talk with him.

“First time here, bro?”

“Yeah, not quite sure I belong.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. Throwing my arm behind my head. My musk caught his attention as his eyes began glazing over, “Why don’t I show you around?”

“Ye…yeah…yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” his face was soon resting in my pit, and I saw his muscles twitch with anticipation, “you’re gonna fit right in bro.”

#hypnosis #bro #male transformation #straight to gay #musk #fml

[despairots]

━━ [ LYNEY! ] OBSESSED & FIXATED.

[ gender neutral! reader / they them pronouns used! for everybody! ] ━━ genre: fluff & small suggestive themes.

content warning ━━ light suggestive themes, swearing, lyney having cringy pick up lines but it’s okay because it’s lyney. shit writing since i haven’t written in a long time :( [ authors note: i love lyney so much, him and nikolai made me realize i love magicians & i might make a bsd masterlist soon cuz i also fixated on that. i remember watching season 1 of bsd in 2020 but got bored so i stopped but i started watching a month ago so. ]

lyney and lynette’s magic show always makes your day, it was one of your favourite parts of your day. watching them pull magic tricks on the audience and you, despite you knowing how they work were still entertaining.

what made your heart accelerate was when lyney’s eyes would laid on you, with that flamboyant smirk and tipping his hat towards you could make anyone swoon, and it wasn’t a coincidence that you’ve fallen in love with him.

it was coincidence that you had bumped into him despite you trying to avoid him, it was like something drawn you in to have met him in person, and embarrassing enough, he had caught you by the waist even though you weren’t going to fall on the ground.

“hello there, my dearest lotus bloom.” he teased, pulling you up and planting a kiss on your gloved hands, flustering you. “lyney! i— um.. sorry for bumping into you.” you apologized, covering half of your flustered face with the back of your other hand.

he chuckled with closed eyes, his hand still holding onto yours, “don’t worry, my lotus bloom. i wanted you to bump into me.” his words confused you but it wasn’t as if he didn’t spoke in riddles or won’t elaborate why.

bump into you? he noticed your confusion as he chuckled again, pulling a rose behind your ear and handing it to you, flustering you even more. he was such a cliché it was adorable, and watching you get flustered just because of being around him made him feel pride swell deep inside him

he knew your flustered looks when his eyes landed on you and he knew his effects on you as well, it was quite obvious as lynette picked up on her twin brother being more extra then usual.

“are you trying to impress them?” lynette sighed into her tea cup, blowing some steam away as freminet had question on who she was talking about, “hmph! they just caught my eye, dear sister!” lyney huffed and crossed his arms, freminet and lynette looking at eachother, not believing his words.

“is it [name] you’re talking about it?” lyney instantly snapped his head towards his little brother, “[name], you say?” freminet nodded at lyney as he questioned on who freminet knows them, “[name]’s a painter, younger kids ask them if they could make a certain piece of art and they finish it within seconds.” freminet explained, and that was lyney’s final straw to make you his.

“i must say, my dear lotus bloom, you sure have caught my eye.” he smiled at you, the same smile that would swipe people of their feet as he flashed it at you, “caught your eye? but lyney, i’m just a regular guest in your audience.”

you raised an eyebrow, twirling the rose in your hand, looking down at it. lyney placed a finger under your chin and made you look at him, “you, [name], are a special guest in my audience.” he whispered, eyes flickering to your eyes and your lips.

you blinked at his words before red reached your cheeks quickly when your brain had process his words and his actions, his gloved thumb glided against your shaky bottom lip, “a very special one..” his voice went down a nouch, getting closer to your lips.

“lyney..” you whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder as he placed a hand on your waist to pull you closer.

you must be dreaming, right? wrong. everything you’re experiencing is real, every shape he traced into your skin was real and his lips on yours was real as well. nothing you are experiencing is fake.

you threw your arms around his neck to draw him closer, never wanting to be separated from him again since you two felt like puzzles pieces that fit with eachother.

who knew being obsessed and fixated would’ve helped you to get that boy.

#kaz. 💫 #genshin lyney #genshin impact lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x gender neutral reader #lyney x male reader #lyney x female reader #lyney and lynette #lynette #lynette genshin #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #fontaine #lynette genshin impact #freminet #freminet genshin #freminet genshin impact #fluff

[bloompompom]

rebounding; one-shot

“Don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

✧ content: ~10.5k words. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/roommate au. reader is dumped by unnamed boyfriend for "plot" purposes (what plot?), lighthearted with slight hurt/comfort + angst, complicated feelings, pure filth, eren’s bad with emotions but so are you, rough sex, praise, dirty talk, 'pretty girl' as a pet name, mentions of masturbation, light overstimulation, oral sex (f!receiving), protected PIV sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only

It was little more than a passing thought when Eren realized he hadn’t seen you since he’d been home. It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary, considering your boyfriend’s shoes strewn near the front door—Eren tripped over one earlier—but he thought you would have come out for a snack or a trip to the bathroom or something by now.

Perhaps it was best to give you two some privacy.

On his way out, he opted to text you instead of knocking on your door to check if you needed anything. He took his time gathering his wallet and keys, but even after a few minutes, you still hadn’t opened the message. He got the hint, loud and clear. 

The five-minute drive to the corner store didn’t eat up much time, and Eren spent the first half of the hour trying to figure out how to kill the next. He stalled for as long as he could, running down his mental checklist for household essentials and uselessly debating between soda brands. But after a while, he started to feel like a weirdo for stalking every aisle twice over. 

Eren didn’t like to be at the apartment when he was there, your boyfriend. It wasn’t anything personal—

Okay, maybe he could admit it was a little personal. Eren had told you before that he was a major douchebag, but hey, at least he was honest.

Anyway, it wasn’t like anyone wanted to be around when their roommate was getting laid, but Eren had nowhere else to go and a gas tank bordering on empty. He couldn’t even take the long way back home. 

Somewhere in his gut, Eren hoped you’d be there to greet him when he returned. Not for any special reason; he was just bored. What was the point of having a roommate if they were always locked away in their bedroom? 

Of course, you’d only been ‘locked away’ for a handful of hours, but that was like an eternity to Eren—always one for dramatics. For him, it was an ordinary Tuesday night, with nothing to see or do except wait until he was tired enough to sleep. He couldn’t even enjoy his show because you scolded him for putting on an episode while you were out. ‘I can’t believe you watched our show without me!’ He wasn’t sure when the ‘our show’ thing started because it didn’t even seem like you paid it any attention.

Unfortunately for him, when Eren stepped through the front door, you weren’t curled in your usual nook on the couch. Your boyfriend’s shoes were still annoyingly kicked to the side, and not a single thing had changed since he left. The apartment wasn’t that spacious, and it didn’t take long to learn the walls were about as thin as cardboard, which made the silence eerie as Eren slipped from his shoes. Even the metallic clang of his keys on the table felt out of place, like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Something was off. 

Before he could put his finger on it—before he could even crack open his bottle of soda—he discerned the first sign of life from your room. Shouting, but Eren couldn’t pick out if it belonged to you or him.

Your bedroom door swung open. Eren didn’t see it but heard the swoosh of it, the rickety wood shrieking in its hinges. Your boyfriend stormed down the hallway, shoulders tensed and hands drawn into fists at his side. What did Eren say about him being a douchebag again?

Then, he shot Eren this glare. This downright nasty glare for no good reason, flagrantly huffing and puffing his way to snatch his jacket. He was rough with it, leaving the chair wobbling but still upright. 

Prickly, and merely seconds away from acting on it, Eren’s disgust curled at his lip to return the sneer. But the asshole was out the door—even made sure to slam it behind him—before Eren could ask what the hell his problem was.

The apartment went quiet again. The door stopped quavering and the room was still. Though your boyfriend was gone, the strangely thick, suffocating air lingered. Eren didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t move, firmly planted in the center of the living room like his feet had taken root. He didn’t want to know what just happened, lest he wished to get wrapped up in your relationship drama, but he had this dreaded feeling he was about to learn regardless. Especially once the sniffling began, faint, but spilling from your room and into the hall. 

The door to your bedroom was still open. Eren grazed his knuckles against it, carefully trying to catch your attention. You saw only his head at first, tentatively poked around the corner. After he decided the coast was clear, he made himself known, loosely leaning against the doorframe like he always did when he had something to tell you.

Your instinct was to hide your face—to quickly swat away the tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. It was your best attempt at collecting yourself, but it was worthless because Eren had already seen the puffy-eyed look on your face.

You straightened out, uncrumpling your legs and letting them hang from the edge of the bed. You started to fumble over snot-coated words. “God, sorry. I probably look like a mess.”

Eren couldn’t begin to guess why you were apologizing, and immediately, he felt a pang of sympathy. Despite how it struck him iron-hot in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it. His body stiffened. 

Thinking (hoping) you’d laugh, or at the very least chuckle, he didn’t disagree with you. Instead, he pitched you a boyish yet well-meant, “What’s new?”

You pulled a face but otherwise ignored the comment, reaching toward the box of tissues on your nightstand. Eren was surprised there were any left, considering you were surrounded by what appeared to be a hundred of them. Balled up and scattered across your bed, the floor, and even one on your lap. He didn’t want to, but he took a cautious step into your room. He even took another, squeamishly watching you loudly blow your nose. 

He should say something, shouldn’t he?

“So,” Eren started, rocking back on his heels once. “What happened?”

You glanced over at him, still looking pretty awful. You had smeared the streaks of mascara across the crests of your cheeks, even to your temples, tinging them like soot. Eren’s stomach seized up as he fought off his primal urge to back away slowly and retreat to his bedroom. 

You sucked in a breath and answered, “We broke up.” Between the words, your bottom lip started to quiver. “He broke up with me.”

Say what you wanted about Eren—label him a cynic or accuse him of being heartless, perhaps both—but he didn’t particularly enjoy dealing with others’ emotions. To put it bluntly, they repulsed him, most especially the waterworks that accompanied them. 

Eren averted his eyes like you were some tragic spectacle. He hated seeing you like this. It was such a bummer, no different than spotting a kitten forgotten in a rainstorm. He wished he could console you, find an umbrella and run to your rescue, but that was much more complicated than it sounded. 

If he had known about the breakup earlier (if you had responded to his text message), he would have brought you something back from the store. Ice cream or red wine—the sort of stuff he’d seen in movies—he didn’t know. Ugh.

He remembered his bottle of soda, still sealed with its condensation cooling his hand. He extended it to you, offering, “Here. You can take this if you want.”

Face buried in your palms, you pried your gaze higher and, unexpectedly, grimaced.

“What? No, I don’t want that right now,” you grumbled. Eren could be such an idiot sometimes. 

Your voice was sour enough to sting, like he had purposefully salted your brand-new wound. His face said enough—a resounding yikes—but he didn’t stop there; he continued digging his own grave. 

Eren nodded his head in the general direction of the front door. “You know, he probably hasn’t gotten too far. I could go kick his—”

“I think I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, what if we—”

“Seriously, Eren,” you snapped. “Go away.”

Tears collected in the corners of your eyes again, welling up like dew. Then your bottom lip did that trembling thing again. It must have embarrassed you; that was why you rushed to slam the door in Eren’s face. At least, that was what he told himself, rather than admit you didn’t want his help, that he was only making things worse. That maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right then.

Honestly, that might have been the case. Not just in that fleeting moment but for the days to come.

It had been over a week since that night, a very strange eleven days in the little apartment you both called home. It wasn’t like you to keep to yourself. Even when Eren first moved in, when he was little more than a stranger to you, you liked his company. You told him as such. ‘I just like to have someone to talk to. That’s all.’ And you’d do just that, chatting to pass the time it’d take to wash the dishes or whatever menial task you were up to. Eren never minded, but it did make it harder to adjust to the quiet. He could even admit he missed your unnecessary commentary while he watched TV.

He supposed it was naive of him to think you’d bounce back from a breakup after only a week. But were you really that hung up on this guy?

No, Eren was sure you were giving him the cold shoulder for badgering you less than a minute after your boyfriend had stormed out. Not that it wasn’t deserved, but for the record, you never apologized for slamming the door in his face.

Neither of you wanted to lose this childish stand-off, nor were you above butting heads, no better than a couple of rams, if given the right provocation.

To outsiders, the two of you may seem like an unlikely pair. But the reality of it was you shared this apartment for well over a year now. Eren wasn’t your original roommate, that was your friend Mikasa. After a few months of living together, she was offered an internship a few hours south of here, out of commuting range, and took it on a whim. That internship turned into her dream job, and her friend Eren’s sublease turned into one of his own, for no other reason than it just worked; it was as simple as that. 

So one could imagine why Eren had trouble wrapping his head around it. By now, it was customary, borderline a requirement of living together, for you to annoy one another. You’d poke and poke and poke, as roommates tend to, and no matter what, the other would come around. Eren always did. You always did.

But this time, even Eren’s bribes didn’t work. Not even a latte from your favorite cafe—conveniently located on his walk home from the gym—softened you. That was when he knew it was bad, worse than when you discovered he’d been snitching from your expensive hair products in the shower. It was awkward and tense and, frankly, unbearable. 

It was Saturday night, probably creeping into Sunday morning. Eren’s eyes burned, a bit bloodshot when he last checked. He took it as his sign to shut off the computer. 

You still weren’t home. Eren didn’t know where you were; he told himself he didn’t care, but his rampant curiosity said otherwise. Throughout the night, he’d excuse himself from his video game, telling his friends he’d be back in a second, and on his way to ransack the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he’d check to see if your purse had returned to its rightful spot: draped over the back of the loveseat. For whatever reason, your absence irked him.

You knew there was a chance Eren would still be awake when you came home; you just didn’t expect to bump into him. 

You stood in your entryway, your coat only halfway down your arms and sagged around your elbows, when Eren emerged from the hallway. He had a hand shielded over his squinted eyes as they adjusted to the brash overhead light. 

His white tee held the wrinkles of his bedsheets. It was an old shirt, by the look of it, its collar drooped in the front and a hemline that appeared slightly thread-barren against his charcoal sweatpants. He must have fallen asleep with his hair tied back; stray strands framed his cheekbones and curtained his lidded eyes. He blinked them a few times, hard, then let his hand slump to his side. He studied you with a judgy once-over. 

“Did you just get home?” He sounded as groggy as he looked. 

“Yeah.” It was a rather redundant question, given your current state of toying with your strappy heels, bounding around on one foot as you tried to slip free of them.

Eren retrieved his phone from his pocket. “It’s almost three in the morning.” He showed you the screen as if you requested proof.

“So?”

“What were you doing out that late?”

You couldn’t decipher his tone, and for the life of you, you couldn’t read the expression on his face. For once, it was blank. Tired, but blank.

“It’s none of your business,” you snarked.

“It is when you wake me up.”

You had difficulty believing you had woken him up in the thirty seconds you’d been home. Regardless, you brushed him off with, “I was out with a friend.”

You were purposefully vague because it truly was none of his business. But you let your attitude seethe to the forefront, with it, an implication you didn’t intend. 

Eren gave you this look, stern and accusatory, but more than anything, he looked absolutely baffled with you. 

“You didn’t.”

He thought you went crawling back to your ex. 

You didn’t correct him in time to prevent his ranting and raving.

“You can’t be serious. After what he did?” He was referring to the nasty breakup. “After everything?” And that was referring to the rest. You were aware Eren had become an unlucky bystander to your relationship, frequently caught in the fallout of every nuclear fight. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep from the inner corners of his eyes as if it would clear his head. “You could be with anyone you want. Why go back to him?”

You were insulted he’d think so lowly of you, that you needed a fatherly lecture from him of all people. You were fixed on that, not reading between the lines when you barked, “So what if I did? Why do you even care so much?”

Eren didn’t care. What possibly gave you the impression he cared? You were a big girl, you could date whoever you pleased. You were certainly doing whatever you pleased; the only reason he was even talking to you—the only reason he was awake—was because of you, loudly stumbling through the front door in the middle of the night, unwilling to consider his perspective on the situation. 

A situation you created, by the way. Not just tonight but eleven days ago. It didn’t need to exist in the first place. The drama, the theatrics—all of it. You must have forgotten Eren wasn’t the one who dumped you. 

So in his mind, the better question was, “Why are you being like this?”

You defensively knotted your arms over your chest. “Like what?”

Eren opened his mouth, raring to sling some smart-ass comment your way, but he only stammered. He blamed it on the fact that he was torn out of his slumber and immediately thrown into the ring with you, but truthfully, he could have eight hours of sleep and a shot of espresso and still suck at this sort of thing. You know, emotions. 

Words failed him miserably. He gave up on them and waved a hand over you like you were supposed to know what he meant by it. “Weird and stuff.”

“Weird and stuff,” you mocked with a pointed scoff. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.” 

“You’re never here anymore,” he said in exasperation, “and when you are, you’re ignoring—no, you’re actively avoiding me.”

You wanted to do exactly that, to roll your eyes and stomp to your bedroom. Eren knew that. He was daring you to prove him right. 

In a way, ending a spat was much like defusing a bomb, wasn’t it? Both backed you into a corner, forcing you to make a decision on instinct alone. You’d clip a wire, red or blue, the choice was yours, and cross your fingers that it was over. You could deny, deny, deny, put it off for another day, just to see if it explodes. Or you could end it. 

You exhaled reluctantly. “I went out for drinks with Sasha. We went back to her place, got to talking, and I lost track of the time.” He matched your sigh, and you watched the sink in his shoulders. “The breakup was long overdue. I don’t think one night out would change anything between us.” 

You told Eren the truth not because it was any of his business but because guilt pitted your stomach. Yes, he was upset you woke him, you understood that. And undoubtedly, it was a part of the reason—at least why he was testier than normal, which was saying something—but hearing him now, you realized it ran much deeper than that. 

The tension in the room eased its grip on your throats. You sensed he was about to offer you some cliché, but if it would be anything like his last attempt at cheering you up, you weren’t interested. 

You beat him to it, confessing, “He dumped me because of you.”

The sentence fell to the floor with a blundering splat. You plopped this thing between you and expected him to know what to do with it. 

Eren’s eyes narrowed and flickered over you, head to toe. He took in your words, scrutinized and dissected them. Before he could draw his own hasty conclusions, you elaborated, “That’s the reason he broke up with me—why I’ve been avoiding you.”

He snorted derisively. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

“That’s what I said. But he told me I either had to move out—find a place of my own or live with him—or it was over.”

The mood shifted. Eren stared back at you apprehensively, waiting for you to go on as if you hadn’t made up your mind already—as if you were about to break your lease on the spot. He couldn’t fathom the obvious answer.

“And?” 

You exaggerated it when you extended your arms out at your sides. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You looked and looked at him, but for once, he didn’t say a thing. You disarmed him; he tucked his hands into his pockets in his own Eren-y way of surrendering. 

“It sounds stupid, but I like what we have. I like this,” you said genuinely, even if you weren’t quite sure what ‘this’ was—your living situation, your roommate-ship, your friendship with Eren. Whatever it was, it was comfortable, and maybe it was just some lame proverb, but you couldn’t help but think: if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

You shrugged. “And I’m definitely not about to ditch it for some jealous douchebag.”

He finally cracked. His lips bowed into a small smile. “At least you can finally admit it.”

Deep down—like way down in there—you recognized none of what happened was Eren’s fault, but that didn’t lessen the blow. It became easier to pretend as if he wasn’t there, just for a while. It was irrational, it was your gut reaction, and by the time you realized how petulant it was, you were too ashamed to fess up to it. All it took was a bit of cornering, you supposed.

You and Eren were too close, apparently. That was what your ex-boyfriend believed for however long he chose to keep it to himself. He stewed on it, a simmer at first, until it bubbled to a seething boil, splattering you when you removed the lid and asked, ‘Why have you been so distant lately?’

Once the argument ensued, it was like you no longer spoke the same language. Anything you said, any explanation you gave, wasn’t good enough. To him, you were irredeemable. He had already set his mind on that ultimatum—a rather expensive one at that. 

You weren’t oblivious to the fact that some may find it strange you were in a relationship with one man while living with another, but was it that bizarre a concept? It was how the cards fell, so you made the best of it, which wasn’t too difficult, actually. 

It became clear just how long it’d been bothering him when he began to list everything you’d done wrong over the months, even going as far as to count your crimes on his fingers. Looking back, you should have stopped him there; no one needed to be with that kind of person, anyway. 

Firstly, and what appeared to be your greatest sin, was that he hated when you borrowed Eren’s hoodies; it really didn’t happen often. Eren left them thrown about the apartment, so you’d only wear them to empty the trash when it was raining or when you went grab a coffee down the street on a chilly day. According to him, he was always finding them in your room.

You could appreciate his perspective on that one, but he should have mentioned it sooner. His second reason—and this was where they started to become silly—was that he ‘always’ (he used that word a lot) heard Eren in the background when he’d call. You told him it was farfetched to think Eren’s naturally loud demeanor was somehow your fault.

Then he became more upset, ridiculing you for, in his words, being all ‘Eren this, Eren that’ about everything—another exaggeration. In your defense, if you turned to Eren, it was only a matter of convenience because he was literally across the hall. You never explained this; he didn’t give you the chance, so you tuned out his other reasons, more focused on trying to make sense of this tailspin. 

It hit you then, not like a smack across the face; it was stealthier than that. It prowled from behind in a low rumble, creeping down your spine before pouncing, taking you captive in one go. 

“Eren?” 

The mildness in your voice surprised you. You spoke his name in a quiet request, the same way you would if you needed something from him (you did). He was immediately suspicious. Still, he met your eye, acknowledging you with knitted brows. 

Whenever you needed something, you turned to Eren.

You had to choose your words carefully, but there was no careful way to go about this. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, unwittingly wetting it. “Would you kiss me?”

What you needed now was to forget. To lose yourself in his body, just for one night.

The softness in his voice contended with your own. “Why?”

He didn’t say no. His face certainly didn’t say no, either. And he didn’t draw back when you neared him. 

Sasha spent the evening encouraging you to find a hookup, telling you the only way to get over someone was to get under another. But meeting someone new was hard.

“I don’t know,” you slowly said. “Just want to.” 

Eren flinched, only slightly, when you laid the tips of your fingers on the back of his wrist. You grazed them higher up his arm, noting how the hairs stood up as you went.

“Don’t you,” you started, in an almost temptatious way, “don’t you want to give it a try? I mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?”

He sucked in a breath and his lip went with it, pinched between his teeth. He shut his eyes because he was pretty sure he was about to kiss you. It didn’t help that the sight of you was incredibly distracting, either. He still had to decide what to do, and all the while, his thoughts juggled around in his head; he couldn’t hold onto one without losing another. 

It was a terrible idea. Downright awful. Even so, it didn’t feel so bad when he felt your hand on his chest, even if it made his heartbeat hammer.

Eren opened his eyes to your face, nothing else. He took you in, from the top of your head to the very tip of your chin. Your hair was a bit out of place, expected for three in the morning, but your eyes were as bright as if it were the middle of the afternoon. Something about them was alluring, though he couldn’t pin it. They grew, bigger and bigger, until they were out of focus. Closing in, your noses brushed, and Eren’s ‘yes’ died on his lips as he placed them to yours—an answer to one or both of your questions, he wasn’t sure. 

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you, losing his words between your lips as he asked, “Should we be doing this?”

You inched back, still extremely close, enough that your breath warmed him. “Why not?”

Eren knew you didn’t need him to break it down for you. You were Mikasa’s friend, his roommate. Someone he wanted to keep the peace with, even if you were making it difficult.

“Won’t it make things weird?”

“I thought I already made things weird. And stuff,” you teased. He shot you the unamused look you anticipated. “Whatever. You already pop a boner when you see me after the shower. Do you really think this is what will make things weird?”

Heat scorched the tips of Eren’s ears. It had only happened twice! And there was no way you knew about that. Unless you were looking for it, he supposed, but thinking about that made him more nervous.

It was that damn robe of yours. The one you only wore from time to time, the telltale sign laundry day was near. Eren had only seen it a few times, incidentally of course, just if you’d pass one another. Still, he could picture it then. It hardly counted as a robe, so frail that he was surprised anyone would spend money on it. It bordered on see-through, clinging to your body as you’d leave the steamy bathroom, into the cool hallway—

You lightly smacked his arm. “I’m just messing with you.”

He deflated in relief, but the feeling didn’t last long because you were still between his hands, sitting dangerously low on your waist. In that moment, his sense drizzled from him much like a leaky faucet: drop by drop at first, then a burst pipe. Now, he wasn’t sure there was even an ounce left. 

You batted your lashes at him. “C’mon, you’re really going to make me get off myself?”

Okay. Now he was absolutely certain any and all sense had drained from him. 

Eren swallowed hard. “Will this help you get over him? Because I’d really like to never see him again.”

Yeah, that worked. That was how he’d justify it: he was merely helping you out. Nothing more. Then things would be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. Better, even, because now he wouldn’t have to deal with your ex-boyfriend anymore. 

“Mhm,” you murmured, but desire had been lowly buzzing between your legs for the better half of the evening, leaving you fuzzy enough to agree to anything he said. Anything to keep the fire in you alive and burning. But right then, you weren’t sure if there was anything—no body of water great enough—that could douse it. You didn’t mind; you found pleasure in it because at least you weren’t burning alone. 

You went to kiss him again, but Eren dodged it with a small tick of his head.

“You just told me you liked this,” he said. “But now you’re willing to risk it? What if this is a mistake?”

He was still struggling to understand you. He always struggled to understand you, even after living with you for over a year, but this was next level. You had him dumbstruck.

Let there be no misunderstanding: Eren wanted this. He was just another twenty-something-year-old guy, of course he wanted this. It was just that he was also very aware of the consequences.  

You touched his mouth with the tips of your fingers. His lips were wet with your spit—a combination of yours and his. You pressed down, ever so lightly, to shush him. You didn’t want words; you wanted incoherency. Purposeless and meaningless sounds and syllables, groans pulled from the back of your throats. 

“If it’s a mistake, then let’s make it together.”

You invited him with a peck at first, a taste, then he pulled you back in to devour you whole.

Eren kissed the same way he lived: passionately, intensely, maddeningly. He was better at it than your ex, which you didn’t expect. The thought of what else he could do better made your stomach flip. 

His palm warmed your cheek as slender fingers wrapped around the back of your head. Like an anchor, it kept your lightheaded self tethered to him. He smelled of sleep, and he smelled like him. The heady scent coiled around you. You inhaled as you kissed him, and when his mouth dipped to the delicate skin behind your ear, you buried your nose in his hair. You imagined your face shoved in his sheets, how they’d smell the same. You’d inhale it then, too, through gasps and an agape mouth. 

You smoothed your hands higher on his chest, over his shoulders. Your nails gently scratched at Eren’s back, and even through his T-shirt, it set his nerves ablaze. 

The part of his brain demanding he pump the breaks finally shut down, his entire body thrilled by it. It was all physical, fueled by carnal desire. He acted solely on what he wanted, and that was for your lips to stay exactly where they were. To stop you now would feel like abandoning a hearth in the winter. Instead of taking his hands against your shoulders, pushing you away to create some distance, he molded them around your hips. 

You clasped your hands around his larger ones and placed them on your ass. You squeezed down on them, encouraging him to fondle you—to feel you—and he took to it as if he’d already thought about everywhere he’d like to grab. 

Mistake or not, Eren knew if he ended it now, the palms of his hands would feel hollow the second you’d left them. 

You didn’t bother debating between bedrooms and made the decision easy by heading for the couch. If you were being honest, you’d thought about fucking on this couch before—not with Eren obviously. The cushions were deep-set and roomier than most. It was evident you and Mikasa didn’t spend a fortune on it, but at least it was firm and wouldn’t give too much beneath you. You felt like it was made for fucking but respected your roommates enough not to give it a spin. But with Eren, everything was shared. Everything belonged to you and him. You could do it wherever you wished. 

Eren laid you back on the couch and positioned himself above you. You wriggled below him, attempting to make any space for him to fit between your legs. It was nearly impossible in such restricting denim. You mumbled a ‘hold on’ into his mouth as you darted your hands down for the button. He was eager to assist. Once your jeans were undone, he pulled them past your knees, freeing one leg so you could kick them off the other. 

Settled between your legs, Eren kissed you again, and you tasted the desire on each other’s tongues. His sweats did little to hide how hard, and heavy, he was against your leg. You imagined if you slipped a hand below his waistband you would find he wasn’t wearing boxers. 

You bunched his shirt in your fist. You tugged at the hem of it, lifting it out of your way so you could greedily glide your hand beneath. Tracing between the divots of his abs, you felt the way they tensed as you trailed higher up his chest. Once it was established that it wasn’t needed, Eren sat back on his calves to peel it over his head, and it was on the floor a second later. Yours was next, but it was a bit more complicated than his cotton tee. 

“What the fuck,” he muttered once he realized it wasn’t coming off. He fiddled with the strings tied around your neck, more frantic to get under the fabric with his fingers and tongue than he was concerned with being romantic. “How did you even get this thing on?”

“Sasha helped,” you relied matter-of-factly, though a bit breathless. 

Did she have to knot it this many times? 

You arched your back as Eren slipped his hands beneath you, blindly reaching for any of the ties. The straps had been digging into your shoulders all night, marking your skin with soft indentations. With every slackened string there was a sense of relief until, eventually, Eren had the shirt bunched around your midsection, your tits out. That was what mattered to him; he could figure out the rest later. 

He cupped your breast in his hand and brought his mouth to it. Your skin was supple and smooth under his impatient lips, balmy and warm from pressing your bodies together. With a pointed tongue, he flicked over your nipple. When it was perked, he sucked lightly until your breathing began to flutter. He pulled off you with a pop, thumbing over your nipple as he turned to gift his attention to the other. 

Eren’s touch was resolute, weighed down by hunger as his hand mapped its way down your side. It both unnerved and ignited you—the titillating vulnerability that came with being with someone new; how he caressed you for the purpose of exploring, seeing for himself what you liked best. 

Heat pooled in your stomach. Lapped at you like the tides, though far less tranquil. Summery waters lured you in, kept you still and contented beneath Eren, kissing him, letting him kiss you, everywhere. From your neck and the dip in the center of your collarbone, focusing the most on your breasts. Then at your hipbones next, where it tickled the most. He must have liked the sound you made, reminiscent of an airy giggle, because he grazed his teeth there, pulling the noise from you again. 

But as was certain, the tides would ebb; tepid waves turned to sea swells. Deep in your stomach, that dull yet glowy ache begged you to do something about it, your hips kneading into him, inviting him to tear off your underwear and fuck you already. 

Eren leaned back when his fingers met your underwear. He hooked the band of them with his index finger, toyingly sliding it along your stomach. On instinct, you twitched, feeling frustratingly helpless to him. You bit back a strangled murmur along with a hiss urging him to get on with it. 

Though your panties separated you and him, his eyes were still transfixed on where you wanted him most. And he knew how badly you wanted him there by the telling damp spot on the fabric.

Eren pressed the pad of his thumb to it, his other fingers rested atop your pelvis. He made soft circles against you, slow and testing. He observed every flick and flinch in your expression, his mouth slightly slacked in a smile that widened with your whimpers. 

When he finally started to remove your underwear, it revealed just how wet you were for him—for your roommate. The back of your neck fevered when you noticed the lewd string connecting you to the soaked fabric. Eren snapped it with his thumb, and your humiliation only worsened when you watched him bring it to his mouth.

He didn’t anticipate going down on you. You only wanted to get off, and so did he, and a quick fuck would more than achieve that. But as he played with your clit, your tiny moans had him craving to hear how you sounded when you were wrecked, sobbing out for more. And with the way you were spread and dripping below him—well, he wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste. Not with how sweet you tasted. 

So without hesitation, Eren dove between your thighs, gripping your hips and pulling you against the heat of his mouth. 

Immediately, you throw your head back. It bumped the armrest with a thud loud enough to catch Eren’s attention. He glanced up to check on you, and right then, you found the sight of him inexplicitly striking. You didn’t know why, but it was as if his piercing eyes had pinned you to the spot for him, like he had control despite being down between your legs. You went blind to anything but him and his eyes, dazzlingly green against the flush tinting his cheeks. 

Once he realized you were all right—it didn’t faze you one bit—Eren pressed a kiss against your clit before swiping his tongue through you. You shivered as he licked you with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue, savoring you, the button tip of his nose nudging your clit. 

“Oh, God,” you breathed sharply, chin tucked to your chest, following it with a series of heavenly moans that were anything but holy.

Eren parted you with two fingers. He added more pressure with his tongue and swirled it around your clit. You screwed your lips together rather than allowing another cry to spill from you. It bubbled in your throat, and you swallowed thickly to keep it at bay before the neighbors could learn how debauched you sounded when Eren made you come. But when he closed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, you had no choice but to bite your knuckle instead. 

Admittedly, you had wondered if he was actually talented at this or if the girls on the other side of his bedroom walls were only trying to boost his ego. He answered your inexplicit question by delving his tongue inside you, fucking you with it. 

“Don’t stop,” you rushed to choke out, your back curving up from the cushions. “I’m almost there.” 

Closer. You needed him closer.

You clung your hand to his head, raked your fingers through his hair. The useless tie slipped from it as you disheveled his bed head further. You pushed back the pieces that hid him from you, tugging as you angled him to the spot that made your thighs quiver. 

“Do that again,” Eren breathed, fanning the command over you. 

You did. He groaned, and you felt the couch shift as he rutted into it. 

Your stomach contracted, that last gasp hitching in your lungs. Whatever glorious thing he was doing with his tongue felt like fire licking up your spine. He brought you to the very brink of becoming undone until you were writhing as you teetered it. 

It was slick between your legs, you and the cushion beneath you drenched in your arousal and saliva. Eren’s mouth slipped around the more you wiggled. It didn’t matter where he held you, how deep his fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, he couldn’t keep you still. At this rate, you’d fall off the couch, undoubtedly taking him with you. 

Eren wrapped his hands around the backs of your knees, pinning them to your chest in a reminder to hold them out of his way. You replaced his hands with your own, whining when you felt his fingers at your slit. He glided them between you, coating them until they slipped right inside. He dragged them in and out of you, increasing his speed until he discovered the tempo that made you pulse around him. Then he curled them, just right, aiding his tongue in driving you to your release. 

“I’m coming—fuck, I’m coming,” you whispered, ragged and hardly audible at the end.

Eren sounded equally muffled, groaning as you started rolling your hips over his mouth. You heard him mumbling, but it was distant and overshadowed by your heart thrumming in your ears. You couldn’t make out what he was saying—something about how fucking hot it was—but you felt his raspy timbre vibrating against you as you shattered. 

Your legs dropped to your sides, quivering as you rode out the final pulses of your orgasm. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything but finding your breath.

Eren planted a long kiss against you, easing you down with wet, open-mouthed kisses, trailed from your inner thighs to below your navel. Each sent another shock through you. He continued until you were face-to-face again. 

“How was that?” Eren asked. He was cheeky with it, grinning and everything, so you responded by flicking his bicep. 

He was still smug about it as he tilted to kiss beneath your jaw, intermittently nibbling at your earlobe. You lolled your head back, offering the expanse of your neck to him. But when you saw him reach for the band of his sweatpants, you rested a hand against his arm.

It took him a second, but when it clicked, he said, “Condom. Right,” and pushed himself off the couch.

Your shirt was still gathered around your midsection, clammy and sticking to your skin. You wriggled free of it, shimmying it over your head before you flung it to the opposite side of the room. It felt wrong to lay on the couch like this, bare and fully exposed. You thought to cover up with a blanket but reminded yourself there was no point; it’d be on the floor, just like everything else, in a matter of minutes. 

You were still lying there, fidgety and a bit limp, when Eren returned. He was rustling with the condom wrapper as he joined you on the couch. Calmly as ever, like he’d done it a million times before, he lifted your legs to make room, setting them over his lap as he sat beside you. He smirked to himself when he noticed you were shaky in his grasp. 

Eren leaned in as you rose to meet him. One of his hands supported your lower back while his other trailed up your inner thigh. His fingertips ghosted over the spots he had tasted not long ago until he was back between your legs, almost like he had never left. You melted into him with a dreamy sigh the instant he began to rub gently, placing his lips to yours as he did. 

You looped your arms around his neck. His hand left your back, and you heard the familiar crinkling as he reached for the condom.

Eren reveled in every flimsy little breath you let spill into his mouth. He tightened his circles, expertly attuned to your clit. He gauged your reaction, noticing when your lips began to stutter against his own. He felt them curve into a small ‘o’ as he picked up where you couldn’t—kissing you, sucking your tongue, skimming his teeth along it, until your angelic sounds turned depraved.

The intensity at which Eren wanted this—wanted you—surprised him. You had barely spoken in eleven days, and he spent the better of the night grumbling and bitter about it, positive you’d never want to see him again. Now, it was as if you never wanted to leave his lap, and he wasn’t sure he’d let you. He could play with your perfect pussy all night; so perfect that he had no choice but to give you a taste; how warm and wet and soft you were around his fingers; how you’d feel even better around his cock. 

Just thinking about it had him rutting into your leg, just once, in a helpless search for friction. 

Eren caught your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted you away from his lips as he spoke against the side of your face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your face was puckered, squishing your languid and needy, “Yes.”

He angled your jaw further. “Then tell me how you want it.”

You felt his lips tickle over your pulse point. Kissing it, sucking it, nipping at it.

“Fuck,” you cursed on an agonizingly long hiss. 

“Well obviously.” Eren gave a breathy laugh. The vibrato of it echoed through you. “Look at me.” You did, as much as you could; he was still cupping your face. “How do you want me to fuck you.”

You shook his hand off, panting, “I want it rough.” Grabbing him by the shoulder, you pulled him down until he collapsed over you. You smoothed his hair back before taking his face between your hands. You wanted to see the reaction in his eyes when you told him, “Let me feel it.”

You said it as if you’d thought about it before. Eren couldn’t help but wonder if your ex did, in fact, have a reason to worry. He told himself it was a problem for tomorrow and didn’t question it again. Tonight, his only obstacle was that he was still in his sweatpants, but it was swiftly resolved when you both reached for them. 

Once they were gone, Eren sloppily licked his palm. You’d almost call it crass if it didn’t shamefully turn you on, watching him wrap his hand around his cock. His eyelashes fluttered at the small bit of release. He fisted himself a few times, unbothered by your blatant staring, before rolling the condom on. 

He had you on your back, your head laid on the armrest again. One of your legs was hitched around his waist, and your other dangled from the couch, creating enough space for him to nestle in between.

You felt him—how hard he was for you—pressed in the crease of your thigh. With a hand around his base, he lined himself up with you. The tip of his cock threatened to push inside you, but he only glided it between your folds in one slow, encompassing stroke. And just as slowly, an overwhelming warmth tingled down your spine. 

Eren continued toying with your clit. The condom’s lube and your wetness made it easy for the head of his cock to slip between you, to dip inside and tease you. But it wasn’t long before he was only teasing himself. Teeming with anticipation, you were already clenching around him so nicely, and he hadn’t even put more than the tip in. 

It wasn’t like he was any better. When Eren felt your heel dig into his lower back, wordlessly pleading with him to fuck you, he succumbed. Not with a tilt of his hips but with one plunging thrust.

Your mouth hinged open, but nothing came out. Your wilted gasp was lost somewhere in the depths of your throat. You swallowed it down before you could choke.

Caged between his arms, you were close enough to catch the slight tremble in his biceps, only once he had filled you, entirely, his body flush against your own. Above you, Eren’s eyes squeezed shut. His lips parted in a shaky, dare you say it, beautiful sigh. Thrilled, your muscles naturally spasmed around the thick of him.

Eren stilled to adjust to you; your sensitive, needy pussy wasn’t making it easy on him. Of course, you felt fucking amazing. Just as good as he imagined, but so much tighter when he split you on his cock, not with his fingers. 

He took his sweet time pulling out of you, losing himself a little more as he went, ensuring you felt every inch of him, just to bury inside you generously again. 

Eren fucked you with smooth rolls of his hips. And God, it was effortless how he slid into you, over and over, thanks to how wet you were. You scraped at the cushion as if it were a bed sheet, as if you could twist the taut fabric between your fingers to ground yourself. 

Once Eren discovered a pace that had you both breathing harder, his head dropped. You took it as an opportunity to muffle your moans, mouthing over his neck, right where it met his shoulder. You kissed him there, flattening your hands against his back to hold him to your mouth like you wanted him to smother you. 

His skin tasted salty against your tongue. If he kissed you now, you were sure you’d taste the same, the heat between you growing feverish the more you ground against each other in a sticky lust.

When the blunt of your teeth dragged over his skin, you’d argue the groan he gave tapered into a low whimper. So you did it again, harsher this time. You bit down on him, the lean muscle giving easily, and it kept you quiet enough. It did pull another sound from Eren, though. He muttered some incoherent curses you couldn’t make out, and you would have thought you hurt him if not for the way his steady thrusts sped into pounding. 

The couch was a tricky place to have sex, but you knew that already. You made it more complicated than it needed to be, forgoing the two bedrooms you had at your disposal, full-sized beds and all, and cramped yourselves onto this sofa because you couldn’t keep your greedy hands to yourselves long enough to think ahead. 

Already, this position wasn’t going to work. Half of you had slipped from the couch, even more with each of Eren’s thrusts. He’d hoist you back into place only for you—the pathetic, squirmy thing you were—to falter over the edge again. Only your ass at first, then it was your whole leg. Then the process would repeat. 

Eren sat back slightly. He closed his hands around your waist and yanked you to him, further down onto his cock.

With a yelp, your head fell from the armrest and lightly bounced against the cushion. He replaced it with your hands, pinning them high above your head with a sturdy grasp on your wrist. Your knees threatened to clamp around him, and he used his other hand to hold you open for him, gripping the fat of your inner thigh. 

“Keep ‘em spread for me,” Eren growled. “Wider.”

You liked how his voice sounded right then, almost like gravel. You’d never heard it like that, all raspy and weighed down by his lust. That and the subtle pinch in his brow gave away just how turned on he was. 

You fucked like that for… You weren’t sure how long exactly. Time was irrelevant after three a.m. anyway, wasn’t it? One particularly good thrust—his hips sputtering and grinding against you as if he could go any deeper—had his elbow buckling. Unable to hold himself up and continue his ruthless pace, he chose neither and flipped you onto your stomach.

Eren tossed you onto the armrest. You planted your forearms into it, propping yourself up. You felt his hand at the center of your back, forcing a nice bend in it for him. He smoothed it down lower, taking a handful of your ass and indulgently spreading you just to watch him disappear inside. 

Too weak to hold your head up, you let it drop between your shoulders, gritting a wakened, “Fuck—you’re deep.”

When he sank into you fully, bottoming out, the head of his cock brushed the spot that had you briefly seeing stars. 

Eren slowed at your dubious remark, unsure what to make of it. The moment he did, you made it clear, demanding, “Keep going.”

He began ramming into you, his hand still searing into your spine. You were too far gone, too focused on coming again, to hold back any longer. The noises that poured from you were pornographic. Short and breathy bleats of ‘right there, right there’ as his cock set sparks between your legs. 

Your fingers flexed and relaxed around nothing, nails piercing the meat of your palms fiercely enough to leave them tender. You didn’t know if you needed him harder or faster, and through a few choked gasps, you could only wail a pleading, “Fuck me.” 

You emphasized it by rocking back into him, smushing the back of your thighs against the front of his. It said enough.

Eren’s hands found your hips and settled into the crease where they met your stomach. 

“Let me know if it’s too much.” 

He was so casual that it almost irritated you. Whatever snippy comment you wanted to make, you kept it to yourself for the sake of getting off again. And you were glad you did because you would have eaten your words not a second later.

Eren fucked you with one foot planted into the floor, and his opposite on the couch cushion. His first thrust stole your breath; the second knocked it back into you. He took you from behind, sealing every rut of his hips by jerking you back on his cock. In the tangled spot where ‘too much’ became ‘yes, yes, yes!’ you were lost in messy throes of pleasure. 

The sound of smacking skin was more severe than even your loudest of cries. Between, you could hear Eren’s grunts and huffs through his nose, restrained, but telling of just how riled up he was to be ravaging you like this. You closed your eyes and tuned into how good you were making him feel. 

Your eyes shot open when you felt your upper body slipping over the armrest, your body lurching forward with the brutal snapping of his hips. You extended a hand to the floor, the wood cool under your clammy palm, to brace yourself. And bent over that armrest, your ass perched in the air for him, you let him have you. 

Eren didn’t let you hang there long, just long enough for the blood to rush to your head a bit. You were blinking and dizzy as he gracelessly swung you upright, maneuvering you so you were straddling his lap. You went with him, willingly and submissively. 

You lifted to your knees before Eren seized you by the waist to impale you on his cock. You gripped his biceps as a wispy moan left you—something like an ‘ah–hah’ as a loose smile tickled at the corners of your ajar lips. Once you’d finished pulsing around him, he took care of the rest, working you up and down over his length. 

He looked you squarely in the face, jaw tight and eyelids heavy with a determined look of lust. You wanted to clear the hair from his face, but before you could, you were kissing again, roughly and carelessly, with him humming as you licked into his open mouth. 

When you pulled away, you were panting. Saliva connected his lips to yours. Eren’s eyes flitted down, briefly distracted by your tits, before returning to your face.

“You look good like this,” Eren told you, his voice a bit strained. He snapped the spitty string with a flick of his chin. 

“Like what?” you tried to sass, but it came out warbled as he bounced you on his cock. “Getting fucked by you?”

“Exactly,” he panted through a smug half-grin. “Gonna think about this—you taking my cock so fucking good—every time I jerk off.”

That mental image did things to you.

“Mm, fuck,” you groaned, long and sweet, your teeth bearing down on your bottom lip. You shoved a hand between your legs. “I’m close—keep talking.”

If your head wasn’t tossed back, you would have wanted to slap the sick smile off Eren’s face. He would have never suspected you’d be into dirty talk. 

“Oh, yeah? Gonna come again?” You nodded dumbly. “Playing with yourself—whining on top of me but can’t get there on your own, huh? Need me to tell you to come, don’t you, pretty girl?”

The words were heavy on his breath and settled in the depths of your chest.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing at yourself desperately.

You sensed Eren was enjoying this—uttering filth to you—as much as you did, perhaps even more. His hips sputtered as they bucked into yours, as if he wasn’t already rashly pulling you against him, stuffed to the hilt. You could already see the reddened, blotchy marks this would leave on his thighs, an unavoidable consequence of fucking like animals. 

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You started rolling your hips. “I need you to make me come—please make me come.”

His cock jolted inside you, but he didn’t relent. He wanted to play with you a bit longer.

“Tell me how pretty—ah—how pretty you’re gonna look coming on my cock.”

You were right fucking there. So close that you’d do just anything—say anything. It’d spill out of you like a babbly, drooly mess of course, but you’d say it. 

“So pretty—” Your shiver reverberated through your whimper, your insides ignited. “I’ll look so pretty for you when I come.”

“Fuck yeah, you are.” He punctuated it with a firm slap on your ass. You didn’t feel it because you were coming, deliriously hard.

You sounded pitchy and whiny and you just knew Eren would tease you for it in the future. You wished you could cover your mouth, but you were too overwhelmed to do anything but hold on tighter. It hit you in ripples, and you rode out every one of them, carving your nails into Eren’s arms like you could wring out the last drops of your orgasm. 

“God damn,” Eren remarked, voice tight, “You needed that one, didn’t you?”

He was right, but you wouldn’t have answered even if you could.

When your shaky comedown finally subsided, it left you in a haze. You fell into him, hooking your chin on his shoulder. Soft, happy hums escaped you while you stayed there, contented, as Eren worked toward his own high. 

He could have come two positions ago, but he finally allowed it to well up in the deepest part of his gut. His hands abandoned your hips only for him to lock his arms around you, holding you there to fuck up into. 

Eren’s breathing began to pick up, his chest heaving against you. His thrusting turned erratic until he pumped into you one last time, deep, and kept you flush to him. It was your name on his tongue, the word he buried into your neck as he groaned from the back of his throat. 

You felt him throbbing inside you as he emptied into the condom. Gradually, he moved you over his length a few times to ease himself down. After, he started to lift you off his lap. His oversensitive cock slipped from you, tearing a tiny hiss from him. When he let you go, you crumpled to the couch.  

You stayed like that for a minute, staring at the ceiling, hand folded over your chest as you timed your racing heart. By the time it evened, Eren patted your leg and stood up.

He went to the bathroom; you knew it because you saw the fluorescent light seep into the hallway. You listened to the faucet turn on, then searched for your underwear and a blanket. 

You’d already wrapped yourself in a fleece and snuggled into the couch by the time Eren returned. Your eyes lazily followed him as he pulled on his sweatpants and double-checked that you locked the door when you came home. 

He flicked the light off, but when he realized you weren’t following him to your respective bedrooms, he turned back to ask, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

You didn’t want to get up yet, whether it was because you were too sleepy, or because your body felt too doughy to walk, or because the thought of tomorrow now felt like a threat. 

“No,” you told him. You tugged the blanket to your nose and nuzzled into it. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

You figured that was that, but then you saw him head to the other side of the couch. It shuddered beneath his weight as he slumped into its cushions. When you sat up to look at him, he answered your question before you could open your mouth. 

“I’ll stay here then, too,” he said cooly.

“Why?”

Eren thought on it, and though he didn’t decide on an answer, he was just as content with, “I don’t know. Just want to.”

Everything was silver in the moonlight, barely sneaking in through the cracks in the blind. All the color had been smudged away like ink, except for Eren’s eyes. You made out the glint in them as he wittily quoted you from earlier. 

You smiled. “But I thought you were mad at me for waking you up.”

“I got over it,” he said with a leisurely shrug. “Besides, for some odd reason, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You laughed lightly through your nose, and Eren tossed you a small smile in return. 

He was still shirtless—not that you minded, there was no point in modesty now—with an arm sprawled along the back of the couch. His breaths were no longer heavy, neither of yours were, but you could tell he was still cooling off from your pornstar sex because he was quick to tie his hair up again. Neater this time, with every strand up and off the nape of his neck. 

His neck.

Eren noticed the way your eyes widened. It freaked him out. “What?”

You stifled a cackle. “That’s a nasty hickey you got there, Eren.” 

He frowned. “Shit.” He started pawing at his neck, looking down as if he could possibly see it. “Is it that bad?”

“A little.” You leaned in to poke it, but he swatted you away. It only made you giggle harder as you said, “Hey, can you put on our show? The one I like.”

“You don’t even know the name of it! How can you say you like it?”

“I know it! I just—can’t remember it right now,” you said both confidently and sheepishly, if that was even possible.

He raised his eyebrow at you; you didn’t like it. “So I was just that good, huh?”

You snatched one of the pillows and launched it at his head. “I thought we said we weren’t going to make this weird!”

As you said it, Eren broke out into the sort of laughter you only heard from someone occasionally, one that made it feel like you could get back to the way things were—before everything. 

And they would, just as Eren hoped. Except now, he had a pretty good solution for the next time he pissed you off.

thank you for reading ♡

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut

[lady-ashfade]

Strange Dream.

Prince Zuko x Spirit!Human!Reader

-♡ I just had a thought and ran with it. Haven’t watched the show in so long so not the best expert. But my dad remembers it all- anyway. Idk what I’m doing with this.

-♡ words: 564

-♡ warnings: defensive zuko, kinda fluffy.

the forest was cold and wet, the only thing to keep him comfort was knowing his uncle was beside him. but still, he didn’t feel like himself anymore after hearing what his father & sister had been planning. he worked himself to the edge each day hoping to go home and be welcomed back to take his place by his father. and yet there was no truth to that promise.

his eyes feel shut when he laid down by the fire, he was so drained. the past few days and have been hell for them. he wanted to let his thoughts go and the painful stabbing at his heart fade so he slept peacefully.

and he didn’t expect to be awaken with the feelings of a warm and caring hand on his cheek. zuko shot up from the ground and startled the person kneeling over him with wide eyes. the stranger jumps back while he raising his hands and ready to burn them. but there was something about them, they didn’t seem dangerous but in fact…strange.

their clothes were silk white and their eyes made him feel warm underneath their gaze, like he wasn’t a monster at all but something to be understood.

just before he could ask them a question the area he was in had him look around. it was hazy and more beautiful, the trees greener and he could feel natural energy on his skin. his uncle was no where to be seen but neither was the small camp they had set up.

“Where am I?” he spoke with growing concern. the person smiles and titles their head up at him.

“You’re sleeping, but at the moment I am here. in your mind.” you open your hands to show the area. this forest was special to your people and when a soul needs guidance you are willing to help.

“Tell me, is there something I can help you with?” your soft smile and happy attitude made him hesitate to let you in. who in the hell were you? and why did he feel so drawn to you…

“No, I have everything under control. So you can leave.” Your face didn’t drop a bit as you continued to sit there and look up at him with beautiful eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to.” his eyes glare down at you and he sighs in frustration. and you knew right then he was going to be a hard cookie to crack but you liked a challenge.

“Just leave me alone! Get out of my head.” He hit his head slightly while raising his voice but his tone didn’t scare you. you had many like him before but they all caved. all they needed was a ear to listen.

“Know this, prince Zuko. Many have denied what they needed and came to ruin, you’ll let me in sooner or later.” letting out a breath as your fingertips start to light up underneath your skin.

“And I’ll be here willing to listen.” you point your fingertip at him.

Zuko doesn’t have time to answer before he starts falling backwards towards the ground only to not meet the stern ground but to be reawaken. he was no longer sleeping but back in the wet forest with his uncle giving him a curious stare.

it was a strange dream, with a even stranger person.

#avatar the last airbender x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #prince zuko fics #zuko comfort

[astrow1zar6]

Synastry observations 🫀

Someone’s Venus in your 7th house means you view the Venus person as your ideal partner. You may have not known what you wanted in a partner until you met this person. 7th house person catches feelings fast.

When someone’s Mars lands in your 1st house you can view the Mars person as being annoying.

Having your moon in someone’s 8th house can be very one sided especially on the moons part. I’ve been both the moon & the 8th house person. Being the moon person can make you scary obsessed with the 8th house person & make you very controlling over house they express themselves. As the 8th house person I only felt a mild attraction to the moon.

Mars conjunct Venus synastry is the best aspect for sexual attraction hands down (especially if man had mars and woman had Venus)

Sun square moon synastry can become drawn to each-other like magnets & can be attracted to each-other due to opposite qualities. This can become a big problem in the long term because those differences that once made you attracted to them can make u repulsed once the honey moon stage is done. Have to learn a lot of compromising to make this work.

Lilith square Venus shows that the Lilith person can use the Venus person for sex ☹️ even tho the Venus person wants something deeper eventually. Very toxic relationship.

Lilith conjunct ascendant in synastry will have the Lilith person acting out of character. Usually theirs always something taboo or forbidden about this relationship (ex; big age gap, one is married, lesbian/gay relationship etc) whatever it is it’s not seen as “acceptable” so this can lead to a secret relationship. Lilith person if married will ruin the marriage just to be with the ascendant. Will want to touch and stare at the ascendant person A LOT. It’s almost like it’s painful for the Lilith person to be apart from the ascendant person physically. This can either scare the ascendant person or attract them. Be careful as the Lilith person you becomes really obsessed.

I notice with Venus opposite someone’s Ascendant the Venus person views the ascendant as extremely physically attractive while the ascendant person usually only has a mild attraction to Venus. But once they get to know each other the ascendant person will start to feel deeply attracted to the Venus . Relationship that gets better with time 👌🏽

Moon square moon in synastry never really work out. This synastry is what you think of when you think Sam and Ron from Jerseys shore lol. Very attracted to each-other but cannot understand each-other emotions which causes constant bickering. Takes a lot of acceptance and communication to work. One or both may never feel deeply understood or feel judged.

When you see Pluto square ascendant in synastry. RUN. This can be a very dangerous placement if the partners aren’t mature especially Pluto. The Pluto person can be scary obsessed and controlling with the ascendant. The Pluto person usually isn’t aware of their own behavior but if not put in check can become very abusive and manipulative towards the ascendant. The Pluto person can become extremely jealous and vindictive if they see the ascendant bonding too closely to someone else. Pluto wants to completely possess the ascendant. In some cases it’s left the ascendant with terrible trauma.

Saturn in 8th house synastry shows a lot of sexual tension that can’t be expressed right away for some reason. Leads to repressed intimacy because of certain circumstances or fears of rejection.

It’s very difficult to be mean to someone you have a sun/Venus synastry with. (Especially trine & conjunction) with this synastry aspect you truly love each others whole being, known as a “true love” aspect. You can let your partner get away with things you normally wouldn’t let anyone else get away with 😏

When you have Venus in someone’s 1st house you’ve probably been told you look aesthetically good together. Your physical appearance just fit perfectly (eg: Barbie & Ken)

You haven’t experienced a soul mate connection until you had a sun conjunct moon synastry. I know this placement is talked about everywhere but it’s so true!! Finding this person feels like coming home finally🥺 if it’s in a double whammy either (another conjunction or opposition) it can be hard for others to split you guys up because of how close you get! Be careful for clinginess especially on the moon persons part.

If you have Saturn square mercury with someone you can find their humor to be very dry & boring.

Venus in Scorpios are very attracted to Pisces suns.

[yoon-kooks]

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to. 

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?” 

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.” 

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over. 

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings. 

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class. 

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk. 

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten. 

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend. 

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo. 

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with. 

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all. 

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

[prythianpages]

Cruel, Wicked Thing | Eris x Reader

summary: you are betrothed to Sawyer Vanserra yet that doesn't stop the eldest Vanserra from wanting you.

warnings: I can't really think of anything? this isn't really fluff or angst, just eris longing. slow burn maybe?

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone imagine but it's a part two to this. I intended the second part to be something else but then I ended up writing this scene and it didn't really fit the vibes I was going with so I decided to just post it separately.

As Eris steps out into the courtyard gardens, his gaze is immediately drawn to you. You’re seated upon one of the stone benches that faces the grand water fountain, the one where he first met you. His steps slow, compelled to take in the sight of you. The sun’s light filters through the clouds, caressing your features with a golden glow as you delicately turn the pages of a book. A gentle breeze rustles through the Autumn trees, creating a ballet of falling leaves and causing loose strands of your hair to dance in the air. As the wind carries the sweet scent of rose and honey to him, Eris inhales deeply.

Among the fluttering leaves, a single one lands atop your head, a delicate crown bestowed by nature itself. Yet, you remain unaware. You’re completely lost to the realm of literature in your lap. The same way Eris is lost in you.

He wonders if he should turn and walk the other way. Much like he has done in the weeks that you’ve moved into the Forest house. He doesn’t want to avoid you but the magnetic pull you exert is thrilling yet fear-inducing. So he's resorted to studying you from afar. He knows you enjoy walking around the gardens, reading and hanging around the stables. He knows you well enough to know you don't belong in a cruel court such as this one.

Yet, the Cauldron has unequivocally marked you as someone special to him and he finds himself wary of the potential depth of affection you might set ablaze within his guarded heart. It’s laughable, how someone as sweet and pure as you is so dangerous to him.

You are engaged to his younger brother, Sawyer. And Eris? He’s engaged in the delicate balance of playing the role of the perfect son—perfect heir—all while conspiring against his own father. He cannot afford to harbor any weakness nor does he want to drag you into the depths of his hell. 

But as he looks around the gardens, he confirms there’s no one else around. He then decides to indulge himself, even if only for a little bit.

As he walks toward you, he deliberately steps on the fallen leaves, allowing them to crunch under his boot. The intentional sound announces his approach and has you looking up. Your eyes widen in surprise as you sit up straight.

“Lord Eris.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and he greets you with the same formality. “Lady y/n.”

His fingers reach out to delicately pluck an orange leaf from the crown of your head. The touch lingers longer than necessary, and “accidentally,” his hand brushes against the softness of your cheek as he lowers it. The lingering contact leaves you slightly flustered, a soft blush creeping up on your face—a reaction he takes delight in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t run away,” he remarks.

Eris knows the past three weeks have been rough for you. He’s not only seen it as you chased Sawyer, your unfortunate husband to be, like a lost puppy but he’s also felt it. On occasion, he sends one of his hounds, Clover, to cheer you up. Even the vicious little creature has fallen victim to you, revealing a softer side in your presence. One she normally only shows Eris.

Your father, a busy and highly esteemed merchant, departed as soon as he signed your marriage contract, leaving you to navigate the Autumn Court alone. Sawyer barely gives you the time of day. It’s a double edged sword because though Sawyer is content with neglecting you, he is the lesser evil of his three remaining brothers. 

Sawyer’s disinterest for you, however, often leaves you vulnerable to his two other brothers, Hunter and Oliver. Hunter, who much like his name, always has a thirst and desire to give chase to anything that isn’t his and Oliver–well, Oliver lusts after anything with two legs. The thought of them touching you–hurting you–sends a fire to course through his veins. It reaches his hand, small flames emerging from his fingertips and the leaf in his hand succumbs to ashes. He brushes them off, feigning nonchalance, grateful that you're unfazed.

With a deft motion, you dog-ear the page you were on before closing your book and gracefully rising to your feet. Upon realizing his attention drifting to the book in your hands, you swiftly hide it behind your back. 

“Why would I run away? Maybe, I’m right where I want to be.”

As his gaze lifts to meet yours, a flicker of surprise and curiosity dances in his amber eyes. Bold words. Unlike you. Despite your hands held behind your back, the subtle nervous twitch of your arm muscles is not lost on him.

“But you’re unhappy,” Eris says and he almost expects the emotions churning within you to come to surface. For you to agree. For you to complain. He leans in closer to you, willing to listen.

You do none of that, though. Instead, you force a smile onto your face. One that fails to reach your eyes. "I'm very happy.”

 “Well, you’re very convincing.” 

“And you’re very nosey.” 

Eris lets out an exhale through his nose and you shrink back, worried you have offended him. The small smirk that lifts the corner of his lips soothes your concern. “I kind of have to be, angel. This is my court and I am to rule over it someday. It is my duty to be aware of everything that goes on.”

“Perhaps, I should start with finding out what had you so captivated earlier.”  Eris adds, eyeing the book you continue to conceal behind your back.

You take a step back, fingers tightening against your book but it’s useless. In a heartbeat, the book disappears from your grasp and reappears in Eris’s thanks to his magic. He holds it up in a taunting manner and you’re running after him.

“Eris!”

A spark ignites in his amber eyes as he recognizes the title, and a chuckle escapes him at your adorable yet desperate attempt to reach for the book. He holds it higher, taking full advantage of his height.

“You shock me, angel. I didn't pin you to be the type to read–”

“Please give it back.” 

Eris pauses for a moment in deep contemplation. You are asking so nicely–begging, more like it. But he finds that he likes the way you’re madly blushing at him too much. He shakes the urge to give into your puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think so…shall I start reading where you left off, hmm?”

Panic flashes in your wide eyes as you desperately lunge forward to retrieve your book. However, Eris's quick reflexes had him turning away, causing you to trip over the pavestone. With Eris's body no longer there to block your path, you found yourself tumbling into the water fountain with a loud splash.

The water is cold and has you gasping, goosebumps rising on your skin. You lift your gaze and though you glare at him, he finds it adorable. Absolutely endearing. He tilts his head back in laughter and the sound softens your gaze.

Eris is still laughing when you hold out your hand to him expectantly. “What?”

Your eyebrows knit together in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to be a gentleman and offer me your hand?”

Unspoken desires stir within him as he gazes at your outstretched hand. In his eyes, there's a subtle ache, a silent wish to offer you more than just his hand. The wave of your hand has him breaking from his thoughts. This time, he takes it. He fails to notice the gleam in your eyes as he does. He doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s already too late–until he’s falling into the fountain and on top of you. Quick reflexes save your book from the water, while one hand is planted at your side to avoid the full weight of his fall.

“Not so funny now, is it?” Your laughter dies in your throat and your voice embarrassingly losing its vigor as you both find yourselves unexpectedly close in the watery aftermath.

Wide amber eyes, bathed in the warm glow of honeyed hues, lock onto yours. His chest is pressed against you and his nose is so close to yours, they’re almost brushing. All you can hear is the soothing sound of running water and his soft breath. You can feel the warmth of it too and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath. 

“You cruel, wicked thing,” he murmurs, voice dripping in velvet, capturing the not so subtle shift in your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

He does the same, also well aware of how close he is to you. Gods, you’re dangerously close to him and as your eyes flutter shut, anticipation charges the air. A mere inch closer, and he could savor the allure of your lips—your pretty but devilish lips. The mere notion sets his heart aflutter. The golden string, binding you both together, seems to tug at him insistently, reeling him in.

Closer, the bond in his chest sings. Closer–

A series of distinct and deliberate chimes has both of you abruptly turning your heads towards the grand clock that oversees the gardens. Eris suppresses a sigh. He has to go but doesn’t want to leave. Reluctantly, he pulls away and rises to his feet, stepping out of the fountain. He then offers you his hand, helping you up. When your shoes slip along the fountain’s tiles, he chuckles and helps steady you by bringing you close to his chest.

“Thanks,” escapes you in a breathless whisper, the frenzy of your mind leaving no room for any other words. 

Once you’re back on steady feet, he distances himself from you, careful not to betray the protest of his heart. While you wrap your arms around your cold, trembling form, your gaze lowers to the book he safeguarded through the entire ordeal. Eris summons every ounce of strength to resist the urge to rush towards you and warm you with his kiss. He has to leave now.

“I’ll return your book to you,” Eris promises, smirking at the small sigh of relief you let out and mischievously adds:  “Once I’m done with it.”

Then, Eris leaves before you can say a single word. Before you can unravel his resolve further. You’re dangerous, he reminds himself. A cruel wicked thing that beckons a wayward soul like his to crave entry into heaven. Not just any heaven, but yours.

a/n: what type of book do we think the lovely reader was reading? lol I do have 2 more parts planned for this little au and maybe more 👀 depending on how the other 2 parts go (they're both inspired by songs and i'm literally just going with the vibes now since I'm really indecisive on how I want to go with this au. I have so many ideas.)

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris angel au

[writingficsanddaydreams]

Worried Thoughts

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: he thinks you’re afraid of him, but really you feel more comfortable here than anywhere else. If only you could figure out how to explain that.

Content: fluffy cozy piece. Just a hint of romance. Reader is autistic.

Warnings: reader is somewhat insecure about their autistic traits.

A/N: Couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so I’m sharing with all of you. It’s been a long time since I wrote any fanfic so I might do more, I might not, we’ll see. Story is based on live action Mihawk with some inspiration from the little bit I know about the anime. Enjoy!

—————

He’s frustrated with you.

He doesn’t let it show. Mihawk is too controlled for that, too stoic. Besides, you’ve come to learn the look of casual disdain he wears is for everyone, not just you.

But he’s still frustrated with you.

You can see it in the little things. The slight furrow of his brow. The way he watches you over his book. The long, drawn out sips of wine.

It’s the things you’ve learned to look for after a lifetime of having to watch and analyze and try so hard to fit in. A lifetime of trying to be normal.

Around Mihawk though? You don’t feel that need so much.

It’s why you let your eyes drift away from his intense, piercing gaze. It’s why, though you’re still afraid to let yourself stim too much or let too much excitement shine through when a special interest topic comes up, you do let yourself chew on your lip. And sometimes, when you catch yourself rocking because the silence is just a little too much, you don’t make yourself stop.

But still, he doesn’t quite understand it. He thinks you’re afraid of him.

You should be. Honestly you’re not sure why you aren’t. He’s the worlds greatest swordsman. He’s probably the most powerful person in all the seas. He wears that power like a cloak, holds himself in a way that warns people to step away. Step back.

You saw it in the village last week, when he had you sail with him to a nearby island so you could help pick up supplies. Folk recognized him and feared him.

To be honest, you thought he would leave you behind there. After all, he has no reason to keep sheltering you. It’s been a month since you washed up on the beach of his own gloomy island, a month since you barely evaded the monsters that live there and found your way to his door.

He let you stay, and you figured it was because of how pathetic you looked at the moment. A shipwrecked survivor on the brink of death, looking more like a drowned rat than a human.

It’s not that you’re actually pathetic. You’re not weak. Or at least not too much so. Honestly, you can hold your own against most folk back home, and you know how to sail a small ship just fine. Or at least, you thought you did.

That storm wounded your pride and has you questioning your seafaring skills.

The point is, you can take care of yourself overall. Though, you quickly learned after you first set sail a few years back that being the best in your village means nothing when so many folk out there are as powerful as gods. Competent or not, you’re nothing compared to the great warlord.

So why did he let you stay? Why was it, when you were getting ready to turn and walk away after setting foot on the village island, he handed you a small crate of supplies and said to not fall behind? Why was it he let you get back on his ship and sail all the way back here with him? 

You haven’t asked him yet, because you’re a little afraid that maybe he’ll change his mind. You’ve come to like your life on this isolated island.

But you’re getting away from yourself again. Letting your thoughts drift. It’s been a week since that village visit and now you still sit within Mihawk’s vast and rather chilly castle, hyperaware of his piercing gaze digging into your head.

“You don’t need to be so afraid of me.”

His voice makes you jump, and you realize that you’ve been rocking where you sit as you stare at the book in your lap.

“I’m not,” you manage. “I…”

Your eyes latch onto the book. You’ve been reading it for a couple of days, but you’re having trouble focusing today. Whenever you look at the words, it makes you think about how yesterday you launched into a long analysis of the adventure genre and how it really is such a shame that people don’t appreciate this book as much, since even though it was one of the first of its type there’s been so many books that have built on it since that now it seems almost predictable.

Mihawk didn’t seem bothered at the time, but now you look back at it and you’re sure he must’ve been annoyed, or at the very least bored. You’re still kicking yourself for not taking the time to check his expression when you went on that endless monologue.

“You act afraid.”

You take a quick peek out the corner of your eye, watching as he casually sips from his wine glass. Firelight flickers across his face, lighting up those vivid eyes and casting a golden hue across his dark hair. He’s not looking at you anymore, but you know that he’s still aware of everything you do.

When you find your attention catching on his chiseled chest, you quickly force your gaze away.

“You are a warlord,” you say, trying to be teasing.

“An astute observation.”

“I’m not afraid of you though.” You close your book and with it close your eyes, trying to find the right words. Trying to get them all untangled. “I… I just don’t like eye contact. With anyone.”

“I see. That is reasonable.”

It’s not the response you expected. You’re used to people judging you when they learn how are you are. You’re used to people underestimating you and assuming the worst.

You glance back up at Mihawk, then quickly away to the fireplace instead. “I’m not very good with people,” you continue, “It’s not that I don’t like them, but I don’t always understand the rules of society and stuff. And I don’t always do things the way other folk do.”

When you peek back, he’s lifted a single eyebrow. You blush. Surely he’s already noticed that. Surely you’re being silly as you explain the obvious.

“The rules of society do tend to be rather boring.”

The way he says it, so straightforward as if it makes all the sense in the world… you feel relieved giggle bubble out of you.

“I suppose you really aren’t afraid of me then,” he says, just the slightest twitch forming a smile at the corners of his lips. He tilts his head slightly, then adds. “I was thinking about your theory yesterday. It was… Intriguing.”

Something flutters in your chest. A feeling that you never really thought you’d have for somebody so dangerous. Joy. Excitement. Perhaps even some infatuation, if you’re being honest with yourself.

His castle might be vast and chilly, but it’s also comfortable. And you’ve come to truly enjoy these times where you sit together in front of the fireplace, simply existing near each other. You’ve come to enjoy just being around him. 

“Would… would you like to talk about it more?” You can’t help the hope that creeps into your tone.

“That would be pleasant.”

And so, you finally let that wall down just a little further. You let yourself start talking without holding back, let yourself feel comfortable.

When he rises from his chair and walks to stand closer to your own, his hand just barely brushing your shoulder, you let yourself feel a little bit at home.

#Mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #Help im so in love with this character #autistic!reader #proofreading I don’t know you

[doitforbangchan]

It’s not fair - S.C

Masterlist

Changbin x reader (afab)

Summary: As your best friend, he can't just let you rot away... especially since he's in love with you.

This was an emergency request from my lovey Bumble Bee @ayejaii who I just adore. I hope you enjoy, my dear friend :)

Warnings: Angst, crying, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, suggestive, cursing, Bestfriends to lovers trope, Binnie being perfect. Not proofread

WC: 1.6k

There was a distinct melancholy in the air surrounding your apartment.  The curtains have not been drawn in days, making it seem mustier than Changbin had ever seen it. He had been calling you and texting you for days but you hadn’t answered once. Even though he had been your best friend for a few years, never once had you ignored him. He knew something must have happened and in his state of intense worry he sped to your home the second his recording session was over. Good thing he had the spare key you had given him in case of emergencies.

The first thing he did when he entered was scouring the room for you. The living room looked untouched from the last time he was here a few days ago. Right before your latest date with your dickhead fling. When he didn’t find you in the living room or kitchen he shuffled to your bedroom. 

The door was cracked open, a gap big enough for your cat to fit through. Changbin peered inside the dark room, finding a cocooned lump in the middle of your bed. Your fluffy cat was curled next to you but upon his entry into your space got up from her lying position, letting out a little ‘mew’ in greeting to her second favorite human. 

Changbin gave the cat a little scritch on the chin, before he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You didn’t answer, he only heard a quiet sniffle come from the mass of blankets. “I’ve been worried about you, ya know. You haven’t been answering your phone. Not since you went out with Mike.” He said the man's name with a tone of disgust. Changbin had been in love with you since you first became friends all those years ago, and knew your fling didn’t deserve you. “Have you been laying here since then? It’s been 3 days.”

 At the mention of the name, you let out a sob, your body shaking as you did. “Stop, Bin.” You croaked out, voice sounding like you hadn’t spoken words in days. 

His mind immediately went to the worst, panic striking his body, ”Did.. Did he do something to  you, Y/n? Did he hurt you?” 

You peeked your face out of your cocoon just enough to meet his eyes. Your own eyes were puffy and red, as if you had been crying for hours on end. “No Changbin. He didn’t hurt me. Not physically at least.” 

“What do ya mean, sweetheart?” He was confused, he thought things were going well with the dickhead. 

“He..he broke up with me.” You sobbed, reburying your face in your covers. 

“Oh honey, come er’,” he laid on your bed with you and cradled you into him. “He was a fucking dipshit who didn’t deserve you anyway.” 

“I am so tired, Bin.” 

“What are you tired of, y/n?” He tried to keep his voice even and soothing.

“I am so tired of men treating me like trash. Like I’m some toy they can throw away when they’re done playing with me.” Your shaking got worse, hiccuping between words. “ I try so hard to be good for them, be who they want me to be, but it doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

“Don’t say that. None of it is your fault. You don’t have to change yourself for anyone, let alone some low life.” He had fury in his tone, though he was doing his best not to let it show. 

“But it is my fault!” you flung the blankets off you as you sat up. Your voice was hysterical. “He told me it was! That I- I wasn’t enough for him. That I wasn’t the kind of girl he could see himself with in the long run. Why am I so unlovable?” 

“That’s not true!” Changbin exploded. You were shocked at his outburst. “You are loveable! In fact I know someone who would kill to be with you, and treat you like you deserve!” 

“Who, Binnie? What kind of man would want to be with a mess like me?!” you cried. 

“Me, goddamnit!” Fuck, this is not how he imagined he would confess to you. It's too late now. “I am in love with you!” 

Your tears came harder, “ Don’t say things you don’t mean, Changbin. It’s not fair.” 

He cupped your cheeks, “What’s not fair, is how long I’ve spent pining after you. How long I’ve spent trying to show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.” He was staring right into your eyes, being the most serious you had ever seen him. “It’s not fair that I have had to watch you go out with dirtbag after dirtbag, while I waited and hoped and prayed that you would finally see who was right here…me.” 

You paused, glassy eyes wide. “Why did you never say anything?” 

“What was I supposed to say? That I was in love with you while you were dating someone else? That I didn’t want you to be with anyone else? I couldn’t be selfish, not with you.” 

“Oh Binnie” You flew at him, burying your face in his muscular chest. Your fingers grasped onto his shirt, trying to bring him as close as possible. “I have seen you there. I’ve always known your worth.” 

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.” He whispered, his anguish showing in his voice. 

“I’m not lying!” you wailed, “I have been in love with you for years, since we first met at Hyunjins birthday party!” 

He remembers it so clearly, he often replays it in his mind. Being enamored with your soft smile and bright personality when Hyunjin introduced you a few years back. The pink dress you wore had hugged your figure just right, and your fluttering lashes had him in a trance. At the time, he was too chicken shit to ask you out for a real date, so instead he settled on being your friend. 

“You were always so good to me, Bin. It’s impossible not to fall for you.” You sniffled, trying to make him see. “You always treat everybody so well, I didn’t think you felt the same way about me. I didn’t want to confess and be turned down by you. I couldn’t bear to be on the receiving end of your polite grimace you always have when rejecting a girl. Or even worse, have you feel bad for me and agree to date me in some self sacrificing way, making yourself miserable.I guess that's me, unable to be selfish with you.” 

You waited with baited breath for his response. What you got instead was him wrapping his thick arms around you, and his face in your hair as he…laughed? 

“You’re telling me, I waited so long for you to see me there. For you to love me like I do you. And you’ve been over here, feeling the exact same way? For years?” His laughing mingled with his now teary cries as he took in the situation. “Maybe it’s us who’s the actual dipshits.” 

You couldn't help the watery giggles that escaped you. “ I think you’re right, Bin. We’re possibly the biggest idiots on earth.” 

You both just held each other for a while, cry-laughing together on your bed. Eventually he was the first to pull away. Changbin wiped his watery eyes as he gazed down at you. Even with a puffy tear stained face you were still the most beautiful woman in the world. 

His rough hands cupped your cheeks again, and he held your eye contact as he slowly leaned in closer. “If this isn’t what you want, I need you to stop me now,” he whispered. 

“It’s all I want, Bin. You’re all I want.”  You were the one to close the gap, your lips smashing into his with a delicate intensity. He reciprocated just as fiercely, almost as if this was a dream he would soon wake from. 

Changbin knew if you’d let him, he could swallow you whole. Make you his in every way possible. Your little whimpers that escaped you when you bit on his lip didn’t go unnoticed. But, as much as he would love to take it further, he understood it wasn’t the right time. Sex wasn’t what you needed right now. 

“Sweetheart,” he started, his words muffled when you wouldn’t let him pull away completely. you hummed, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Baby, we can’t right now. As much as I’m dying to finally get you naked, there are more pressing matters.” he managed to gently push you off. 

“But Binniiiieeeee.” you whined with a pout. 

“I know, my love, I know” he cooed, patting your hair, before standing from your bed. “ first things first, you gotta eat something and shower.” He scooped you into his arms as you squealed a laugh. “And let’s get this place aired out, huh? It reeks of despair in here.” 

“Ugh fine” you relented, stomach growling at the promise of food. Plus if it meant you could stay in his arms longer, you would do anything he asked. “on one condition.” 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he asked amused when you plopped you on your bathroom counter. He then turned on the bathtub tap letting it fill up for you. 

“You have to take a bath with me.” There was a twinkling in your eye as you purred it. 

“Fuck, you can’t say things like that. It’s not fair.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered. 

You pulled your shirt off, flinging it at him.

“Who ever said I was fair?” 

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