#i still want to write them being silly and dancing

[valeriianz]

You are an obsession, you're my obsession Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?

“Hello, Hob,” a low, sultry, and achingly familiar voice speaks behind him, cutting through the heavy bass reverberating off the walls and straight through Hob’s chest, lighting him up.

Turning, Hob finds– who he’d been referring to as– his stranger behind him, close enough to reach out and touch. They’re in the middle of the dance floor, bodies packed and grinding all night, but somehow they’ve given them room now.

Hob was dreaming, he was aware of it almost immediately. He’s been thrown back into the 1980s, one of Hob’s favorite periods of the 20th century, and in a nightclub no less. The music loud enough to penetrate skin, feeling the twangy synth pop in his bones. Everyone around him dressed in every color of the rainbow, over accessorized in neon hoop earrings and bangles, leg warmers, windbreakers, and mesh patterns. 

Hob’s dreams often took him back in time, and he wondered what prompted this. Though as Hob often did in his dreams, instead of considering why, he simply indulged. The music wasn’t anything particular, perhaps nothing was actually playing and it was all in his head, but Hob had felt the push and pull of everyone around him and followed along like a buoy at sea.

And now, feeling drunk off the sticky sweet air in the room, Hob grins as he boldly steps into his stranger’s space and slips both arms around his middle, pulling so his skinny, pale, gorgeous friend is flush against him.

He’d been dancing with strangers all night, shadows with indeterminate faces, allowing them to trace patterns on his skin, grip his shoulders or tug on his shirt. Hob hadn’t been dancing or even hanging around loud bars or clubs in decades, maybe somewhere deep in his subconscious, he missed it. Missed the anonymity of it all, getting high off everyone else’s pleasure and succumbing to it. So it made sense, as Hob felt himself getting hot, his skin prickling, that his imagination would wander, drifting to his perfect stranger. The only constant in his life, and someone who frequented Hob’s dreams often, especially as their centennial meetings came around or passed.

Though this iteration of his friend appeared distinctly… solid. He was dressed in that long black coat and skinny jeans from their last meeting (where he’d apologized, apologized! And called Hob a friend), his black hair gently tousled as before.

Hob paid it no mind as his tongue finally became useful and spoke for him.

“Hello, stranger.” he tried his best to mimic his friend’s deep voice and giggled at himself, cataloging the twitch of amusement in his usual stony face.

“You were thinking about me.” He spoke again, choosing to not point out how Hob currently had his arms ensnared around him and swaying them back and forth. “In a place like this.”

His stranger cast his gaze about the room and Hob noticed, in the pulsing lights, his eyes were black, all the way to the sclera, not the crystal blue that Hob had become so acquainted with. It was startling, and as the strobe lights began to flicker, Hob watched his friend’s eyes shimmer as well, like stars dancing in the night sky.

“I’m always thinking about you,” Hob spoke, transfixed. He hadn’t meant to say that, but fuck it, this was a dream and he’d said and done much worse with his oldest friend, to this stranger, in the comfort of his own head. “Even if I don’t know your bloody name yet.”

Those piercing eyes focused back on Hob and he felt himself physically wobble, holding onto his friend now for support.

“Oh, I am aware.” Hob caught his breath at the genuine smile his friend gave him, much like the one in the New Inn just days ago. “But you do know my name, you must, in order to summon me like this.”

Hob huffed, impatient. His friend’s hands were still resolutely at his side, unmoving even as Hob squeezed and swayed with a little more force.

“Sure, Dream Stranger,” Hob’s arms eased up just enough to slot his hands against bony hips and pull, making him stagger forward. Hob smirked, elated at the absolute shock reflected in the man’s expression.

“Now get with the program,” Hob leaned in, touching his nose to his stranger’s, the slight gasp it caused going straight to Hob’s cock. “And put your hands on me.”

He didn’t pull away, which was good. This dream had been derailed long enough. And finally, finally Hob’s dream lifted his arms and surrounded Hob’s face in his hands.

Big hands, Hob realized as his entire body went still. Big fucking hands, with long fingers, cool to the touch, and slipping back into his hair. Hob felt like he’d been electrocuted, his face forced forward, pupils shaking as he met his stranger dead on, getting lost in the inky black atmosphere of his impalpable eyes.

“Ah,” Hob eloquently said, swallowing hard. “This is different.”

“Is it?” His stranger gave a smirk of his own, lips turning up sharp at the corners, like they could cut. “How do these dreams normally proceed?”

Slowly, like pieces fitting into a puzzle, understanding trickles in Hob’s brain and his eyes go wide, his heart stopping before kicking back up in double time.

“Oh, you’re– really here, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. Hob would feel more embarrassed about this if his ancient friend wasn’t holding him at eye level, scrutinizing in an obnoxiously amusing way.

“Yes.”

Hob wets his lips and doesn’t miss how the galaxy flicks down to watch the motion. “And your name is…”

“Dream.” His fingers tangle further into Hob’s hair, gripping it and causing Hob’s jaw to drop with a not-so-quiet groan.

He leans in close, cold lips brushing Hob’s jaw and making every hair stand on end. 

“I would appreciate it if you used it now, Hob Gadling.”

Hob’s eyes flutter shut, his fingers pressing on narrow hips hard enough to bruise. “Dream?”

“Mm…” Dream purrs, like a cat content, as he nuzzles his way up Hob’s neck to speak hotly in his ear. “Again.”

Hob gasps like the air has been ripped from him as Dream bites the top of his ear, sending a bolt of electricity down his spine and causing his hips to twitch involuntarily.

“Dream.” Hob tilts his head, exposing his neck as Dream’s lips drag along the stubble there, licking and nibbling as he goes. “Oh my god–”

“Again.” The demand is punctuated with one hand moving from Hob’s hair to his backside, groping roughly and setting Hob on fire as he feels the confined outline of Dream’s arousal press against his own straining erection.

“Fuck–” Hob releases Dream’s hips and holds onto his face instead, pulling it from his abused neck and forcing their mouths together.

The kiss is the most grounding Hob has ever felt, but also fleeting, delicate like a cloud. Hob holds on like Dream could vanish, melt into the floorboards or dissolve into a pile of sand– sand! God, Hob was an idiot.

Dream’s tongue invades Hob’s mouth like a cavalry, drowning Hob. Bites his bottom lip like a brand, a claim, drawing blood and making Hob shake with want. The dance floor suddenly becomes vacant, people vanishing, music filtering out like a volume knob had been turned down. Hob’s hands settle on Dream’s shoulders and push, walking them backwards until Dream’s back connects with a wall and Hob thrusts his entire body onto him. The impact forces a cough of surprise from Dream and Hob likes it, elated to elicit any kind of reaction from his friend.

“You make me crazy,” Hob bites out, pressing his own fingers against Dream’s throat and up into his silky soft hair, grabbing it and watching his friend to see how his eyes glint something hot and dangerous. “You know that?”

“Would you demonstrate it for me?” Dream’s lips curl, enticing and provoking, daring Hob to say yes. To take Dream apart and show him every fantasy he’s ever conjured up. To act on every impure thought Hob’s ever had, every fleeting glance or touch turned purposeful and laden with desire.

Hob would take Dream apart, if that’s what he wished. And here, in his dream, anything was possible, and Hob intended to keep him here as long as he could, letting Dream into his darkest whims and satisfactions. Perhaps he already knew, could feel it in Hob, the way Dream made him ache, the way he made him hunger. 

Slipping his fingers through Dream’s belt loops, Hob pulled as he rolled his hips, connecting their fronts and knocking his head back with the bolt of pleasure. Dream’s hands fisted into his shirt and held on as they met again and again.

“Hob–” Dream crooned, his mouth at his collarbone.

“Yes,” Hob finally answered, his head coming down to watch Dream, seduced by the exploding cosmos in his eyes. “I would show you everything.”

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream x hob #inspired by the song Obsession by Animotion #well this got out of hand #this was just gonna be them dancing #i wanted hob to goad dream into it and it be awkward and funny #mostly i just wanted to see dream stiff as a board and hob laughing at him #and then i fucking wrote this lol #not that im complaining #i still want to write them being silly and dancing #also #HAPPY SANDMAN RENEWAL AHHH #my writing #edit: tumblr ate my Read More break and its already been reblogged without it ahh #oh well #as long as youre okay with a 1.5k fic post on your blog #without a page break lol #*self consciousness trickles in*

[maybankswhore]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄.

summary: even though jj refuses to admit his feelings for you— he doesn’t want anyone else to have you.

warnings: cursing

prompt: “why are you mad?” “i’m not mad , i just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

The dynamic between you and JJ was undoubtedly strange. You’d two hold hands , hug for longer than ‘friendly’ hugs usually went for , have sleepovers where you’d cuddle and kiss his cheek. It was like a relationship without the title and without the kissing and sappy lover girl esqe commitment.

But it started to get hurtful. To be the girl that was always there , the only girl that was ever there , and still be seen as nothing more than just a friend. God , how you absolutely hated using the word ‘friend.’

There was hookup after hookup , one after the other. JJ would tell you all about them , seeing nothing wrong in confiding his deepest thoughts with his ‘best friend.’ It was harmless in his mind. If you were too hook up with anyone , he’d want to hear about it. I mean— it’s not like there were guys lining up for you at the door. You were stagnant and clearly into JJ so most guys didn’t bother trying. So while JJ figured he’d be okay with hearing about it— it turned out to make him feel the complete opposite.

All four Pogue’s were sitting around the fire in John B’s backyard as you sat there bashfully , remembering your work shift earlier that morning.

It had started like any other day— the same old faces that come for the same old cup of coffee. Some were a bit less frequent and the tips were all in the same. Business wasn’t necessarily ‘booming’ but it was a moderately profitable day. Today had seemed like any other day— until it wasn’t.

A boy who was not much older than you were had walked in and you swore your heart stopped. There wasn’t many people you looked twice at , beings that you suffered with the cruelty of unrequited love. But this one had made you look twice. His hair was shaggy brown , stopping right above his eyebrows. His green eyes seemed kind , the minute he had mumbled ‘hello’ to you.

You were surprised he asked for your number. The banter between the two of you , and how charming he was seemed to brighten your morning just a bit— and since JJ hadn’t seemed to be confessing his undying love for you any time soon , it seemed to be the right time to try and put yourself out there.

“No way you actually gave some random guy your number.” JJ scoffed from the side of you. He wasn’t sure why hearing you talk about another guy that way made him feel so. . . mad. Sure he cared about you , but never really paid attention to what kind of care it was. He always chalked it up to knowing you his whole life , declaring you his bestfriend for life. But watching the way your eyes danced amongst the flame with a certain girlish glow , his heart beat faster than he had ever felt before.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay and? It’s not like you don’t give out your number at every boneyard party.” You defended yourself.

“She’s right.” Pope pointed at her.

“Yeah I think it’s sweet.” Kiara gushed , hyping it up more than it really was. She knew JJ had a crush on you— anyone with two eyes could see that. He was just too stupid to bother realizing it. “It’ll be like those movies where the girl falls for the guy from the coffee shop.” She placed a hand on her heart dramatically. “That’s like , super romantic.”

“I know!” You sighed dreamily. You had always been such a romantic. Reading , writing , watching it. Those silly little cliche book plots coming to life.

JJ rolled his eyes. “It’s not that romantic.”

“Why’re you being such a hater right now?” You asked JJ , crossing your arms over your chest annoyed. “You should be happy for me! Stuff like this never happens to me.”

JJ began to think back over the years before realizing that you were right. You were always with him or the other Pogue’s and when there were parties , he’d find some girl to mess around with somewhere before finding you so you two could go home together like you always had. He hadn’t remembered the last time you even talked about liking someone. His chest began to ache at that— feeling bad. Of course he wanted romantic stuff to happen for you so why did he feel so defensive about it? Sighing , he shook his head of the confusing feelings. “You’re right , I’m sorry. What was his name?”

He swallowed down whatever he thought he was feeling , doing what he did best ; ignoring the problem until it eventually went away. Because he couldn’t think of you like that. . . The two of you were just friends. You always had been— right?

John B and Pope shared a knowing look. You smiled obliviously and continued.

“Nate.”

“Nate?” John B asked with his face turning red.

“Yeah?”

“As in Nate Montero?” Pope pressed further.

JJ shifted in his seat uncomfortably , looking at you. “As in the guy who cut my hair in Kindergarten?!”

You covered your mouth as you gasped , remembering how much JJ had cried because some kid on the playground cut a chunk of his hair off. The name did seem familiar to you at the time but you hadn’t even remembered then. JJ’s face was scrunched up with disgust while the Pogue’s doubled over into laughter. How ironic.

“It was a long time ago!” You groaned.

“I don’t give a shit! That little bastard cut my hair. The hair I had been growing for years.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You can’t go out with him.” JJ said immediately with his nose turned in the air.

“Oh yes I can.”

JJ raised his eyebrows at you , taken aback by the seriousness in your voice. Something bubbled inside of him— something he couldn’t quite figure out. Whatever it was , though , he didn’t like it. “That’s like a betrayal!” He said after a few seconds.

“John B literally dates Sarah Cameron!” You pointed out , giving him a soft smile of apology when he shot you a look. “Sorry but it’s true.”

“She isn’t wrong.” Kiara chirped up.

“You’re literally friends now!” Scoffed John B.

“Yeah— now.” You pointed out. “But at first there was hella beef that was deeper than getting your hair snipped in Kindergarten.”

John B groaned. “Can we not bring me up into this? This is between you and JJ.”

“There’s nothing between me and JJ—” you ignored the way your stomach began to hurt at that. The words only fueling your desire to see the guy , Noah , from the coffee shop again. “I’m seeing him.”

“Y/N this conversation isn’t over!” JJ called after you once you picked up your beer can and started walking towards the house. You didn’t bother looking back , throwing him the middle finger as you disappeared behind the doors.

JJ’s eyes turned to slits and looked at the Pogue’s with an annoyed expression. “Can you believe her?”

“Believe what? That she finally finds a guy attractive other than you?” Kiara folded her arms across her chest. “If you aren’t going to be with her then let someone else who wants to be and be happy for her.”

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at Kiara. He glanced at Pope and John B before looking back at her. “Y/N/N does not find me attractive.” He waved her off.

“Oh please.” Pope muttered under his breath.

“I say we just let this play out.” John B stretched out with a yawn.

“This could end badly—” Pope pointed out.

“Or JJ will finally get his head out of his ass.” Kiara snorted.

JJ stood up in front the Pogue’s with an uneasy look. “I don’t know what you’re all talking about but the only way this ends badly is if Y/N decides to go ahead with that guy. He’s bad news.” He huffed , running back into the Chateau.

“He’s so jealous.” John B smirked while shaking his head.

“Very.”

It had been very tense between the two of you. You were so mad at him for thinking he had any right to tell you who you could or couldn’t date— especially after years of pining after him , and watching him go through girl after girl without so much as glancing your way. You weren’t going to keep hoping for someone to look at you anymore.

Nate had texted you to meet up and you did. It was a nice date , nothing too fancy or mind blowing. Just a simple date. One that ended in a small goodbye kiss on John B’s front porch— the place you normally stayed on on the weekends when your parents were out and about , barely thinking twice about you.

You were glimmering when you walked back in. You figured the Pogue’s would be in the backyard like they always were , so you breezed past the living room and into the kitchen for a glass of water. Your thoughts were everywhere because you did like Nate , and the kiss left you breathless— but it wasn’t like what you thought it would be. Though , none of the past kisses ever were. There was always something missing , making you rethink them.

“Oh so the traitor is back.” JJ strolled into the kitchen without looking at you , his tone hard.

This had been the first time in the past two days he bothered talking to you. You figured he was just pissy you decided to go out with Nate after all , despite the silly Kindergarten incident.

“Why are you mad?” You put down your water bottle and stepped in front of him so he couldn’t look away from you.

“I’m not mad. I just think you could choose better people to kiss.” JJ said. His fingers dancing towards the side of her face.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Pulling your face away from his hand , you sighed. “If this is about what happened in fricking Kindergarten—”

JJ grabbed your face in his hands , your cheeks hollowing out between your teeth as he did so. You looked at him through fluttering eyelashes , your cheeks burning up. “This isn’t about what happened.” He murmured to you.

This whole conversation had him thinking. That feeling he was feeling— it wouldn’t go away. He had tossed and turned all night that night because his stomach was so sick thinking about you with someone else. He didn’t know why it never occurred to him that you’d eventually find someone else. He didn’t know why he wasted away all this time being with girls who didn’t mean anything. JJ wanted to kiss you. And to hold you like more than a friend. He didn’t want you with Nate— or with anyone. And he felt so bad about never realizing it , and always pushing away those feelings you’d make him feel because he was scared to lose you.

But he couldn’t lose you to someone else.

“I don’t want you to kiss Nate. . .” JJ breathed , inching closer to your face. Your eyes were wide with shock as you watched him , your heart beating crazily in your chest. He still held your face in her hands , watching your reaction to his words. He only hoped that you’d want to kiss him back.

“JJ—” you mumbled. “What’re you—”

“I want to kiss you.” JJ told you , swiping his thumb on your bottom lip. “Only if you’ll kiss me.”

Your heart began to race as you studied JJ’s face. The crush that you had buried inside of you for years was bursting in your chest , making friends with the butterflies in your stomach. Your mouth went dry as you looked at him. JJ left go of the hold he had on you to simply cup your cheek.

“JJ don’t be mean.” You whispered. “If you’re doing this just because I went out with Nate—”

“This isn’t because of Nate.” JJ cut you off. “Not completely , anyway. It was at the beginning but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. His hands on you.” His left hand slithered down to your waist , snaking around it. “Your lips on his.” His other hand pulled at your bottom lip again. “I got jealous.”

You stared at stunned. “Jealous?”

“I think I like you , Y/N.” JJ sighed to himself , looking at you sweetly. “And I think I’ve always known but I just ignored thinking it would go away.”

You swallowed thickly looking up at him. “Did it?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It didn’t.”

“Then. . .” you took a deep breath and stood taller , clearing your throat to sound more confident. “Then I think I want you to kiss me.”

With wild eyes , JJ was treading a line he wasn’t sure it was safe to cross. But the way his heart burned inside of his chest , his ears ringing and pulse getting faster— it would be worth whatever outcome if it meant he got to feel what it was like to kiss you. JJ got closer to you , so close that you felt his breath fan your face. “Do you think or do you know?”

Quietly you weighed your options in your head. There were so many things going through your mind , telling you a million different things. But the way you felt was telling you to kiss him. Finally. After all this time— you wanted to make him wait it out like you had for so long. But you couldn’t control yourself. “I know.” You took the initiative to connect your lips to his , tired of this waiting game. It was either now or never.

He kissed you back immediately. His hands finding home around your waist. His knees felt weak and your heart felt mushy. As your head tilted to the side , a sense of relief fell over you. This was it. This was why no other kiss had ever compared or felt like it mattered. Because it was JJ , it was always JJ.

He was your missing piece to it all.

JJ was the first to pull away , breathless. He felt crazed as he looked at you with eyes wild. Nothing had ever felt like this with him— no other girl could ever compare to you.

“Like I said. . . this ended badly!” Pope bursted out , practically falling out into the kitchen. Kiara and John B rolled their eyes at him.

“Finally!” Kiara groaned. “I was so sick of the sappy back and forth shit.”

“I for one , agree.”

You hid your face in your hands embarrassed while JJ smirked triumphantly. “I have a full head of hair and I got the girl.”

“I hate you.”

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks imagines #outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback imagine #outer banks headcanons #jj obx #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks blurb #outer banks requests #outer banks imagine #jj outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank obx #obx jj #obx imagine #obx3 #obx fanfiction

[plomegranate]

i love palestinian and arab culture so much.

my grandma wearing thobes around the house and making us tamriyeh. my cousins wedding when we all wore thobes and keffiyehs and took photos downtown and we danced with someone playing the guitar on the street and this lady stopping us to tell us we all looked so beautiful. walking the graduation stage in a thobe. the girl who liked to guess arab peoples ethnicities telling me "you're wearing tatreez... do you want me to write 'palestinian' on your forehead?" the keffiyeh my brother keeps on the drivers seat of his car.

my dad sending me off to my last semester of college with 2 pomegranates and a jar of palestinian olive oil. my cousins wife coming up with new ways to make zaatar and cheese pastries. me and my grandma sitting on the floor and making waraq 3neb- my job was to separate the leaves so she could roll them easier. my mom sending me and my brother to school with eid cookies for my teachers and tasking us with delivering some to the neighbors. my aunt glaring at me and piling more food on my plate and then asking if i was still hungry (i wasnt). my mom always telling me to invite my friends and cousins over for dinner and asking me what they like to eat. my family getting my dad knafeh instead of cake for his birthday. the man who told me i made the "best fetteh in the western hemisphere".

the man in the shawarma shop who gave me my fries for free and baklava i didnt order because we spoke about being palestinian while he took my order. the person on tumblr who i bonded with because we are from the same palestinian city. the girl i met on campus who exclaimed "youre palestinian? me too!" because i was wearing my keffiyeh. the girl in my class that showed me the artwork about palestine her dad made and donated for fundraising. the couple in the grocery store who noticed my palestinian shirt and talked with me for 20 minutes and ended up being a family friend. the silly palestinian kids i tutored sighing in disappointment when i told them i was born in america because they were hoping that id have been born "somewhere cooler". my friends family who bought me dinner despite me being there by chance and having met me for the first time the day before.

the boys starting uncoordinated dabke lines in my high school's hallways. the songs about the longing and love for our land. the festivals and parties and gatherings where everything smells like shisha and oud. memories of waiting in the car for an hour as my parents talked at the doorway of their friends homes. my cousins and i showing up at each others homes with cake or fruit or games as if it was the first time we ever visited even though we always say "you dont have to".

kids stubbornly helping to clean and make tea after a meal while being told to go sit down because they are guests. the necklaces in the shape of our home countries. people hugging and laughing and acting as if theyve known each other for years because they come from the same city or know people with the same last name. the day i finally got to bully my friends into letting me pay the bill because i had a job and they were still students. my moms friend who calls us every time she's at the grocery store to see if we need something

palestinian people are so resilient and hardworking and charitable. they love their culture and their community and are so quick to share and welcome anyone in. everyday i am so thankful and proud to be part of such a warm and lovely culture

#my love letter to palestine and its culture #free palestine #for those who dont know: #thobe: traditional embroidered dress. theres a lot of meaning behind the designs and different styles are indicative of the region #tatreez: the embroidery style #waraq 3neb: stuffed grapeleaves #dabke: traditional dance. look up videos theyre quite fun #shisha: the stuff smoked in hookah #oud: popular perfume/cologne scent #tamriyeh: fried dough dessert #keffiyeh: traditional scarf #zaatar: spice mix of mostly thyme #fetteh: dish made with bread yogurt chickpeas and nuts #knafeh: dessert made of cheese and shredded filo dough #there is so much more i can add. i really could go on forever #mine #plomegrantalk

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie drabble #background ronance #fluff and fluff and FLUFF #the first WIP out of a fuckton has been finished #yay #also I can't sleep who would have thought?

[machiavellli]

Some Lorenzo Berkshire headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: after a month I made them. I am truly sorry, I am the ceo of procrastination. But I had so much fun writing those though, because Lorenzo is my silly lovely boy, I wanna hug him so bad, he too precious. And this song, reminds me of him so bad, like every time I listen to it, my mind immediately jumps to him.

Honestly I got a bit carried away, I wanted to cover maybe other parts, like how he is as a boyfriend, but well-. You read it and of course you can tell me what you think after :)

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Infos: pretty much just fluff, possible dramatic scene, no use of y/n, Lorenzo being cute, mutual pinning, English is not my first language (please if you find any mistake report them to me!).

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Lorenzo Berkshire, the most precious slytherin boy:

You two first met when you were just children because of your families

And I don’t know about you, but I used to despise boys so much when I was little, until I was seven (or perhaps even eight), so I kinda imagine your first meeting to be not that charming.

Like little Enzo panicking because he can’t understand what he did wrong, why this little girl is making such a disgusted face for him

But as you two grow more comfortable around each other, he becomes your best boy friend.

You two have many chances to see each other during your childhood and you always tried to make the best out of each encounter.

The type of kids that would cry when they have to separate after playing all day together.

And also the type of children that would definitely try to pull a prank on little Draco, just for them to get chased down by Lucius Malfoy himself after and cry frightened.

But something inside you two changes when you both are forced into your first ballroom dancing class (I headcanon that all the high-ranking families in the magical society enjoy hosting elegant dinners and balls, so follow me on this)

The proximity between you two, the touch of her hand, totally make little Enzo go all flushed.

Therefore, that soft innocent crush in the heart of the two children starts to blossom.

You drew hearts next to his name in your diary, imprisoning your feelings at the edge of a paper too scared to burn at the sight of the light, too scared to show this growing affection.

Little Enzo would sometimes pick a flower from his garden, trying to build some courage in himself for giving it to you. But that never happens.

When you get to Hogwarts he is your rock.

Perhaps if you an introvert he is the one introducing you to people or literally bringing you inside a friend group.

Ever heard of the trope “extrovert adopts an introvert”? Like that I mean.

Anyway, the crush is still there, of course, but none of you dare to even consider talking about it. Because no one has the guts to risk losing their favorite person.

Lorenzo is very cheerful, a ray of sunshine, and as he grows more people start to notice. And that’s a problem.

You are jealous, terribly.

Seeing those girls approaching him, giggling like infants, even when you are right at his side, hurts you.

He always refuse them politely and you smile in you mind.

Lorenzo is such a gentleman and everybody knows it.

Always giving you his arm while walking, opening doors,

moving chairs,

asking “how did you sleep darling?” or “have you eaten today dear?”

hugging you every time you see each other,

Offering his jacket to you as soon as he notice that it is becoming a little cold

Listening you ramble for hours about your favorite subject or a book you just read, always with that delicious little smile painted on his face.

And if he finds you crying for whatever reason he will take you into his arms immediately.

Listening to you explain through your tears what happened, while one hand strokes your hair gently and the other your back.

Seeing you hurt has an effect on him, definitely will let a couple of tears slip while you can’t see him.

Lorenzo is an empath, he will understand you and he will comfort you.

Also I feel like his love language is debatable, but he will definitely like to touch you, to feel your presence concretely.

Even if you two are not together he will often try to pull out an arm around your shoulders, always respecting your decision to refuse it and your personal vital space though.

Perhaps, sometimes, as you are all focused making your pen run during your studies session, he will look at your hand, wishing to be able to linger over it without an explanation.

He is also jealous, of course, because no one knows how desperate he is for you, how he feels blinded by how beautiful you have grown.

He feels his eyes and heart burning when a guy at a party tries to hit on you.

The golden retriever energy is suddenly gone and Theo will pull out a worried look for his friend.

But you aren’t his, how stupid it is of him to ache himself for something he never had.

After another scene of this kind, Theo decides to ask him about this totally not subtle behavior of his. (You already know that I headcanon Enzo and Theo to be best buddies shhh)

It takes a while for him to confess, but either for the tipsy state or the exhaustion that this situation has brought to him, he confess.

After years, let’s say it happens in the 6th year, he finally tells someone, felling already a bit lighter.

Theo looks at him, trying to not laugh, but miserably fails: “mate do you need glasses?”

And then he explains to him that anyone can see that something is going on between the two.

That you look at him like he is the sun lighting your existence and so does he with you.

Perhaps it is time to act now, to not fear, to be brave.

He won’t ask you directly though, I see him more prone to writing down a letter to you

Pouring on paper his feelings, how exceptionally well you make him feel, in conclusion, his love for you.

The angel sent from above that you are in his eyes, that he always had and always will e have at his side if he seals with ink his emotions.

Perhaps it could look something like this:

My Dearest,

In the quiet corners of my soul, I've carried a secret for what feels like an eternity, my heart dances to the rhythm of your name. Amidst youthful dreams and uncertain tomorrows, your laughter echoes in my thoughts, painting vivid hues in the canvas of my days. With each passing day, your radiance grows, illuminating the path of my existence. Today, in this moment of bravery, perhaps taken by a Gryffindor spirit, I dare to confess what has long lingered unspoken: I adore you beyond measure.

Yours sincerely,

Lorenzo

And do we want the realization dramatic? Of course, is that even a question?

You recive his letter in a moment of privacy, perhaps in a quiet corner of the library while you are studying.

A first year approach you and quickly says “It is from Lorenzo Berkshire, he wants to know what you think then” before running away.

You look at the letter puzzled, looking at the delicate handwriting in which your initials are written on the outside.

You open the letter and everything just stops.

Only your eyes move, running desperately over and over again on the words overflowed by pure love.

How is it that you never noticed?

How is it that someone can love you so deeply?

The clock has continued its tireless dance for too long and you finally had enough.

There it won’t be peace until you found him.

An exceptional energy, filled with excitement, happiness and love, takes over you.

You suddenly snap, lifting yourself up from your cozy spot, leaving everything behind, because your real everything is in front of you.

The sound of your shoes, tirelessly beating against the hard floor as you run, is all you can hear.

People send concerned look in your way as you brush not so cordially their shoulder, trying to make your way to your lover.

The halls are full, the rain is once again pouring outside, you don’t even know where you are going, simply drove by the now fully ignited sentiment.

Lorenzo is repaired outside in the viaduct courtyard, waiting for his friends to be done with their smoking when he sees you.

You, bravely exiting the library annex, making your way to the viaduct bridge, looking left and right, looking for him.

Without a word to the others he starts running in your direction, the rain quickly wetting him entirely.

You are now both running, from opposite side of the bridge, people gathering around looking as the scene consume before them.

It is cold,

It is wet,

The nature is gray under the fog.

But two hearts beat ferociously, desperately trying to approach the other.

Your drenched hair flows with your movement, hands in a fist, your vision lightly blurred.

And in the middle of the bridge he catches you.

An hug full of every word neglect for so long.

He spins you around for has many years he had to wait for this, before he lets you go, moving his hands to cup your face gently as the rain harshly pours on you.

Eyes so desperate to crawl into the other’s spirit.

“I sense my letter has reached you” he will say smiling like an idiot drunk on love

You giggle, like the kids you used to be.

Because you have known each other for a lifetime, but only now he has found you.

“My dear, I love you” he will say before kissing you, warming your body, lighting your existence.

Everything faded then, from the cheers of the other students looking at the theatrical scene, to the screams of the various professor trying to pull you inside.

Your heart finally funded his.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

I hope you liked them🫶✨

my ask box is open btw!

#sorry for the absence I was making these 🫶✨🌷💗 #lorenzo berkshire #my gifs #lorenzo berkshire headcanons #my headcanons #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #Lorenzo Berkshire x y/n #fluff #lorenzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire headcannons #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x y/n #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys headcanons #slytherin boys x you #pure fluff #Slytherin aesthetic #until i found you #Lorenzo Berkshire gifs #harry potter headcanon #Harry Potter #theodore nott #theo nott #slytherin #draco malfoy #louis partridge #harry potter fanfiction

[copper-16]

You Didn't Let Me Finish

Ingrid had a rule that she had held onto ever since she started working as a stripper: she doesn't sleep with clients.

Usually.

Ingrid doesn't usually sleep with clients. Exceptions must be made for most rules anyways though, right?

(a/n: Yes it's a stripper fic. I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone, this is just a silly little idea I had in my head and decided to write on a whim. Feel free to skip if it's not your thing! Also I didn't proofread it, so ignore any mistake lmao)

Sometimes, Ingrid wasn’t exactly sure how she had ended up here. 

The Norwegian had done a semester abroad in Spain when she was in university, and found that she absolutely loved the city. So when the opportunity to move to Barcelona presented itself after graduation, she jumped at the chance to go. Her study abroad had been in Madrid, but it was still Spain, right? 

And the Norwegian actually preferred Barcelona to Madrid, the longer she lived here. She enjoyed the energy of the city, how posh and lively it was, how wonderfully kind the people were. The job she was offered was modest, and despite the fact that she got by, Ingrid wasn’t all that comfortable with living from paycheck to paycheck if she didn’t have to. 

Which was exactly how she had found herself at Dollhouse. It was the most exclusive strip club in Barcelona, catering only to those clients who could pay for the supreme services, and they only accepted the best when it came to their girls. 

The owner had taken one look at Ingrid, roving his eyes up and down the dark haired woman with interest before he was nodding, clearly pleased with what he was seeing. Her ability to speak both English and some Spanish came in handy, and she became a regular for many of the international clients. 

Ingrid was paid well, only worked three nights a week, and it helped her to nearly double her salary with the tips she was given. She gave lap dances, some pole work, did a few shows on the main stage, served customers when asked. It was an easy gig, and she couldn’t help but feel appreciated given the reaction that she could stir up in most men. It was addicting, really. She felt powerful and in control, her confidence only rising the longer she worked there. 

It wasn’t sex. People often got that mixed up, that being a stripper meant sex. It could mean sex, if that was what the girls wanted, but Ingrid had little interest in the older men who came into her rooms. She was as gay as they came, and it was very rare for them to receive a female client, and Ingrid had never had the pleasure of having one, not personally. 

But she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea, if the right person came along. 

It’s just, nobody had. 

But perhaps that would change. 

—

It was a Sunday night, which meant that the Dollhouse was relatively calm. Ingrid was in the back room with a few of the other girls, getting ready for her show in around thirty minutes when Miguel came back. 

“Ingrid, Misa!” He called, and both women turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. They stood, setting their makeup down to walk over to their boss, who was in charge of the scheduling. 

Miguel was gruff but kind, and he always made sure the girls were comfortable and not exploited. He could be a bit rough around the edges but he never failed to make the girls feel cared for as people and not just objects, and in return they did their best to make his life as painless as possible. It was a good gig, they all knew that, compared to the nasty bastards at some of the other places around town. 

“We have two clients in separate private rooms. Footballers, booked after winning something big I think, I want the two of you to take them,” Miguel explained, and he looked between Misa and Ingrid with a critical eye, clearly trying to decide who to send where. 

Despite the fact that Ingrid was Norwegian and Misa was Spanish, the two actually looked quite similar. Ingrid was paler, taller, and less tattooed than Misa was, but in terms of build and physical appearance, they were rather alike. 

“Misa, I want you in Room One and Ingrid in Room Two, Misa your Spanish is better than Ingrid’s. The girls will cover your sets for the night so don’t worry about that. They’ve booked for the rest of the night so make sure to give them their money's worth but you’re free to leave when you are done, alright?” Miguel decided, and Ingrid and Misa both nodded. 

“Oh and–”

“If they do anything creepy we will come find you,” Ingrid and Misa rattled off in perfect unison, and Miguel scowled at his predictability before he shooed them away to go get changed, the two women smiling at the action. 

Ingrid and Misa walked back to the changing room, each of them looking through the different lingerie sets they could wear. 

“What are you thinking?” Misa asked as she pulled out a purple lace set before shaking her head, shoving it back in her closet. 

“Well if they paid for the whole night then clearly they have money, probably want something expensive and distinguished. Footballers can be assholes and handsy, and they think too much with their dicks and not enough with their heads,” Ingrid scoffs lightly, and Misa snorts as she looks over at the dark haired woman’s closet. 

“Hmm…you’re going to wear this,” Misa decides, pulling out a hunter green piece of lace, and Ingrid raises her brow before nodding her agreement, looking over at the Spaniard’s closet. 

“And you’re going to do this, I’ve seen you in it before and your chest looks amazing in it,” Ingrid says with an air of finality, and Misa smirks at the outfit before they both went into their changing rooms to slip their clothes off and put the lace on. They don’t bother with robes, the hallway to the private rooms is secluded from the rest of the club anyways, so the two women make their way back together, chatting lightly about their day jobs, what their weeks look like. 

By the time they make it to Room One and Room Two, the women are both relaxed and ready to do their job. Neither of them really has any idea what lies beyond the door besides a footballer, so with one final goodbye they both enter the passcodes to the room before stepping in. 

Ingrid closes the door behind her before turning around, and she can’t help the way that her eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees who it is sitting at the table. 

The room is set up with a bed, a couch and two loveseats, as well as a table with four dining room chairs. Lap dances are usually given in the chairs at the table or the loveseats, but the rest of the room can be utilized however the girls may choose to. 

The thing that surprises Ingrid though, is the fact that the person sitting at the table is a woman, and not a man. 

The woman stands, the chair rustling against the floor as she pushes it back before she steps forward to examine Ingrid. Her gaze is curious but not sharp, her entire body language relaxed. She’s clearly a footballer, her body muscled and well built.  

She can’t be more than a few years older than Ingrid, and she’s just an inch or two shorter than her with light, sandy blonde hair that is straightened just past her shoulder. Her hazel eyes take Ingrid in, the light lace that covers her body, and she nods appreciatively for a moment before cocking her head. 

“Hello,” she offers, and Ingrid is quick to respond, the woman’s gaze making her feel a little bit hot. 

“Hi,” Ingrid responds, not entirely sure what to say. The woman was speaking to her in English, so clearly she recognized that the Norwegian was a foreigner, though she wasn’t exactly sure how she noticed that before she had even spoken. 

“Why did they send you in here to me?” The woman asked curiously, her hazel eyes still boring into Ingrid. The question is surprising, considering the fact that they were at a strip club. They sent her in here to do her job, but the Norwegian gets the sense that isn’t what this woman means, so she answers with more candor.  

“My coworkers' Spanish is better than mine. Presumably your friend only speaks Spanish, but you clearly can speak English well, so here I am,” Ingrid supposes, and the woman nods slowly before her lips quirk up in a smirk. 

“My friend can speak enough English for tonight, I promise. I think you should switch rooms…I insist actually. I think she’ll be quite charmed by…” the woman looks down at Ingrid once more before her gaze returns to the dark haired woman’s eyes, “...you.”   

Ingrid’s eyebrows raise in surprise before she nods in agreement, never one to say no to a client request unless it really was something she couldn’t do. 

“If that’s what you wish…” Ingrid trails off, still unsure of the woman’s name. 

“Alexia. And my friend's name in the other room is María,” she supplies, and Ingrid regards her for another minute before slipping out of the room, Alexia turning back to sit down in the chair she had been in originally. 

The Norwegian walks over to Room One briskly, rapping on the door three times before she steps back, waiting for Misa to come out. It only takes a few seconds for the Spaniard to slide out of the room, her eyebrows furrowed in clear confusion. 

“We need to switch, the other woman requested it,” Ingrid explains, and Misa nods for a second before she looks back at the room. 

“Can you believe it’s women? And god, if the second one is as hot as this one…” Misa trails off, practically drooling, and Ingrid can’t help but laugh lightly, because really she quite agrees. Misa is the only other gay woman at Dollhouse, and Ingrid finds solace in the fact that she isn’t alone, calmed by the Spaniards presence. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. Her name is Alexia,” Ingrid adds before the younger woman can leave, and Misa nods before she gestures back at the room next to them. 

“Names Mapi,” Misa supplies, and Ingrid’s eyebrows furrow at the fact she’s now been told two separate names for this woman. But honestly, if she was even half as attractive as the first woman, Ingrid was seriously going to be in trouble. 

The first woman, Alexia, hadn’t exactly been her type per say, but objectively she was very attractive. 

As Misa disappears down the hallway Ingrid takes a deep breath, trying to center herself and remain calm at what is about to occur. She knew what the deal was with men, how to dance and act. 

But women were different, Ingrid knew that even if she had never had a female client. They were more watchful, more appreciative, more in tune. 

And well, if this woman was as attractive as Misa was making her out to be, she might be in a bit of trouble. 

The green eyed woman punched in the code before she stepped into the room, once again shutting the door behind her. 

Ingrid turned around, taking in the room and the woman who was settled on one of the room's two armchairs. 

And god was Misa wrong. 

This woman wasn’t attractive. 

She was mind numbingly, astronomically stunning, and it takes everything in Ingrid not to let her jaw physically drop. 

The woman had her hair down in beach waves, lighter highlights against the brunette of her hair accenting the dark strands, framing dark eyes and supple, light pink lips that are set in a smirk. 

She’s wearing a button down that has far too many buttons undone, but it only serves to show off her cleavage, biceps straining against the tight black fabric. She has on gray dress pants, and she shifts her shirt sleeve up to glance at her watch before she stands, making her way over to Ingrid. 

“Hola princesa,” the woman greets softly, her voice raspy and deliciously low, and if Ingrid wasn’t wet at just the sight of her, she was now. 

If there was anyone who was going to break her rule of not sleeping with someone, it would be this woman. That was assuming she wanted to as well, but if the glint in her eyes was anywhere near as serious as it looked, Ingrid thought her chances might be relatively high. 

She scrambled to gather as much Spanish as she possibly could. It was a little pathetic that she wasn’t more fluent, but between this being her third language and the fact that her work was in English and most of her friends spoke the language, her Spanish could definitely use some work. 

“Hola,” Ingrid rushed to reply, internally cringing at how bad her accent was while understanding washed over the woman’s face, and she switched to a heavily Spanish accented English. 

“Ah, English, no?” The woman suggested, no malice in her tone, and Ingrid let out a small sigh before she nodded. 

“Si,” she acquiesced in a bit of a defeated tone, but the woman simply tipped her head back in a delicious laugh, something light and breathy, her neck on full display. She had a tattoo on it, and Ingrid could see more ink peaking back at her on the woman’s available skin. 

It did absolutely nothing to help the green eyed woman’s aching core, but she ignored it in favor of returning to the problem at hand, to the fact that she needed to get on with the performance for this woman. 

“Sit?” Ingrid asked gently, gesturing to the table and chairs that surrounded it, walking over to pull one of them out. 

The woman made no move to walk over, seemingly not done with the conversation. 

“I’m Mapi,” she said instead, and Ingrid raised her brow at the woman, clearly a little curious. 

“I’ve been told by a confident source that your name is María,” Ingrid sidesteps the introduction to ask the question, watching the way that the woman’s eyes darkened with lust when she says her name. 

“Have you now?” Mapi drawls, the surprise clear in her face. The smirk is back, and she finally begins to walk toward the table, but before she sits she stands in front of Ingrid, still only looking her in the eyes. 

The Norwegian keeps waiting for her to drop her eyes down, to look over the lace that could hardly be described as modest, but the smaller woman seems hell bent on keeping her eyes trained on Ingrid’s. 

“And you are?” She asks lightly, the dark haired woman answering her question quickly and easily. 

“My name is Ingrid,” she murmurs, once again gesturing at the chair, and this time Mapi takes her up on her offer. The Spaniard sits down before she looks up at the Norwegian, who strolls over to turn the music on. 

“Any requests?” Ingrid questioned, looking back at Mapi to find the woman staring at her with hooded eyes and a hungry gaze. She shakes her head, finding no offers. 

“Whatever you prefer,” Mapi decides, and Ingrid observes the woman for a moment before nodding, turning back to the speaker system. She sets up her playlist, playing the song TiO by Zayn, which had been a recent favorite of hers. 

The song is a bit of a quicker pace, which she liked to start out with. It was easy to flash the quick movements before she let things get sensual, and her approach for this woman is absolutely no different. 

She turns back toward the table, walking over in long strides before she comes to rest in front of Mapi, her ass pressed back into the table behind her. 

“Can I touch you?” Ingrid asks in a low voice, tossing her thick, dark hair over one shoulder. Mapi looks up at her with an unreadable expression, holding eye contact before she nodded carefully. 

The Norwegian stood from the table, stepping forward. She turned, rounding the chair that Mapi was currently settled in, just watching. The brunette didn’t look back at her, but did meet her eyes when Ingrid finally circled all the way back to the front of the chair. 

It’s at this point that Ingrid brings her hand up, resting it over the Spaniard’s collarbone carefully. She slides her hand up, coming into contact with bare skin as she pushes her middle finger inside the cuff of the woman’s popped shirt. 

The dark haired woman plays with the collar for a moment before she begins moving once again. She drags her fingers around to Mapi’s back, stopping when she is standing in front of the Spaniard’s back, pressing both of her palms to the brunette’s back, fingers down. She slowly runs her hands down, into the small of the footballers back, before she shifts, moving them to caress her sides gently. 

She’s gone as soon as she arrived, however, continuing around the chair. Her hands travel over the Spaniard’s arm, down her side and around the underside of her chest before she splays it over the top of the brunette's abdomen. 

The muscle beneath her palm is rock hard, and she cannot help but let out a harsh breath at the feeling. She hopes that the footballer doesn’t notice, but when she looks up to see that Mapi is smirking back at her, she considers the effort fruitless. 

Ingrid’s hands retract from the Spaniard’s skin, and she shifts so that she can move her hips down and into the brunette’s lap, her back to Mapi’s front. It’s a bold first move, but she’s quick, in time with the song for just a tease before she’s gone, several steps away. 

Mapi is watching her with eagle eyes as Ingrid runs her hands up her own sides, squeezing at her own chest, letting her eyes flutter shut at the feeling for emphasis. It’s a little pornographic, and perhaps a little bit of a sell out, but she doesn’t care. 

The Norwegian makes sure to spend several moments just watching, teasing herself in whatever way possible, reveling in the way that the Spaniards eyes darken at the sight. Her nipples strain against the lace, hard and begging to be freed, but the dark haired woman ignores them in favor of returning to the footballer. 

The song changes to Lose Control by Teddy Swims, something more slow and sensual. Ingrid stalks back to the brunette, her intent clear when she places her hands on the woman’s knees, sliding them up her thighs before squeezing, lightly. 

The Norwegian moves her hands up the Spaniard’s side as she settles in her lap, her knees spread wide as she presses forward into the brunette’s personal space. She moves her hips slowly in an infinity pattern, sensual and enough to drive any man crazy. 

And yet still, Mapi has yet to touch her. Her arms remain listless at her sides, rather awkwardly. It’s a staunch change from the male clients she has often, who feel that they are allowed to touch, to take as much as they want. They consider the fact that Ingrid has been paid for, that they are allowed to do whatever they want to her, within reason. 

This doesn’t seem to be the case for this woman, however, and it only turns Ingrid on more. She leans forward even further, placing one hand on the woman’s shoulder while the other remains firmly planted on her side. Her lips are on the shell of the woman’s ear as she speaks, her voice low. 

“You can touch…you know,” the Norwegian drawls, her words breathy and filled with lust. She leaned back to look the footballer in the eyes, noting that her gaze was dark, the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. 

They held the others' gaze for a moment, neither moving until finally, finally Ingrid felt two hands carefully, respectfully placing themselves on her side, down toward her lower back. 

It was the Norwegian who moved them, removing her hands from the Spaniard to place hers over the brunette’s, sliding them lower, lower, lower, until they were resting firmly on her ass. Only then did Ingrid remove her own hands, planting them on the back of the chair as she rolled her hips down into the brunette. 

Mapi was staring at her intently, and she gently palmed at the Norwegian’s ass to test, rewarded greatly for her efforts when Ingrid arched into her, letting out a breathy noise. 

The dark haired woman’s body could only be described as fluid as she moved above the Spaniard, finally moving her leg to hook over the back of the chair, wrapping around the brunette’s back. 

Mapi slid her hands up, pulling Ingrid’s body more flush with hers. The Norwegian smiled, their faces just centimeters from one another. The Spaniard’s breath on hers was hot and insistent, her eyes roving over Ingrid’s face, finally eyeing the lace that covered the dark haired woman’s body. 

“You like it?” Ingrid purred, a smile evident in her voice as she gripped Mapi’s shoulders. The Spaniard scoffed lightly, looking back up at Ingrid. 

“You could say that,” the brunette hummed, her voice thick and low. It sent a shot of heat straight to the Norwegian’s core, and she arched even further into the smaller woman. 

Ingrid turned her head, brushing her nose against the Spanaird’s temple, her breathing shallow. 

“I don’t sleep with clients,” the Norwegian explained, and felt the shift immediately from the woman beneath her, the instant reaction to move away.

Ingrid had to give the footballer that, she was nothing if not respectful. It only made the Norwegian want her more, only made her flush further at the thought. 

It was her choice. 

Ingrid intercepts her hands, shoving them back down onto her ass before she brought her own to the brunette’s neck, pulling her in. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” the dark haired woman pouted, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Mapi reached forward, running her thumb over Ingrid’s lip slowly, softly. 

“Lo siento, princesa,” Mapi soothed, her expression willing Ingrid to continue. The Norwegian smiled gently, leaning down so that her lips hovered over the Spaniard’s throat. 

“I don’t sleep with clients, not unless I want to,” Ingrid continued, her hot breath leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Her fingertips trail up Mapi’s side, running over ridges of muscles and soft skin, dipping under her shirt before they retracted. Never direct, always teasing. 

“And trust me, I want to,” the Norwegian promised as she brought her face back to level with Mapi’s, her eyebrow quirked, almost daring the Spaniard to disagree. 

But the brunette would never do that, especially not when she has the most gorgeous woman she had ever laid eyes on sitting in her lap. 

They are left staring at one another for a few moments, their eyes flickering back and forth between the others eyes and lips, waiting to see who breaks first. A game of wills, a question of who is going to hold the power. 

It’s the Spaniard who snaps first, lunging forward to capture Ingrid’s lips in her own. She’s impatient, unable to resist having Ingrid in front of her looking so delectable, without doing anything about it. 

Mapi’s mouth is hot and insistent on her own, the brunette’s hands coming up to cradle Ingrid’s face as she kisses her senseless. 

It’s only a few moments later that the Spaniard presses her tongue into the Norwegian’s mouth, silently asking for entrance. The dark haired woman allows her access instantly, completely floored at the feeling of Mapi’s mouth on her own. 

The footballer swipes her tongue over the roof of Ingrid’s mouth, smiling into the kiss at the whine that slips past Ingrid’s lips at the feeling. 

The Norwegian’s head is dizzy, completely and utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of the Spaniard, of her hands being everywhere, of the press of her lips to Ingrid’s. It feels as though life is being breathed back into her, transformed into a fire that is sent straight to her core. 

She knows that she’s soaked the lace beneath her completely, but she can’t bring herself to care. Especially not when Mapi leans back, gesturing for her to stand. Ingrid is quick to comply, not bothering to try to make herself seem as cocky as she was pretending earlier. 

It’s been a long time since she’s been fucked properly, and something in this woman’s eyes tells her that the Spaniard is exactly what she needs. 

“Get on the bed,” Mapi instructs, and Ingrid is quick to comply, walking with purpose before laying back on the bed, sitting with her head up near the pillows, still clad only in her lace. 

The Spaniard stands from her spot on the chair, flipping the lock on her watch open as she sets it on the table in front of her. She pulled her shirt up from its spot having been tucked into her pants, looking over at the Norwegian as she undid the last few buttons. 

She laid the shirt down on the table, the picture of control and composure. The loss of the garment leaves her in only a black bra, which contrasts against the tan of her skin. She loses the belt she had on but elects to keep her pants on, instead moving toward the bed. 

Throughout this, the footballer had never let her eyes leave contact with Ingrid, not wanting to let the Norwegian out of her sight, even for a second. 

Ingrid lays back as Mapi joins her on the bed, crawling up the Norwegian’s body until she was positioned over the taller woman’s body, where she had wanted to be from the beginning. 

“You tell me to stop the minute you do not like something, si?” Mapi asked, her voice clear and leaving no room for argument. The Spaniard had no interest in making Ingrid do anything she did not want to. 

“Si,” the Norwegian parroted, squirming just slightly under the Spaniard, desperate for her to do something. 

Once she has confirmed Ingrid’s answer, the Spaniard is quick to begin her descent down the woman’s body. She captures the dark haired woman’s lips in a bruising kiss, applying just the right amount of pressure and tongue to have Ingrid gasping for more. 

She releases the Norwegian’s perfect, plump lips only in favor of working her mouth across Ingrid’s jaw, sucking and nipping lightly at the skin there. When she reaches the dark haired woman’s ear, she works her lips down and over the column of Ingrid’s throat. She pays close attention to the areas that make the taller woman let out a heavier breath, or the ghost of a whine, doubling down on her attention to those spots. 

She kisses over soft, pale skin, and down toward the soft flesh of her chest. Ingrid is arching into her before she even reaches her destination, desperate for more. 

“Can I–” Mapi removes her lips only to start a sentence that is never finished. 

“Yes, please, do anything to me,” Ingrid gasped, her entire body on fire at the thought of Mapi’s mouth over her chest, at the apex of her thighs. A flush is blooming on her chest as the Spaniard pulls the lace down, revealing Ingrid’s chest. 

Her nipples are peaked, aching to be touched and played with. The footballer doesn’t even bother with using her fingers first, simply leaning down to wrap her mouth around one of Ingrid’s nipples, her hand coming to cover the other. 

“Aye, María,” Ingrid hisses at the feeling, her whole back leaving the bed as she arches into Mapi’s mouth. Her hand has flown to the Spaniard’s head, her fingers tangling in the brunette’s hair and tugging lightly. 

Mapi doubles her attention at the feeling, swirling the tip of her nipple around her tongue, teasing her teeth over the sensitive area. Ingrid ate every lap of attention up, basking in it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel so much, and it was turning her on in a way that was borderline painful. 

“Please, more,” the Norwegian begged once attention had been laved to both sides of her chest, and Mapi released her other nipple with a lewd pop sound. The footballer raised a brow at her, but Ingrid shook her head, her breaths shallow and desperate. 

The stripper is well aware of the irony, given her profession. She’s the one who is supposed to be pleasuring, not the other way around. But there was something about the way this woman composed herself, something about the reverence with which she touched the Norwegian that made her comfortable.

Mapi considers the request for a moment before she relents, pulling further at the lace, signaling that she wanted it off. The dark haired woman is quick to comply with her request, removing the hunter green fabric before she threw it to the ground, already forgotten. 

Ingrid lay back down on the bed, her hair splaying out against the pillow. The Spaniard watched her with hungry eyes, her lips turning up into a smirk. 

“So beautiful,” she murmured softly, her words filled with clear appreciation. “Espléndida, princesa,” Mapi whispered as she returned to Ingrid, softly holding the Norwegian’s face in her hands. Her lips were gentle against the taller woman this time, leaving the Norwegian with the feeling that she was delicate, and deserved to be treated as such. 

Oh, and what a different feeling it was to be touched by the Spaniard, as opposed to the heavy handed men she usually interacted with. 

To be touched and praised as though she was the most important thing in the world. No drug could compare, not to her anyways. 

Even as she trails down the Norwegian’s body, Mapi stops to press kisses into her skin, imbuing the fire of their interaction with a level of sweetness and ingenuity Ingrid had not been expecting. 

But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the Norwegian for what the first run of the Spaniard’s tongue through her would feel like. 

She is unsure of where her voice ends and Mapi’s begins, but all she knows is that two moans are filling the room, both equally desperate. Ingrid clutched at the sheets desperately, her hands fisting the pristine white fabric beneath them as Mapi ran her tongue through her again. 

The Spaniard eats her out as though it will save her, with an intent and passion that Ingrid cannot remember ever having in the bedroom. She brings her tongue up to circle the Norwegian’s clit several times, and every time a new wave of pleasure washes over her. 

“You taste perfect,” Mapi mumbles against her heat, and Ingrid flushes completely at the praise, struggling to compose her own pleasure. She attempts to bring her hand up to cover her own mouth, something that Mapi notices instantly. 

“Aye, I want to hear you,” the Spaniard chides softly when she sees what Ingrid is doing, and the dark haired woman lets out a filthy moan as she removes her hand, at the feeling of Mapi’s finger teasing at her entrance. 

“Is this okay?” The footballer confirms, waiting for the fervent head nod that she receives from Ingrid before she finally dips her finger in at a painfully slow rate, before curling gently. 

Ingrid is writhing under her, letting a string of mewls and moans that tumble from her lips of their own accord. She doesn’t care that she had no idea if anyone can hear them, only focused on her own pleasure and the feeling of the brunette’s body near her own. 

“Si, si, si,” Ingrid begs, moaning unabashedly when Mapi adds a second finger, curling with more purpose this time. 

The footballer could admit, her plan had been to tease more than this. She was a playful woman, and enjoyed picking her partners apart before allowing them to come, usually. 

Something about this Norwegian, the flush in her chest and the noises slipping past her lips, has Mapi throwing her entire playbook out the window.

She’s more than happy to continue this, so long as Ingrid continues making those noises. 

“You like that, princesa?” Mapi asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. Ingrid nods tightly, her chest arching up as the Spaniard curls her fingers deep within her. 

The set of her jaw, the way it opened with pleasure left Mapi flooded with the need to please, so the Spaniard lowered her mouth down to Ingrid’s clit, sucking lightly. The dark haired woman cries out, her hips rutting down into Mapi as the footballer continued her brutal pace. 

“Fuck!” Ingrid wailed, her voice dripping with need as she hurtled toward orgasm. Her hips grew erratic, jumping into Mapi’s hand as her whole body squirmed. The brunette could tell that the dark haired woman was close, doubling down on her pace and intensity, intent on getting her there. 

It only took a few more curls of Mapi’s fingers from deep within the Norwegian for the taller woman to let out a sharp cry, her whole body tightening. The Spaniard couldn’t help but smirk against the dark haired woman’s core as her whole body began to shudder, her orgasm working through her like a forest fire. 

Her whole body was arched off the bed, the sheets gripped in her fists as Mapi worked her through her orgasm, her entire body shaking. She collapses against the sheets, her breath coming in quick gasps as waves of pleasure flooded her system, her eyes still screwed shut. 

It took her a few moments, but she forced her eyes open when Mapi removed her fingers from Ingrid. The green eyed woman looked up at the Spaniard, who had sat back on her heels, her own breath short and lustful. 

The brunette reached her finger up to her own face, brushing some of the arousal away from her lips with the pad of her thumb as Ingrid looked up at her. The Norwegian’s dark hair was a sharp contrast to the pillow, the flush of her chest and stomach the complete antithesis to her pale skin. 

Mapi would never see a sight prettier than this under her again, she knew that for certain. Ingrid turned her head, glancing over at the clock and realizing with a rush that they still had several hours before either of them had to go anywhere. 

When the Norwegian looks back up at the Spaniard, it’s with a smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised, almost as though she was challenging the brunette. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Mapi swore before surging forward to claim Ingrid’s lips once more, pressing her back into the bed. 

Ingrid let herself moan out, half at the feeling of Mapi’s body above her own, and half of the self satisfied feeling of knowing that it was going to be hard to walk tomorrow. 

So yeah…maybe some rules are worth being broken every once in a while. 

#ingrid engen #mapi leon #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #misa rodriguez

[angelltheninth]

hsr men with insecure reader?🥹how would they show you are more than enough,maybe a bit of suggestive 🤭love your writing!

I used to be really insecure before, and I'm sure a lot of people are too, hopefully this will make everyone feel more loved.

Pairing: Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Sampo, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, comfort, slightly suggestive, kissing, insecurity, cuddles, public display of affection, protectiveness, jealousy, playful biting

A/N: Some comfort for you all this time around.

Dan Heng isn't the best with words of comfort but he will always make you feel like the most special, no the only, woman in the room when you're out with him. He's always got his full attention on you weather you be talking, asking him to dance, or just needing him to hold your hand when you feel overwhelmed by the attention the two of you are getting. Although you're sure that its mostly due to him not you, still all these eyes on you, on him, they make you want to prove yourself somehow. He knows this, he notices how you tense up when someone approaches him and he makes sure to let them know that he's already taken by this beautiful woman by his side.

Gepard can't stop talking you up to his friends and even his team. He thinks you're amazing. You could be doing the most mundane thing and he'll take a picture of it and smile over it the entire day. Always makes sure to kiss you when you feel proud of something, his hands cupping your face so gently because all he wants to do is care for you for the rest of his days, he wants you to know that he might be a protector and a knight to the people, but to you he's simply your boyfriend who will stop at nothing to show you how special you are to him and how happy he is to have you in his life and that he wants you to always, always be a part of it because you make it brighter.

Jing Yuan shuts down any and all feelings of insecurity before they get the chance to make you feel like you're not good enough for him. It doesn't matter if he's the general. If you value his opinion so much and hold him in such high regard then won't you trust him when he says that you're everything he could have wanted and so much more? Perhaps a little demonstration is in order. Grabbing you by the wrist he pulls you against him and carries you to the couch where he props you on his lap, bearing his neck and telling you to mark him. He never lets anyone do this, but you, he will gladly be marked by you, be yours for all to see.

Luocha knows that this isn't something he can just cure like he does with illness and injuries. This is something that he needs to show you, that you're more than worthy of being his lover. Whenever you walk into town he makes sure to hold your hand, fingers intertwined and to always insist on a single room with one bed so there's no confusion about you being a couple. Both of you are well aware of the looks you draw to yourselves and the fact that sometimes people can be blind to the signs, so in every town he makes sure to go to a stand and buy you something, a necklace, an earing or a bracelet, a matching set, one for you and one for him, showing you belong to each other.

Sampo can get insecure too but he always plays it off pretty easily as him being playfully jealous of the guys always looking your way. However if he sees that you're the one who's getting down he will try to cheer you up, he won't be too overbearing but he will leave little notes in places around the house, like a secret message for you to discover, to find and that will lead you to him. Congratulations, he is your prize, you have him now, and always from now on. Yeah it was a little silly but you had fun right? He can tell by the big smile on your face, he wants to protect that smile with everything that he's got and make sure no one disturbs your happiness.

Welt hates it when he sees you feeling insecure around passengers. Some of them can be a little flirty but he has no interest in anyone on this train other then you. Now, he can't quite put his job on hold right now but he can very quickly let you know what you mean to him, if you can stay silent that is. He doesn't mind waiting until you get home though, he'll just have to wear your lipstick mark on his neck for the rest of his shift. A little unprofessional of him yes, and will most likely get him a scolding but its a small price to pay for seeing your smile again.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #luocha x reader #sampo x reader #welt x reader #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x you #gepard x you #jing yuan x you #luocha x you #welt x you #sampo x you #welt yang x reader #honkai x reader #hsr headcanon #hsr imagine #hsr fluff #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanon #hsr x female reader #honkai star rail x female reader #honkai star rail fluff

[thecharacterchronicler]

Like An Evening Sky || Ominis Gaunt x Reader (You) (+18)

Outline: You ask Ominis to be your date for the ball and he feels sorry that he can’t see how beautiful you are... So you help him get a much more detailed and intimate idea of what you look like.

Tropes: friends to lovers, smut.

Word Count: 2’624

Warnings: explicit smut.

For the past few months, all you heard about was that the Yule Ball was coming up. Students were excitedly - and constantly - chatting about it, planning their outfits or gossiping about who will be accompanying who, it pretty much was the event of the year for those who were old enough to attend.

You had been thinking about it too, of course, but more cautiously than the others. You usually dodged the persistent questions of your friends, asking who you were hoping would ask you or why you had refused to go with Leander, which might have been your only chance of having a date.

Now a few days before the event, you still weren’t sure if you’d bother attending, even though you had promised Natsai that you’d at least dress up and go to enjoy the buffet with her.

The library was quiet, with the faint sounds of whispers and pages being turned around you, you thought that you would have felt at peace, sheltered from the buzzing energy of other students preparing for the dance, but you found yourself mulling over it way more than you wanted. The main cause of your growing frustration happened to be sitting right across from you, focused on reading an ancient book with the help of his wand.

Ominis probably was the only last year student who didn’t mention the Yule Ball coming up once. Or if he did, he never talked about it with you. Which made it even more annoying than his apparent lack of interest in it. Ominis was supposed to be your friend, your best friend even, and yet you had no idea if he was planning to go and who he had asked on a date. And to make the matter worse, he didn’t seem to care about who you were planning to go with either.

“Ominis ?” You whispered, finally gathering the courage to satisfy your curiosity, even if it meant potentially feeling very upset because of his answers.

“Yes ?” His wand stopped following the sentences in his book and his pale eyes lifted to look in your direction, showing you that you had his full attention.

“Are you going to the ball ?” You asked, nervously doodling with your quill at the top of the parchment you were writing on.

“I… No, I don’t think so. Are you ?” He replied, his voice hesitant, making you wonder if he was hiding soemething from you or if he really hadn’t given the ball a single thought until today.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, faking a detached tone. “But if you want to go, maybe we could go together ?”

You saw his eyes widen in surprise, a faint pink blush bringing color to his usually pale face.

“Uh, I guess we can… If you want.” He agreed and you let out a relieved sigh that you were sure he unmistakably noticed.

“Very well.” You said, loudly gathering your things and standing up from your seat. “Ill see you later.”

And with that, you rushed out of the library, hiding your silly smile behind your books and leaving him to study by himself, still a bit confused by your attitude.

●○●○●○●○●○●

You spent the evening before the ball in your dorm with Natsai, nervously getting ready, trying on the dress she had convinced you to buy during your last shopping trip to Hogsmead and getting your hair up in a sophisticated updo.

Natsai didn’t pester you about your date as much as you had expected her to. When you had told her and Garreth that you had asked Ominis, neither of them seemed surprised by your choice, only by the fact that neither of you had asked each other before. Was it so obvious to everyone that you had a crush on your best friend ? And did they think he liked you back ? Because frankly, even though he had agreed to accompany you tonight, you still weren’t sure if he was doing it for the sake of your friendship or because he was hoping for something more.

You walked to the temporary ballroom with your classmates, already hearing the music seeping through the closed doors and the laughters of students resonating against the walls. Up in the stairs, you spotted a group of first years, peeking from behind the railing with curious eyes. You smiled to yourself, remembering when you were their age, dreaming about attending this event too.

“I guess we’ll see you inside.” Natsai said, bringing your attention back to your trio. You followed her gaze to the opposite hallway, immediately noticing the handsome man standing there, in a immaculate white suit. You heart leaped in your chest. Ominis really was here and he was waiting for you.

Garreth and Natsai left you, arm in arm, as they entered the party. You took a deep breath and joined Ominis, as happy to see him as it was making you nervous.

“Good evening.” You greeted, once standing in front of him. “That suit looks very nice on you.”

He gave you a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, a twinge of sadness passing on his face.

“And I’m sure you look beautiful too tonight… Not that you don’t look nice on other days, I’m sure you do… What I’m saying is that you must have put in some big efforts to look even better and err… Forget it.”

You laughed, finding it cute how flustered he got with his attempt to compliment you. It was pretty unusual to see him lack self confidence and not express himself in perfect, almost diplomatic sentences. You thanked him anyway and looped your arm with his, guiding him to the ballroom.

You stood in awe at the entrance for a moment, amazed by how beautiful it looked inside. The room had been decorated in a winter theme, the snow falling from the enchanted sky above and the flickering of all the candles around making it look like you had stepped into a fairytale. You turned to Ominis, wondering if he was impressed too but the lack of reaction on his face reminded you that he couldn’t see how breathtaking it all was.

Students were dancing, others were excitedly chatting in groups and a few others were hanging by the buffet of sweets and various options of beverages. You found some of your classmates, talked and laughed together and shared a few dances with Ominis, who seemed to enjoy himself. Mostly.

But after two hours at the ball, alternating between dancing and filling your mouth with candies you never tried before, your date’s behavior changed, becoming a bit more distant and less talktative.

“Are you feeling unwell ?” You asked him, worried by how distraught he suddenly seemed.

“No… Yes.” He admitted, reluctantly. “All those people around, the music, the chatter… It’s a bit much for me too keep up with.”

“Oh, of course.” You nodded, only now understanding that he must feel overwhelmed by it all, his senses so much more sensitive than yours to compensate for his lost vision. He probably knew he’d end up feeling this way if he attended the ball, which explained why he had been trying to avoid it but he had agreed to go with you because he was a good friend and you felt awfully guilty about it now. “Let’s go outside.”

With your arm looped with his again, you guided him out of the ballroom and into the quiet gardens of the castle. The stars were brightly shining in the night sky and although the air was a bit chilly, it felt nice to escape the warmth and humidity of the party for a while.

You walked to an alcove, where you both sat on a stone bench, sheltered by the cold winter breeze and far away enough from the doors to only hear faint music reaching your ears.

“That’s much better, thank you.” Ominis said, looking indeed relived but sadness remained in his expression. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your night. It’s alright if you’d rather go back inside and dance with someone else while I take a break here.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re not ruining anything and I’d much rather stay with you, I don’t care that much about dancing or partying anyway.”

“You don’t ?” He asked, confused again. “Why did you ask me to attend with you then ?”

“Because it sounded nice to spend some more time with you.” You replied, honestly. It had been a while you hadn’t been just the two of you together , maybe because he had been avoiding talks about the Yule Ball and therefor avoiding you and your friends as well.

“With me ?” He repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe you. “Why would you want to have me as a date ? I’m not exactly a social butterfly and I can’t appreciate how lovely you must look tonight. I heard Leander and Garreth whispering about you earlier, they said you were the most beautiful girl in there but me ? I have no idea what you look like, not tonight, not at all.”

“I’m sorry Ominis, I didn’t know it mattered to you.”

“It doesn’t, not really. I think you’re amazing because of who you are, not what you look like… I just think it’s a shame you look so beautiful and I don’t get to enjoy it like the others do. Especially tonight, you probably have a nice hairdo and you must be wearing a gorgeous dress but it’s all the same to me.”

“Very well then.” You stood up and placed yourself in front of him, reaching for his hand and bringing it to your waist.

“What… What are you up to ?” He asked, barely daring to touch you, even with your permission.

“I want to show you what I look like, in a way that works for you.” You explained, gently moving his hand to the front of your dress so that he could feel the pearls sewn on the fabric underneath his fingers.

He seemed to understand what you were expecting of him and soon, his curiosity took over his cautionary nature. He followed the pearls from your hips up to your stomach, really feeling the different textures he touched.

“Your dress is soft.” He stated, moving upwards until he reached the opening of the low neckline. He tentatively stroked your bare skin there with two fingers, a satisfied smile appearing on his lips as he did. “But it isn’t as soft as your skin.”

“It’s… A dark blue dress.” You told him, wondering if he even knew what this color looked like. Maybe it didn’t matter, but you felt compelled to say something, anything, just to encourage him to keep going.

“Like an evening sky.”

You took a step closer, standing between his legs and his other hand joined his exploration of your body. He traced the outline of your silhouette, going from your hips all the way up your sides and softly grazing your cleveage. Your breath caught in your throat at the more intimate touches which caused him to stop them.

“No, keep going. Please.” You whispered, your voice guiding his eyes to yours. With his face lifted up to you, as you stood over him, you could easily reach for his blond hair and push back the stray piece falling on his forehead.

He listened, his hands resuming their wandering up your body, caressing your chest before heading downwards, back to your hips, and then to your thighs, noticing and taking in all the curves and lines of your body.

In the darkness of this starry winter night, with nothing but the light of the moon to illuminate his white form, you dared do the one thing he never found the courage to do himself and leaned over to plant a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was just as soft and gentle as his touch once his surprise faded and he pulled you even closer. You heard him whisper your name as you both came up for air, so you kissed him once more to show him that you were still there with him.

That second kiss seemed to ingnite a forgotten passion inside him, his lips pressing harder on yours as he pulled you once more, but with much more strength than before. You landed on his lap and you felt his arms around your waist securing you on top of him.

It was your turn to whisper his name, as his hand grew a lot more confident in the way it roamed over your body. After a few more feverish kisses, he pulled the fabric of your dress up your legs. You shivered at the feeling of the cold night air on your previously covered skin but the way his fingers now danced over your bare skin instantly warmed you up.

“Are we all alone ?” Ominis asked, between two breathless kisses.

You looked around, checking your surroundings as well as you could from your seat on his lap, under the alcove you had find refuge in.

“I think so… Why ?” The question had escaped your lips before you even realized it, causing an amused smile to appear on Ominis’s face.

“Because if I manage to get some satisfied sounds out of you, I want to be the only one to hear them.” He said, his good manners and cautious vocabulary long gone. His answer sent a wave of intense heat through your body, burning your cheeks.

He moved his hand under your dress, reaching for your underwear and interrupting his caress just shy of the hem. “May I ?”

“Please.” You begged, spreading your legs slightly further apart to grant him better access to your center.

He kissed you at the same time that his fingers moved inside your panties, exploring the most intimate part of your body with eagerness. He slipped between your folds, easily finding your clit and gently rubbing it between his fingers, making you exhale in shocked pleasure. You closed your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against him as he kept playing with you, your need for relief slowly but surely increasing with each of his movements.

You were pretty sure that it couldn’t get any better than that, with his palm adding pressure to your entrance while his fingers were expertly torturing your clit but he proved you wrong as soon as he pushed one of his elegant fingers inside of you.

You closed your eyes, surprised by the intensity you felt in the pit of your stomach as he reverently moved it back and forth inside you. You were getting used to the sensation, and your body was too judging by how it was becoming increasingly easier for his finger to glide in and out of your body.

Then, he added a finger to the one already there and your body shook with pleasure. You moaned quietly against him, which seemed to encourage him to thrust his fingers into you even deeper, with rapid movements you could barely keep track of.

“Ominis.” You whimpered, against his neck, feeling his grip on you tighten to hold you in place on top of him. A few more seconds and the dam inside you broke, flooding your whole body in numb pleasure. You put a hand on top of where his still was, to stop the motions that you couldn’t take anymore and he understood, putting your panties as they were and gently kissing your forehead as you still tried to catch your breath.

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis imagine #ominis x y/n #ominis smut #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy #smutty fanfiction #fanfic #ominis x you #smut

[lovingseventeen]

can you do svt crying in front of you for the first time? (established relationship) 🥺

svt crying in front of you for the first time ✧˖*°࿐

a/n: the occasional mild angst, some are less serious than others. also sorry this took a bit, sometmes it's so easy to write for all 13 of them but other times i feel like i'm stretching ideas thin.. so i wanted to try to make this as good as i could .. i hope you enjoyed!

seungcheol:

○ it was after an argument with the members

○ really, it was just something stupid that got blown out of proportion and everyone went home with a hot head. he didn’t say much when he got home to you and you could sense that something was off

○ you decided not to hover around him and just let him come to you and vent if he wanted to

○ up until he was on the couch and you saw him check his messages and angrily throw his phone. you flinched at the sound but you also softened when you saw him angrily wipe his eyes

○ “hey.. what’s wrong?” you asked softly, carefully placing a hand on his arm

○ he just sat down and you followed. soon after, he lays down to put his head in your lap, voice muffled by his hands covering his face. “just something stupid” he sighed

○ instinctively, you start running your fingers through his hair bc you know it soothes him. you don’t say much to him in these moments but you’re glad you can help him calm down when he’s so upset (10 mins later you realize he’s fallen asleep while you trace your fingers)

jeonghan:

○ it was after an argument between the two of you

○ words were thrown around and he was being far too nonchalant and somehow that made you even more irritated

○ " i don't even know about this anymore!" you spit out

○ you'd never looked at him like that either. it's like he unlocked this new level of disappointment and he wondered if he could come back from it

○ "is this it, then?" he said, voice still far too quiet for the emotions that were running rampant in the room

○ angry and hurt tears fell from his eyes but he wouldn't break eye contact with you

○ he didn't want this to end, and he really didn't want this image of you to be the lasting one in his mind if it did

○ you softened, looking away, "i don't want it to be"

○ a small wave of relief washed over him, he could still hold onto you. he walked over to you to gently hold your hand, one that was crossed over your chest

○ "i don't want it either." you let him pull you into him

○ "can we please restart this conversation? i'm sorry it got here" he whispers into your hair

○ you embrace him back "yeah, i'm sorry too"

joshua:

○ he's a bit of an empath

○ you were crying during a movie so in the end, so was he NYDSDHSJ

○ "darling.." he says softly, heart aching over the sight of tears running down your face

○ there wasn't much he could do but to let you cry it out and feel your emotions but he wasn't expecting himself to get so sad either

○ he just wraps an arm around you, running a soothing hand up and down your back

○ he tries to look back at the movie but every sniffle and hiccup from you makes him turn back to you

○ when you notice his eyes blotchy too, it almost makes you stop altogether

○ "you're crying too, josh?"

○ "can't really help it when you're crying, baby" he chuckles, as both of you dab each other's tear's away with your own sleeves

○ "we're being a little silly right now, huh?" you slightly laugh

○ he does his little signature eye crinkle with a little snort, "maybe we are"

jun:

○ it was when he sprained his ankle pretty badly dancing and he was told to take a rest for two weeks

○ inevitably, it felt like the world was turning without him and that he wouldn't be able to keep up when he returned

○ you caught him trying to watch over a dance practice and following along in your living room

○ all was alright up until he put too much weight on his injury and fell over, landing on his bum

○ "ah, shit" he cringed, getting up to drop himself on the couch

○ "aren't you supposed to be resting, hm?" you asked gently, sitting down next to him

○ he leaned forward, placing his head in his hands, "yeah" followed by a sniffle

○ "you know the rest will let you come back and dance even better, right?" you asked gently

○ " i know, but i just want to keep up"

○ "darling you'll be able to make it up easily, you're literally the best" you encouraged

○ "you're just saying that because i'm your boyfriend" he mumbled into his hands

○ "not just because of that" you assured, wrapping your arms around his middle, "but because you're just that amazing"

hoshi:

○ he didn’t want you to find out that he was an emotional drunk. but of course, this was also kind of inevitable

○ one of the boys had texted you asking if you could pick him up after they all had a bit to drink while filming

○ by the time you drove your car up to the hybe building entrance, hoshi was waiting with an arm slung around mingyu’s shoulders (mingyu had an arm around his waist). anyone passing by would think that they were dating

○ “thanks for coming by, y/n” mingyu says, half carrying hoshi into the passenger seat and buckling him in. “any time” you laughed

○ you drove for a little bit in silence as you assumed that hoshi fell asleep. but suddenly you heard your name called out in a small voice

○ “what is it bub?”

○ a deep inhale. “myungho said i wasn’t a tiger”

wonwoo:

○ he didn't cry often in general, so you never really saw it

○ both of you were surprised when it was when he first heard circles

○ "woozi sent this over to me and said it's what he's always wanted to say so i wonder what it is"

○ he places his phone down on the table as you both listen to it

○ you're watching him more than you're listening

○ wonwoo himself is caught off-guard when he finds himself trying to hold his face back from frowning

○ suddenly his breathing is a little heavier as he's trying to control this heavy lump in his throat

○ it's by the second chorus that the tears start falling and you only reach over to hold his hand

○ he can't stop the tears by now so all he can do is wipe them away with the end of his sweater

○ you both wait for the song to finish (you yourself had to hold back from watching your boyfriend cry) and just sit in silence a little after

○ "it was beautiful" you say

○ a chuckle. "yeah it really was"

woozi:

○ it happened rarely, but rarely doesn’t mean never 

○ he couldn’t come up with new ideas for his music 

○ you visited him at his studio, but little did you know it was his nth hour of replaying the same clips over and over to jog his brain 

○ “i brought you something~~” you announced as you closed the door behind you 

○ he was hunched over his laptop, barely acknowledging your presence 

○ you knew this was unusual, so you made your way towards him, setting the food you brought down on a table 

○ when you sat next to him, he turned his face away but you didn’t miss the deep and slightly broken inhale he took 

○ immediately you’re filled with worry. “what’s wrong?” you ask, reaching to give his knee a squeeze 

○ “i’m gonna ruin our next album i can’t come up with anything” 

○ “hey,” you said softly, “hey, you know that’s not true” 

○ he finally turned to you with a stray tear falling down. he didn’t say anything out of fear of just crying more 

○ “how about this,” you offer, “have you taken a break?” he shakes his head. 

○ “have you maybe asked some of the other guys for help?” yet another head shake. 

○ “have you left this room in the last 48 hours- not including the bathroom!” you clarified, this finally made him laugh. 

dokyeom:

○ it was during a movie (bless his heart) 

○ it wasn’t even a particularly sad one, it was actually quite the opposite 

○ something about a child reuniting with their parents after being lost for so long and it touched your heart too

○ though it surprised you to look at your boyfriend hurriedly wiping tears away from his eyes 

○ maybe you fell in love with him a little more, “you okay?” you asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek

○ he sniffled but smiled nonetheless, “yeah, ‘m just happy they found each other again” 

mingyu:

○ it was after a particularly grueling day of practice

○ his body couldn't seem to keep up with the complicated choreography and he was missing half of his marks

○ the other members were making jokes at his expense with no malice whatsoever, but little did they know they were hitting a little deeper that day

○ during one of their breaks he checked his phone

○ i'm in the area getting lunch, do you want me to drop off something? you texted

○ yes please, he replied, texting a simple order

○ when you arrived at the hybe building, he met you in one of the quieter spaces meant for employee lounging so he could talk to you for a few minutes, you did come all the way

○ "hi baby" he greeted, so so glad to see you

○ "hi gyu," you smiled, but something in your gut told you something was off, "you okay?"

○ for a moment you saw his smile falter, but he quickly tried to mask it again. "yeah i'm fine, the new dance is just kinda hard"

○ you didn't want to press too much further so you just reached up to cup his cheek, "i trust that you'll get it gyu, i really do"

○ he sees how genuinely you believe your words through your eyes and this is enough to make him smile but not enough to let him fully hold back a tear

○ you wipe it away and he leans into your touch

minghao:

○ you were partaking in a little tea ceremony with him

○ maybe there was something in the air that day, the weather was beautiful, warm, but not enough to make you sweat, a simple breeze passing through

○ he snuck a peak at you sitting across from him while you were meditating

○ he was hit with a sudden sense of fulfillment

○ there you were, putting your utmost focus into something he cared about and he just felt so happy

○ your face looked so relaxed as the gentle sunshine made your skin look like it was glowing

○ since the two of you think alike, you snuck a peek at him too and caught him wiping a tear away

○ "are you okay, hao?"

○ "just happy" he smiled

seungkwan:

○ it was after one of their tours and seungkwan had been away for 3 months

○ you had started dating a month before the tour even started so he was concerned that he was leaving you too soon

○ would you still like him when he came back? what if your met someone who you could be with more often?

○ so on his day back, his stomach was flipping in excitement and in anxiety. he missed you so much, but what if you realized you didn’t miss him?

○ while he unlocks your apartment, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself to accept whatever comes

○ when he opens the door he sees you (with a biggest smile on your face) with a small cake in your hands that says “welcome home my boo!”

○ there’s also some balloons decorating your living room and he just can’t believe you did all of this

○ “y/n” is all he can say, unsure of what he could to convey how much his heart was swelling

○ “welcome home, baby” you smiled, placing the cake down to make your way to him

○ his arms opened up to you like second nature, quick to wrap around your middle to pull you close to him

vernon:

○ dang it's really hard to come up with a scenario where vernon might cry

○ either it has to be a genuinely tragic moment or something kind of random (like him)

○ maybe he was trying to cook or something and rubbed a pepper in his eye because he forgot he held it with his bare hands

○ "babe i need help" you hear from the kitchen

○ there you see your precious boyfriend with his eyes squinted and a little red, not knowing what to do with his hands

○ "what happened?"

○ "rubbed the pepper into my eye.."

○ "ah" you nod, quickly wetting a paper towel to dab at his eyes that are watering

○ pls his hands are still out as he tries not to touch anything else so he looks a little silly

○ "you're trying not to laugh aren't you" he mutters, barely able to open his eyes

○ "no" you deadpan

○ "you can't be mean like this, y/n" he pouts and frowns. if you didn't have the context of the pepper you'd really think you hurt his feelings

○ (lowkey curse him for looking kinda good even if he's crying)

○ "uh huh, poor you" you scoff, making sure to wipe his hands too

dino:

○ cried because drunk you wouldn't get into the damn car (funny how karma hit him after doing the same exact thing to jeonghang)

○ "but i wanna party some more!" you whined, barely able to stand up by yourself

○ he's struggling to carry you as you randomly drop your weight

○ he doesn't know if the tears coming from his eyes are from laughing at your state or genuine frustration that this is so hard

○ the two of you end up plopping on the pavement next to your car as your legs have magically decided to stop working

○ "baby please, my love, my darling, the love of my life, get into the car" he practically begs

○ "but i barely got to drink!"

○ "but you've drank too much!" he half-argues, he finds himself almost losing it because why is he arguing with a drunk person?

○ "honey, please" he even goes to the extent of clasping his hands together, "let's go home"

○ suddenly drunk you decides to bargain

○ "will you buy me ice cream"

○ "baby i would buy a store's entire stock just for you to get into the car"

○ your drunken self softened at this, "you would?" by this, you're also tearing up

○ "okay chan, i'll get in the car"

○ he's thanking the heavens as he helps you up and eventually fastens your seatbelt.

○ but you do make up for things when you mumble what sounds like an 'i love you' before you proceed to pass out in the passenger seat

○ (he still stops by a convenience store to buy you ice cream even as you snooze)

#seventeen imagines #svt #seventeen angst #seventeen crack #svt fluff #scoups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #mingyu x reader #dokyeom x reader #minghao x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #svt hcs #mingyu x you #scoups x you #vernon x you #dino x you #woozi x you #wonwoo x you #dk x you #minghao x you #joshua x you #seungkwan x you #jun x you

[garciaasfluffypen]

for she is mesmerized

r is very proudly of polish descent. what wanda doesn’t know, is that r can speak fluent polish and wow, is it hot in here or is it just her? 

pairing: wanda maximoff x f!reader word count: 1.9k warnings: use of y/n, female leaning terms of endearment, wanda’s falling in love with you but refuses to admit she has feelings (#emo), mentions of wanda having nightmares, mention of y/n's family dying (no description), small descriptions of looks (reader has wavy hair, no color used), reader and wanda are both 19-20 years old

a/n: hello besties, wanda phase!melly is back (everyone say thank you wandasaura!!!). i'm not used to writing for wanda so her characterization *may* be a little bit off, but i'm excited to try and step into her shoes! also, please don't get mad at me if the polish translations are off i literally speak zero polish but wanted to use it because i'm polish and thought it would be cool.

translations of the polish used will be at the end of the post!

if you’ve ever heard of the avengers, chances are you’ve heard of the hiena. she hailed from poland, and made it very clear she had no intentions of succumbing to silly american traditions (except for halloween and christmas, since pepper made her fall in love with decorating the tree in the lobby of avengers tower and she loved the idea of halloween since she was a kid). there was very little that y/n shared about herself, but if she could tell the avengers about her homeland and how much her traditions meant to her, she’d do it. her polishness was something y/n kept close to her chest considering she moved away from home a few years ago after a big explosion killed her whole family. there were things about y/n that wanda wanted to know like she knew the back of her hand. things that only y/n could tell wanda in the solace of her company, when the rest of the avengers had gone to sleep and it was just them two in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to heat up. 

it was probably why wanda started falling in love with her. 

well, wanda wasn’t sure she’d call it love, per se. the slovakian had been a recluse since she first arrived, especially after watching pietro sacrifice himself for the greater good. her feelings had pretty much been turned off since the moment tony gave her the pin to her room. and while the others didn’t understand her need to be alone sometimes, y/n did. wanda appreciated the space she gave her, but sometimes wished that she could get a little bit closer to her. she wanted someone here she could rely on. while she had that in natasha, she couldn’t find herself ever knocking on her door in the middle of the night when the nightmares plagued her. natasha had made it clear that she would be there for her no matter what, but if she were being honest, she was still a little intimidated by the red head. everyone had their stories, and wanda knew she would learn about them in due time. but the one story she wanted to learn was hers. 

y/n was very different from her hiena counterpart. while her avenger-sona - as wanda liked to call it - was very in your face and i won’t take your bullshit, y/n was almost the opposite. she was very much not confrontational, she would tend to sink away when faced with the opportunity to face a problem in the tower head on. she was quieter than one would think, staying towards the back or opting to stay in with pepper and bruce while everyone else went our for drinks and dancing after big missions. it was enamoring how much she changed as soon as the grey and white suit came off and y/n could be herself. wanda always watched her from a distance, never getting too close for comfort. trying to catch her walking down the halls or watching her relax in the library curled up with a book. the way her wavy hair framed her face in the lowlight of the fireplace always had wanda mesmerized. how could someone with so much pent up anger look so angelic without even trying? 

wanda’s phone buzzed with a reminder that read “weekly avengers meeting, 2pm”, which meant she had to leave the solace of her bedroom. with a sigh, she wrapped her cardigan around her midsection before slipping on her shoes and making her way into the hall towards the elevators. the doors opened on the third floor where all the meeting rooms were, leaving her to shrink further into her cardigan and keep her head down as she walked through the halls and past all the closed office doors. as usual, thor was jaunting on about some crazy story, probably fabricating some of the details to make the girls he was talking to flaunt over him more than they already were. natasha, who was standing a few feet away at the vending machine, simply rolled her eyes and grabbed the bottle of mountain dew from the bottom before continuing down the hall. 

as wanda made her way down the hallway, she passed a room with a singular person in it. you. hiena. she had to force herself not to trip over her own two feet as she peered through the crack in the door, biting her thumb nervously as if you knew she was there. wanda had to force herself to look away from you and step out of the way as you paced the room, fearing that you’d see her and know she was eavesdropping. should she be eavesdropping? not at all. she was still so new to the team, she had a reputation to upkeep. but there was something about hearing you talk in your home language so professionally that had her stopping in her tracks.

it almost reminded her of home.

“przepraszam, nie rozumiem.” you sighed. “nie uważasz, że lepiej byłoby-” you got cut off, sighing angrily. “wiem, co masz na myśli, ale nie do końca się z tobą zgadzam.” another moment of silence. “dobrze. porozmawiam z tony'm.”

you hung up your phone and wanda sprung into action, running away from the door and acting like she didn’t just listen to half of your conversation despite the fact that she understood only one word. she waited a moment before walking down the hallway, pretending that she just happened to pass the room you were in at that very second. 

“wanda!” your polish accent was shining through. “you’ve been settling in okay, i hope?”

“as good as i can,” she started. “it’s um.. a change.” 

you nodded. “i can understand that. it was a lot for me too. you heading to the meeting?”

“yeah uh, yeah.” wanda nodded. 

“can i walk with you? that way you don’t have to go in alone, i know the first avengers meeting can be a bit weird with everyone staring at you.” 

wanda had to stop herself from buckling at the knees.

“that’s very sweet of you.” wanda smiled. “thank you.” 

“of course.” you gave wanda a half smile. “come on, tony doesn’t like it when we’re late.” 

wanda smiled as the two of you started walking down the hallway together. she had to fight every urge in her body to stop her hand from brushing up against yours as you walked towards the meeting room together.

as for you, you could practically feel the admiration radiating off of wanda. you had found it quite cute how she always seemed to be watching you do your mundane little tasks. it might have been the reason you found yourself leaving the comfort of your room more and more lately, trying to catch a glimpse of the younger girl. wanda was young, yet she had been through so much. she was handling it with so much grace and composure, you were surprised you hadn’t heard her break down into tears yet as you walked past her room every night. there was the chance she had magick-ed the walls, yes, but you knew from experience you could only hold things in for so long before the dam burst. it was how you and bruce bonded when you first joined the avengers. he had found you in the midst of a breakdown and from then on became your father figure- more so than tony, who was the one who took you under his wing in the first place. granted, tony was… well, tony. there was only so much you could get out of him before he started acting weird about it.

the meeting went off by without any issues, mainly going over and debriefing the last mission you went on and attempting to tip toe around talking about the battle of sokovia, considering the wound was still pretty fresh for wanda. paperwork was signed, reports were filed and you were ready to get out of there. the weekly meetings were very tiresome, you hated talking over the strategy side of things. you always had an itch to keep moving and doing things when it came to things like this. even in high school, before everything went to shit, you would always look forward to the end of the day so you could go run on the track for a few hours before heading home. bruce had gotten you some fidget toys, saying something about how they’d help, but they only do so much when all you want to do is move around.

the need to be moving all the time was partly why you named yourself after hyenas. not only did your powers give you heightened hearing, the strength you found while training with natasha made you feel as fierce as one of them. the avengers were almost like your pack, even though you could never consider yourself the leader. you had been under tony’s wing for a few years now, and almost considered them family. almost. nothing would or ever could replace the family you had left behind in poland. you talked to them constantly, trying to keep in touch with them as much as you could to make sure they were doing okay after everything that had happened. it pained you to think that they would have been gone if you hadn’t grown into your powers sooner.

“alright, meeting adjourned!" tony’s clap shook you out of your thoughts. “i’ll be in my office if you need me. but don’t need me, actually, i have a lot of things to do today.”

pepper rolled her eyes. “i’ll be readily available if anyone needs anything. you all know you can come into my office whenever.”

“thank you, pepper.” wanda’s voice was quieter than it was earlier.

“of course, sweetheart.”

everyone dispersed relatively quickly, leaving you and wanda alone in the room. thankfully pepper got the memo to close the door behind her, giving you two a barrier from the outside world.

“are you okay?”

“hm? oh um… yeah. i’m…”

“i lost my parents too. a few years ago.”

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. shit happens, you know?” you chuckled dryly. “i guess what i’m trying to say is, if you need anything… my door is always open.”

you could have sworn a smile cracked on wanda’s face. “thank you.”

“it’s okay if you’re not okay, yet.” you looked over to her. “i have to remind myself of that every day. i’m still not okay. the independence i got from my family…” you paused. “i could have saved them if i was there.”

wanda reached over and squeezed your hand sympathetically. “there are a lot of things that we could have done differently. we can’t dwell on it.”

“you sound like natasha.” a small smile formed on your face.

“i might have picked up a little bit from her.” she smiled back. “she’s very smart.”

“that she is.” you glanced at the time on your phone. “do you want some lunch? i made perogis and rosół yesterday.”

“perogis sound good. what is ro…”

“rosół? it's a soup from poland. my mom made it for me and my cousins when we were little. a lot of the time when we were sick, but it’s still good even when you’re well.”

“that sounds good too.”

“then it's settled. lunch time, on the house.” you slapped your knees and stood up. “you coming?”

“let’s do it.”

TRANSLATIONS: przepraszam, nie rozumiem- sorry, i don't understand nie uważasz, że lepiej byłoby- don't you think it would be better to // wiem, co masz na myśli, ale nie do końca się z tobą zgadzam- i know what you mean but i don't fully understand // dobrze. porozmawiam z tony'm - fine. i will talk to tony // rosół- a traditional polish soup very closely aligned with chicken soup! typically made with some sort of meat, broth and other garnishings. *thank you to tynix for letting me know i was using the wrong translation of "fine"!

#moja żabko universe #wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #mcu fanfiction

[flordeamatista]

𝗣𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗙𝗶𝗿𝗲

pairing: bodyguard!ari levinson x mafia!princess reader

concept: You intrigue me, moving on top of me, touching my lips here and there, and I am enveloped by more desire.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: bratty reader, desire, lust, p— in-v, edging, dirty talk, degradation, rough sex, unprotected sex, praise, mature themes, small gun violence at the night club, teasing, nickname ──(Princess, Sweetheart)

a/n: Thank you @sunshinebuckybarnes and @lookiamtrying for always being the finest menaces, and I know this is a few months late, but here it is.

lovely beta: Thank you so much @writing-for-marvel for listening to all the ideas I had for this story and for always lifting my spirits. @lunarbuck Thanks for always telling me it wasn't a silly dream and for always encouraging me. lots of love for you both.

the cute gif and moodboard/line divider made by me

masterlist

The sky burns higher and higher, love, is fire too scary for you

Stepping into the house, the sound of your designer red heels striking the marble floor blasts through the foyer like a raging fire storm. Your unyielding determination and boiling-hot rage shines through every step you take.

His eyes are dominated by a blue hue that seems to numb your energy.

He glares at you as if you are nothing more than air; as if he didn't intend to acknowledge your presence. 

You want to reach out and rip that icy gaze off his face. No one ever ignores you in such a manner in this state, or anywhere else for that matter. 

“You’re destroying my life!" Your voice reverberates through the walls as you throw anything within reach to express your seething hatred for him. 

Ari can’t help but take a deep breath, feeling your shouts stab at his head like spears.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" You snarl through gritted teeth as you tear off your heels, aiming them at his face. “You know, I could hire someone to get rid of you." 

For the one single night when all you want is freedom, he’s here trying to drag you out of the car. You tried escaping by hiding in the backseat of your friend's car, but you never got to the gate. You didn't have time to enjoy your freedom before Ari Levinson dragged you away.

Your humiliation reached its peak when he laughed, mocking your position as a mafia princess who has to beg her own bodyguard to stay away from her. The laughter sent ripples of anger and shame shooting through your veins. 

"Do it, Princess." He smirks mockingly. “I would love to see them try." 

Your nails dig deep into the flesh of your palms as you clench them tightly together. You scream at the top of your lungs as you ascend the stairs to your room. 

Ari can still hear faint echoes of your cries drifting through the hallway until they slowly die away completely. His thoughts drift as he picks up your heels and walks up to your room, murmuring to himself, "This spoiled princess wants to be a brat."

Having no escape, no freedom, I will shake the world to get what I want.

There is something magical about dancing as rainbow-like colors illuminate the room around you, every move creating a small firework. As the music plays, the room fills with a sweet smell of sweat and perfume that only enhances the experience. Your arms move through the air and your feet bounce in step with the beat. Closing your eyes, you let go of everything else as you reach for the sky with wide eyes and a contagious smile in your heart.

The music plays, and you laugh to yourself, knowing he will probably kill you because of what you did.

“There she is!” You turn to see your best friend, Irnia. Her eyes twinkle with mischief as she hands you a glass filled to the brim with sparkling golden liquid. "How did you escape that beefy dreamy bodyguard of yours?"

A smirk appears on your lips as you sip the drink. “He’s wet and trapped in a bathroom with a broken door knob."

Through careful planning, you managed to lock Ari in the bathroom and break his doorknob. You collected your phone, along with other items he had hidden to keep track of you, and escaped. Your only desire was to hear him grunt in anger when he realized you had outsmarted him. But his blue eyes had lost their intensity long ago; they could never keep up with his work.

The music pulses through the club's veins, coursing through the air and pushing people to dance and laugh. With joy, drinks are thrown back and mouths are wide open.

There is a flicker before the lights go out, plunging everyone into darkness. Screams of surprise echo off the walls. As panic grips the crowd, hands grasp each other desperately in search of an escape.

You suddenly realize, as you feel yourself being pushed by the crowd, that your exit plan is stuck at home because you had locked him in.

Chaos in your mind leaves you speechless, and words cannot describe how fear engulfs you and flushes out the light.

Your finger trembles at the trigger of your gun, and your heart races in anticipation. A cold bead of sweat rolls down your forehead and mingles with the night's warmth, washing away what remains of your sense of security.

You take a deep breath and lunge forward, gripping your gun tightly as if it’s a lifeline. 

A frantic noise outside causes a chill to grip your body, so you raise your weapon and cry as tears slowly trail down your cheeks. A burning white light weighs down on you, making breathing even more difficult.

The burning white lights mock you with what they can't provide.

Safety.

If you close your eyes, all you can see are a pair of familiar ocean blue eyes. 

Ari had insisted you carry a handgun strapped to your leg and taught you how to use it, although he kept a distance from you. “It’s either your life or theirs. These men will not hesitate to shoot. Are you prepared?" You suddenly feel as if he was protecting you with his advice.

Your gun is aimed at the door, ready to face whatever danger may arrive. It feels heavy, but you know it is worth the effort for the sake of your life.

You feel an icy chill run down your spine as the door of the club's restroom slams against the wall. Across the concrete floor, heavy boots stumble, their footsteps echoing like thunder in the darkness. One by one, the stall doors open, closing in around you and filling the room with the smell of sweat and fear.

You hear Ari's voice and you know you are safe, but still too far away from him. Gun in hand, you hold it tightly. It's just a matter of holding on so he can find you. An agonizing scream follows Ari's grunt and the thud of his fist hitting flesh.

Your heart races as terror washes over you and your throat dried up. You muster every ounce of courage to cry out for help, “Ari, I am in here, please! I'm sorr-y.”

I only know where I am, and anger is outside.

Rage coursed through Ari's veins when he heard you had disappeared on his watch. In his quest to protect you, he called every contact to trace your movements. In the club, he saw your ex-boyfriend marching toward you and felt a flood of desperation wash over him.

As instinct kicked in, he punched anyone who stood in his way with animalistic skill and ferocity. A body flew across the room with each blow, leaving the walls trembling. He heard your voice calling for help at that moment.

Ari surges through the crowd and slams the door of the stall. You stand there, trembling in fear, your gun shaking.

He immediately runs towards you, ready to take on any foe if need be. The gun falls from your hand and into his arms. 

When Ari touches you, your knees weaken, and you feel at peace just seeing his crystal blue eyes. You embrace one another and time seems to stop as relief washes over you both. Tears of guilt roll down your cheeks as you apologize profusely for everything that happened.

While the stormy sky pours, I search for your caring touch.

A slow pounding of your heart fills the air as you tiptoe into Ari's bedroom. A gentle thunderstorm rages outside the window; the room smells like rain; the steady rhythm of the drops is loud in the background, providing some comfort. 

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can see Ari's figure in bed. His long, dark beard frames his lips, adding a relaxed aura to his facial features. Moonlight and lightning flashes create an ethereal effect on Ari's face and body; his sculpted muscles move beneath the blankets, with a few chest hairs peeking out. 

The protective wrap around his arm from when he saved you at the club catches your eye. He never spoke a word about it or blamed you. The contours of his body ache beneath your fingertips, but you remember what happened the last time you tried to get so close to him. 

A lump forms in your throat as you slowly lay the blanket across Ari's chest. It had been a long night for both of you, and this man in front of you saved you without a hesitation.

You reluctantly turn around, ready to leave, when suddenly Ari grabs your wrist and pulls you onto the bed on top of him. His muscular arms wrap around your waist and hold you against his solid chest.

Your body relaxes in his embrace as you breathe in Ari's breath.

The sound of his voice rumbles as he searches for your eyes. "Where do you think you're going, Princess?" he asks in a husky voice as his fingers caress your skin.

There is a throbbing sensation in the pit of your stomach, as well as warmth spreading throughout your body. You are feeling the effects of his presence. Your heart races with tension and nervousness as you try to pull away, but there is an undeniable magnetism between you that won't let go.

You don’t want to show it, but a part of you wants to stay with Ari forever.

Looking for an excuse, you murmur "Away from you. Let me go." But it is too late, he knows you’re concerned for his health and doesn’t let go.

A smirk appears on Ari's face and he responds calmly. "Oh no, now you want to tell me what to do in my room? You were here for a reason, so why do you want to leave now? When I opened my eyes I saw you on top of me. Princess, I can touch whatever is in my room - care to tell me what brought you here?"

You reply firmly, your voice low. "Ari, you're injured and out of it. I just wanted to see if you needed anything. Now let me go, you idiot."

His smirk slowly fades away and is replaced by sadness. "Princess, there's only one thing that can heal my wounds.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Kisses from that bratty mouth of yours." 

In one swift movement, he flips you over and hoveres his body above yours, one hand pinning your wrists above your head and the other brushing and grabbing your throat. 

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he replies, "Kisses, Princess." With your face inches from his, you open your mouth to protest, only to have him shush you with a stern look in his eyes. 

A mischievous gleam adorned his eyes as he whispered in your ear, "Let me taste those lips and a few other things I've been thinking about for months." He places his lips on your neck.

A part of him has always intrigued you which was why you couldn't leave him. You whisper softly, "Ari, you're insane," inviting him to stop you, but that is the last thing you want and he knows it. 

Ari looks at you with lustful eyes. Teasingly, he asks, "Are you sure?". He glances downward to where your fingers are digging into his shoulders and groans. "The way you're touching me makes me think that you're not." 

You bite your lower lip and throw caution to the wind as you push his shoulders, securing yourself back on top of Ari again. Your legs straddle his waist; you don’t want him to let go.

In a frenzy, you whimper yes, and his hands begin to lace their way up your body, unbuttoning your night top. Soon, you feel the cold air on your breasts and his thumbs touch your nipples. "You feel this, sweetheart?” Ari’s voice is a low whisper. “I’m going to make you mine." 

For months, you've wanted to see him like this, to feel him. Now, after tonight, you’ll never see him again. Because of what happened at the club your parents deemed Ari unsuitable to be your bodyguard. It is your fault, and they said they would talk to him in the morning, but you had to see him now.

"I'm going to scream and you–," you whisper, trying to tease him.

The two of you lock eyes, and your lips part slightly. As his hands reach out for your face, he pulls you in for a kiss. Taking a deep breath, he breathes you in. When you feel his breath on your skin, it makes you shiver with need.

You feel like an invisible fire has been burning your bodies since the moment you touched him, a fire which has been burning for months without a way to slake its thirst. Moans and sighs of desire fill each other's mouths as your mouths collide desperately. When he touches your breasts, your heart skips a beat; every spot craving to be touched more. Ari tears your clothes off your body and you feel the sensation of him bare against yours.

“The screams will be my name and you moaning for me to keep fucking you, sweetheart.” He adjusts himself between your legs.

Euphoria erupting in your body and a pounding heart.

“You’re already wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?"

He can also see how close you are to surrendering completely to his dominance. The teasing look in his eyes gets under your skin, so you lift your legs up and arch your back towards him. 

You feel his cock against you again, teasing your needy pussy for him. 

Your lips whisper, "Please, Ari." As he watches you squirm, Ari raises his hips as if he is considering whether or not to enter you. A coy smile spreads across his face as he teases you around the edges of your pussy. He seems to enjoy it too much.

The more he teases you, the more irritated you become. You bite your lip and moan, the excitement of danger heightening your lust. You watch as he looks into your eyes to see how much you crave him. “Fuck you, Ari," you beg, despite yourself.

You feel as if your bones have melted under pressure, and your legs shake with pleasure and anticipation.

"My princess really wants it." The words spin in your mind intoxicatingly and put a clenching pressure on your core. 

Just outside of where you need him most, his cock strokes up against you. Is this teasing? It's driving you crazy, but with pleasure instead of anger.  Your skin tingles just thinking about him, as if his touch has already molded itself over your soul.

You squint, begging him to stop teasing you without words. Before now, you have never asked anyone for anything.

His hard thick length felt foreign and hot as it slowly eases its way into your entrance. With an animalistic growl, Ari thrusts inside all the way in one motion, sending thrills through your body. His slow, precise movements inside you have you clutching desperately onto his neck, digging your fingertips into his skin.

You intrigue me, moving on top of me, touching my lips here and there, and I am enveloped by more desire.

Each time he rotates his hips, a different nerve ending is stimulated, causing you to moan uncontrollably. He pulls back slightly before pushing into you again. Dropping down on his forearms, he leans over you with his lips never leaving yours.

“You can’t control yourself,” he murmurs into your mouth. “I think I can already feel you coming.”

He smirks and pulls out almost completely before slamming back inside of you. Every muscle in your body tenses up in anticipation as he teases you with all the sensations he has been denying you for months. “Do you want more? Are you ready to come for me?”

Ari slams hard into you and pulls away, taunting you. In an effort to keep him inside, you grasp onto him desperately. The more you plead, the more he retreats, only to push harder the next time.

"My naughty princess," he whispers, "you love this so much." Take a deep breath! His rhythm is slow and shallow, fucking his cock in and out of you before speeding up. With each impact, he slides an arm under your waist and lifts you up slightly as he drives his body faster and deeper than ever before. "Look at you," Ari growls deeply as he pumps into you ferociously. The only thing stopping him is your legs holding him tightly around the hips while smacking your ass as the bed posts shake. The sight of you panting through gritted teeth thrills Ari. 

"Let go," Ari whispers hoarsely as he seals a kiss of desperate longing on your lips, giving the command that calms all drives your body.

A fire of passion ignites beneath the moon's gaze, as he steals kisses from my body in a husk of passion.

The air in the room is hot and heavy, and Ari's sweat-slicked forehead glows in the low light. His lips find your forehead first in a gentle kiss that feels like a long-awaited release. As you lift his hair from his face, he grabs your hand and kisses it. His hand slips lightly through your hand before lingering on your face. “Did I still destroy your life, but now with my cock?” he asks with a hint of a smirk. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, and you playfully slapped his shoulder in response. “Shut up,” you whisper back. “I still want to kill you.”

Ari chucks as he kisses your protest away and flips you so that you straddle him. He cups his hands around your waist, gently guiding you onto him until you both gasp at the sensation of being connected as one. “How about you ride me to death, Princess?” he murmurs.

It was black outside and thunder rumbled, but inside the room was hot, red, and heavy with lust.

When a thunderclap resounds this night, your hands grip his chest tightly. Whatever may happen now, he will always be by your side to protect your heart.

A hungry, filthy eye watches it as lustful desire ignites around every corner

#bodyguard!ari levinson x mafia!princess reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x f!reader #ari levison x fem!reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x woc!reader #ari levinson x latina!reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #ari levinson imagine #bodyguard!ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fandom #ari levinson fic #bodyguard!ari #chris evans x female reader #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson x poc!reader

[yandere-romanticaa]

Capitano darling being his pen pal and poor dear has no idea of his identity

I'm very sorry, I don't know if your requests are open but I can't get enough of Capitano content.

For the Harbingers, I'm open for anything. Also, @bye-bye-sunbird, come and get him! 👀😼

Exchanging letters with your mysteries pen pal became the absolute highlight of your week. You'd pour your heart and tears into the words your hand would oh so excitedly write down, sometimes even actually crying with the sheer excitement of knowing that somewhere out there, there was a person, an actual person, who cared about you. This person cared about you, they liked you, that is why they sent you their first letter to begin with. The letter itself was short, curt and simple but that did not stop you from writing back and hurriedly giving your reply to the mysterious messenger that appeared on your doorstep one fine summer morning.

Hours upon hours would be spent constructing the letters, sometimes you'd say whatever was on your mind while on other occasions you'd stop yourself and fix your choice of words, promptly going for something much more eloquent and refined, a quality that your mysterious partner seemed to exude in spades.

Their handwriting was neat, clean and proper, you imagined they must be singing papers often if they had such pretty handwriting. You would let your curiosity sway you and there were times when you wanted to know what your dear stranger did for a living but they were oddly mysterious about their occupation, which was strange considering just how intimate and open they were about other matters such as what kind of tea they drank in the morning, general preferences and hobbies, silly things like that made you even more curious about your darling stranger. You did manage to get somewhat of an answer out of them one day though, but it was still as vague as it possibly could be.

"I feel bad about hiding things from you, but to put it in the best way I can, I work for the military. That is the best answer I can give to you at the moment."

Ah, so you were talking to a military personnel? How interesting!! Again, curiosity got the better of you and you persisted with your questions, but more careful as you fared you'd offend them. You were under the impression that your dear stranger wanted to say more to you but was holding back for whatever reason.

Months flew by, almost a year, you were done holding back yourself.

It was time for everything to come out into the light, you thought to yourself.

You wanted to meet the person who made you feel so good, you wanted to see them, him, in the flesh.

It wasn't hard to decipher that the sender was a man. The smell of sharp cologne and pine wood still lingered on the letters you kept hidden in the drawer of your desk and the strong choice of words at time were a strong indication that this man was not willing to deal with anyone's nonsense, aside from indulging himself in yours.

Under the moonlight and with a flickering candle right next to you as your only light source, you wrote to him, you wrote to him your longest letter by far. Mistaking your curiosity and infatuation with the beautiful feeling of love you proclaimed your feelings to him and boldly announced that you wished to meet him, to see him for who he was.

"When you see me, I wish for you to kiss me, kiss until I am sick of it."

Never before had he replied back with such downright monstrous speed. He sent you but a piece of paper, with just one sentence on it, blood red ink sticking in your memory as you read it out loud in the comfort of your room.

"You wish is my command."

Overjoyed would be an understatement with how you were feeling at that moment. As you danced around your room while clutching the letter tightly to your chest, you never stopped to consider just how the two of you were going to meet or how he was even going to find you, let alone kiss you breathless. Alas those worries never even crossed your starstruck mind as you eagerly awaited to be swept off your feet by your Prince Charming. Living in a fairytale is charming but it would have done you well to stay intact with the real world too.

Whispers of lingering shadows and Fatui soldiers started to plague your village, several of your neighbors constantly felt the need to remind you to keep vigilant and to lock your doors at night, do not ever trust the Fatui.

Never open the doors for anyone, never.

Looking back on it, you regret spacing out in the middle of their monologues.

The seasons had passed and winter had come, a thick layer of pure white snow decorated the earth below you as the strong wind and harsh snowflakes found their way inside of your home due to the powerful wind that was bellowing all around you. A few snowflakes even managed to lose themselves inside of your clothing and hair but their icy chill was nothing compared to the large, gloved hand that lovingly caressed your chin.

Standing in front of you was a man, a man with whom you had never crossed paths with in your whole entire life. His entire aura, his being was radiating absolute control and calm. The dozen of men behind him kept their distance but it was obvious that they were ready to charge in if need be.

What was a Fatui Harbinger doing at your doorstep?

His face was much closer to your own now and it was Impossible to read him. His entire body language was rigid and firm, it left no spaces for speculations, especially the daunting mask that he wore on his face. Aside from the few strands of ebony black hair on the sides this man revealed nothing about himself to you, cornering you not only in your own house but in your own mind too.

What was he going to do to you?

A sigh escaped him, hot air came out of his mouth as he stepped closer, his feet nearly crossing the threshold of you home.

You didn't even see that you were shaking like a leaf.

"How long do you want us to stand here in the cold, dear?"

He spoke, he said something to you but your brain hardly registered it. But his next words were something you could most definitely not ignore:

"I came here to fulfill my promise to you..."

The lower part of his mask had been removed, his pale lips on full display. They hovered over your own for a few moments.

"How about we finally share that kiss?"

Before you could even think about answering, he pressed his lips on yours, claiming them for himself as he made sure to swallow every single little sound you made.

You always dreamed of living in a fairytale, of finding your own prince. But how could you have forgotten that not all fairy tales have a happily ever after?

#capitano x reader #yandere capitano x reader #fatui harbringers #yandere capitano #yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere imagines #yandere x you #genshin impact #genshin impact capitano #capitano #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin harbingers #genshin impact x reader

[hyewka]

STRICTLY PLATONIC [teaser] | choi beomgyu

SUMMARY. fucking your best friend was supposed to be a one time thing in the hopes of relinquishing feelings for your ex, but a one time turned into a weekly and cuddles after sex are way too intimate for your liking. but beomgyu insists that he’d never catch feelings for you, that he’s experienced in these types of arrangements. he still saw you as his best friend! it was totally only platonic for you too… right?

GENRE. smut, fluff, angst, college au, a hyewka fic with plot and structure.. sort of

TEASER WARNINGS. nothing explicit just some marking lol

AUTHOR NOTE. the dream fwb fic ive been wanting to write for ages so thank you to the ask i recently replied to as it was the main motivator for this 😭 this is going to be a long one so we're going the traditional route with a teaser, im opening a tag list so if you wish to be added send an ask or comment!

You’ve never seen Choi Beomgyu in a different light. That’s what you liked about him, that everything was so… constant. Your life could crash and burn but hey, Beomgyu was still Beomgyu— your friendship was a variable in your life that stayed undeniably the exact same.

You know, until you allowed him to fuck your brains out.

Even the sole fact that you have given the thought of Beomgyu being a ‘sex symbol’ has you quivering out of sheer horror— Beomgyu… has never been a sex symbol. Sure, he fucked around, and has a reputation and yeah sure, he was crazy hot when he isn’t showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation …but you’ve just never seen him in that light.

And to have let it simmer in your thoughts for longer than a second, makes you just a tinge hesitant in letting the silly goof pull you into the dancing crowd. You whine, “I’m tired Beomgyu! My heels are killing me.”

He either doesn’t hear over the blasting music or isn’t going to give it up because he pulls you in anyway, crashing your head right into his chest and you let out an instinctual ouch at the hard surface. Your eyes are wide looking up at him, sputtering out an unbelievable sentence. “Have you—have you been working out?”

His grin widens, holding up your arm to guide at feeling out his biceps. “Every now and then.” He doesn’t mind the minute it takes you to actually feel every muscle through his shirt, in fact he’s relishing in your sudden pique of interest in his body.

Whether he’s flexing them or not doesn’t show in his face—he looks completely relaxed and you finally admit—Beomgyu is getting toned.

“Why? You hate working out.” You could barely muffle those words with the way he had you engulfed in his arms, leaning his head in your neck, swaying side to side as if the song blasting was off of Taylor Swift’s Lover and not a Lil Wayne remix.

And he hasn’t even gotten a drop of alcohol yet.

But it’s true, Beomgyu hated the gym. Like, even more than you did. Which is a testament in and of itself.

He pulls away from the crook of your neck, a pout on his lips. “Didn’t you say your type was muscular men? At Halloween weekend?”

Halloween weekend was a year ago, the first frat party you managed to get into with the help of Beomgyu’s friend, Jake. You barely remember anything from it. Other than the occasional retells of the nights by Yunjin’s words, which are always a different version of the same story... so a not very credible source. “I mean, I guess they are. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know, just saying. Jaehyun was suuper muscly.” Okay, the random mention of your ex…maybe he had some drop of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

“You took too long to come back, lost at beer pong.”

“How many shots?” you interrogate.

“Two.” At your suspecting glare, he continues on, “Four…five…like, at most seven.”

Your eyes bulge out, huffing out a scoff. You guys always got wasted together! Noticing the furrow of your brows he holds you tighter whining, “I know I know, sorry, I tried telling Heeseung but he’s a savage cruel man, I was practically force fed that cup.”

You don’t doubt that he attempted to persuade Heeseung but you do doubt the force feeding, it only takes a couple nudges before getting Beomgyu to drink. “I’m just slightly tipsy, not drunk yet anyway. I pledged to never ever get trashed without you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You slap away the hand he puts up over his chest, incredulously, losing your control over the fits of giggles when he takes your flying hand in his, taking advantage by intertwining your fingers together. “What are you doing?” your cheeks probably hurt from all the smiling, you don’t know, you think your nerves are numb.

“Can’t a guy hold his twin flame, platonic best friend’s hand?”

Skinship was not an unfamiliar with Beomgyu—he was always a naturally clingy guy. You figured when the first ever official lunch hangout you’ve had with the boy and a few of your other friends, had included a lot of random footsie.

You didn’t even know him that well in high school. Who plays footsie with an acquaintance? Choi Beomgyu, that’s who. Yet even after some reluctance that day, you end up letting him have his childish, sort of endearing fun.

Though this was all but childish, the innocently mischievous twinkle of a scrawny teenage boy had been long gone, instead replaced by the most attractive man’s hungry, lust filled gaze. “Who told you to look so sexy today?”

The theme was Angel & Devil—to match with Beomgyu, you insisted on giving him the angel outfit, and you the costume of a devil. Matching was always the fun part of these parties. “Only today?” you drawl, making an exaggerated sultry trail with your finger on his chest.

“God, shut up, you know you’re always hot,” You don’t expect the seriousness of his tone, especially when you were just teasing, but he snakes his hand around your waist, pushing you further into his body, your tits suffocatingly pressed against his chest.

You do not expect the slight squeeze to your ass, your eyes shooting particularly wide, blood rushing up to trickle your cheeks. “But I like it when you’re a little devil, makes you so sexy and alluring.”

His face buried into your neck again, this time not missing the chance of taking a deep inhale. Beomgyu could stay like this forever, filling his lungs with you, and only you. “Still can’t believe I had my hands off you for so long little devil.” Your eyes flutter shut, taking quick breaths as he moves his soft lips to your neck, wet kisses with a slip of teeth nibbling just slightly to tease, planning on coloring you with all the pretty purple hues.

And you’re sure he was well on his way until you sober up at the abrupt change in the DJ’s track.

“Beomgyu, not—not now, we’re in public.” And surrounded by tons of people that you’re either friends with or know. That broke one of the most important pillars of your agreement—to keep the fuck buddies ‘thing’ a secret.

You don’t expect the speed of his instant pull away when processing your words, blinking his pretty lashes and the tipsiness away—his doe eyes are too much of a weakness, the little furrow of his brows something you desperately want to kiss and smoothen out. “Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck, genuinely apologetic.

And eats away at you. You know Beomgyu well—he hates keeping things secret, he’s the type of person to flaunt relationships all over his feed in that lovesick puppy way that most women could only dream of having—but you weren’t dating. And that was the boundary set.

You didn’t ask him to pull away completely though, but here you were, awkwardly as distanced as you could be in the middle of a rager with sweaty college students rubbing their bodies against each other. As gross as that was, you zero’d in on something less of a given: the fact that you’ve never felt this way with Beomgyu. Ever. It was like you were starring in the most awkward coming of age indie movie, y’know, without the crazy scenery and cinematography.

And more often than not, you find that these occurance of realisations, become more and more frequent. You feel things you’ve never felt a certain way with Beomgyu. Which only brought you to realize something else; Beomgyu was now a changing variable in your life and you’re not entirely sure how to handle that.

#txt fanfic #txt smut #beomgyu smut #beomgyu fic #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu drabbles #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard hours #txt fic #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt x reader #txt series #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

[stardewremixed]

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him. 

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG. 

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen. 

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses. 

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle? 

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful. 

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd. 

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick. 

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn. 

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery). 

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life. 

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared. 

Through her actions. 

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches. 

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again. 

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer. 

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed. 

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten 

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter. 

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back. 

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her. 

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return. 

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference. 

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily. 

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time. 

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.” 

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him. 

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless. 

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better. 

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.” 

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm. 

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped. 

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse. 

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much. 

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.” 

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on? 

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler. 

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more. 

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day. 

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift. 

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time. 

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety. 

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special. 

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love. 

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play. 

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her... 

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed. 

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh. 

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared. 

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied. 

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.” 

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly. 

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest. 

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.” 

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat. 

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?” 

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves. 

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her. 

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.” 

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.” 

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker. 

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life. 

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.” 

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...” 

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?” 

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free. 

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward. 

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal. 

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side. 

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus. 

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade? 

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight  I’m in a good mood.  Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation. 

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night. 

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land. 

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager. 

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded. 

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet. 

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.” 

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye. 

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.” 

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real? 

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.” 

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity. 

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.” 

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.” 

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things? 

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty. 

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him. 

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction. 

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.” 

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?” 

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious. 

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.” 

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would. 

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.” 

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison. 

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!" 

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd. 

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt. 

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily. 

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair. 

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss. 

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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

When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner. 

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.” 

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her. 

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.” 

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked. 

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?” 

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team. 

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?” 

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence. 

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.” 

“It is special,” she replied. 

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.” 

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch. 

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”  

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him. 

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.” 

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.” 

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?” 

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly. 

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?” 

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.” 

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him. 

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life.  She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her. 

 “Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers. 

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.” 

#stardewremixed #sdv shane #sdv farmer #female farmer #replies #national kissing day #first kiss #hellhoundmaggie #sdv headcanon #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanon #stardew valley headcanons #stardew valley shane #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley #sdv morris #shane x farmer #shane x reader #sdv marnie #sdv jas #sdv sam #sdv gus #zuzu city

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Kinktober Day 5

Body Worship & Dirty Talk with Prince Oberyn Martell 

Pairing: Prince Oberyn Martell X F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ (minors dni)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, insecure reader, mentions of an orgy, use of the nickname little dove, praise kink, Oberyn is sweet & filthy all at once, light spanking, light teasing, oral (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, squirting, throat fucking, p in v sex, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), sweet aftercare

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Notes: I always seem to get a little carried away when it comes to writing with the prince. I really love writing for him but it is always a challenge. This leans more to the body worship than the dirty talk but both are definitely included. I hope everyone enjoys!! Thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton​ as always!

kinktober masterlist 

ao3 link

 The sun had just set, bringing with it a cool breeze that flowed through the open windows and doors of the palace. People bustled about laughing, dancing, drinking themselves silly. You stood against a wall, nursing a drink you barely sipped. You had come to learn that a formal event in Dorne, was just a party. They loved having fun here and it was a nice change to your more conventional homeland.

  Your father had relocated your entire family to Dorne, after becoming the official ambassador. You and your father had been the only two excited for the move. You had visited Dorne several times over the years and fallen in love with the culture and people. The Prince you currently watched had absolutely nothing to do with that of course.

  Prince Oberyn Martell was probably the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on, and he knew it. He was kind but had an ego, along with many many lovers. Which was why you only watched from a distance and flirted in passing. You knew he would never be interested in someone like you. Someone who wanted just one person to love and cherish them. He also seemed to be drawn to bold, confident people, which you had never been. He spoke to you, flirted back with you even, but he never looked at you the way he looked at his lovers. You watched as he peered up, catching your eyes before you glanced away. When you looked back, he was stalking toward you.

  “Hello there little Dove,” his hypnotic voice was low, just for the two of you.

  “Hello Prince Oberyn.” You gave him a small smile, your face full of heat from that damn nickname.

  “What have I told you before? Just call me Oberyn.”

  “And as I’ve said before it’s not correct.”

  “It is if I ask it from you.”

  He leaned on the wall next, to you peering down at you. You let your eyes rack over him, until you met his eyes again. He wore his usual yellow and gold robe with jewels hanging from his neck and taking up a few of his fingers. You knew he had nothing on underneath and the thought made you squirm slightly. He chuckled, a knowing look on his face.

  “Would you like to get out of here little Dove? I’m inviting several other guests to my quarters and I would love for you to join us.”

  The question slammed into you and sent your pulse pounding in your ears. He had never asked you to one of his, well, orgies, but now that he had you felt your stomach tie in knots. You couldn’t even process the thought of him seeing you unrobed, much less being in a room full of people, watching as they made love to him, waiting your turn. You downed the rest of your drink, placing it on a tray of a servant who passed you, before standing up straight.

  “I’m afraid I must decline. I think I’m going to head to bed. Have a good night Oberyn,” you rushed the words out and before he could reply you turned and fled.

  You felt like a complete idiot with the way you just acted, and you know you probably confused the man behind you, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t do that, not in a million years. You quickly made it to your quarters for the evening, and shut the door. You stared at the wood in front of you, your breath coming out quickly, hand still on the handle. You lay your forehead against the door.

  “So stupid,” you mumbled.

  You stood and shook your head, before turning and looking around. Your parents had another room across the hall. You were pressed to stay over night by the King, due to the festivities running long. You knew your parents were probably long gone in the bottom of a glass, and laughing it up with their friends. You were alone, which most of the time you didn’t mind, but after Oberyn’s request it felt different.

  After a moment you began your nightly routine. You bathed and dressed in one of your gowns and a robe. You curled into one of the chairs close to a window, listening to the party still going strong, but it was nothing you couldn’t tune out. You had brought along several books for nights like this. You had a restlessness that wouldn’t ease, so you thought you might as well read.

You lost yourself in the book, letting it completely pull you in, when a knock made you jump. You looked up at the door, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You listened carefully for a moment but the person on the other side didn’t say a word. You stood from your chair, after marking your book, and pulled your robe tight. You turned the knob opening the door and standing on the other side was someone you definitely didn’t expect.

  “Oberyn? What are you doing here at this hour?” You cocked your head.

  “I wanted to speak with you a moment. May I come in?”

  “Of course,” you felt your stomach turn with anxiety as you moved out of the way.

  “Are your quarters satisfactory?” He asked as he looked around and then back at you.

  “They are but I take it that’s not what you really want to talk about?”

  He kept his eyes on you, letting them trace over your figure and you gulped letting your eyes fall away.

  “You are right, it is not. I am just quite confused is all.”

  You looked back at him. “About what?”

  “Why you didn’t want to join me earlier. I thought you had the same thoughts about me, but then you turned me down.”

  You studied him for a long moment. You knew it was time to just tell him the truth. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a breath and staring at your fingers that now fiddled with the tie on your robe.

  “I just…I do have the same thoughts about you but I did not think you did. I thought you…maybe flirted with me just because you do with everyone else. I am not a confident woman nor do I hold a candle to the lovers you take. The thought of us sleeping together, just us, is bizarre enough to me much less having several others there.”

  You took a deep breath and wanted so badly to turn from him, to run away. You blinked realizing there were tears gathered in your eyes, threatening to fall down your now heated cheeks. You heard him step towards you slowly, before his fingers brushed at your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes met his and something else was there that normally wasn’t. You gulped slightly.

  “Oh little Dove. How wrong you are. I have so many filthy thoughts about you. It’s quite alright you don’t want to attend my…parties but that’s all you had to say.”

  “I…I’m sorry. I guess I should have but I just panicked.” You let out a small chuckle fumbling with your words.

  “No apologizing little Dove. I do however want to show you just how beautiful you really are. Make some of those fantasies of mine come true, if you will have me that is.”

  You felt breathless at his words. You could not believe what was happening. You couldn’t speak, all you did was nod your head as you searched his eyes.

  “Take off your clothes and go lie down on your bed for me,” he spoke, his voice low sending a shiver through you.

  You still could not speak, so you gave him a simple nod and walked to your bed. You looked at the surface as if it was foreign, then looked back finding Oberyn’s back was to you. You felt your heart flutter at the fact he was giving you a moment without his piercing eyes on you. With trembling hands you un-tied your robe and let it drop to the floor, before moving the straps to your gown down your arms. The fabric fell to the floor as well and you stepped out of it before climbing on the bed and lying down on your back. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Are you ready little dove?”

  “Ye…yes,” your voice trembled and you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself for being so nervous.

  You had sat yourself up slightly on a pillow and you watched as Oberyn stalked toward you. He peered over you before licking his lips.

  “You are truly so beautiful little Dove. I am going to devour every last inch of you,” his voice was a hush, but loud enough for you to hear, before he stopped next to you.

He brushed the back of his hand down your cheek as he looked into your eyes.

  “You can stop me at any moment if you become uncomfortable.”

  “Okay,” you whispered.

  Oberyn smirked with a chuckle before he stepped back and shrugged off his robe. There he was in all his glory and you had never seen a more beautiful man. He was already hard and the thought you could have done that to him made you blush. He crawled on the bed next to you lying on his side facing you. His fingers pushed at your cheek gently turning your head to face him.

  “Let’s start with those beautiful eyes. Greener than emeralds, and I did not think that was possible until after I met you. They are always so piercing and bright, full of curiosity.”

You tried to keep your breathing steady but your heartbeat was pounding and you wondered if he could hear it.

  “Now your lips, they are one of my favorite things about you. Such eloquent words come from them and I would love to see them wrapped around my cock. I have always wanted to taste them as well,” he pauses looking at you and you give him a simple nod.

  His lips fall to yours and you melt into the bed. He kissed you like no man ever has before and it sends you reeling. You never want him to stop but all too soon he does.

  “Just as I suspected,” he let out a sigh before smirking. “You taste divine little Dove.”

  He lets his fingers brush across your lips before they move up into your hair.

  “Such beautiful hair that shines in the sun, a neck so perfect, worthy of my lips.”

  He dips his head and you let your head go back as his lips attach to your skin. He kisses round your neck making you gasp and moan softly. He even leaves you a small mark to remember him by, not that you could forget.

  “Now we move to one of my favorite parts of you little Dove. Those beautiful breasts. So full and perfect. Your nipples are already hard for me,” he looks up and smirks like the prince he is.

He sits up and takes a breast in each of his hands and he kneads them with a perfect amount of pressure, causing you to let out a loud moan. Gasping at the feeling as he grabs at your nipples, clamping his fingers hard around the buds and pulling. Your eyes going wide as you look at him. He smirks as he releases them and they bounce. Then he dips his head and attacks one nipple with his lips while the other is rolled between his fingers.

  You let out a moan and your head goes back. Your fingers fly into his deep brown locks as you push your chest into his face, which earns you a chuckle. He glances up at you before switching his assault until you are panting. You are going to lose your mind if he doesn’t touch you where you really want him soon.

  “Mmmm so perfect. Now,” he spreads your legs apart and stations himself between them. “Your stomach always full of laughter.”

  He kisses down until he can’t reach any more. You're panting now almost ready to beg him desperately.

  “These hips, oh how I love to watch them sway when you walk away from me, along with this perfect ass,” he lifts a leg and give you a slight smack causing you to yelp softly.

  “Your arms so long and tan, your legs,” he runs his hands down as much as he can from his position before they come back up and squeeze at your thighs. “How perfect they already are but will look even better wrapped around me.”

  “Oberyn please,” you finally let the words tumble from your mouth with a plea.

  “Look at you begging for me now. Good thing I am just where you want me most. Am I correct little Dove?”

  “Yes. Please,” you whine as you look up at him.

  He smirks, clearly pleased with himself and the success of his plan.

  “Now I am going to make sure this entire palace knows who is fucking you. I am going to make you beg me to stop. This beautiful pussy, I knew would be my favorite spot of yours. So perfect and opening for me, already dripping wet at my words.”

  You looked down at him over your heaving chest and bucked your hips slightly. His hands answered, laying flat on your hips and keeping you pinned before he gives you a glare.

  “Careful little dove, I am never past punishing you if I must.”

  You gulped and have him a simple nod of understanding. Then he dove into you. You moaned loudly your back arching and your hands flying to his hair once again. He ate you like a man starved and you were writhing in seconds. His strength kept you from moving a muscle from your hips down. He kept going for a moment before sucking your clit and releasing. You whimpered but he was only gone a moment, before he plunged two fingers inside of your soaking wet entrance.

  “Look at you, such a mess for me little Dove. I really have an effect on you do I not? Listen to this pussy how wet it is. I wonder just how many times I can make you cum.”

  You moaned in answer, unable to form words. He sped his fingers up, fingering you at an unbelievable speed, and without a single warning you threw your head back and let out a moan so loud it was almost a scream. You tumbled over the edge quickly, a blinding white light taking your vision for several moments as you completely lost yourself in your first orgasm. You came back slowly panting, reality coming back to you in pieces. Oberyn sat there smirking like the devil himself.

  “You are secretly a dirty girl little Dove. Look what you have done,” he reached behind you pulling you up gently by the back of your neck.,

  You looked between your legs seeing that there was a large wet spot there and you looked up at him.

  “What did I…” you panted unable to finish.

  “It is a very neat trick only few women can do. It was incredibly provocative little Dove.”

  You laid back panting, your hand coming to your forehead as you tried to catch your breath.

  “I hope you are not tired yet little Dove, because I am very far from being finished with you.”

  You watched as he stood and came back around to your left.

  “Open up little dove let me see those beautiful lips wrapped around me.”

  You turned and did as you were told, opening wide for him. You looked up seeing his eyes already on you watching your every move. You sat up slightly to give yourself a better advantage and started to take him down your throat. He let out a groan, one hand lacing through your hair and the other reaching down to pinch at your nipples. You let out a moan around his cock, which made him moan as well. His hand traced down your stomach and he started to make slow, lazy circles on your clit.

  You took all of him you could, letting your hand caress the rest, but Oberyn slowly started to thrust into your mouth. Finally he stopped rubbing your clit just as you were teetering on your high, and moved your hand away from his cock. He fisted your hair in both hands and started to fuck your throat. You looked up at him in slight shock your eyes filling with tears as he pushed you past what you thought was your limit.

  “Oh little Dove this mouth feels so good, but I really want to cum in another hole.”

  He pulled you away quickly, leaving you gasping for breath, saliva and precum dripping down your chin and he pulled you by your ankles to the end of the bed. Before you could even make sense of what was happening he was slamming into you to the hilt. Your head flew back your mouth gaping and you let out a scream.

  “Yes little Dove, let everyone know how I am making you feel,” Oberyn moaned.

  The he pulled all the way out and slammed back in. Your body tensed as you sat up on your elbows and you looked up at him with desperation. Before you could utter a word he started to fuck you at a rapid pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you let your head fall back, your chest pushed out more slightly. Oberyn reached out taking your sensitive nipples between his fingers and pinching.

  “Oh fuck,” you moaned out with a whine, the pain and pleasuring mixing wonderfully.

  “You take me so well little Dove. I believe you have the most delightfully pussy in the world.”

  “Your…your cock…feels so…so good,” you moaned with broken words, shocked you were able to find those few in your brain.

  Oberyn pulled on your nipples and you followed trying to keep the pain from being too much. When you sat almost all the way up, Oberyn never stopped as he laid you both down on the bed. He had you wrapped in his arms completely, tears were falling down your cheeks at this point and your body was shaking. You looked up into his eyes as his forehead pressed to yours.

  “Keep those beautiful green eyes open for me little Dove, and cum.”

  It was an order you followed as you fell from the edge once again. You clawed at him, clinging to him in every single way you could. You tried to keep your eyes open but failed as you moaned out, your head going back and your eyes closing. It was the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced and Oberyn never let up. He pushed you through it and just before you thought you would have to beg him to stop, he stilled deep inside of you and emptied himself. He groaned loudly and buried his face in your neck taking your scent in and enjoying the bliss after hitting your highs.

You panted and melted into the bed completely spent. Oberyn pulled from you and laid next to you for a few moments before he was climbing out of bed. You felt your heart break slightly as you turned to watch him.

  “Gone so soon?” Your voice was horse and full of disappointment.

  “Oh I’m not going anywhere little Dove. I’m just going to get something to clean you up with,” he bent and kissed your forehead before you watched him walk into the bathing room.

You laid there while you waited and smiled for a short moment like a mad woman. You had never in a million years thought what just happened ever would, and now that it had you never wanted to leave the man’s side. He returned ,cleaning you up which made you whimper as he shushed you gently. He climbed back in bed next to you and pulled you to him. His fingers brushed through your hair, before making patterns on your bare back.

  “What happens now?” You finally asked after several moments of silence.

  You were afraid to look up at him, afraid of his answer. He was silent for a moment before his other hand brushed at your chin.

  “I am truly not sure little Dove. I would love to continue this.”

  “Then let us do that and we will figure it out as we go.” You looked up at him with a soft smile.

  “That my little Dove sounds perfect to me.”

  You smiled at the slight change to the nickname and you wondered what would be in store for you and Oberyn.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @arcadianempress @discogrrl @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @thisis-theway @ohpedromypedro @fioccodineveautunnale @spookyold-saintjm @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @littlevodka @all-hallows-evie @audreyshepbvrn @mack4676 @perropascal

#agentwhiskeysdarlinkinktober #oberyn martell #pedro pascal #prince oberyn #prince oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x female reader

[chaoticbardlady99]

Yesterday I Felt like Dancing (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You have burnt both ends of the candle and haven’t been taking care of your mental health. Unable to get yourself out of bed, Astarion begins to worry about you…

Author note- I have been hardcore struggling with my mental health lately and writing my silly little fics has been the only thing pulling me along. I thought it might be therapeutic to write about my current feelings (I have ADHD, MDD, and GAD so it’s a party up in here). I hope you enjoy!

CW- Suicidal Ideation, symptoms of depression, brief outburst, mentions of mental health diagnosis and poor medical advice.

Title inspired by song “Into the Walls” by Griff.

*not my pic, could not tell you where I found it so I apologize in advance. If you think it might be your picture, please message me so I can give proper credit.

Your last day before backtracking from the Mountain Pass to the Goblin camp is a difficult one.

Not for the group as a whole- just you specifically.

Days before a Mindflayer kidnapped you, a healer back home had told you your brain was sick. You had been devastated- resigned to your miserable fate.

You had been struggling for years at that point with inconsistent motivation, exhaustion, nightmares, and irrational thoughts for months. You have been functional for the most part, but then an overpowering wave will hit you like Warhammer in the ribs and you are rendered useless until it passes.

The healer suggested sunlight, exercise, eating healthy, and spending time with friends to help your affliction when you hit rock bottom. You were wildly unimpressed with her. At the time, you preferred to self isolate so you stayed by yourself in the woods trying to find peace there. You would have to let her know that her “going out and enjoying the sun” message is not always wise- you may get a tadpole shoved in your head. You can’t be that mad though- the tadpole helped bring your pep back.

Anyway, you have been doing all of that for weeks now, you even felt great, but today? You could not have hit rock bottom harder even if you tried.

You woke up that morning unable to get yourself out of bed. It was a rest day so it wasn’t a big deal, but you also know that your companions are going to have things they need to talk to you about and favors they need you to take care of.

Gods you had tried to get up. You are grateful that your past self had the gumption to wash off and change into clean clothes last night, but your armor is still disgustingly sitting outside your tent and your hair is long and wild. You had wanted to braid it, but it all felt like too much work.

Everything feels like too much work right now- even staying awake- so you drift in and out of uncomfortable naps throughout the morning. No matter how many times you fall asleep, begging for relief from the painful brick wall sitting on your brain, it never leaves.

You can feel the midday breeze rustle your tent. You’ve been laying here for hours now. You are crying and you honestly aren’t sure why. You feel completely paralyzed by all the things you need to do to be ready for the Underdark.

You need to clean your armor, go over the Goblin Camp’s map with Wyll, find Gale a magical artifact, and probably comfort Lae’zel since she’s been branded a heretic- but you won’t. The shame and self loathing continues. You are a silly, worthless little human being.

Every person who knocks on your tent gets a simple, “I’m just not feeling well,” and then they walk away. You don’t know why it makes you more sad than appreciative. If you were in their shoes- you would be bending over backwards to make sure they had everything they needed and you wouldn’t let them feel alone. Then you resent yourself for feeling that way towards your companions- they don’t owe you anything and you were the one who chose to help them- you didn’t ask for anything in return. This is all your fault.

The only person who hadn’t come to visit you was Astarion- which hurt your heart just a little, enough that the numbness coursing thickly through your body wavered for a moment. You are quite smitten and he is obviously not. Another mistake to add to the swirling black hole your mind has fallen into.

You knew it was stupid to want his comfort and affections- you had merely slept together a little less than a week ago. Astarion has been quasi avoiding you ever since and when he does talk to you- he’s awkward. You constantly look for flying pigs- Astarion feeling awkward or being awkward is unheard of.

You have come to accept that you were just some tryst and obviously he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

Astarion isn’t to blame and the situation itself certainly didn’t contribute to the sudden lack of emotions. You knew that you were on the verge of a mental collapse sooner rather than later, but you had foolishly hoped you wouldn’t be alone through it. It feels less all consuming when you try to find a reason. It’s more comfortable to know than it is to give up and say, “my brain is fucked and there isn’t a damn thing I can do so I guess I’m stuck here.”

You are jolted out of your thoughts by another knock on your tent.

“I’m sick,” you say flatly.

“Ha- you act like that will deter me. I can’t even get sick, Darling.”

Before you even have time to register that Astarion is on the other side of your tent- he pushes his way through the flaps and stares down at you in confusion. And… concern?

Astarion steps inside and kneels down next to you- scanning you for evidence of illness or injury.

“I suppose I had been worried for nothing,” he smiles sweetly at you, “you are totally fine. Come on Darling, you have to get up and eat. Wyll is fumbling with that map.”

You look at him and begin to cry. Astarion’s face lights up with alarm.

“What- what did I do!?”

“Please don’t make me,” you sob, “I just want a break. I’m so tired. I want to lay in this bed forever and never leave, but there is so much to do and it’s paralyzing.”

You continue to cry and you cover yourself with the extra blanket- successfully hiding your face.

“Go away,” you whisper, “I need to be left alone.”

You say it, but you are far from meaning it. You want him to stay- to hold you- but he doesn’t want you so it will only make everything hurt worse once the numbness fades away.

You wait for several moments and then you hear him leave. Your silent cry turns into choked sobs and your body is shaking from the pain you are in. The numbness hurts. The numbness tells you that you shouldn’t be alive.

Maybe you shouldn’t be.

Everyone here would be able to figure it out on their own (eventually) and you would finally be free. Free of your uncomfortable brain, free of your ugly body- free of the expectations of others. You would no longer be holding them back like you are today- like you will again in the future.

You are sure they would temporarily grieve you, but that was the deal with this whole journey. You had all accepted that one of you or all of you could die at any moment. You will just put them in more danger by being here…

You shake the thought from your head, violently- your head is pounding from the growing tension headache and dehydration. The tears eventually stop and you just… well, lay in bed again. You stare blankly at a book over in the corner. You keep trying to convince yourself to get up and read the damn thing- do literally ANYTHING else than just stay here in your bedroll.

Instead, you fall asleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up to someone knocking on your tent post. You grumble incoherently, covering your head and you hear your unexpected guest sit down next to you. The smell of food fills the tent and your stomach grumbles.

“You need to eat, my Dear,” Astarion says softly.

You are stunned to hear his voice grace your ears. You slowly pull the blanket down to just below your eyes and look at him. Astarion looks distressed, like he doesn’t want to be here. Why would he? You’re a nuisance.

You sit up gingerly and grab the bowl from him. You manage to give him a lopsided smile.

“Thanks. You don’t need to stay, I will be fine on my own,” you say apathetically, staring into the broth.

“I want to stay,” he says, “if you’ll have me.”

The expression on his face is unreadable, but he seems genuine. You nod, your lips pressed together tightly. You eat as much as you feel like while Astarion studies you.

Usually your anxiety is at an all time high (in maybe one of the better ways) when you are around Astarion- he gives you butterflies, butterflies, and even more butterflies. Usually your heart is racing in his presence, but right now you just feel empty.

“Where is your hairbrush?” Astarion asks.

You frown with confusion, “it’s in my bag, why?”

Astarion gets up and goes over to the bag- digging out a few items. He pulls out a lantern, your hairbrush, and a hair tie. Astarion comes over to you and sits down behind you. You feel him gather up the stray pieces of your hair and get to work.

Astarion runs his fingers through your scalp and your tangled hair- the feeling is soothing and it opens something inside of you. Your body shakes silently with sobs and you feel the worm behind your eyes wiggle as Astarion asks for access. You aren’t sure.

“I want to understand,” Astarion says, “please.”

His voice is so raw and desperate- you swallow thickly before allowing him to explore your current emotional state. The silence in the tent is palpable and you feel tense, uncomfortable even. No one has ever cared for you while you are in this state before.

You feel him continue his hairbrushing after he exits your mind. Astarion leaves soft kisses on your shoulder as he gently pulls apart every knot. It helps- you realize- to feel cared for. The numbness still hurts, you still hurt, but it’s nice to not feel so alone.

After Astarion is done brushing your hair, you feel his delicate fingers begin to intricately braid your hair. You wonder when he learned how to do hair.

“Leon’s daughter, Victoria, used to ask me to braid her hair all the time,” Astarion says in a bittersweet voice as if reading your mind, “I picked it up so that she would stop bugging me about it. She said and I quote, ‘you have the perfect braiding hands!’”

You smile to yourself tenderly, “That’s very kind of you, Star. I am sure she appreciated it as much as I appreciate it now.”

You feel Astarion’s hands falter at your words and you are unsure if you have upset him or not. A pregnant pause occurs before Astarion finally clears his throat and goes back to braiding your hair.

“I’m glad that I can help,” Astarion’s delicate, vulnerable words hang in the air, “I’ve… been worried about you today.”

You feel positively flustered and bad for making him feel that way.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about silly ole me! This happens sometimes” you make your voice chirpier than it needs to be, “This is actually the longest I’ve gone for a long time without this happening. I have theorized that the tadpole might help which is kinda cool- I think?”

You laugh awkwardly- desperate to ease his worry.

“How often does this happen?”

Shit. That was the winning question wasn’t it? Astarion will surely never see you as anything less than broken now.

“I’m not really sure,” your voice comes out in a whisper, “I usually always feel a bit of it all the time, but it’s manageable. I function very well regardless.”

“But this one isn’t manageable and evidently you aren’t functional right now.”

You sigh, “No, it isn’t and no, I’m not.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing,” you say, maybe too harshly, “that’s the part that drives me crazy. Yesterday was incredible- I was on top of the whole world, felt like dancing and screaming from the rooftops, but today!?”

You inhale and hold back the muted scream that wants to fill the air.

“Today,” you hiss, “I don’t even want to deal with any of this shit anymore. I’m so fucking tired. There is too much to fucking do and too many people depending on me. Then everyone gets irritated with me if I ask to push off their problems so I persevere through it despite knowing I’m getting bad again. I’m a giant stinking trash heap that everyone keeps adding more to.”

Astarion finishes braiding your hair and presses your back to his chest, pulling you into him. He puts his arms around your waist and settles his chin and face in between the crook of your neck.

“I just feel like such a nuisance all the time- no matter how hard I push myself to prove I’m not. Sometimes I think everyone would be better off if I just… went away.”

You both sit there quietly. At some point he had taken one of your hands in his and he was tracing shapes into the back of it with his thumb. Your omission still hangs heavily in the air.

“I wouldn’t be better off,” Astarion says hotly, “I’d be stuck with all these weirdos by myself. That would be truly miserable, Darling.”

You shake your head, a half smile on your face.

“And besides- you are not even close to a nuisance,” Astarion states, leaving a kiss on your cheek, “at least you aren’t in constant need of magical objects to eat or blood to drink. Oh and you don’t require a painstaking amount of searching to prevent you from literally burning everyone alive.

“Oh and did I forget to mention, we have not one, but two women who despise each other and follow hateful Goddesses which was a fun choice for whatever sick bastard twisted our fates this way.”

You laugh breathily, closing your eyes and letting the sound defrost some of your insides.

“What I’m saying is- I think you are the least of everyone’s ‘nuisances’, my Darling,” he says, squeezing you tighter to his chest, “despite how little you think of yourself. We ne- no, I want you to stay. I know everyone else would say the same, but I must emphasize that I would be horribly distraught if you disappeared. Hells I’d even pay to have you resurrected.”

You gasp playfully, your voice falling slightly flat, “You? The most frugal man I have ever met would pay 200 gold coins to ‘Strike thy name from the record’?”

Your impression of Withers gets Astarion to genuinely laugh- the sound vibrating in your chest. You lean into him and he guides you back to laying down. Astarion entangles his legs with yours as he holds you tightly- your faces are mere centimeters apart. You love the way Astarion smells- rosemary, bergamot, and brandy. You wish you could be wrapped up in him forever. You are still in pain- everything still hurts and feels too difficult, but right now it feels a little less heavy.

“I would throw bags of Gold Coins at that corpse out of revenge, my Dear,” he teases, “you couldn’t possibly think I would ever let you rest peacefully in your grave- I would be far too angry with you and unhappy without you to let that happen.”

You lay there and despite yourself, you lean forward and leave butterfly kisses along his cheeks with your lashes. Astarion scrunches up his nose reflexively and smiles at you. You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips.

“Thank you Astarion- for everything.”

You close your eyes as he traces circles along your lower back. Your eyes begin to droop, and you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you wake up the next morning- you are disappointed to find that you are all alone in your tent. The heavy numbness is still there and you sigh. At least last night made it more bearable.

You look on the side where Astarion had been sleeping and find a note with a bottle attached to it. You pick it up and begin to read.

Tav,

Astarion had asked me about herbs for some relief regarding mental discomforts. I unfortunately don’t know many, but this is a mixture of St. John’s Wort, Valerian Root, and Ashwagandha. Historically, I know these have been used to alleviate emotional and mental pain.

Astarion didn’t tell me why he was asking, but I deduced it was you pretty quickly when he began shooing everyone away from your tent this morning.

I hope this helps- we are all here if you need us. May Silvanus light your path as you navigate this difficult time.

-Halsin

You sit in your own stunned silence for what feels like hours. Halsin knows and he wants to help? Halsin doesn’t think you are screwed or a nuisance? The man barely even knows you!

You are a bit embarrassed, but you can’t help but laugh at the image of Astarion telling everyone to leave you alone.

You open the bottle and a pleasant, earthy smell fills the tent. You drink the mixture (that definitely does not taste anywhere near as pleasant as it smells) and you do feel a slight bit better. Your apathy feels even more tolerable now. You will have to thank Halsin.

You slowly rise from your tent and look around. Everything is packed up neatly in the corner- your clothes from the previous day are folded nicely and you notice all the holes are sewn up.

You jump when someone enters your tent abruptly- the midday sun warming your skin. You turn around and Astarion is smiling at you, but looks nervous.

“I cleaned off your armor and your weapons,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, “I also packed up your stuff- as you can see. We have to start leaving unfortunately, but I’ll help you get on your armor like I usually do- I might still need help with mine though, but I can ask someone else if it’s too much for you right now. Lae’zel and Karlach offered to pack up your tent. Wyll and Shadowheart figured out the map- Wyll is going to be our ‘fearless’ leader for the day. Gale has some food for you to snack on while we travel- which you will be eating, by the way.”

Astarion is looking at you with a vulnerable expression on his face. He plays nervously with the gold coin in his hands.

You can hardly believe what you are hearing.

“Did- did you do all this for me?” You say with disbelief.

You never thought Astarion was capable of smiling shyly until he had admitted to you that you had been his first thinking creature- you certainly never thought you’d see him become shy twice in your presence.

“I did and it wasn’t a nuisance so don’t even begin to worry about that,” He walks over to you, gently cradling your face in his hands, “I hope this is all okay.”

You smile- the first genuine feeling of happiness you’ve felt in the last 24 hours gently sparks in your chest as you stare up at him. You get up on your tiptoes and bridge the gap between your lips.

“Thank you Astarion, this is perfect- you are perfect,” you are crying tears of joy, “this is the kindest gesture anyone has ever made for me. So just, thank you.”

“Of course, Darling,” he says smiling in between kisses, “I won’t let you lose to yourself. We’ll get through this together from now on- no more hiding.”

And for once? You actually believe someone.

-if you guys like this, please let me know if you would want a part two written from Astarion’s perspective.

Update- I did the thing you silly geese

https://www.tumblr.com/chaoticbardlady99/735969926279528448/i-took-all-this-love-i-found-and-i-hope-that-its

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

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