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k-atsukibakugou · 3 months

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the bathrooms at house parties are really only used for one thing

pairing: katsuki bakugou x f!reader w/c: 4.0k warning/s: fem!reader (has a pussy, wearing makeup + skirt), established relationship, toxic relationship, cheating, alcohol mention (tipsy sex), blood/biting/marking/cutting mention, unprotected sex, degradation/name calling (not really but just in case), hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving)

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

18+ MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

“you know you're a terrible friend, right?” your voice was already broken, growing more and more uneven the more your chest heaved against his, your words nearly silent against the blond’s skin, painted lips planting a kiss on his before travelling down his jaw and neck to the collar of his shirt. your airy voice was just loud enough to be heard over the heavy bass music shaking the wooden door, near deafening on the other side of it, the party in full swing, whooping and cheering, and a near constant clink of beer bottles tapping together breaking through the music occasionally, the celebrations downstairs continuing as if the two of you had never been there at all.

“i am, huh? what about you? abandoning the party you set up, just for a quick fuck?” katsuki was too breathless for his mean tone to carry any of the usual bite, the words only coming across as a hushed, panted attempt at his typical bullying. it made you return an equally breathless giggle at him, pulling back from kissing his neck to stare up into his carmine eyes studying you with half-lidded, smoky eyes; your dark eyeliner smudged around them just the way he liked. leaning back on the sink to rest your back against the small mirror behind you, your eyes sparkled staring into his, mischief and lust swimming around the depths of your pupils. he couldn’t wait to have them rolling into the back of your head, exactly like they did every time you met like this, rushing, locked in cramped, darkened rooms whenever you both had a free moment, not a second thought for the time or place, only thinking of feeling one another.

even here, your game of kings cup and bursts of dancing cut short when your eyes met his ruby red ones across the hall the moment he walked through the door, only breaking the intense contact to answer a heavy tap on your shoulder; the birthday boy tilting your chin up for your punishment drink, the cup half full of random splashes of everyone's alcohol; your’s and eijiro’s hard lemonade, ochako’s gin and tonic, momo’s prosecco and jirou’s fruity vodka, and you thought you could taste juuuust taste the beer denki dug out too. eijiro flashed his sharp white teeth down at you in a lopsided grin when you dipped your head back further and opened your mouth, your eyes locked up into his scarlet ones as you tried your hardest not to choke on the gross mixture of the drinks, cheering with high fives, whistling and whooping with everyone when you swallowed it with a sour face, missing the way katsuki’s scarlet eyes tracked a stray droplet of the liquid down your jaw, to your neck, to your chest before it disappeared into your neckline.

while you were celebrating, receiving a boyish slap on the back from hanta, katsuki was still surveying you, only pulled from his focus on you by his friends shoving him in greeting, dragging the fashionably late blond into the kitchen, denki passing him a can while mina handed him a fresh cup, pressuring him to catch up before you could even get in a greeting. katsuki had already downed half the cup by the time the redhead let go of your jaw to greet his final friend to arrive. you wiped your chin, catching any last stray drops from the foul drink with your finger, sucking into your mouth, your heart jumping to your throat catching his gaze once more, cherry red eyes locking to your lips over the rim of the plastic cup, stormy pupils glued to your dark lips wrapped around your finger.

not even an hour after he showed up, here you were: your skirt hiked up around your hips and your hair mussed while your heartbeat thrummed under the skin of your throat against his soft lips, the centre of them stained red from whatever he was drinking before pulling you in here, the empty cup abandoned on the edge of your sink beside your own, both of you preoccupied with exploring hands under shirts, lips and teeth clashing, both of you trying to take everything you needed from each other; desperate to feel his hot skin against yours already, one kiss from him already getting your breath hitching in the back of your throat, your blood burning hot with need.

“oh please, you know that is nowhere near what you’re doing, this has to be some kind of record, you couldn’t even wait, what? a week?” you teased, catching the way his eyes flashed a shade darker in the mirror ahead of you when he spun you around, a threatening squeeze of his rounded fingernails into the fat of your hips and the sharp point of his canines serving as a warning to shut your mouth before he’d do it for you. you were right, he knew it, but he also knew you weren’t much better, maybe even worse, parading around in the shortest skirt he knew you owned; he could picture you clear as day digging through all of them for this one, picking it for the way it hugged your figure, for the ease katsuki would hike it high on your hips to leave your thighs on display, so little of the fabric covering you he hardly even needed to tug at it to admire the curve of your ass. biting your lip, you submitted to his threats, not having the time you typically would to play with him, to mock his obsession with you, your addiction to each other, instead settling in more against the sink, pushing your ass back against him, “you got a condom, ‘ki?

“i’ll pull out,” his warm breath and soft lips on the side your neck reminded you of every time you’d ended up exactly like this, katsuki always determined to kiss you anywhere he could reach in the time you had, but never leaving any evidence, the same couldn’t be said for your lipstick marring his jaw, clearly this rule was being thrown to the wind tonight, dull fingertips digging into your clothed tits as his teeth latched onto your neck, finally laying his claim on your skin after nearly a year of this, letting his fingertips leave ten cute bruises on your skin beneath his hands, ignoring the way you tried to push him away from you (with next to no effort, not really wanting him to stop), whispering sternly to him, “oi.”

“shut up, no one out there is sober enough to notice.” his lips didn’t move far from the side of your throat while he gruffly responded in your ear, sliding your shirt up your stomach to expose your tits to him, hot fingertips toying with your hard nipples as his mouth moved, stormy garnet eyes watching you shiver at his unusually bold behaviour before he moved back up toward your face, nipping hard beneath your ear to force a gasp from you, “‘n i know you need it, sweetheart, need it rougher than what he gives you, i could cut you and you’d thank me. or don’t you remember when you were on your back, voice all high, beggin’ me to fuck you like a bitch in heat? use me, katsuki, that sound familiar?”

you flushed hot hearing him mock your high-pitched moaning, your mouth snapping shut, not wanting to admit you thought of it constantly, replaying his growls and deep groans in your mind when you needed to cum. when you stayed quiet, not admitting anything, he continued, one thick hand travelling up your bare navel to your chest to settle at your neck, holding your jaw like the redhead had earlier, keeping your face forward for him to stare down in the mirror, “next time you tease me like that, you’ll have handprints to try n’ explain to him.”

it wasn’t so much a threat, as it was a promise, no venom coating the words, only desperation underlying his arrogance, damn near begging you to give him a reason to make you his. you melted more into his touch hearing his voice dropping at the mention of his handprints littering your skin, giving up trying to dissect his tone, instead just revelling in his rough, impatient hands roaming your body, slipping between your thighs to stroke the slippery, sensitive skin there, the very tips of his fingers tugging at the tiny amount of fabric there. katsuki’s frenzied touches to your pussy sent electricity through your nerves, the feel of his warm hands on your more addicting than any other date could ever hope to be, his eyes far more captivating, always keeping your gaze locked on his in the mirror, your eyelashes fluttering to break the intense contact the moment his fingers sunk into your dripping cunt with a low groan.

“see, baby? you still need me, you always will.” you were too distracted to respond, to try and argue despite how wet you got looking at him, focusing on keeping your sounds of pleasure as soft as you could, making sure the music remained the most prominent sound in the house. katsuki had already let go of your face, but hypnotised by his sculpted form, you kept staring forward at his reflection, his free hand now pressing on the small of your back to keep you arched in front of him, keeping your needy cunt on display (katsuki addicted to how your body reacted to him, it didn’t tease or mock him, it never lied about how much it needed him). your pussy was the star of the show, evident by the way he toyed with you; plunging and curling his fingers deep inside you until you keened, only pulling them back to rub your clit, taking his time to warm you up, hardly needing to when you fucked him only five days ago in an unused supply closet, shelves covered in a thin layer of dust disturbed only by his handprints and your ass.

you got lost staring at him, your heart racing anytime his strong hands were on you, thinking about what he was saying with his hand around your neck; he was right of course, katsuki had always been the only one to satiate you, to scratch the itch deep inside you that no nice guy you’ve ever dated would be able to, the kind of itch only he could relieve, a frenzied fuck that had you both out and done in under thirty minutes, half of that time spent toying with each other, instead of making love for hours into the night. his thick fingers, sharp teeth, venomous words and stormy glare doing more to you than all the others before him combined, locking knowing eyes with him across a room getting you closer to cumming than some of their cocks.

“quit thinkin’ so loud.”

his words brought you back down to earth, back to focusing entirely on his body heat on your skin, one of his hands squeezing your hip so tight you were worried he’d keep his promise and leave a dark mark on your skin for days to come. attentive eyes were locked on your reflection, he waited until your mouth dropped open to spit back some bratty retort at him, certain it would’ve been dripping with attitude if he didn’t sink himself into you, cutting you off; barking out a laugh at the way your eyebrows furrowed and you immediately bit down on your bottom lip to stay quiet, he thought you looked like your eyes were about to cross like some lewd manga kaminari and sero would froth over. not even giving you a moment to adjust to him, not like you really needed it with how effortlessly he got you wet, katsuki started fucking you urgently, his hips slamming into your ass over and over again, almost as if he was suddenly aware of the time constraint you were on, someone sure to notice the pair of you missing soon enough.

hard porcelain dug into your hips, your hands gripping the edge of the sink doing little to hold your body up against the strength of katsuki’s hips pumping behind you, no concern for the way he kept pushing you forward, your head nearly bumping the mirror if not for him gripping the hair at the back of your head.

“nothin’ to say now, huh, baby? you know i’m right, he doesn’t fucking compare to how i fuck you, or you wouldn’t keep crawlin’ back.”

katsuki’s arrogance was well-deserved, even if you wouldn’t say it aloud, the barely-there brush of his calloused fingertips over your clit had you hissing, your hips bucking into his touch, demanding more. he’ll give it to you, finally giving up the cat and mouse once he was satisfied with how you sought after him, circling two fingers around your swollen clit, lust-filled eyes flashing at the surprised moan that escaped you, your palm not fast enough to cover your mouth to muffle it. your shining eyes rolled at his cockiness, now stuck back in your skull at his ministrations, drawing you closer and closer to your end while you desperately nodded your head as much as you could in his grip at his words rather than squealing out a “yes, yes, yes katsuki!” like you wanted to.

katsuki kept a tight hold on your hair, his grip close to your skull, keeping your head up while the rest of your body slumped over the sink, your chest nearly touching the mirror with how deep your back arched, only getting deeper the more you slid against the slippery porcelain of the sink. your body was entirely supported by his hand, and the sink at your hips, your arms and legs weaker and weaker the longer he fucked you, the fat of your ass rippling with every slap of his hips against them, every thrust back inside you forcing another gasp and whine from your throat, muffled as much as you could with your hand, “you’re really about to cum?”

his voice was back to being mean, low and mocking, nearly black eyes watching your face contort with his words, his rough tone like a lightning strike straight to your cunt, your muscle squeezing around his cock enough to have him following you soon after. you couldn’t even nod if you tried, the only motor skills your brain was concerned with being your hand, buried under your skirt, circling your swollen clit until you were trembling, thighs tense and your knees shaky. still with a vice-like hold over your mouth, your eyebrows furrowed in the centre, your eyes squeezing shut, your tits bouncing against the mirror.

usually he’d be watching your face in the reflection, or the way your tits were spilling out more and more with every rut of his hips, instead, his eyes were glued to the way your cunt and thighs glistened in the dim yellow-y tinted light, admiring the white ring of your cream around his cock. the sight of your cunt so wrecked had his hips stuttering in your beating cunt, having only just enough composure left to pull out of your heavenly pussy, leaving you shaking and slumped over the sink without his strength to hold you upright.

your body felt like unset jelly, your head swimming with pleasure, your body still recovering from waves of aftershocks that had you whimpering when he was muttering to you again, pulling you off the sink with strong hands, “c’mere, baby.”

delirious, you blindly let him guide you to your knees in front of him, his leaking, hard cock level with your glassy eyes, wide and cockdrunk staring up into his. without another thought, you sat up straighter on your knees, reaching a hand out to stroke his cock, wet with your cum, your eyes flicking down when you licked your lips before staring back up at him through your eyelashes, parting your glossy lips to take him eagerly into your mouth, any remaining lipstick you might’ve had after kissing him now smearing down his cock.

“shit,” he hissed when you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling slowly with your hand wrapping around the rest of his hard length, slowly taking in more of him until your lips met your hand, whimpering around him at the taste of yourself on his skin. his hand shot to the edge of the sink when his head bumped the back of your throat, gripping the edge warmed by your skin until his knuckles were turning white. his head fell back to stare at the ceiling with bitten lips, sure if he kept looking down at your pretty face he’d cum down your throat far too fast, garnet eyes flicking down to you when you whined around him, eyebrows squeezed together, your tongue gliding over his skin clouding his mind. katsuki swore again under his breath, squeezing the sink impossibly harder, grounding himself when he pulled out of your mouth, the soft pop sound drowning out your sound of disapproval.

“stick your tongue out.” you obeyed his gruff demand, at the stage of your encounter where you were too dumb to argue anymore, your games at the very back of your mind, resigned to listening, obeying. katsuki’s eyes looked darker, menacing to the untrained eye, but you knew the black was swimming with pleasure, your kneeling form reflected in his endless pupils. his eyelashes cast shadows over his face, kissing the tops of his cheeks, the light hitting the tops of your cheekbones when you tilted your head up toward him, your mouth falling open in front of him while he jerked his wrist over his length; only thrice more until his cum was spilling from the tip to your eagerly awaiting tongue. your lips shined under the light, saliva, your own cum, and now his reflecting under the downlight; your eyes shining with something else katsuki could’t place, the sparkle swiftly replaced with your usual fucked out expression, your mouth closing around the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking over the head to savour the last of his salty taste.

about to take him further into your mouth, desperate to make him shake like he always did when you pressed your tongue to the vein running along his cock– your eyes go wide staring up at him, a gentle, irregular knock echoing in the small room, your heartbeat spiking at the dull sound, jumping away from the blond at the noise, like a child caught in the cookie jar. you sobered up immediately at the noise, your mind suddenly clear and your blood cold, your body lost in anxiety instead of the intoxicating air surrounding katsuki.

katsuki returns a fist of his own on the wall, a louder slam of his hand on the wall than the soft rap of knuckles on the door, yanking his pants back up his hips with his other hand, belt between his fingers when you scramble to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “occupied, fuck off.”

whoever interrupted you was sent stumbling down the hallway at his brash response, searching for another bathroom while you both tried to recover from the sudden adrenaline surge, katsuki sliding his belt back into place while you sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in a soft laugh before turning around to face the mirror. the silver surface reflecting back your smeared makeup, looking just as debauched as you felt. with another slow, deep breath, you wiped a thumb under your plump bottom lip to clean any remnants of lipstick, cleaning yourself up as best as you could, trying to ignore katsuki shifting from foot to foot behind you while you tugged your skirt, straightening it against your thighs, trying your best to not to look like you were just fucked stupid in the upstairs bathroom of eijiro’s birthday party. katsuki looked perfectly dishevelled, his hair spiked around his head like usual, his belt done back up loosely around his hips, the accessory serving no real purpose other than to watch the way your mouth watered when he tugged it free from the loops. shaking your head, you dropped the thought of his thick fingers around the leather, instead leaning closer to the mirror when you smacked your lips together, your thoughts of him interrupted by katsuki's gravelly voice, “you should head down first.”

your gaze flicked back over to his, he looked as if nothing had changed between his arrival and now, minus his stained, swollen lips, the same couldn’t be said about you, reaching under the sink to search for your lipstick, hoping the cute tone could save you. rubbing the colour onto your lips with your ring finger, you admired the same colour still on katsuki’s jaw, running your fingers over your hair when you were satisfied, you hummed in agreement, “yeah, i’ll go get the cake ready, you’ll come down in two?”

you did a quick twirl, waiting for his approval on your state, his eyes raking over you to make sure your skirt was over your ass, your shirt back in place, and your face clean of lipstick, spit and cum.

“i look alright?”“wouldn’t fuck you if you didn’t, sweetheart.” you rolled your eyes at his teasing, like a switch for his cockiness was flicked back to on, a proud smirk painted on his face, carmine eyes already feeling like he was trying to see through your clothes to the skin beneath, a signature expression around you. he doesn’t move when you shove his shoulder, your uneven movements barely even disturbing a hair on his head when you stumble past him to exit the cramped bathroom, alcohol and adrenaline swimming in your veins making each step downstairs wobbly.

with a lasting stare down at you, mostly watching the way your hips move from side to side, vermillion eyes locked onto a single wet spot on your skirt, the patch easily explained away if anyone could see straight enough to ask you about it, he could already hear your sweet voice now excusing it, “the sink splashed back at me!”, or “ugh, i knocked my drink over when i was fixing my lipstick.”, sure your friends would believe either excuse without a second thought before realising the truth of the spot. katsuki only turns back around to face the mirror when he can’t see you anymore, roughly rubbing at the blooms of colour on the underside of his jaw. he does little more than smudge the pigment around, the colour now covering his fingers and in patchy lines than in the clean kiss marks they were when you’d first locked the door. satisfied he was as clean as he was going to get it, he turned back around, swinging open the door to follow you out.

hearing your laughter in the living room, katsuki makes his way down, sauntering down the stairs far slower than you had, turning left at the end where you swivelled right, circling around to the kitchen from behind, second nature to him at this point to cover his tracks without even needing to think about it. rounding the corner into the kitchen, katsuki’s eyes found you again, drawn to you, a need panging deep in his stomach watching your skirt swish around your thighs as you twirled around in the kitchen, spinning a final time to walk a cake over to eijiro, his name messily written in red icing underneath too many burning candles. you placed it at the head of the table, gently setting it down in front of him, the birthday boy drunk and oblivious to where you and his best friend had disappeared to for the last twenty minutes, even more oblivious to the evidence still on your skirt and low on your throat when he smiled sweetly up at you.

“happy birthday, baby, make a wish!” you plant a kiss on your boyfriends cheek, transferring your fresh lipstick in a perfect kiss stain, identical to the ones katsuki just finished ruining, eijiro slurring back his affection with a bright, lovestruck smile, “i’ve got everythin’ i need with you, baby.”

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#dividers by me #k-atsukibakugou #tw: alcohol #tw: cheating #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #「kat <3」#「mercury writes」

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lokis-army-77 · 6 months

Note

OK, so I know I *could* write this, but my WIPs are ridiculous, and you wrote Demon Eddie so well that he lives rent free in my head.

I was thinking Incubis Eddie, where reader thinks shes just having very horny dreams with this thing, and then he visits her when he thinks she's asleep but she's not...

Feel free to add your own flavours, or ignore this horny thot entirely up to you babe x

Hunger

Incubus!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2k

A demon awaits you in your room when you arrive home from a night out.

Warning: 18 +. multiple orgasms, some licking (f reviving), fingering (vaginal and anal), CNC?, some hair pulling, blood.

And thank you to @lofaewrites for beta reading 💗

Masterlist

He had started showing up in the dark corners of your room only a month ago. It was after you had watched some horror movie with a friend and instead of being afraid like every normal person in the theater, you were turned on.

In the dreams you had of him, you weren't scared either even when he came into the light and bared his two rows of needle-sharp teeth, even when his horns made him appear taller and the wings stretching from his bare back made him look broader.

Each night he visited you was another wonderful exploration of your wants and desires. You couldn't get enough of him and when you woke only to find that the pleasure and the pain had all been a dream, you sulked to yourself as you missed the feel of those long, clawed fingers scratching at your skin.

You had come home way later than you usually would on a weeknight. Only coming through your front door at around three in the morning. A long-time friend of yours had gotten married and the reception had gone on longer than you would have liked. The bride and groom had left at around twelve but the party raged on without them. You called it quits when the ache in your feet could no longer be ignored and instead of conversation, all you could do was yawn.

Trudging through your front door you kick your shoes off and throw your bag onto the table in the entryway. You’re exhausted and all you want is to go to bed.

As you walk through your house, everything seems normal, until you flip the lights on in your bedroom. You freeze when you see it. A dark mass by the head of your bed bent over and pulling at the clumped-up sheets.

The creature whips around, its hair falling into its face as it growled. Its wings spread out to make itself look bigger and it bared its rows of sharp teeth. You take a step back, fear gripping onto you. But then, as you look at the strange form, you are met with a familiar feeling. This wasn’t a strange creature, no it was what visited you in your dreams.

Confusion fell over you then. He was just a dream. He wasn’t real so why were you seeing him in your room? You don’t remember falling asleep anywhere. Shaking your head, you pinch your arm, thinking it might wake you up like it does in the movies but all you feel is the sharp pain it brings to your forearm.

Cautiously, you take a step forward, hands out, showing the creature you didn’t intend to do anything rash. “Hello,” you speak softly. His eyes slit as he stares at you. “Uh.. what are you doing here?” You ask. He had never really talked to you in your dreams before but it didn't hurt to try.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake.” He answers, voice deep.

You take a deep breath. "What do you mean?" you ask.

He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. "You know what I mean."

When he steps toward you, you step back, only to run into the door. Where there should have been a sense of dread, there was only a spark. A tingling sensation coiling up inside of you the closer he came.

He reaches out his hand, claw-like nails giving him a more sinister look, and brushes back the strands of your hair that had fallen out of the updo you had been wearing for the wedding. You shiver when you feel his nails tickle your skin.

You can feel your heart beating faster as he shuffles closer to you, his larch body towering over yours. A gasp leaves you when he unexpectedly grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavers as he walks you over to the bed and throws you down. Your body bounces at the force and once you settle, you try to back away from him.

He huffs, frustrated. “You aren’t this much of a hassle when you’re sleeping.” He takes hold of your ankle and drags you back down the bed. You try to wriggle free, but he is too strong. He grabs the other ankle and pulls you towards him, trapping you between his body and the mattress. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming over you.

You can’t help the flood of arousal that washes over you as you struggle against him. He’s smirking like this is a game to him and it’s only making you more flustered.

Leaning down, his lips press into yours and his tongue slips inside your mouth. It’s forked, just like in your dreams, but now, with what little he’s said, you wonder if they were really dreams at all.

The kiss is fierce, full of strong emotions and wandering hands. He tugs on your dress and you can hear the fabric beginning to tear. You try to pull away and to stop him but he’s so much stronger than you.

You feel the needle-sharp tips of his teeth nip you, drawing blood from your bottom lip. He laps it up, humming at the metallic taste. Your fingers drag lines over his back and sides as you fall deeper into the feral, primal instincts now controlling you.

His hardened length can be felt pressing into your thigh as he ruts into you. His kisses are rough and desperate, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pulls you closer. He whispers in your ear, "Let me take what I need and I will let you sleep.”

You’re nodding before you can stop yourself. The growing need for him is too much to resist now.

The creature hums, satisfied at your submission. Soon, your dress is finally ripped off of you, along with your undergarments. You are left completely bare to him, nipples pebbling in the cool air of your room and thighs snapping shut at being so exposed.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest and he’s quick to open your legs up. Long, deft fingers trail down your exposed skin, goosebumps coming up in their wake. He takes his time, coaxing you into a more relaxed state with gentle caresses and warm lips sucking marks into your skin.

“Ah.” A moan leaves you when you feel him bite at your collarbone. Tiny pinpricks that draw the smallest amount of blood. His tongue laved over the wound and he let out a groan.

His hand finally reaches between your legs and you let out a cry of relief when his thumb rubs over your clit. His other hand moves up to cup your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple. His mouth moves over your neck and he whispers in your ear, “You are so sensitive.” His fingers slid through the wetness faster over your clit.

Your hips move in tandem with his hand, bucking and writhing. He lets you take what you need. His fingers move faster still as you begin to moan and gasp. His other hand moves down to your hip and grips as your body jerks with each wave of pleasure. “Fuck-” you breathe. You can feel the all-too-familiar sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it. Give it to me.” He whispers into your ear as your back arches and your toes curl.

Your breath hitches as your body tenses. Your voice breaks and you cry out in pleasure as you reach your peak. His grip tightens as you collapse onto the bed.

The creature moans into your neck and he keeps rubbing his fingers into you, slowly moving them down from your clit to circle around your soaking-wet entrance. You whimper in his strong grip.

“Please,” you gasp. He doesn’t stop, he pushes two of his fingers into you, pulling a wail from your lungs. You are clamping down around him, cunt practically sucking his fingers.

There are squelching sounds coming from the fluid motion of his fingers roughly bounding into you. Your pleas and moans accompany the sounds and it’s like music to the creature's ears.

He fingers you with abandon, pushing and pulling with force and speed. Your orgasm builds with each thrust of his fingers, your pleasure becoming more intense with each passing second. Your body goes rigid in his hold and as you cum for a second time.

“No more,” you mumble, spent and exhausted.

You hear him chuckle, “I’m not done with you, pet.”

When his fingers leave your used cunt, a whine leaves you at the loss and you feel yourself clamping down around nothing. He is turning you onto your stomach before you know it. Your head is buried in the sheets and your body lies like a board.

With closed eyes, you can only assume what he is doing behind you as you feel his body atop your own. Thick fingers push apart the fat of your ass to expose you. The tickle of his hair as he leans down to lick a thick stripe from your pussy to the tight ring of your ass makes you twitch, a small bit of exhausted laughter pushing through you.

He pulls back and you can feel his thumb toying with your ass, circling and pushing in just slightly. He has moved to his legs are on either side of your closed thighs. You can feel the hardness of his cock resting along the seam of where your legs meet. He’s hot and leaking pre-cum.

Wiggling your hips, you encourage him to keep going. He then guides his cock closer, pressing the tip through the sticky wetness and into your waiting pussy.

You moan into the bed at the stretch, hands gripping the sheets. He’s so big that he makes you feel so full without being completely inside you.

He keeps pushing into you, grunting and hissing at the feel of your cunt spasming around him. Once he is fully sheathed inside you he begins to piston his hips. In and out in and out. He’s fucking you at a brutal pace. Giving you pleasure but also taking what he wants from you.

His thumb is still circling your ass but as he keeps going, he finally pushes past your tight rim. You cry out into the open air of your bedroom. His thumb is thick and stretches you open where you have never been stretched before.

“Fuck, yes.” You mumble into the sheets below.

He grins. “You like that pet? Like when I use this pretty ass?”

You nod, hair tangling under your face as you do. “Yes, yes, yes.” It's the only word you can get out of your mouth.

Listening to your words he begins to thrust his thumb in and out of you at the same unwaveringly fast pace that his hips have set.

You can’t help the guttural groan you let out. It’s all becoming too much. So many sensations are filling your body, some familiar and others new. The strings of your orgasm have been pulled taut and are slowly breaking one by one. Your fists clench and your legs spasm. The creature reaches to your head and pulls on your hair at the base of your neck. Your head is forced up and with a half cry half moan, you cum around him as he releases thick stream after thick stream into you.

As he keeps himself buried within you, he leans down and bites at your ear before speaking. “I may have to visit you when you are awake again, pet. You take me so well.”

He pulls out and moves away, fast and unexpectedly, leaving you to drop, spent, and used on the bed. You turn slowly to look for him but your eyes find him nowhere in your room. It was empty, he had vanished into thin air.

Soon he will return, hunger no longer sated by the sexual energy that you have given him tonight.

#incubus!eddie munson #demon!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #fem reader #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

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repulsiveliquidation · 4 months

Text

earmuffs

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader [BLURB! angst.]

hey y'all! first work of the year! thank you all for being patient with me, i haven't been active one bit but hope you enjoy this one!

also send in more long aitana fic ideas! i have some blurb ones and one fic i have in my WIPs but i'd love to write more!

It’s New Year’s Eve in Barcelona and the whole team is together at Ona and Lucy’s house for the countdown. You’ve begrudgingly attended, your secret new girlfriend was insistent that you come before dragging you out of your house the day of. You’ve always hated fireworks, an accident when you were a kid in England that hurt your little brother still traumatized you despite it being years ago. The loud noises and the screaming didn’t help; you much preferred to be at home with all the windows locked tight and not a single curtain opened to hide under the blankets until the colorful lights were over.

"come on everyone, the countdown is in 10 minutes!”

Aitana stands, reaching out for your hand to help you up. She smiles softly before her face changes into one of confusion.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asks, reaching down to take your hand. You cringe and smile awkwardly, shaking your head.

“No, you go ahead Tana. I want to sit in here.”

“Bebita, it’s the uh fireworks! It’s pretty no? You can’t miss it, bebé.”

She tries to pull you up and you follow her, she walks ahead with a big smile as she joins the rest of your teammates on the deck.

You’re already trembling, reaching for the wicker chair on the deck to sit on. Kiera is beside you, she also happens to be the only one who knows about you and Aitana. She sees that scared look on your face, immediately rubbing your back as you sit.

“You okay, kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kiddo.”

Suddenly, Lucy is yelling while looking at her watch.

“3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”

The team erupts in cheers and they start to light all their fireworks. Lucy managed to find big and loud ones this year, along with many long ones that you could hold and have them shoot out. You yelp in surprise when the first one goes off, a big box of 30 rounds blowing up in the middle of the garden. Aitana, who was watching you the entire time, hoping for a New Year’s kiss, saw the fear in your eyes before anyone else did. Her hands immediately pressed against your ears and they pulled you into her stomach as she stood between your legs and kissed your head. She leaned down and whispered in Catalan, you didn’t understand a thing but her soothing voice calmed you immediately. Tears streamed down your face but you held onto her, she didn’t move an inch until the fireworks stopped and the girls had retreated inside.

“Amor?” she said as she knelt, hands moving away from your ears to hold your wet face.

“Sorry, it’s stupid,” you begin, pushing her hands away and wiping the tearstains off your face. She huffs, grabbing your face again. She looks deep into your eyes with tears. You begin to panic, cooing at her to not cry. She sits beside you and takes your hands in hers.

“It’s not stupid, amor. You were panicking.”

“I’m a grown fucking adult, I shouldn’t feel this way,” you say with gritted teeth, wiping away frustrated tears as you stand and try to walk away from her. She’s small but defiant, grabbing your arm to make you face her. she’s got an angry look on her face that immediately disappears when she meets your eyes.

“Talk to me, amor. What’s going on, sí? I’ve never seen you like this before,” she says, pulling your body close to her. you’re just a foot taller, she tucks her face into your neck and leaves soft kisses.

The team watches from the inside with deep concern for their teammates, when suddenly everyone's phones are blowing up. Lucy opens her phone from where she’s sitting on the counter with Ona between her legs and gasps in shock. Patri had posted a New Year Instagram story and there was a brief two-second pan towards you and Aitana where she pecked your lips to calm you as her palms pressed against your ears.

“Patri, you idiot!” Alexia yells, chewing her out. There was no point in deleting it, the whole world knew that you were together.

Back outside, you and Aitana had moved to the stairs leading up to the porch to sit and talk. She held your hand in her lap, softly rubbing the back and occasionally kissing it. you leaned into her, head resting on her shoulder as you told her about your fear of fireworks.

“My cousins were being rough and not careful. Their parents told them they couldn’t play with it on New Year till my father got home but they didn’t listen. They lit one and pointed it right at me when my little brother jumped in front of one and got second-degree burns because his sweater caught on fire.”

Aitana listens carefully, eyes widened in shock when she learns the reason behind your fear. She leans in and kisses you softly, taking your hand in hers tighter.

“I wish you told me, cariño. I would have stayed home with you.”

“But you love the fireworks, I thought I could handle it; not. I’m sorry you couldn’t watch them.”

“No bebita, you were more important. Thank you for trusting me.”

"Te amo Tana, gracias por estar ahí para mí".

"Yo también te amo, mi niña.”

You two walk back inside where Alexia still hasn’t finished chewing Patri out she’s almost red in the face.

“What’s going on?” Aitana asks, gently guiding you into the kitchen where everyone is.

“Have you checked your phones, both of you?” Ona asks Alexia, taking a break and being handed a glass of water by Lucy.

“No,” you both say, pulling out your phones to see what’s all the fuss about.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, hand going over your mouth in shock. The two-second clip of you and Aitana kissing while you were having a meltdown is going viral, already trending on X.

“Patri!” Aitana starts, already marching towards the much taller Spaniard. You stop her, grabbing her forearm. She turns around with rage in her eyes, fiercely wanting to protect your privacy more than hers. She softens when she sees the affection in your eyes, letting herself be pulled back to you.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, mi amor.”

“But bebita,” she begins, you cup her cheek and lean in to kiss her before she can finish her sentence. The whole room erupts with cheers and laughter, María capturing another picture of you two. She airdrops it to you as soon as you pull away from Aitana, Alexia already giving Patri a big hug and apologizing for yelling at her.

Back home that night, you post the picture María took and make it official. The world goes crazy, but you and Aitana knew that only the two of you mattered.

#woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #fc barca femeni #aitana bonmatí #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati blurb #aitana bonmati imagine

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flightlessangelwings · 3 months

Text

Late Nights

Neighbor!Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word count- 1.8k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, feelings, protective!Steven,fluff, no use of y/n

Notes- This check two things: part of my neighbor Steven Grant series and a box (praise kink) for @moonknight-events Bingo. And tho it's part of a series, I wrote all the parts so that they can stand on their own. This as been in my wips for so long and I'm so happy to finally have written it!! I've missed our dear Steven too! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new fics!

It was late, and Steven should have fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, he laid wide awake, his mind racing as he fiddled with his rubik's cube. Steven just couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. He thought about you all day long- while he was at work, he wondered if you would like the exhibits he worked around. On the days he was lucky to pass you in the hallway on his way to his door, the image of your bright smile stayed with him well into the night. Even when he was in bed, Steven couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you there with him, nuzzled in his arms.

He felt too nervous to make the first move, though.

But, a sound from the other side of the wall made Steven gasp- it was you. He heard you whimper and he immediately shot upright as his mind raced. Should he go over to you? Were you just having a nightmare? Or did something happen and you needed him?

As Steven pondered the options, he heard you cry out again, louder this time. His breath caught in his throat as you whined again, but this time it was different. Steven was sure he heard his name.

“I’m coming, love,” he whispered to himself as he jumped out of bed and grabbed the spare key you gave him in case of emergencies.

Steven scrambled to his door and his hands trembled as he opened it. Bolting the short distance to your door, he gritted his teeth as he unlocked your door and burst inside in a rush. Shutting the door behind him, Steven ran across the space to your bed, scared that he would find you hurt or in trouble.

But, what he found instead froze him in his tracks.

You were sprawled out on your bed, one hand cupping your chest, pinching your own nipple and the other between your legs. Your eyes were shut as your hand worked to pleasure yourself and you were lost in bliss until the sound of your name in Steven’s voice made your eyes snap open.

“Steven…” you gasped as you locked eyes with him.

The world felt like it was on fire, and as much as Steven knew he should leave, having caught you in a private and intimate moment, he couldn’t make himself move. It was as if you enthralled him, freezing him to the spot where he stood.

And you were flustered, covering yourself with the sheet as you realized you were so loud that you caught Steven’s attention. But, the way he looked at you made your heart pound. More than being embarrassed that he caught you pleasuring yourself, you felt your skin burn at the thought that he heard you cry out his name while he did so.

It felt like an eternity where neither of you moved, both too unsure of what to do or say to ease the tension in the room. It was Steven who finally moved first, though.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he covered his eyes and turned away, “I should go.”

“Wait,” you replied out of reflex.

Steven turned back to face you, his jaw tight and his eyes burning into your figure on the bed.

“Stay,” you whispered in a soft tone as you sat up and dropped the sheet, “Please stay,” your voice shook as your nerves overtook you, but you figured it was now or never.

He swallowed hard as his hands trembled, “Are- are you sure?” He sounded just as nervous.

“I’m sure,” you replied in a hushed tone as you kicked the sheet away, exposing yourself completely to him.

Steven felt his skin warm as he suddenly felt overdressed. He felt like he was in a dream, but if he was, he didn’t want to wake up. Moving before he realized it, he crossed the rest of the space and leaned forward, placing his hands on the foot of your bed. “Are you sure about this, love?” he asked again in a low tone as his eyes drank you in.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

Both of you were nervous, it was a bold move and uncharted territory for each of you. But, the need overtook the nerves. Slowly, Steven reached out for you, cupping your face tenderly in his hand. You let out the breath you held as you leaned into his touch. As his thumb brushed across your cheek, Steven also exhaled, “You’re so lovely.”

Your mouth parted as you gasped softly. Mirroring his action, you reached for him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer until your lips crashed together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you instantly deepened the kiss, and Steven’s hands roamed all over your bare figure. As you kissed him deeply, you tugged at his shirt, motioning for him to take it off.

“Let me see you too, Steven,” you whispered.

Steven let out a short laugh before he broke away to do as you asked. This time, it was your turn to gawk as your eyes roamed across his chest. You had always found him attractive from the moment you first met, but to see him shirtless before you made your heart flip in your chest.

“Wow…” you breathed.

He giggled nervously, “Wow to you too, darling,” he quipped.

That made you laugh as you pulled him close again, “Touch me, Steven,” you murmured as you guided him to crawl onto the bed so that he hovered over you.

Resting on your back, you looked up at Steven as his arms framed your face. The two of you froze again as you locked eyes, but this time it didn’t last. Steven was the first to move as he leaned forward and kissed you, taking the lead this time. His kiss was slow and soft, but you moaned into him as you felt his emotions in the kiss.

His hands roamed all over your body, running up and down your sides before cupping your chest. You broke the kiss to let out a louder moan as his hands ran across your nipples while he kneaded your chest.

“Steven…” you whimpered as you arched your back.

Encouraged by your moans, Steven’s hand ran down your body until one dipped between your legs. You gasped when you felt a finger at your entrance, making him pause.

“Keep going… please…” you begged.

“Can’t say no to you, love,” Steven smirked before he slowly pushed a finger into you and started to gently thrust in and out.

Your mouth dropped open as you cried out, “Steven… Feels so good…”

His eyes darkened at your words, and he couldn’t help but pick up his pace before he added a second finger, “You’re exquisite, darling.”

All you could do was moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, coating them in your slickness as he did so. His fingers filled you more than your own could, yet you still craved more. “Steven…” you pleaded, “Please… Need you…” you choked on your words, flustered at just how desperate you were.

“Shit love,” he breathed, astonished that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

Carefully, Steven pulled his fingers out of you before he pushed his pants down to free his cock. His heart fluttered in his chest as your hungry eyes landed on his hardened length. Slowly, you peeled your eyes away and up his body, soaking in every inch of his skin before you met his gaze. Heat rose in the room as the two of you locked eyes, and the unspoken question lingered in the air.

Swallowing hard, you nodded, answering without the words needed.

Steven whispered your name as he positioned himself at your entrance, crawling over you as the tip pushed in. Both of you gasped as he started to fill you, and you both clung to the other as your heat engulfed him inch by inch until he was completely sheathed inside you.

“Fuck, Steven,” you murmured, “You feel so good,” you couldn’t help but moan as you wrapped your arms around him, “Fuck me… Please…”

He breathed a soft, “Fuck,” in your ear as his hips moved on their own.

Moans and groans filled the room as Steven’s hips rocked against yours. What started as clumsy and unsure quickly morphed into hot and desperate as Steven thrust his hips faster.

“Yes… Steven… So good… Feels so good,” you babbled in his ear as you dug your nails into the skin of his back, desperate to feel him as close as possible.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt his climax already start to build. Between how good you felt and the babbling praise that flowed from your lips, he knew he wasn’t going to last. “Fuck… Darling…”

You let out a loud gasp as he thrust as deep as he could into you, hitting that sweet spot with precision, “Fuck!” you screamed, “Right there!” you opened your eyes as he paused in that moment, “You’re beautiful, Steven,” you whispered.

“Not as beautiful as you, love,” he smirked back before his hips took over again, thrusting into you with abandon.

The cries you let out echoed in the room, and both of you were sure the other neighbors could hear you but neither of you cared. All that mattered to each of you was the other, and the climaxes you both desperately chased. Incoherent babbling dripped from your lips in between your moans until you screamed even louder as your peak hit.

“That’s it, love,” Steven wasn’t sure where that came from, but as he talked you through your climax, he found it turned him on even more, “Lovely,” he preened as he felt you clench around him as you came hard, “Fuck…” he stuttered as his own orgasm hit right after yours. Steven groaned your name as he spilled himself inside of you, and he clung to you just as much as you did to him as he rode out both your climaxes together.

Completely spent and out of breath, Steven collapsed down on top of you, clumsily pulling out of you as he did so. He only relaxed for a moment, though; after hearing you gasp, he shot right back up onto his elbows to check on you, “Are you alright, love?” he asked with worry as he cradled your face.

Keeping your eyes closed, you smiled and leaned into his touch, “Never better,” you replied in a hushed tone before you kissed his palm, “That was better than how my night started,” you added with a chuckle.

Steven’s face lit up as he leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead, “I agree,” he whispered with a laugh of his own.

“Stay with me, tonight?” you asked in a meek tone.

“Anything for you, love,” Steven replied as he made himself comfortable and the two of you tangled your limbs in each other, curled up and safe in the other’s arms.

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blueparadis · 1 year

Note

Okay, but like BLLK Team Z finally getting a break outside of BlueLock and only for Chigiri to reunite with his girlfriend and that’s how the rest finds out that he even has one

CHERRY WAVES ; CHIGIRI HYOMA !

⊂ CONTENT & TAGS ⊃ f!reader(s!her pronouns) , humor, swearing,semi-canon compliance, fluff, flirting, ( touch - starved ) team z is a hindrance to their ‘moment’. blog navigation + word count ::1kish; i was writing for him so i kinda mixed your idea with my wip. hope you like it >:)) &<3

“Ohhhh. . . Hyom I'm so tired of seeing you in rectangles ”

“What do you mean . . . ? rectangles ”, Chigiri's lips puckered out in confusion unable to understand the sudden complaint in her voice. His brows furrowed and then jumped, a few blinks: one. two. three; his voice followed a trail of merriment, cheeks stretching up to his ears. “I see what's this about. . . it's been a while since we were together. . . like on a date.”

“ Umm-ughh ” Her eyes shifted from the screen to elsewhere, somewhere up. As her neck stretched, a spread of ink was noticed by her boyfriend.

“BaBe . . .”, he gasped, “ is that a tattoo?”

“tattoo? Who got tattoo?”

“uh. . . No...no-one”, chigiri quipped almost instantaneously as if someone else possessed him, someone else was pouring words in his mouth and he couldn't even figure out why he act the way he acted.

Bachira cocks his head exclaiming with a teeth-flashing green, “but I'm sure i heard a girl's voice.”

Fuck.

“Chigiri’s got a girlfriend ”, Bachira chimed being proud of his deduction.

Double Fuck.

“What ? No way.”, Isagi's jaw drops at Bachira’s words.

Think. Think. Think something quick.

“Why? Why is it so unbelievable? ”, Kunigami joined the conversation being a saviour to Chigiri’s aid.

Bachira and Isagi both squinted eyes at Kunigami who still had the raised eyebrows retaliating look. “Could it be . . .?”, Bachira trailed off

And Isagi finished the rest of his sentence “. . .you might have one and didn't tell us ?”

Thanks kuni, great distraction.

There was a pin drop silence for a few seconds while the greatest battle of eye-contact prevailed.

“Nope. I'm not taken.” Kunigami remarks and walks out of the room. Bachira and Isagi exchanged glances while Chigiri felt his senses being on edge again.

“Now then . . .” Bachira stood , shifting his weight on one of his ankle. “Tell her , who she is. . . the girl of your dreams” He demanded in a dramatic tone, looking at Chigiri who was standing like a statue. Still being clueless why he became so stiff all of a sudden. Sure, he had plans to tell them or maybe introduce her to them but now might not be a good time

He sucked in a strong breath saying, “It is just my sister you guys” Knotting his hair up in a ponytail he strolled towards his bed and flopped on it. Bachira as well as Isagi didn't press him any further. He looks dejected. Moreover, today's match tired them out more than they had assumed.

Chigiri couldn't sleep a blink. He can't seem to recall when he had talked with his girl last time on a video call. He recalled how she whined about seeing him in rectangles but then again, most of his friends keep in touch with their family and loved ones, through rectangles. Geez! So childish!

is it? is it really childish?

It's been a while since hyoma said ‘i love you’ to her. It's been a while since he held her hands in his and go for shopping or explore cafes together. It's been a while since he kissed her cheeks, embraced her, feel her touch and. . . Chigiri exhaled deeply brushing away those thoughts. He can not afford to get distracted now, especially when there is just one more game left and then he can be outside this lavish cell.

is that all she is? a distraction?

—

That was risky and reckless to sneak out from the squad using the crowd as a diversion but it was worth it. He could now see her , feast his eyes on her as much as he wants. He missed annoying her with his obvious stares.

She held a pair of dangling earrings over her respective ears asking joyfully, “Do you think these would look good on me? ”

No answer.

“What’re you looking at?”, she fetched with confusion washing over her face.

“I don't know ” Chigiri walks up to her, holding her hands keeping his eyes on her while hers roamed everywhere being surprised at his advances. “You tell me what I could I possibly look at ” She turned her face away feeling awfully warm being in the vicinity of his affection. Chigiri interlaced his fingers with hers, brought her hand close to his mouth and pressed a soft dry kiss on her knuckles, of course after doing a quick scan all around.

There were people but they were all busy.

“You little shit.”

The couple gazed to the source. Chigiri’s eyes flared up and Bachira? He threw ran as fast as he could holding the ice-cream in one hand shouting at people to excuse him.

Chigiri was in high spirits, bachira couldn't possibly think that he could run faster than him, can he now? He chased his friend through the stream of the crowd in the mall. Bachira knew he couldn't beat him, at least not in the running. He knew Chigiri would catch up to him quickly; hence, the moment he spotted Isagi he shouted from the bottom of his lungs “Isagi. you owe me 50 bucks. I won the bet. Chi—”

Shit. Shit.shit. shiiiitt.

The security guard stood in front of them like a tower. Chigiri and Bachira, both were now on the same side. They were not running anymore. Few minutes later Team Z gathered in front of the mall.

Chigiri called y/n, “Yo Bae, come outside. We are at gate 4. My friends are here too.” with an apologetic tone, and ragged intake of breaths.

“Okay. You sound. . . are you ohkay? ?”

“I'm. Yeah . I'm ”, he ran his fingers through the bridge of his nose trying to hide his smile. He was . . . beaming with joy, he couldn't be more right about anything else than having you in his life.

—

@tokyometronetwork & @knchins [ ykw >:)) ]

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qveerthe0ry · 4 months

Text

With Peace on Earth

Summary: A brief tale of your first Christmas Eve in Jackson Word Count: 2,166 Pairing: Joel Miller x GN! Reader Rating: 18 + Explicit (but not super descriptive smut) Warnings: 18+ mdni, established relationship, fluff, post-outbreak/Jackson, oral (m and gn receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, fingering (gn receiving), finger sucking, spit as lube, Joel is handsy, soft!joel, no y/n, no physical description of reader, reader is gender neutral, description of reader having a mother when they were young, reader celebrates Christmas, reader has no age, a tiny bit of sadness, nostalgia, no beta, let me know if I missed anything! Note: I wrote this very quickly to try and alleviate the writer's block because I have about 15 Pedro character WIPs (mostly Joel) and have yet to complete a single one. I also wrote this to express my feelings about how the holidays haven't really felt very magical for me for a while, but adopting new traditions has helped me find the magic again.

The streetlights are reflecting off of the fresh layer of snow. Despite it being the dead of night, the white ground makes everything just a bit brighter. The air is dry, and it smells like pine and open fires and for a second, when you focus really hard, it’s Christmas Eve, pre-apocalypse.

You can remember it plain as day. You can feel the air like it was yesterday, that palpable excitement as you spread a mixture of oats and glitter and sequins across your childhood front yard.

“So the reindeer know where to land Santa’s sleigh,” your mom had told you.

You can feel the warmth of her hand enveloping your tiny, freezing fingers. The warmth of her voice, of her gaze on you.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, try to remember that happy memories can be just that— and not a cruel taunting of the way things used to be and how different they are now.

You don’t realize how cold you actually are until two warm arms wrap around you, and hot breath creeps down the collar of your long johns.

“Gonna catch your death,” Joel mumbles.

You lean back into him, close your eyes, and take a big, deep breath. You smell the snow and the chimney smoke but also homemade oat soap and lavender laundry wash and it isn’t like it used to be, but maybe that doesn’t have to mean it’s worse.

“Was hoping I’d see Santa fly over,” you say, distracted, watching the stars in the crisp winter sky.

“You think he made it through all these years?”

Joel chuckles as he says it, and wraps his arms a tad tighter around you.

“I like to think so,” you shrug.

His soft laughter turns into a hum, turns into lips pressed under your ear.

“I love the way you are.”

It’s sweet. It’s sticky, nauseating words coming from a man you never thought would be anything but cold and calculated, when you first met. It warms you all the way through, maybe even melts some of the snow that’s blown its way onto the porch you’re standing on.

You want to say it back, want to tell him how much you love the way he is, the way his guarded heart shines through the cracks so bright it blinds you, the way his smiles make you weak so that it’s a good thing he’s so stingy with them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask instead.

He takes a long moment to respond. You can feel his teeth grinding together where his jaw is hooked over your shoulder, and the way his breath is coming in less than slow and steady.

“Just— It’s 20 years into the end of the world and you still have hope.”

You sigh and turn your head, seeking out his stubbled cheek, and press a kiss to the wind burnt skin.

“I found you after all this time, didn’t I?”

He huffs, and it sounds amused. You turn a bit in his hold to look at his eyes and the way his eyebrows gather together in the middle.

“And this is a blessing, not a curse?”

You want to kiss the skeptical look off of his face, so you do, hooking your arms around his neck and capturing his bottom lip between your own.

You feel the warmth of his palms through your shirt as they splay out across your back, fingers digging, working the muscles there like he’s kneading bread. You hum into his mouth and let your fingers tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck just as his tongue finds yours.

You can feel him slowly filling out his worn jeans where his hips press into your own and you think, with a chuckle you can’t contain, that this is the only Christmas gift you want from now on.

He pulls away at your soft laughter, his own eyes twinkling with an edge of humor.

“Are you stallin’ or somethin’?”

You shake your head as a smile splits your face from ear to ear.

“Never. Always a blessing, babe,” you tell him.

Your hands drop from his neck quickly to grab two handfuls of his ass and squeeze, and he glares at you as you press him just that much closer to you.

“I’ll give you a blessing,” he grumbles.

His head ducks down so that his lips can find your pulse point, and then his teeth, a playful nip with a hint of something more desperate and charged.

“Better not give the whole neighborhood an eye full,” you warn, half-heartedly. You know most people are asleep, and you know neither you nor Joel would really mind it.

Still, on the off-chance Tommy and Maria are still awake across the street, you don’t need to give the town leader any fuel for retaliation.

His breath comes out in whisps of steam around your face, minty with notes of whiskey.

“Go on ‘n get, then. Warm up by the fire.”

And you know by now not to protest, not when your prize for obeying is so worth being bossed around by the grumpy old man.

You undress by the fire and look around the living room while Joel makes sure the house is locked up.

It’s not quite decorated like an old Christmas movie, but it’s still festive, still as warm and full of cheer as you remember from before.

There’s a Christmas branch, really, a small little bush that Ellie had brought home to you a few weeks before. You had spent the day looking around for scraps of anything red, some ribbon, the sleeve of an old t-shirt, some berries on a bush that you were certain weren’t edible. You both worked on decorating the Charlie Brown-esque tree as Joel watched, grumbling, but plucking away at a rendition of ‘Oh Christmas Tree’ on his guitar as he complained.

There are three big socks hung up on the mantle of the fireplace, Joel’s, who griped about having to give up the precious fabric while he decorated them with you and Ellie at the kitchen table. ‘Decorated’ used lightly, as you only had a few errant pipe cleaners and the guts of a few raspberries as a red/pink dye.

And then there’s the whittled reindeer Joel had presented to you just days ago with a shy look on his face you don’t see very often. The wood is smooth and the antlers are intricate, and even though you can’t see it, you know there’s a little heart carved into the bottom of its back left hoof. It’s your favorite decoration out of all of them, displayed lovingly and proudly on the coffee table.

You grab an old blanket from the back of the couch and lay it in front of the fire just as Joel finds you again. His footsteps are lighter without his heavy boots on, and his fingers don’t feel as warm now as they grab your hips.

“Gonna lay down for me?”

His voice is low and gruff and calm, and all you can do is obey, and lie down naked on the fleece.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him undress. The light of the fire makes all of his golden skin look even more so, dancing an orange glow across his scarred stomach and sparsely haired chest and the contrasting hardness and softness of his form that’s so familiar now.

You touch yourself gently as you watch him, light strokes, just to tease while you wait for him. With a grunt, he gets down to share the warm blanket with you, rolling you onto your side to face the flames.

“You remember that Mariah Carey Christmas song?” he asks as his rough hand curls around your hip.

You hide your smile in your own arm before answering.

“Not sure if I do. Sing a few bars for me.”

He groans and squeezes your flesh.

“You're pullin’ my leg."

“Yeah, I remember it.”

Remembering songs post-apocalypse is strange, the way you can not hear it for decades but still remember every note and word. Now, ringing through your head, is the high register of All I Want for Christmas is You, and you hum the chorus as Joel’s heavy prick presses against the small of your back.

“That’s how I feel,” he tells you.

His hand gets bolder, travels to the place where your thigh and hip meet, and then farther, between your legs, where it’s quite obvious what you want for Christmas, too.

“I feel the same, Joel.”

His breath puffs against your neck as he nuzzles that tender place behind your ear. He doesn’t often talk about his feelings for you, electing rather to show them through gestures. You like when he says it though, it makes it feel even more tangible, makes a nostalgic warmth tingle throughout your guts and your chest.

“Have you been good this year?” he asks you, a hint of mischief in his voice that makes you giggle.

“I think I have, yeah.”

“Debatable,” he grumbles, “but I guess you won’t get a lump of coal.”

He gets you on your back, and your breath hitches as he covers you with his big, solid body. His skin feels so incredible against yours, always, every time you’re together like this.

He starts to press open-mouthed kisses down your body, a searing hot trail across your most sensitive spots, until he’s mouthing around where you want him most.

“Please, baby, please.”

You know he likes to hear you beg for it. His sweet brown eyes find yours as he smiles, and the warmth of his gaze and the fire start to pull little pinpricks of sweat from your pores.

But he doesn’t tease you for long. You watch with wonder as his graying curls bounce between your legs, his attentive mouth working you tenderly but thoroughly. Your hand tangles in his hair for purchase as you lift your hips to urge him on.

He’s always so sloppy with it, and his saliva drips down onto the blanket, and you love it like this, so messy and haphazard, with no regard to anything but making you feel good, getting you off.

His fingers, three of them, tap at your parted lips. They’re so big as you take them in and swirl your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet, and your own spit seeps from the corners of your mouth. He groans, and you can feel it with his mouth on you.

His hips make small little moves to rut against the blanket between your open legs, and you want him inside, need to feel him inside you.

You tell him this much, though it’s muffled with his fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t let up until you’re teetering on the edge, moaning and whimpering around his flesh, gripping his hair so tight you don’t know how you haven’t pulled it out.

You whine when his mouth retreats.

“I know, I know. So greedy for it,” he coos, teasing.

You scowl at him, but it holds no heat, and he laughs at your impatience as he coaxes you back onto your side.

Behind you, Joel’s chest is solid and sweaty against your back. His fingers are solid too, sure but gentle, as he works them inside one by one to open you up with the help of your drool.

“So good for me. What a present,” he tells you.

It makes you impossibly hotter, and impossibly more in love with the man, and impossibly more impatient.

“I want my present now,” you sigh.

He tuts at you, against your shoulder blade, but you know he won’t deny you for longer because you can feel him leaking all over the skin of your back.

When he presses into you, slow as ever, you feel even more full than you usually do.

“Yes,” you pant, “like that. Just what I wanted.”

He fills you over and over, a leisurely but steady pace, and his hands roam across your slick, heated skin. As his body presses against yours, and as he reaches around to work you to your climax, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed at the realization that things are okay, things are great, and they’re allowed to be, despite the state of everything.

When you come, he comes too, deep inside you. His teeth bare down on your shoulder, and he grunts your name into your skin, and he tells you you’re perfect, and that you’re so good to him.

Joel doesn’t move far, after. He grabs an article of discarded clothing to clean you up. You know his back must kill like this, on the floor, but his happy breaths across your cooling skin make you think that this must be worth a little pain in the morning.

And when he sleepily mumbles, “Merry Christmas, Darlin’,” it sounds a lot more like “I love you.”

119 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 3 months

Text

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (PT. 2)

PAIRING kevin moon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.60k

GENRES angst ﹒little bit of fluff ﹒little bit of smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, reader is better than me cause i would not let kevin do all the shit he’s done 😭, ANYWAY i digress, this part is very reader-centric — whereas part one is very kevin-centric, inner turmoil goes absolutely crazy, most of this fic is reader putting kevin in his place and him realizing how big of an asshole he truly is, mentions of injury (past tense), mentions of insecurity, lots of arguing, reader cries at one point or another, the smut places a very minimal role in this, but unprotected sex, public sex (the auditorium dressing room), no foreplay but wtv we fall like soldiers in battle, pussy job lowkey (high key…), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY it wasn’t like you and kevin hated each other. in fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

MORE oh my god. it’s finally fucking here. A MONTH, 2 SICKNESSES AND MANY MANY STRESSFUL NIGHTS LATER— part two of princess and the pauper is here!!! i’m so sorry to those of u who have been itching and waiting on me to get ‘er done,,, it’s been an ordeal to say the least, and while it’s nearing the two month mark since the black out or back out collab was announced, SHE FINALLY FINISHED!!! for once i saw something through omg i can sleep peacefully and work on my other wips without guilt now… 😭 ALSO THANK U SO MUCH MAYA @/kimsohn FOR PUSHING ME THROUGH THIS and for making me thug it out bc without u it definitely would’ve taken much longer to finish 💔 please dont forget to read part one and the other fics in the series if u haven’t!! both are linked below! and as always, pls reblog if u enjoyed <3

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr @sunwooverse @kimsohn

TAGLIST @millksea @deobibbang @deobi0412

Never in your life have you felt so… Confused.

It wasn’t just confusion that settled deep in the pit of your stomach. There was a sharp pain there too, like someone stabbed you and twisted the knife. That was probably the best way to describe what you were feeling. You were bleeding out, and no one was coming to save you.

Kevin wasn’t answering your calls. He wasn’t answering your texts. He ran out of the lecture hall as soon as class was over, never giving you a moment to speak to him. It was making you nervous.

You still had half of a dance to choreograph and a fuck ton of pressure riding on your back. After the last performance you and him did together, you’d have a lot of eyes on you. It most definitely wasn’t your fault that he dropped you. How many people willingly want to acquire a broken ankle? The crutches were a bitch to maneuver around with. But like every single thing that’s happened in the three years you’ve known Kevin Moon, he’s managed to place the blame on you like it was.

It was crucial that you make amends with him even if it was momentarily. Your final grades were dependent on your performance. If he couldn’t get his shit together for at least that, he was a lost cause in your mind. Not even your professor would be able to refute that fact. Actually, nobody would be able to refute that fact.

Your lips form an O as you blow the steam away from your coffee, pulling out your phone to try Kevin’s phone once again. The line rings a few times before going straight to voicemail like it has the past couple weeks. You kiss your teeth, tying your sweater around your waist as you slump in your chair. The baristas at the campus cafe were probably sick of seeing you sitting in the same high-top counter spot since the incident with Kevin in the studio.

“Y/N?”

Ji Changmin appears beside you and you click your phone off, so he wouldn’t see his friend’s contact on the screen. You give the Early Childhood Dev major a weak smile.

“Changmin! What’s up? How are you and your girlfriend?” You hope he can’t recognize the distress written all over your features. You highly doubt it, though. You can feel the wrinkles pulling at your skin.

“We’re good! How’s the showcase performance going with Kev?” He asks like he knows something you don’t. When your lips fall to a thin line, an all too familiar grimace, he sighs a knowing sigh. “Do I have to smack some sense into him?”

“Not gonna lie, yeah, you do. He’s being really fucking difficult and like half of our dance is unfinished. I can’t even get a hold of him, so I’m starting to lose my patience.” You express your annoyance. The border between complacency and free-will was a lot slimmer than one might think. For example; your feelings when it comes to Kevin Moon.

You don’t expect to get a returning call later that night when you’re washing dishes after dinner.

In fact, you don’t even hear it at first, too absorbed in scrubbing the staining out of your bowl. It’s when your roommate yells out to you, that you snap out of your reverie, albeit dazedly. You dry your hands on a nearby tea towel, hitting the green answer button without a second glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Your heart catches in your throat. You recognize the owner of the voice practically by the first breath into the receiver alone. It’s actually kind of unhealthy how quickly it took to realize who was on the other end. You swallow heavily, praying he doesn’t hear the gulp.

“In the latter part of the afternoon, I believe. Why?” You try not to sound hopeful. That’s one thing you’ve learned being in the same vicinity as Kevin Moon. You could never be too expecting, because it would only lead to disappointment. And you’d dealt with enough of that the past few years.

“We need to finish this fuck ass choreography,” he grunts, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue. “I’ll meet you in the same studio at 4.”

He doesn’t let you get anything else in, hanging up swiftly. You deflate as you set your phone back on the counter. All you had to do was push through these next couple weeks, like you always have when it came to him.

That should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

“No, that looks stupid.”

You grit your teeth, swiping the back of your hand on your forehead. You’d been inside of this studio maybe 30 minutes tops, and you were on the verge of strangling Kevin. With as long as you’d been putting up with his shit, you thought getting through this wouldn’t be as rough as it’s been. But if there was one thing Kevin Moon had, it was pride.

“We don’t have time for you to nitpick right now. Let’s just finish the choreography and clean it after.” Your hands rest on your hips, nostrils flaring.

“If we clean as we go, we’ll have more time to drill it into our systems and get down muscle memory. It’ll be a stronger performance.” He argues. You roll your eyes as you turn away from him, taking a water break to calm yourself. “Why do you have so much fucking attitude today? You were the one preaching to the choir about me making things difficult. It seems the tables have turned.”

Usually, you were pretty good at keeping your frustration at bay when it came to Kevin’s remarks. You liked to think it was because you were down bad for the guy, despite him always wanting nothing to do with you. But as of late, (Read: Since your performance of Princess and the Pauper) every little comment he’s made has managed to crawl under your skin like a damn parasite. You were beginning to get real sick of it.

“God, you’re so—“ You interrupt yourself to groan, fingers curling into fists. “You’re fucking insufferable. Do you know that? I’ve been bending over backwards to ensure we aren’t kicked out of the goddamn program and you don’t even fucking care. Over what? A kiss that you initiated?”

Kevin is stunned into silence, not at all prepared for you to blow up on him like that. After all, that razor thin line between complacency and free-will had yet to be crossed. And well, it appears that you just crossed it. You whip around toward him, pulling down the collar of your t-shirt to reveal the faintest of bruises that still remains from your impromptu act of intimacy.

“I’ve had to look at this every day for a week and all it’s done is make me feel shitty, ashamed of something I didn’t even start. Now I need you to stop acting like an ass and get it together so we can finish this and perform the best dance this university has ever seen.” Your chest is heaving up and down, similarly to when you made out against the mirrors last week. Except this time isn’t out of breathlessness, but rather anger and exhaustion.

Kevin’s eyes don’t leave the hickey on the base of your throat, something undetectable swimming in them as he stares. You can’t read the emotions swirling rampantly in his irises, a mixture of too many blurring into one another. Honestly, it’s funny. It’s funny that it’s taken you this long to get him to shut his mouth for once.

So you laugh.

It’s a snort at first, an off handed projection of how comical the situation has become to you. But then it metamorphoses into a small giggle, which leads to full scale laughter that has you hunching over your knees and wiping away tears. This whole thing is stupid. Absolutely fucking stupid.

“What are you laughing at?” His eyebrow raises in question, broken from his weird trance.

“I just can’t believe it took three years for me to shut you up,” you shake your head slowly, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm. “You’re always the one who can’t stop talking.”

Kevin deadpans, mouth pulled pin-straight as his expression drops. “You’re so unserious.”

As the height of your laughter reaches a valley, you collapse onto the ground, resting your back against the mirror. You take another long sip of water before sighing. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. Trust me, I know. But, we’ve gotta set aside our differences just this once. Please, for the sake of the department.”

“Fine,” he murmurs, plopping down beside you to stretch his back. “Let’s finish choreographing so we can start cleaning it up.”

It’s a victory in your book, and probably the most obedient the Pisces has ever been. Maybe this wouldn’t end in complete disaster like you assumed it would. It turns out Kevin Moon wasn’t entirely brainless and knew when he was wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. We’ll see.

You shut your eyes and visualize what you’ve choreographed so far, going over the moves in your head to see if the rest will come to you like a prophecy. It’s wishful thinking, but with how much you’ve accomplished since setting foot in the studio, you’re willing to try anything. The track would be nice for elements of hip hop style choreography, but you knew the audience wouldn’t eat it up as much as they would the route you’re currently taking.

Driver roll up the partition, please…

The song plays through the speakers and you watch as Kevin stands to run through everything you have. You’re entranced by his movements, the flow of his body on certain points. It’ll look ten times better once you’re doing it with him, costumed and performing it perfectly in front of a crowd. You can picture it now, the gentle but controlled glide of his hands along your arms when Beyoncé sings “We ain’t even gonna make it to this club”. He was right. You very well might be seduced by your enemy.

“Should we use props?” You suddenly voice, eyes narrowed in thought. He hums.

“That’s… not a half-bad idea, actually,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“A chair, maybe,” you look away from him, placing your focus on the way your toes alternate between a tendu and relaxed position. “That could take up a good chunk of the choreo.”

Kevin stalks over to the supply closet in the corner of the studio, pulling out a folding chair. He puts it in the center of the room gently, careful to not scratch up the wooden, lacquered flooring. You spend the next couple of hours brainstorming through numerous versions of the dance. While it was a lot easier than your past practices, there were still the occasional argument over which movements looked good and whatnot.

At a certain point, everything becomes cohesive and the end is near. You gulp down some water as Kevin does some random choreography. It’s then that it comes to you, like a vision from That’s So Raven. You practically drop your water bottle, scrambling to your feet and stopping him. Your breath is heavy from fatigue and you’re slightly afraid of even suggesting this, but it’s exactly what this dance needs. It’s exactly what everyone wants to see from the two of you.

He pauses the music and gestures for you to get on with it. You push down the lump in your throat, scared of rejection. But maybe he was smart and he would agree that this is what you have to do. “What if we did a lift?”

You see the hesitation swirling in his eyes and you raise a finger before he can shut you down entirely. “Nothing crazy like… um— you know— Princess and the Pauper, but something smaller. Something… sexy? Like, Dancing with the Stars type beat.”

When he shrugs instead of outright dismissing your idea, you know you’ve won. He nods slowly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, sure. But we better clean up everything else fast so we can perfect the lift.”

The two of you take another three hours running the entirety of the choreography, ingraining the moves into your brains and muscles. You still had a bit until the actual showcase, but your priority now lies with the lift. If you nailed it, the entire department would very well grovel after you in reparation for all of the slack you got after Kevin dropped you. Hell, the entire university would kiss your feet. This was your redemption. In more ways than one.

You both decide to call it a day at around 9:30 PM. Your hands reach for your belongings and then you halt yourself, a thought coming to mind. While you had him in this weird state of obedience, you figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that’s been weighing on you for the past few years. Your fingers swipe away the sweat beading around your hairline.

”Kevin,” you start, voice a lot softer than before. “Why do you— what did I do to make you dislike me so much?”

He’s caught completely off guard, eyes widening in surprise. If he was anticipating you to say anything else prior to parting ways tonight, he didn’t think this would be it. He’s actually a little off put that you hadn’t asked him this already in the span of your definitely-one-sided rivalry. He takes a large gulp of water.

”I’d call it indifference, not dislike,” he corrects after a pregnant silence. “It’s really fucking stupid thinking about it in hindsight. I don’t know if you remember this time, way back in our first year, we ran into each other at the campus cafe— literally, might I add— and you spilled your coffee all over this white shirt of mine that Changmin had gotten for me as a birthday gift. I only recently found out that it wasn’t as expensive as he made it out to be.”

You blink at his admission, processing his words as thoroughly as possible. You don’t know what you wanted him to say. You weren’t even sure if there was a concrete reason for him to be so fucking mean to you all this time. And now that you know, you come to the conclusion that Kevin Moon isn’t as smart as you’ve painted him out to be in your head. He’s actually a gigantic idiot. Because who in their right mind goes through these lengths to form a distance between the only other person on par with their talent?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re bursting into another fit of laughter. Kevin falters at your reaction. He was waiting for you to blow up on him, to scream in his face for causing you so much pain and unnecessary drama over something so silly. So when you do none of that, when you start fucking laughing like a damn hyena, he feels dumb. Like his entire college career has been built off of nothing.

”This is so—“ you pause to gather your bearings, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. “We’ve spent so much time going back and forth over some spilled coffee? Surely you’ve realized how insane that is at some point.”

”It took a lengthy argument with Changmin, but yeah, I did,” he nods, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, finally getting your things together. The two of you bid each other an awkward goodbye. Neither of you knew what to make of your relationship now that things had been partially sorted through. There was a fuck ton of baggage that still had to be sifted, but at least you had an answer.

That was enough to push through this showcase performance. You think.

You’re nervous.

Never in your entire life have you ever been this nervous for a performance.

You grew up doing musical theatre and dancing, it’s always been the one constant presence you could rely on. But standing here, backstage at the showcase, you think you’re going to throw up. Your palms are clamming up uncontrollably and your chest feels unbearably heavy as you watch the quartet doing a contemporary piece to some ballad you couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. There were still a couple groups before you.

Not even when you had to perform fuckass Princess and the Pauper were you this anxious. You wince, trying to stop the incessant bouncing of your leg. Your weight keeps shifting from one hip to the other. As a seasoned veteran, you don’t know why you feel this way. Maybe it had to do with all the pressure riding on this very dance. Every single eye in that crowd was going to scrutinize your every move on that stage.

“Calm down,” a voice whispers harshly from beside you. “You’re making me nervous.”

Kevin wraps his fingers around your wrist, stopping the annoying tap-tap-tap your own were doing against your thigh. He gives you a look, and you sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

That’s a lie. Not only was the high expectations from the entire school getting to you, but so was the fear of history repeating itself. He knows this, it was inevitable. After what happened the last time he was tasked with lifting you, it was only natural.

”We’ve drilled this dance hundreds, if not thousands, of times, Y/N. We’ll do just fine.” Kevin assures you.

His hand feels foreign holding yours, like it was illegal for his skin to be touching your own. You feel your lower lip quiver, a sense of trepidation that you’ve never once felt creeping down your spine. Your mind was spiraling, and quite honestly, Kevin being so close was making it worse. All you could think about was him dropping you again, leaving you in the middle of the stage with a broken leg and a broken heart. You release a shaky breath and he turns to face you.

Your eyes widen and he searches your face for any disingenuity. When he finds his answer, he brings the hand that was holding yours up to cup your cheek. He’s cautious, afraid he might break you like he always does. He waits for you to shove him away and to yell at him for being a fucking coward.

You don’t. You stay still, hoping he follows through with what you think he’s about to do. And then he does.

It’s such a featherlight peck of his lips on your own, you almost don’t even register. But sparks shoot from the source all the way to the tips of your fingers. You feel as if you were dealt a static shock of electricity, your whole body buzzing from the small kiss alone.

He pulls away just in time for the stage manager to inform you that you’re next. Kevin rolls his neck jogging over to the wings to patiently await your performance like he hadn’t just kissed you a moment ago. You blink dumbly, two fingers coming up to touch where his lips had been. Sure the nerves were gone now, but the sensation of butterflies swarming about in your stomach easily replaced that. What the fuck was his problem?

“Our last performance is one I’m sure all of you have been waiting for. Kevin Moon and Y/N L/N with Partition!”

Before you know it, you and Kevin are in position, your body squared upstage and his to the crowd. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist and his steady breathing on your nose. The spotlight switches on, the heat of the lighting warm against the side of your face. It’s silent in the auditorium, but it rings in your ears. You could do this.

Let me hear you say ‘Hey Miss Carter’…

You move on reflex, muscle memory kicking in instantaneously. Each circle of your hips, every turn you make— a fouetté here, a pirouette there, a couple coupes, each roll of your body. But what really gets you is the long brushes of Kevin’s skin on your own. You’d practiced with distance between the two of you. There was a tension that had been there for years. Now it’s all coming to a rolling boil, a new uncharted tension that every single member in that audience could see.

And then comes the lift.

You, along with everybody in the auditorium, practically hold your breath when Kevin’s hands grip your hips. He raises you above him with all of his strength, completely focused on you and only you. You shut your eyes and feel the moment, like, really feel it. Your body is relaxed, the Dirty Dancing-esque lift bringing the whole performance together just like you knew it would. The only difference from the movie and real life is the fact that you’re flipped, your backside to Kevin and your chest to the ceiling.

Your eyes flutter open, the spotlight all but blinding you, and you finally feel content. Like everything has fallen into the right place for once in your life. Especially so when Kevin sets you down gently and you finish your dance with the utmost confidence.

The crowd erupts into a roaring chorus of applause, going as far as giving you a standing ovation. Holy shit. You pulled it off. You actually managed to pull it off.

Your face feels like it might split from how big your smile is. You and Kevin bow, walking off stage. You’re entirely too happy right now, a newfound energy overtaking you as you trail behind him.

“We did it!” You cheer as you follow him towards the dressing room where your things are. You’re the only ones left backstage, everyone else filtering out between performances. Kevin doesn’t give you much of a response, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Your smile falters. “What the hell is your problem?”

”Nothing, Y/N, fuck. Can you just mind your own fucking business?” He snaps, turning around to glare at you just as the door slams behind you. You instinctively flinch at both loud noises. His features soften but you take a step back from him.

You aren’t sure why you’re surprised. This isn’t anything new. Kevin has always made it crystal clear that he wasn’t your number one fan. Being neutral for your performance wasn’t enough to repair all the holes in whatever your relationship was, and you should’ve known better. You shouldn’t have let your guard down so easily. You should’ve expected this. Old dogs can never learn new tricks.

But Kevin’s scared. He’s afraid of letting you in after all the mess he’s put you through. The only thing he’s good at doing is hurting you, over and over like there was a prize that came out of it.

”Look…”

”No, you listen to me,” you swallow heavily, tears already tight lining your eyes. “Kevin, I have taken so much shit from you. Over these past few years I have just sat there and let you unload all your fucked up insecurities onto me. Have you ever wondered why? Have you ever thought to stop and think about why I let you be so mean to me without even questioning it?”

He says nothing, just stares with his lips parted. They open and close like a fish out of water, words there at the tip of his tongue but refusing to make their escape. And then one of your tears rolls down your cheeks and he’s directly in front you, his heart on his sleeve for the first time since you’ve met him.

”Why?” The simple question is so quiet, you almost don’t hear him. But his eyes hold so much hurt, so much anguish that you’ve never seen in a person before.

“I’ve had feelings for you for so long, it’s actually starting to ache. You’ve only ever seen me as this thing, this obstacle. And I’m afraid that that’s all I’ll ever be to you, because you won’t let me be anything else. You won’t—“

”That’s not true, Y/N,” Kevin sighs, looking off to the side, away from you. “I just— it’s complicated. It’s more than just being rivals.”

”So help me understand,” you frown. “Let me in, please.”

”My entire life I’ve had to work to get to where I am. I’ve fought tooth and nail to be as good of a performer as I am today. There were so many hoops I had to go through to even get into this program and— and I thought I’d finally become the best I could be. I thought that there was no way anyone could ever be better than me. And then you showed up. You and your pretty smile and your natural ability to be the best at everything you do. It was like you were the real life manifestation of all of my critics, of every challenge I faced to get here. Where I had to practice day and night to perfect something, it just came to you like second nature. During Princess and the Pauper, when I dropped you, it truly was an accident. But we’d spent so much time nailing it, that it— I just made myself feel better by saying it was your fault. ‘How could it have been my fault if I perfected it?’ I was jealous and petty and it was just easier to blame hating— to blame my indifference on you spilling coffee on my stupid shirt. For that, I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what you were waiting to hear, but it wasn’t that. Your tears turn into full on blubbering, because what the fuck? That’s so much burden for someone to carry on their shoulders for three years.

“Why are you— why are you crying?” He flounders, reaching up to swipe away your tears.

“I wish I knew… I wish I could’ve helped you somehow,” you sniffle. “Kev, I’ve always admired you and your work ethic. I hoped one day I’d be half as disciplined as you, half as determined.”

He blinks. You’re both dumb, aren’t you? Too focused on the wrong things. You both could’ve been a lot less hateful, a lot less miserable, had you just spoken your differences out. This entire rivalry has been completely one sided, but also built off of plain stupidity and ignorance. He supposes it’s not too late to make amends if you aren’t running in the opposite direction despite everything he’s put you through.

Kevin leans forward, hand still pressed to your cheek, and connects your lips softly. He’s testing the waters, making sure you’re comfortable before he continues anything. When you don’t back away just yet, he adds more force, deepening the kiss like a man starved. You whine against his lips.

This is what you’ve been wanting from him. More than what he gave you before your performance, but not what happened in the studio a few weeks ago. This desperation isn’t abashed lust, it’s unbridled affection— it’s everything he’s holed inside of himself for years, unwilling to let it see the light of day until now. If you were to label anything as perfection, it wouldn’t be a dance or a moment on stage, it would be this. Just you and Kevin finally bringing yourselves together in the most intimately emotional union.

He pulls you closer to him, hands sliding down to grasp at your waist, bunching up the thin fabric of your leotard. You can’t help but bury your fingers in his hair, tugging when he nips at your lower lip. A gasp permeates the air when his mouth travels south, along your jaw and down the side of your neck. He bites and sucks the tender skin at the base of your throat, ensuring he leaves his mark on you. This time isn’t careless, this time he has purpose. He wants everybody to know that you’re his, that you’re the only person insane enough to put up with him.

Your breathing is shaky when you reach behind you to lock the dressing room, dragging him over to the long vanity adjacent to you. He slots between your legs when you hoist yourself onto the surface. He pecks your lips and pauses his movements, rubbing up and down your thighs. In the dim, yellow lighting of the room, you look so gorgeous. He’s always thought you were beautiful, the most stunning thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, but he’s repressed it for so long. He wants to take his time staring at what he’s avoided.

”You’re so pretty,” he says quietly, kissing you again and again and again. “I don’t think I can last long with you.”

“Can we skip the foreplay?” You ask, bottom lip jutted into a pout. “Need you to just fuck me like you mean it.”

Kevin’s forehead falls to your shoulder with a groan. “I don’t deserve you,” God, he’s such an idiot for holding out from this. You should’ve been given the world and so much more. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. He kisses your shoulder with a sigh. “Yeah, baby, I can do that.”

You don’t waste another second, slipping your arms through the sleeves of your leotard. He has to bite down on his tongue when he sees that you’re braless, fingers going slack as they unbutton the rest of his silk shirt. You shimmy out of the one piece, left in nothing but the fishnet stockings you wore underneath and your lacy panties. Kevin thinks he must’ve done at least something right in a past life to experience this.

Your eyes sparkle as you look up at him, undoing his slacks and kicking them down his legs with your feet. Something takes over him when he rips a bigger hole in your stockings, pushing your underwear to the side. His thumb glides through your folds with ease, your slick providing enough lubricant. He pushes your lower lips apart while you busy yourself shoving his underwear to his ankles.

His cock slips inside of you with less friction than he would’ve thought, but he doesn’t complain, screwing his eyes shut as he acclimates to the feeling of your walls surrounding him. You moan, such a soft sound that he nearly loses his balance.

“You feel so good, baby,” he coos, digging his fingers into your hips as he rocks his own. “You’re so so perfect.”

The praise is too much for you, given the circumstances. Your brain is already cloudy, stuffed with what could only be described as cotton. You watch with half lidded eyes as he begins to piston into you at a faster speed. This all feels like a fever dream, something that was only possible in your craziest fantasies. Even then, it seemed unlikely.

“‘M close, Kev,” you whine, unable to stay still and attempting to match his thrusts.

“Already? We’ve only just started, gorgeous.” He laughs, but it’s breathy, strained from the exertion of his body. You hardly have the strength in you to be embarrassed about it, especially since he’s seen you in much worse situations.

You nod frantically, snaking a hand between you to circle your clit with nimble fingers. Kevin halts you and pulls out momentarily, sliding his cock between your folds like it was your hand. The tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you dizzier than you already were.

He presses back into you with ease, resuming his sloppy but animalistic pace. He uses his thumb to continue your handywork, your cunt fluttering around him needily. You’re both losing your sanity quickly, both going batshit insane over the bare minimum. You’ve just needed this for so long, yearned for this moment for a humiliating amount of time.

Your moans start to rise in pitch and he groans. “Fuck, baby, you can cum for me.”

He could cry, he thinks, when your back arches and your legs shake with your orgasm. It hits you like a freight train, triggering his own release just as fast.

You stay like that for a bit, regaining yourselves and comprehending everything that’s just happened. So much for the whole hating each other narrative.

“What does this mean for us?” You suddenly ask, arms hooked around Kevin’s neck. You’re still connected by your lower halves, but he makes no effort to pull away. Part of you likes it that way, it gives you hope that this isn’t a one time affair.

“It’ll be hard for things to change overnight,” he says, massaging your sides. “We have a lot of unresolved issues and insecurities that we still have to push past. But I’m willing to do that with you. I want to take a chance on us.”

Your lips pull into a smile, an expression you don’t think you’ve worn around him genuinely in the years you’ve known him. “I do, too.”

“It’s kind of ironic that it was a performance that tore us apart and brought us back together, don’t you think?” He laughs.

“And we fucked in the dressing room…” You add, glancing to the top corner where a security camera is stationed.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone checks the footage,” he suggests. “Tau Beta Zeta is conveniently hosting our end of semester party tonight, do you wanna be my plus one?”

“I would be honored.” You grin, pecking his lips tenderly.

Perhaps happy endings existed after all.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin moon x reader #kevin moon smut #kevin x reader #kevin smut #moon hyungseo #blackoutorbackout🍻#juyeonszn

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yabakuboi · 1 month

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small part of a bigger wip i don't think i'll ever fully flesh out but i like it so i wanted to share. very loosely based on franchises like halo, alien, portal, etc.

Steve steps through the portal like a god descending from the heavens, straight backed and powerful, even as he's dragging Dustin kicking and screaming away from the chaos just on the other side.

"I won't leave him," Dustin is screaming.

Robin doesn't know if she's ever heard a more inhuman sound, the way grief and rage has twisted Dustin's voice into something other. And Robin's entire life has been dedicated to new and untouched worlds, to the pursuit of everything alien and non-human.

"Let me go, Steve, let me go! I won't leave him, fuck, fuck you, I WON'T LEAVE HIM! EDDIE! EDDIE!" Robin watches the way he digs his fingernails into the exposed skin at Steve's neck, unprotected by his suit, drawing blood with each rake of his fingers.

Steve is unfazed, his eyes hard and intense as he drags Dustin towards the quarantine doors. Robin can't hear what he says to Dustin, even when Dustin screams back.

"I HATE YOU."

It hurts her, because she knows how it's no doubt hurting Steve, even as he shoves Dustin through the air lock, sealing him behind glass and silencing his screams.

Steve should have gone through too, but Robin knows him. It's why she hasn't closed the portal yet, why she hasn't moved from her station to do damage control, to log the losses:

Crew Member Eddie Munson — KIA

She watches Steve instead, as he picks up his saber and weaponry again, pulling it over his shoulder as he steps back up to the platform, the static electricity of the portal arching up to meet him, like fingers begging to draw him through.

He stops though, and Robin could cry—unsurprised and still grateful that he treats her to one last look. It says everything and nothing, because nothing needs to be said, not between the two of them.

I love you. I'll miss you. I'll come back to you, in this life or the next.

And then Steve turns, and steps through the portal. Robin cuts the contact as he goes, killing the link between them with a sob tearing through her chest. She adds him into the mental log in her list:

First Lieutenant Steve Harrington — KIA

She only allows herself the barest moment to grieve before she moves. The entire ship will be cut off and isolated soon, until central command can guarantee the ship isn't infected. She only has so much time to get to a rescue pod. She only has so much time until Nancy—

"Robin."

Robin doesn't slow her pace, even as Nancy catches up to her, her hand on Robin's wrist. She doesn't let Nancy turn her away, doesn't let her slow her down.

"You can't," Nancy says, hisses, her ire hiding her own grief. Nancy always turns emotion into cold rage. "He's gone, Robin. You can't save him."

"I can," Robin snaps, snarling when Nancy sighs, like Robin is some overemotional child.

"Do I really mean so little to you?"

"That's the difference between us," Robin says, ripping her arm from Nancy's fingers. She turns on the heel of her boot, and it's the first time that she's ever dared to look down her nose as Nancy, Nancy who she loves, love to hold, to kiss, to touch. Her Commander off-world. "Between Steve and the rest of us. You've got everyone sorted so easy in your head, each one ranked higher than the other, who you can and can't live without."

"Robin—"

"And I do, too," Robin admits, teeth grinding together, the fear and sadness burning a hole through her chest, yawning wide and wider and threatening to consume her. "I do, too, and I can't live without him.

"But Steve? Steve would die for any of us, every one of us, even your fucking brother who already left him for dead once."

Nancy gapes at her, her pretty face pale and her eyes red.

"Steve would die for me a thousand times," Robin tells her, her voice wobbling, the righteousness bleeding from her mouth like an open wound, leaving on the anxiety, the fear. "And he'll die for Eddie a million times.

"But I'm not going to let him. I'm going to go get them both and bring them home and fuck you if you think you can stop me."

Nancy stares. Says nothing.

And Robin leaves.

#stranger things #steddie #ronance #stobin #dustin meets her at the pod and they go rescue their guys who are surviving together alone on a hostile planet #(this story would have been an excuse to do survivalist steddie cuddling for warmth but like scifi flavored)#dw nancy isn't far behind she's bringing the firepower and ronance makes up #blows a kiss to the stars #gimme inspiration to finish things pls #shush mal #my fic #dribble drabble

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trulybetty · 8 months

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Flings | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 3,975 Warnings: Mature, no smut smut, but illusions to maybe some smut? Talk of food, alcohol, and a little angst - I think that's it, I apologize if I've missed something, please let me know if there's something needing adding. Summary: Five times things were supposed to be a fling between you and Frankie until it wasn't... AO3: Linked

A/N: Bookstore Frankie has taken on a life of his own, the original piece that this all came out of will be finished soon and I hope it lives up to expectations - I'm determined this week to get my WIP list down!

Fling. noun 1. a short period of enjoyment or wild behaviour. - a short, spontaneous sexual relationship.

1. Just a Fun Night Out

You had thrown caution to the wind and sent Frankie a text message that night after Cat had left your apartment. As she had said, different was good and what was the worst that could happen? No sooner had you sent the message, you had a response almost instantly.

Frankie: I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you Maverick ;)

You hadn’t gone to bed until three am and called in sick the next day.

When he wasn’t participating in ‘military stuff’ the two of you were engaged in a back-and-forth of messaging. Seeing him again would have come sooner, but between the both of you, your schedules didn’t align until two weeks later. It had been intentional on Frankie’s part to arrange to meet at the same bar you’d had your first chance encounter.

Neither of you were under any false pretenses that this was going to be more than just a night of drinks, laughs and maybe, just maybe a nightcap at your place when closing time was called.

No sooner had you closed the door behind you his hands were in your hair, his body pressing you up against the door. It was a furious tangle of limbs as you both tried to free one another from your clothes. His hat was the first thing to go, thrown across the room. His fingers fought with the button of your jeans causing him to curse furiously in Spanish before your fingers took over. The air was thick with want and need, your bodies aching for each other. With precision, you unbuckled his belt and slid it off him, throwing it aside after his hat.

As you stumbled down the hallway towards your bedroom, the anticipation between you and Frankie grew more intense. At the edge of the bed, his hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your neck and collarbone. The atmosphere was electric as his hands slipped under your shirt, swiftly pulling it off. Your hands mirrored his actions, fingers deftly navigating the buttons of his shirt. Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you made quick work of them.

Together, you fell back onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Taking a moment to catch your breath, Frankie framed your body with his, his arms holding him up over you. He dipped his head to kiss the tender spot between your neck and shoulder. His lips tracing your neck before his teeth nipped at your ear.

Your fingers snaked up his back, his shoulders before they tangled in his hair and with a tender tug you pulled his face to yours, your lips meeting his in a hungry and passionate kiss. There was a weight behind it, something more that neither one of you were able to think straight about, more focused on something more physical.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this since the moment I saw you tonight,” he said, his voice low and rough when you finally broke apart.

You smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair. “Likewise,” you replied.

As Frankie kissed you goodbye in the morning, you’d both smiled and agreed to meet up the next time Frankie was in town.

Somehow, conveniently, your schedules never had an issue of conflict from there out again.

2. A Chance Meeting in a Different City

A couple of months later, fortune seemed to pull you and Frankie together again in a momentous twist of fate. You found yourself in San Francisco for a work trip, your nose buried in a book at a coffee shop down on the pier. Frankie was there too, a coincidence that neither of you could have planned. Military aviation drills were taking place that week, and he was in the area for the events.

The day had been long, and you were lost in your thoughts when an imposing shadow suddenly crowded your space. Annoyance bubbled up inside you, but as you looked up, ready to voice your irritation, you were stopped in your tracks.

Standing there, looking just as surprised as you felt, was Frankie.

“Maverick,” he said, flashing that teasing grin of his.

“Frankie!” You exclaimed, jumping up and nearly knocking over your coffee. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

The initial shock quickly turned into pleasure as you both recognized the serendipity of the situation. Plans were hastily rearranged, and the two of you decided to seize the opportunity to explore the city together.

Over the next few days, you found yourselves walking the bustling streets and enjoying the tourist sights of San Francisco between conference meetings and Frankie’s own commitments.

Nights were spent in your hotel room, it seemed no matter the city you both seemed to gravitate towards your bed. The past months had consisted of frequent visits to Seattle by Frankie and you'd even made the journey down to Pierce County to see him once or twice.

“You ever think about how this all started?” Frankie murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

“With your pilot pickup line?” you teased, snuggling closer to him.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that, and everything else. I mean, what were the odds we'd meet like that? And then run into each other again here?”

It all felt so natural, so effortless, that neither of you questioned it.

3. New Year's Eve

Cat and her husband were throwing a New Year's Eve party and you had casually asked Frankie what his plans were two days before. He had told you that he was free and so you’d asked him if he wanted to join you, and you told yourself it was because no one should be alone for the new year and that was the only reason you’d extended the invitation.

The insanely large Costco-sized TV illuminated the living room playing the start of the countdown of the New York Times Square ball drop.

Ten.

You laughed at the party hat Cat had just unceremoniously placed on Frankie's head, she told him that it was strange seeing him out without his standard hat on, so in her tipsy state had written Standard Oil on the paper cone hat in Sharpie and plopped it on his head before giving you an equally garish one to wear also.

Nine.

The bubbles of the champagne tickled your lips as you brought it up for a tiny sip, ready to toast the New Year once the countdown was complete.

Eight.

Frankie reached around you to grab his own glass, he shifted closer, his hip knocking into yours, he didn’t step back.

Seven.

Your heart started beating a little faster, a mix of excitement from the impending new year and the unexpected intimacy of Frankie's proximity. The scent of him, familiar yet always exciting, mingled with the festive air around you.

Six.

The room was getting louder as more people appeared from around the house to watch the ball drop. Frankie’s hand rested on your hip as he turned you to face him.

Five.

You tried to dismiss the fluttering in your stomach as just the champagne, but deep down, you knew it was something more to do with the man in front of you.

Four.

The countdown was nearly over, and the room was filled with anticipation. But the only thing you could focus on was the look in Frankie's eyes.

Three.

As the countdown was close to reaching its climax, the room started to fill with shouts of excitement. But amid the festive chaos, you were drawn into an intimate bubble with Frankie. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered, “I'm glad I came tonight.”

Two.

You turned to face him, your eyes locked, the world around you forgotten. “Me too,” you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion.

One.

As the crowd around you erupted in cheers, and the New Year was ushered in, Frankie's lips met yours in what started as a sweet kiss before your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. The kiss deepened and the two of you tried not to spill the drinks in your hands.

“Happy New Year Mav.” he grinned as he pulled back to look you in the eye.

“Happy New Year Frankie,” you echoed, your voice catching a little.

Frankie's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. He leaned in to kiss you again, happy that you had messaged him two days before with an invitation to see in the New Year's. He hadn’t cancelled plans so fast before, furiously texting Santiago that something had come up and wouldn’t be attending the arranged party on base.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked before draining his glass.

You nodded enthusiastically as you finished your own drink, “Let’s go.”

4. Valentine's Day

The salty taste of the bacon from your sandwich left its mark on your lips, and Frankie couldn't help but admire your quick tongue poking out to lick them away. In response, he licked his own lips appreciatively.

You were both in your bed, the sheets dishevelled and the only reason Frankie wasn’t as naked as you were was because of the breakfast you were both eating. He’d not long returned with the food and coffees for you both from the bakery down the street after the two of you had enjoyed a lazy morning bed. You'd fallen back asleep and the breakfast was a welcome surprise.

What had also been a pleasant surprise was the bouquet of red roses that had turned up at your door the day before his arrival in town, Valentine's Day, with a card attached that simply said: “Just because.” You hadn’t questioned him on them. Just breathed in the aroma of the fresh flowers before finding something to put them in. Then spent the day working from home admiring the display out of the corner of your eye

You glanced up shyly from your sandwich as Frankie’s gaze on you grew more intense.

“What?” you asked, feeling the heat creeping up your skin.

He leaned forward and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip before pressing his own to yours. He pulled back, smiling. “Nothing, I just can’t take my eyes off of you.”

You feigned indifference to mask the effect his words had on you, trying to make light of it. Placing your now empty plate on the bedside table you looked back to Frankie, laid out on the bed next to you. His arm was folded under his head and you could see the bottom half of his tattoo poking out from under his shirt sleeves. The lines of which you had become very familiar with over the past months.

Shuffling over you straddled his hips, your knees nestled on either side as your hands pushed up his shirt to pepper kisses over his chest. With little fight, it wasn't long until his shirt was up and over his head and flung to the floor. He buckled his hips up and there was no missing the small "mm" that escaped from his lips.

“Mav,” he breathed as his hands pulled you down to crash his lips against yours.

His kiss was a sudden rush, igniting butterflies in your chest. Your lips parted instinctively, and the soft touch of his tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine. In that moment, all resistance melted away as he gently guided you onto your back, his weight settling above you.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you murmured quietly as he trailed your jaw with kisses.

You could feel the smirk forming as he continued his trail to your ear where he nipped your ear, “No clue what you're talking about.”

5. A Wedding

You weren't sure when you both started relying on phone calls rather than texting one another. But it had become commonplace for either of you to carry out everyday tasks with the other's voice in your ear, chatting about any and everything.

It was during one of those calls that Frankie had asked if you would be his plus one. Get out of town for the weekend, free drink, free food, good company and two nights in a swanky hotel he'd jokingly said he had no business staying in, and maybe your presence alongside him might bump up his status allowing him to get away with staying.

You don't know what made you say yes - but you did.

You'd danced, flirted, enjoyed one another's presence and finally met the elusive men that formed the operative group Frankie was a part of.

“So,” you grinned over the glass of wine in your hands, “you're all real then.”

“Yes ma'am,” Will replied from across the table, tipping his drink to you.

“For a while here Francisco,” you said his name slowly and deliberately, savoring the way it rolled off of your tongue. You'd noticed that each time you called him by his full name, he'd let out a slight smile at the corner of his lips, “had me believing that his whole pilot thing was some elaborate ruse.”

Frankie chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. “I'm not that good of a liar,” he said with a wink. You knew he was telling the truth about being a pilot; after all, the private tour of the barracks he'd given you shortly after you met cleared that suspicion.

You shook your head smiling, “No, you're not.”

Santiago smiled widely as he gave Frankie a friendly pat on the back, “She's a catch, Frankie.”

Frankie held his hand out to you, beckoning you sincerely. “C'mon Mav, come dance with me.”

So you allowed him to lead you out to the dancefloor, it was a slow song that the two of you swayed along to. His hips pressed against yours, his hands at your waist, yours around your neck.

As the song ended, Frankie didn't release you from his hold. Instead, he dipped his head down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You look stunning tonight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “You don't look too bad yourself,” you replied, a hint of teasing in your voice. “and you're welcome.”

Amidst the laughter and the champagne toasts, you both found yourselves watching the newlyweds with a strange sense of longing, though neither of you mentioned it to the other. Choosing instead to brush it off as nothing more than a fleeting emotion, but it lingered, nagging at you both for the remainder of the weekend.

The One Night.

He never came into town on a weekday, it was always between a Friday and the weekend. That should have been your first indication that something was up. He also hadn’t used the ridiculous nickname he’d bestowed on you, Maverick, that outwardly you voiced your displeasure at but inwardly you had grown quite fond of it.

The other bigger tell that something was going on was the fact that he hadn’t kissed you. He’d kissed your forehead when he’d walked through the door, hugged you a little longer once he made it through the threshold and was now sat as far as possible at the other end of your sofa.

It was just a year shy of the night the two of you had first met.

Your relationship had defied conventional labels, existing in the spaces between dates and casual encounters. Though words had never been exchanged, the unspoken understanding between you both was a bond that had grown stronger over the last year. But with the way he was acting, you were convinced this was it. That this was him telling you that he'd met someone.

So when the words, “I'm being stationed in Colorado next month.” came out of his mouth, he'd had to ask if you'd heard him because you were still processing that there wasn't another person.

“You're...what?” you finally managed to stammer, looking at Frankie, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of excitement, fear, and uncertainty.

“I've been reassigned to a new base in Colorado,” he repeated, his voice firm but his eyes soft, searching your face for a reaction, “but I... I don't want to go without talking to you about it.”

You blinked at him, your mind still reeling, the weight of what he was saying sinking in slowly. This was more than just a fling. It was more than just a casual thing between two consenting adults. This was real, and the very real possibility of losing him was hitting you like a sledgehammer.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill over. “What is there to talk about? You're leaving.”

Frankie's face fell, and he moved closer, reaching out to take your hand. “It's not that simple, and I know you know that.”

“Know what?”

Removing his hat and tossing it onto the coffee table, he ran his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. His gaze fixed on you with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Come on Mav, I know you're not this obtuse,” he stated with a playful grin, as if the answer to the unspoken question was written across your face.

You swallowed hard, “Frankie, I–” you attempted to find the words as your brain struggled to catch up.

“Look, whatever this is,” he didn't wait for you to find your voice, “I'm not ready to walk away, at least not without at least asking you first,” you watched his shoulders raise in a deep sigh as it let it go slowly, “will you come with me? To Colorado, will you come with me?”

The air was sucked out of your lungs and the room was filled with silence, your mind racing as you processed what he was saying. It was true, the two of you had become more than just a fling, but this was big. This was a life-altering decision.

You stared at him, disbelief written all over your face. “Come with you? To Colorado? Frankie, I have a life here. A job, friends, family.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking, “I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't imagine being there without you. I, I can't imagine my life without you.”

The tears were flowing now, and you were unable to stop them. A year of emotions, a year of denying what you felt, what you wanted, was crashing down around you, and there was no escaping it.

“You're asking me to give up everything,” you said, your voice filled with doubt. “You're asking me to take a huge risk.”

Frankie wiped away your tears with his thumb, “I'm asking you to decide if this is something you want, if you're willing to take a chance on me, on us… me.” he took in a deep breath, “But if you're feeling anything like I do about you, then you know that I'm serious about this, about us.”

When you didn't respond he sighed, “Look, I'm going to go and let you think about this. I'm not leaving for another month. If you don't want to come, then–” he drifted off, he hadn't really contemplated the possibility of you saying no, “then it's been an amazing year and–” his voice caught in his throat, “and I think I can be happy with that.”

He leaned in and kissed you. It was a deep embrace, his lips lingering on yours. His stubble gently scratched your face as if it were the last time he would feel you this close to him. He lingered for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he took in a deep breath before he stood and left your apartment.

You sat in the silence of your living room, the click of the front door an echo as you processed what had just happened.

Frankie was leaving for Colorado in a month.

Frankie had asked you to move to Colorado.

Frankie loved you?

You looked at the coffee table, Frankie's hat was still there where he'd left it.

You snatched the hat from the table and grabbed your keys before sprinting to the door. With no time for an elevator, you took off down the four flights of stairs. When you reached the lobby, it was empty.

You opened the door to your apartment building and frantically scanned the street, looking for Frankie. There he was, standing beside his truck down the street, his hand in his pocket for his truck keys. You watched him run a hand through his hair and curse when he realized he didn't have his cap. You didn't waste any time as you watched him fish his keys out of his jacket and unlocked the door of his truck.

“Frankie!” you shouted, he looked up startled, his hand on the door handle.

You continued to run towards him, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally reached him, you practically collided into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He stumbled back a few steps, but quickly regained his footing and returned the embrace.

You were talking into Frankie's chest, a rapid, breathless spill of words that tumbled out in a rush. He couldn't make out what you were saying, but he held you close, his arms strong and reassuring around you.

“Mav,” he said gently, trying to calm you down. “I can't understand what you're saying. Please, slow down.”

You stepped back, your eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and determination. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Frankie,” you said, your voice trembling. “I'll go with you. Wherever it is, I'll go with you,” you said with more conviction to your voice. “I don't know how this is all going to work and logistics,” You said with a small laugh, “but I do know,” you took in a deep breath, “I love you and I'm not okay with the idea of this between us just ending here.”

“That's all I need to hear,” He dropped his forehead to yours, there was no missing the smile that lit up his face, “I love you too Mav.”

He slipped one hand around your waist as he softly thumbed your lips with his other, before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was sweet at first, but soon turned into something more. Something hungry, something desperate to make up for the both of you failing to acknowledge what had been growing between you for so long.

“Do you have to be back on base tonight?” you asked breathless.

He shook his head, letting out a laugh. “I took a couple days off,” he admitted with a shy smile. “I wasn't sure how this was going to play out—it was either ending in your bed together or drinking beer in mine alone.”

“I think I have a couple of sick days I can cash in if you still want to finish this in bed? I mean, I have beer too.”

Frankie chuckled, “I'd like that,” he leant down to place another kiss to your lips, the admittance of your feelings for one another giving him no restrictions in letting you know how he really felt. “I think we have some catching up to do,” he said softly

You nodded, smiling through the tears that still lingered. “Yeah, we do,” you murmured, and hand in hand, the two of you headed back to your apartment.

#frankie morales/f!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfiction

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roppiepop · 3 months

Text

JayTim K-POP AU WIP

A plastic box gets shoved to his chest.

Only because he allows it, obviously, because the little gremlin of a brat is still several lifetimes away from being able to get a drop on him.

Though the demon spawn is also a picture of silence, lips pursed and shoulders tense where his fist extends to press whatever he bought on Jason’s pecs.

With a barely audible sigh, Jason peels that arm off to see what it was that demanded his attention so badly that the kid broke into one of the few safe-houses Jason thought was off the Bat-radar.

The answer is a thick box, covered with a glossy sleeve. On the cover are a group of five men piled on top of each other, composed artfully to look like a playful candid rather than an unfortunate accident. The only other thing on it is a logo stylized to look like a clock. Jason might be able to read where the lines form ‘SPF50’.

He sends Damian a blank look. The kid visibly heckles.

“Tt.” he starts, “This isn’t for me- I would like to emphasize that, for the record.”

Pause. Damian crosses his arms. “It’s Jon. He gave me an adequate birthday gift. It would be a dishonor to reciprocate with anything less.”

Jason replies to that with a hand gesture. What the hell does that have to do with him?

Damian looks at him like he’s rotten meat. Jason returns the glare twofold.

A frustrated groan. The kid almost swipes his arm back- like he was about to reach for his katana before realizing he’s out of costume. “Are you daft, Todd? I am asking for a favor. Name your price.”

“Yeah, Shrimp, I got that.” Jason bites back, “I’m just wonderin’ why the hell anythin’ related to this-“ he holds up the album, “-would be somethin’ I have an in with.”

Without missing a beat, Damian swipes back the album and pulls a card out from the middle to show him.

It’s a low angle selfie, cutting the pictured man off at the forehead. Stray locks, black with a blue-ish tint, fall just at the edge of the frame, and shadow a pair of striking blue eyes. Below that is a lopsided grin showing off a row of straight teeth. The rest of the picture is a swath of yellow- maybe a hoodie? Its laughably big though, dipping low enough to show the prominent curves of the man’s collarbones.

“This is why.” Damian says, before Jason could get a word in. “Your paramour, he’s Jon’s favorite in the group. He must be detestable if he has stooped low enough to romantically engage with you of all people, but nevertheless. Have him and his group sign this album and I will owe you one favor.”

“Huh.” Jason starts. Stops. Considers if he’s in the mood to start a fight. Sighs instead. “You’re outta luck, kid. I don’t know any of these guys.”

Damian’s eyes narrow. He steps forward in a stomp. “Don’t try and lie to me, Todd. Everyone has confirmed you are dating this idol. Agree to my terms before I am pushed to use force-Ow!”

Jason’s fingers moved to flick Damian’s forehead before he even registers that they did. “You can’t force me to do anythin’, Brat. I’ll send you back to your Mom.”

He flicks the other’s nose this time before he can respond, garnering another indignant squawk. “And two- just because you heard Blondie constantly yammerin’ about it doesn’t make it a public fact.”

Jason moves for the chin this time, but Damian has jumped away from striking range and looks a second away from hissing.

Jason would probably hiss back at him if he did. Something about this kid is just makes you want to mess with him.

But Damian seems to already be in retreat mode, sulkily skulking back to Jason’s fire escape with a deep scowl.

“Fine.” he says, right by the threshold of the apartment. “You prove yourself yet again useless. But just so you know Brown isn’t the only one talking- Father also suspects.”

And he’s gone just as Jason opens his mouth.

“Bruce?”

#jaytim #roppie tries to write #an unfinished au where janet gets custody of tim and takes the both of them out of gotham before he ever gets the chance to be robin #is this technically like???? a subday wip????? yeah #putting this here…….. again to motivate myself…… to make progress with this #hopefully it will come across as very fun and without needing any prior knowledge of the industry 👍

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flyiingsly · 3 months

Text

Briefing

Pairing : The 501st x reader

Summary : Early mission's briefing and night out at the 79' aren't the best match for you and your fellow troopers, much to Rex's despair.

A/N : Just a (really) short thing that was waiting in my WIPs folder for several months already ... It was inspired by a very early and boring meeting I had one day at work, I was nearly falling asleep on my chair and the only thing I was able to think about to stay awake were our favorite Boys in Blue. It was quiet efficient actually ! Enjoy ❤

~~~~~~

It was early in the morning. Well, not so early in fact, but it felt like. You were unusually late to the briefing, not that much, but late enough to arrive after Anakin, who was already here, visibly struggling to stay upright.

You were supposed to leave for a simple recon mission this afternoon with the 501st. Not a dangerous one, only routine on a neutral planet near Coruscant, just to make sure everything was still alright there.

The problem was, last night was not really relaxing. You and the boys had spent most of the night at the 79’ with your General, which wasn’t often, for most of the nights he spent on Coruscant, he stayed with a certain Senator. But not this time. She had been sent on a diplomatic meeting somewhere else in the galaxy, so he gladly joined you at the bar when you asked him. And it was even more funny than usual this way.

But now that you were all here standing in front of General Kenobi, all sleep deprived and some still sobering up, it wasn’t really funny anymore. Of course, it wasn’t your first night off at the 79’, and it was more than worth it, but still, waking up the next morning was always a bit hard. Only Rex and Dogma were good looking, the first because he stayed at the base finishing reports (and yet you tried your best to make him come with you, in vain) and the second because, well, he never seemed to suffer from lack of sleep, strangely (and he left the bar a bit earlier than anyone else, but still, it was far from enough sleep anyway).

It was glorious, Echo and Fives were leaning against each other, trying their best not to fall on the ground, Kix was staring into space, dark circles around his wide opened, completely empty eyes, his third cup of caf in his hand, Anakin was trying to yawn in the most discreet way possible, when Hardcase was, on the contrary, yawning widely, showing all of his teeth to a glaring Dogma. Even Jesse, who was usually doing his best to look as presentable as possible, was a mess, and you weren’t feeling very good neither to be honest. But most of all, Tup was missing, and nobody was able to tell where he was.

Obi-Wan and Rex decided to start the meeting anyway, it was already late enough, you’ll resume it to him when he’ll show up, you thought.

Staying focused was difficult as hell, and Ahsoka couldn’t help but grin at all your sleepy faces. But soon, Fives legs couldn’t take it anymore, and he suddenly collapsed on the ground, dragging a very surprised Echo in his fall. Rex’s eyes widened with embarrassment while Obi-Wan held a smile back. Dogma looked absolutely outraged, but the rest of the company started to laugh uncontrollably at the sight of the two ARCs laying comically on the ground, too tired and stunned to get up.

“ARC Troopers, stand up, immediately !” Rex screamed at them, cheeks turning red.

The poor Captain was so done it showed on his face. He was trying to stay composed, but the expression he wore was so priceless it made the scene even more funny.

You and Anakin helped the two soldiers on their feet, Echo’s arm grabbing your shoulders tightly not to lose his balance again. You were doing your best to contain your laughter, but the lack of sleep and the nervousness due to the multiple cups of caf you ingurgitated right before weren’t helping.

Nobody was able to calm down anyway, and since even Obi-Wan seemed amused by the situation when he turned toward him in search of some support, all that was left for Rex to do was facepalming heavily, probably asking himself was he was doing with his life right now.

The sudden scream coming from one of the nearby technicians working on the company transport ship suddenly made everyone stop laughing, all faces turning toward the origin of the noise.

Then you heard Fives murmured with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I think someone finally found Tup !”

Rex looked at him with a horrified look on his face.

“What the hell ? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE AGAIN YOU LITTLE … ?”

He didn’t got the chance to have an answer for a technician showed up in the second, asking him to come and see what he had just saw, because, apparently, one of his men was “asleep, snoring and duct-taped to the cockpit’s celling”.

You swear you caught the Captain’s head begin to steam as everyone started to cackle again, hurrying to follow the shocked technician to the said ship. Passing by Fives, who was laughing his ass off, he sent him a frightening death glare.

Needless to say that some troopers received a huge amount of chores to do after that failed briefing.

#501st x reader #vi writing #the clone wars x reader #501st shenanigans #the clone wars #501st legion #the 501st x reader #captain rex #anakin skywalker #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper tup #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper dogma

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butmakeitgayblog · 1 month

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Okay but I just know that Lexa gives the best hugs 😤 If they ever had the opportunity, I just KNOW Clarke would be making use of Big Strong Invisible MusclesTM all the time and absolutely koala-hugging the shit out of her 🥹

Never question that Lexa was a fantastic hugger. Look at the sheer relief on her face. You can see the piece of her soul within the chip sighing in joy at just holding Clarke again. The way had hands gripped at Clarke's back and pressed her in tighter. Commander noddle arms was an amazing hugger through and through ok 🥺

Just because the blog has felt so gd negative tonight here, a Clexa hug from the canon wip I got going, because why not. We deserve the fluff

/////////

It's hard for Clarke to keep it together when yet another piece of her heart turns to shrapnel, jagged and deathly in its destruction. It makes old wounds sting like new as she adds the confession to the mountain of sins she cannot fix for them, for anyone, by sheer will alone. Because she would. So many pieces of her scream in duty-bound rebellion with how much she needs Lexa to know that she would do anything to fix the ache of her absence - to wash away the nights spent apart and spare them both.

She would, if only she could.

Clarke hugs her. There's really nothing else for it. There's nothing that feels as right in that moment more than surging closer, stretching her arms to loop around Lexa's neck and pull her in.

“I'm here now,” Clarke says, and seals her paltry offering with a kiss to the column of Lexa's throat.

She ignores her captive's flustered start at the tenderness and tucks into Lexa. Any worry for how she clings more than she means too is left for another day as her arms tighten at the burst of that familiar scent that is entirely Lexa; all forest greenery mixed with the clean scent of her sweat against skin that carries lingering notes of some floral sweetened soap.

The coil of muscle and sinew in her arms turns into a mass of Commander-shaped jelly when Lexa melts into the touch, knees seeming to buckle with how fiercely she folds into the hug. Her arms cinch around Clarke's waist so tightly it nearly lifts her onto the tips of her toes; hip bones pressing to hip bones, ribs crushed to ribs.

They hold each other in the creaking silence of the hut so long Clarke's feet pool in pins and pricks, offering little else more than sniffles buried into coat sleeves and armor and the syncing of juddered heartbeats. The buckles of Lexa's coat dig into Clarke's stomach and the pommel of her sword knocks rough against her hip, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when she's this close. Not when every press of Clarke's lips to Lexa's throat is mirrored against her own, tender in its supplication.

The hands that hold her feel restless against her back. Constant in their moving, gentle in their caress. They rub languid circuits from her shoulders to the tops of her hips, as though Lexa can't quite control the need to touch her as much as humanly possible, and it's only when Clarke opens her eyes just to see that face again, that she loosens her hold and slowly, so slowly, inches herself away.

Lexa doesn't let her go far. Keeps her right where she wants her with a dig of fingertips against leather and spine, temple resting against temple and cheek against kohl smudged cheek. She fills all the spaces Clarke has missed her touch.

Heat traces over her skin in Lexa's shaky exhale as the snuggle-inclined warlord nuzzles closer, tickling the plump bow of her lips along Clarke's chin and up, until Clarke doesn't know where one breath ends and another begins. Eyes sparkle under the hang of long lashes. Lips drift closer, closer to the warmth of Clarke's mouth.

“May I?”

Two sets of lungs hiccup in the wake of Lexa's whispered plea, the vulnerability of it stinging with just how small she sounds - as though she still doubts this. As though Lexa has no idea that the memory of her mouth and her taste and the sweet bite of her teeth were the only things that's kept Clarke sane in her misery for all these weeks.

Clarke's mouth tugs into a smile at the question.

Even more as their lips brush when she speaks.

“Please.”

///////

#viesaysily #in secret au #my pitiful offering on this night #there's 18+k of this fucker now so

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goodeapple · 7 months

Text

be nice to your neighbors.

i have a million and two wip's in my Ysilla folder and somehow, i have to add one more.

i am an exhausting person. love y'all lots!

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : Aemond is a simp & Ysilla is a plant nerd. Awkward flirting. Fluff. No smut :(

word count : 2,500+

It’s so fucking early. What self-respecting tattoo shop is open at 7AM on a Sunday? On God’s day? Aegon hasn’t stepped foot in a church since he was thirteen which explains the hours, but why the fuck is Aemond here and not him?

Aemond wasn’t exactly planning on going to church today, but maybe if he had the option, his ass would be in a pew next to his mother right now instead of perfecting a sketch for an appointment that isn’t even until next week. His Americano is lukewarm, steam long blown away by the small oscillating fan tucked up on a high shelf. A row of overstuffed books, on everything from Classic Americana design to Valyrian legends he wants to detail on paper, fill up the rest of the ledge. The next one down houses a line of knick knacks he could never force himself to part with- a tiny tacky snowglobe from Harrenhal, his grandfather’s Hand of the King pin from when he was in the courts, 8-tracks from his mum’s rebellious punk phase before she went to college, and at the end, a framed photo of him and his siblings the day they opened the shop. Three identical terrified grins are spread over their faces, nervous anticipation bleeding through the black-and-white snapshot. Little pieces of his life in his little corner of the world, where he gets to do what he loves.

And the most important little worm to him sleeps the day away in her glass vivarium by the door. Vhagar lounges under her UV bulb, baking on a large smooth stone after inhaling her breakfast. His little crocodile without the teeth. The soft garden green bearded dragon with her yellow belly has been his constant companion since he rescued her from a Oldtown pet shop when he was a pre-teen. He hid her under his bed for a full seven months before his mum found her one day when she was searching for missing socks. It was an impressive feat, one even she had to acknowledge after blowing her fucking top.

Aemond darkens the curve of the kraken tentacle he’s sketching, a piece for a client coming all the way from the Iron Isles. The little suction cups still need more depth and he hasn’t even begun to flesh out the texture of the skin yet when the bell hanging above the shop door tinkles, signifying an end to his blissful solitude.

“Hello? Helaena, you here?”

Aemond drops his pencil, shoving off from his desk, grumbling as he goes. There’s still a hint of sleep in his eye and he rubs it away as he walks up the hall to the lobby.

“We don’t take walk-in’s on the weekends and we don’t have any appointments scheduled ‘till 9. So, are you sight-seeing or are you just overly punctual?” He doesn’t mean to sound like a dick, it just comes second nature.

The back of the head that greets him as he blinks open his eye is a pretty one, thick brunette curls pinned up with gold butterfly clips. The girl abandons the magazine she’d been leafing through, turning at the sound of his voice. The wide-eyed look that’s spread over her face emphasizes plum-shaded irises, framed by palm leaf eyes. There’s a pair of beauty marks peppered on the dawn of her cheekbone. A rosy mocha mouth is pouted before it curves up into a charming bend of itself.

“I’m sorry, I'm not here to get any work done. I was just coming in to give something to Helaena.” The woman shimmies the large gift bag held tight in her fist as proof. “I’m a friend.”

Aemond shrugs off his disappointment. “Oh, my bad.” She’d be a gorgeous canvas. The golden brown of her skin would take color like a fucking champ. Black would be even better. Really make the contrast pop. The smooth peak of her shoulders from underneath the oversized cream cardigan she wears is a tantalizing taste of something he wants to indulge in. “She’s not here yet.”

Her expression collapses and Aemond regrets causing such a look to dim her face. “Oh damn, she told me she’d be in at this time.”

Aemond thinks maybe he should call his big sister, considering he hasn’t received her standard “i’ll be there in 10, I PROMISE 10 MINUTES AEMMY!!” text today, when the girl’s face blooms into one of recognition.

“You’re Aemond, right?”

“Uh, yeah- yes, yes I am.” He coughs, straightening up a bit, manners braided into every core memory he possesses. His mom is, in Aegon’s terms, a “tightass”, but damn him if he doesn’t know how to treat a woman.

“I always see you coming in and out of here, and well, you and Hel and Aegon all look alike, so I put two and two together and made four that you’re the missing piece of Three Headed Dragon.” She gestures to the air, implying she’s speaking about the name of the shop. The gold chains layered around her neck, some with pendants and some without, jingle with her movement. Aemond likes the softness of the sound. “And when she came in for a succulent recommendation a few months back, I asked about you and she told me your name, and… yeahhh. I just didn’t want you to think I was some weirdo who’s been waiting for the perfect moment to get you alone.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t think that.” Aemond looks very serious, even knitting his brows in a thick, no-nonsense line, but he has to bite his lip to keep from snickering, which she notices.

She breathes out a laugh, dipping her head in surrender. She turns to the entrance, and Aemond is worried she might leave. He doesn’t mind her company, which is a miracle considering the hour.

“Hey-”

“Is this your’s?” She points to the hyperrealistic direwolf stencil he’d cranked out last year during an artist’s block that he couldn’t shake for the life of him. The piece is gruesome, wicked lines and keen edges that intimidate even him, and he drew the damn thing.

“Uh, yeah. Good guess.” The black frames adorning the gallery wall are a mixture of his and Aegon’s work, all in varying shades of grays and blacks. His brother’s signature new school style is easily distinguishable to Aemond, but he admits some of their earlier sketches are more uniform than not.

“You do beautiful work.”

Aemond’s eyebrows raise and he lets the compliment warm him.

“I appreciate that. Many wouldn’t call that beautiful, but I think it has a certain magnetism to it.” He looks the woman over, using the excuse of actually searching for ink so that he can appreciate her willowy arms and the peek of shapely legs through the dash in her skirt. “Do you have any?” Aemond gestures to the wall, before gesturing to her. She shakes her head no, freeing an errant curl that falls over her forehead. Aemond picks at his joggers to keep his fingers from doing something stupid.

“Oh no. I’m not the biggest fan of needles. Self-admittedly, I can also be a bit of a flake, so permanent artwork on my body kind of gives me hives.” She shivers and Aemond thinks her modesty is adorable.

“That’s a shame.”

Mystery woman snaps her fingers, spinning on her toes to pin him with a look, and Aemond basks in the scent of jasmine and sea salt that wafts his way.

“If I change my mind, I know who to go to.” She blinks suddenly, her pointed hand gliding behind her to rub at the back of neck in a bashful way. “That is, if you’d ever want to. Or, if you’re like, accepting clients.”

“For you? I think I could make an exception.” Aemond leans into the counter, settling to her level. The way the flush of her cheeks drips into the creamy sweep of her chest makes him hungry. She drops her hand, edging forward on timid toes.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.”

He doesn’t really know how to reply to that. He can feel the tips of his ears heat up, and when she tucks her lock of hair back in place, Aemond wishes he would’ve done it for her. He can see a thin line of dark walnut bracing the white of her eyes with how close he is, so close now he can smell the cinnamon on her breath from the condensating chai latte she holds in her other hand.

“Aemond!” The back door slams and his sister’s voice floats up the hall.

“Fuckin’ A, I’m sorry I’m late. I hit construction traffic and I had to get gas or I would’ve been pushing my Volksy here, and then I needed a coffee, believe me.” A white-blonde head of super short hair is unleashed when his sister yanks off her crocheted bucket hat, and she gasps as she catches sight of the shop’s first patron of the day.

“Good morning, muffin, I was trying to get here as fast as I could!” Helaena is a tornado of violets, lavenders, and magentas, purple her chosen color of the day as she spins into the room, tucking her backpack into the lockable cabinet by Aemond’s knees.

The girl’s smile is a thing of beauty and even if it’s for Helaena, Aemond will keep it for himself.

“Good morning, Hel. No worries, your brother’s been keeping me company.”

Helaena spares him a look, sending a delicately sharp elbow right into his ribs.

“Has he? It must be your lucky day- he usually scares off the customers that aren’t on the schedule.”

Aemond throws a sturdy blunt elbow into her shoulder and revels in the wince that she tries to hide.

“Mmmm, not scared off yet. But if you would’ve given us a few more minutes, who knows?” A wink is sent his way, showing she means it in all good fun. Aemond fires a smile back at her, curling his lip up in a smirk he knows carries some weight to it. She swallows- he can see the jump in her throat, before she damn near flings her reason for coming in onto the counter.

“Here! She came in yesterday towards closing time, a special delivery just for you.”

Hel snatches it with greedy hands, unknotting the twine laced through the handles so she can stick her whole face into the bag.

“Oh my word, it’s beautiful!” Helaena exclaims, wonderment turning her tone soft and breathy. Aemond can’t stunt his curiosity, knocking his sister’s head out of his way to peer into the gift bag.

“It looks moldy.”

Mystery woman looks mildly offended by his assessment, but it’s his sister that thwacks him in the chest.

“Shut up! You and Aegon practically drowned my cactus when I went on holiday last summer; what do you know about plants? It’s stunning and wonderful and all mine!” Helaena pulls out the plant with careful hands, gathering up the trailing vines like she’s lassoing a rope.

Hel oooo’s and ahhh’s , rubbing the silver spotted leaves between her fingers, smelling the somewhat heart-shaped sprouts for any lingering fragrance. Aemond’s surprised she doesn’t pop one in her mouth and give it a taste.

“A cactus?”

Aemond shrugs, happy to have the woman’s attention back on him, even if it is at his expense. “It looked thirsty.”

The giggle she gifts him makes his 5AM alarm worth it.

Helaena claps her hands together twice, calling attention to her like she’s a nursery school teacher. “Tell me about it- what’s its name and how do I keep it alive?”

“It’s a Scindapsus pictus, but satin Pothos or silver Philodendron is easier to remember. Even though it’s not technically a Pothos or a Philodendron, it’s in the Araceae family, which can be confusing, y’know? It’s naturally from the Hills of Andalos but it can also be found from Tyrosh all the way to Pinkmaiden.”

The siblings blink at her, both enjoying how she waxes on about something obviously interesting to her, even though it sounds like Dothraki to them. The brunette takes notice of the silence, tapering off her anecdotes while wearing a quiet, bemused grin.

“Anyways,” she twists the ring around her pinky in circles of nervous energy, “lots of light, water her like once a week, and she should thrive.”

“She’s perfect! Oh thank you for picking her out for me, darling. I’ll take such good care of her. ” Helaena has a way of hugging you with her words. It fills you with the warm and fuzzies, and the girl looks filled to the brim with them. She sighs though, shouldering the strap of her bag into place.

“I gotta get back to the shop- my early lunch break can’t go past 7:20, or Miss Olenna will be pissed if I’m not there to let her windowshop the roses.”

Helaena flutters around the counter, gushing promises of midday coffee dates and takeaway dinners before sweeping up the other girl in a rocking embrace.

The woman beams, happiness a good look on her, before pecking his sister’s cheek in parting. She pushes open the shop door, ducking out before catching it right before it closes. Her head ducks back in, and the same stubborn curl from before has come loose again, twisting around the corner of her eye.

“It was nice meeting you, Aemond.”

“Likewise…” Did he not catch her name once the entire time? Fuck him and his so-called manners.

Her smile is so bright, it burns itself behind his eyelids. “Ysilla.”

“Likewise, Ysilla.” Aemond rolls her name off of his tongue, discovering he quite likes the taste of her. A gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl.

She bids him a little wave of her hand before shutting the door softly. She looks both ways before darting across the roadway and into roots., an aptly named nursery that bursts at the brick with vegetation and flowers.

Aemond turns on his sister with alarming agility.

“Alright, share with the class. Who was that?”

“That’s Ysilla, Aem. Duh. She runs the plant shop across the street.”

He resists the urge to flick her in the forehead. His trainers are new and he doesn’t want her size seven foot print scuffing them up.

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Well you would, if you ever bothered to come out of your room and meet our neighbors. She’s been in charge for about a year and a half now. Mr. Forel is an old flame of her grandma’s, or something like that, and she needed a job when he was thinking of retiring. So, perfect timing, I guess.” Hel fluffs the leaves, turning the plant pot this way and that, trying to decide which angle is most appealing. She carts it around the shop, holding it up to the spaces she’s thinking of occupying it with.

“What are you two, besties?” Aemond is so not jealous. Nah, never. Nope. No way, no how.

Helaena pauses, looking thoughtful before resuming her decorating.

“I’m kind of trying to be, but she goes to class after she’s done at the shop and if she’s not doing that, she has three brothers she helps take care of when her mum is working. So I stop off when I can and chat with her so we can catch up.”

Helaena cheers as she steps off the footstool she keeps around for high reaching access, admiring the vines cascading from the partition wall that divides the waiting room from her piercing studio.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” His sister is obviously speaking about the plant.

Aemond stares through the window across the street, the tan stucco building a bright bustle of life next to the high brow boutique to its left and Hot Pie’s bakery to its right. The numerous hanging pots from the ledge above the doorway would 100% split his skull if he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking. Big glass windows are crowded by giant emerald fronds and stalks of leafy sprouts. The flower pots mirroring each side of the doorway are starting to wilt with the season, but the vibrant highlights of color splash a last breath of life against the stone.

If Aemond squints, he can catch a dark head of curls bouncing behind the register.

Maybe a plant wouldn’t be a bad addition to his shelves.

“Without a doubt.”

ps: i have another modern!au in the works of these two little fuckers, which is much longer, much angstier, and much more fun to read. should be out very very soon ;))

#hotd #aemond targaryen #ysilla targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #modern hotd #modern aemond targaryen #my writing

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ghoul-slime · 5 months

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HEY WHAT HEADCANONS, SHIPS, OR WHATEVER HAVE BEEN ON YOUR MIND RECENTLY? 🩷🎤

HELLO oh man, I thought about this ask for two whole days.

Trying to think about my Mountain/water! Dew WIP that's been giving me trouble for weeks - which is because I constantly have DEWTHER on the brain.

But really I have been thinking about domestic Aether/Dew so much lately. Been thinking about how happy Aether is to have Dew back now that the tour is over. About how fucking badly they missed each other. How much harder than they ever thought it would be to be separated for so long. Now that Dew's back they're spending so much time together to make up for it. Dew cuddled up with Aether in a big cozy nest every night, snuggled up on the couch in the den together during pack movie nights. About how they can't keep their hands off each other. Dew resting his hand on Aether's thigh while they eat breakfast in the morning, Aether giving Dew sneaky little kisses to the cheek, pressed to his temple, or the crown of his head during mass. About how Aether still picks up the Fantomen and plays with Dew during practice. How they still spend time together playing and jamming and fiddling around with music even though Aether isn't playing with the band anymore. About both of them reaching out to swat at each other, to grab, to squeeze whenever they pass each other in the halls.

+Some NSFW thoughts under the cut

Thinking about how the first night he's back, Dew's off the bus and dragging Aether down the hall to his bedroom and kicking the door shut behind him. How quickly that first, sweet kiss turns hot and wet and heavy, all tongue and teeth and heavy breaths into each others' mouths while Dew tears at their clothes. How maybe they both cry just a little bit when they finish, laying tangled together laughing, covered in sweat and tears and cum and just so fucking happy to be together again. Thinking about how for the next few days the other ghouls only catch glimpses of them emerging from Dew's room for snacks or for water. Or a bath. How Dew wobbles in on shaky legs dazed and happy, hair an absolute tangled wreck, skin covered in light little bruises and bite marks. Aether looking exhausted but absolutely beaming with joy, his own neck sporting a set of matching Dew-fanged bite marks.

Thinking about how they can't possibly get close enough. It's not enough, Dew needs to feel Aether inside him. Perched on top of him, warming his cock for hours, doing his best to drag it out, keep them both from coming until they're both going fucking crazy with it. Or how Dew needs Aether inside his mouth, his cock or his fingers, his tongue. How Dew's mouth is attached to Aether's skin when it isn't filled with him. Licking a stripe up his pulsing jugular, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his thighs, mouthing hot and wet at his tits.

And thinking about how Aether can't get enough of making Dew cum, just absolutely addicted to making him fall apart as many times as he can wring out of him. Tonguing him between his legs until Dew is sobbing with it, or sucking him off until his cock is soft and oversensitive but he's still begging for more. Or maybe he's just slipping his fingers inside Dew's body, slow and unhurried, feeling his pulse from the inside and watching his pretty golden eyes roll back as Aether pets inside him.

For those first few days back together, when Dew isn't sleeping it off, Aether's working him up, taking him apart, drinking in the blissed out expression on his most precious ghoul's face. But as addicted as he is, nothing beats watching Dew sleep, peaceful and perfectly sated and finally back in each other's arms.

#aether/dew #dewther #aether/dewdrop #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #ghoul-slime ask #thank you for this ask!!#honestly i think it helped me break out of my writing rut

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bruh-anator3000 · 11 months

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To Skrill or Not to Skrill

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A/n:... drag...nn... OKAY look i KNOW i should finish all my Viktor wips, esp The Lab Inspector's Daughter one BUT... um, well, skrunkly priorities have changed. My skrunkly, babygirl, the blorbo, the boi: the most insane viking in the Archieplego. Dagur the Deranged. He hath eaten the Viktor worms and started writhing on my brain himself. The madlad.

I WILL WRITE FOR VIKTOR AGAIN!! DON'T WORRY!! But Dagur wants to be written for first. For now.

Summary: Dagur didn't just... leave you, right? You led him and the Hunters to the exact spot your calculations had said the beast would be. The further you got into the cave, however, the less the others followed. Leaving you completely alone. Well, besides the dragon.

Pairing: Dagur x GN!Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: 'Trapped' in an ice cave, Hypothermia!! Near death experience? Dragons, Stupid Ryker, insert Micheal Scott's 'you've been di-frib-u-lated!,' Derangedness duh, Dagur refers to himself as 'Daddy' and the deadly dragon as 'baby,' accidental Hiccup/Dragon Riders hate (but for good reason in the story i swear), cringe stuttering, possible part 2 👀? (We all know how good I am at that)

MOST IMPORTANTLY: I haven't written for Dagur before so if he seems OOC, that's on me. Please let me know how I can make Dagur seem more like Dagur, i would love some advice on it.

Okay, that should be it! I hope you enjoy <3

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"He didn't just abandon me," Your shallow breaths turned to frost in front of your face as you continuously bashed the hilt of your sword against the thinning ice. As much as you wanted to believe your words, he did ignore his father when he went missing and simply took control instead.

"I mean, I'm valuable!" You tried to convince yourself as the ice finally gave in with a sharp crack. Your hilt judded through the hole you made, numb fingers nearly dropping your blade. You couldn't feel the lower part of your body, shivering violently as you awkwardly scuffled your sword on the other side of the ice. Making the weapon parallel to the wall, you began to smash the ice from the other side, trying to pull the sword back towards you.

"I found you, after all." You looked up through your lashes, which were slowly weighing down by snow and ice. The dark purple and grey of the Skrill looked down upon you. His breath fogging the wall of ice separating you two.

He watched you, eyes narrowed but curious. From what you could see, most of his limbs were slowly breaking free of the ice he had been banished to. Wings twitching and claws curling. You hit the icy wall once more. You could feel your fingers lock up around the rod of your sword. The joints in your arms stiffening with the cold. As you yanked your arm back once more, the ice broke. Leaving you to fall on your butt.

Laying on the cold stone of rock-hard ice, you sighed. Your breath turning to ice in front of you. Maybe you should've stayed with the Dragon Riders. With another frozen sigh, you knew that would've led to this exact same situation. Well, not exactly the same.

Hiccup left you to boil and burn in a cavern deep inside an active volcano. Dagur left you to freeze up and become an artifact for the next generation to find. You weren't sure what was worse.

However, Dagur had saved you from combusting into a pile of flame and ash. Maybe Hiccup will turn the tide, and find you, trying to free the Skrill he set into ice. For Dagur.

No, he would probably let you freeze over, too.

You tried to pull yourself up to your feet. You only managed to sit up and rest against the wall. Your bones rattled against each other, you could bite your own tongue off with how hard your teeth clattered. Huddling into yourself, you prayed to Odin someone would find you before you froze to death.

Looking over your arms as you held your knees close, you saw the Skrill ram the horn on his nose against the wall he was sealed behind. You shut your eyes, breathing out once more as you felt ice build around your lungs.

...

Dagur stood before the cave, torch high in his hold as he waited. Eyes narrowed, he held the flame to the dark entrance.

"Where's your little friend, Dagur?" Ryker saddled up beside the Berserker with a dark chuckle. "Think the Dragon Riders finally came back for them?"

Dagur scowled. "They wouldn't do that." He stated simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He saved you, after all. You wouldn't just turn on him like that... right?

"Then why are my men back but not them?" Ryker watched the viking from the corner of his eye. Dagur was simply too easy to rile up. And he was waiting for the moment he slipped up, so Viggo would finally see how utterly useless he was to their mission.

"Why can't your men find my Skrilly but they can?" Dagur shot back. You had told him the only information you knew about his Skrill was the fact Hiccup had sealed it away into an iceberg. With that, you had managed to pinpoint the beast's exact location. Which none of Ryker's men seemed to even comprehend.

Ryker let out a hard huff. "You have another hour, then we leave," He leaned in close, breath rotting. "With your friend, or not."

Dagur only glared back, eyes burning in the larger viking's skull. How he wanted to bash Ryker's head open. For more than one reason, but the top contender was how he spoke of you. A Dragon Rider turned hunter wasn't a very trustworthy transformation but Dagur liked you.

The vengeance written on your face when he found you, betrayed by his brother. It reminded him of the rage he felt daily for how Hiccup had thrown him into jail for three long years. You said you were a dragon rider and his first instinct was to grab your dragon and run. But you had no dragon, only a shattered sword and the outlines of welts beginning to bubble up from the heat on your skin.

When he asked if you wanted rescuing, throwing on his best smile and pose, you laid back down and accepted your fate. That's when he knew he'd like you. So stubborn, you'd rather melt than let a devilishly handsome Berserker save you. A sense of humor he enjoyed poking at until it turned into slight aggravation.

Now, he was aggravated. The torch felt so... throwable in his clenching fist. It wasn't you... it's just that you weren't here. He needed you here, wanted you standing besides him with his Skrill in tow.

Glancing back, he watched Ryker and his lousy men riffle around. Some were walking circles around the boats. Others shoved each other around, acting like there was nothing wrong. Like this was all a game to them. Ryker may be able to dispose of his men like day old fish, but Dagur wouldn't do that - not to you, at least.

He could throw Savage overboard any day. Throw him as far as he wanted, deep into the vast blue of the ocean. He would laugh, watching him scramble back on board. But he wouldn't throw you over the deck. He's considered it, he won't lie, but he could only ever bring himself to grab the back of your shirt, threateningly.

You'd just laugh. Everytime he would grumble and yank you around by the sleeve or tunic, you would laugh. It was cute. And it was infectious, too. Whatever he was angry at, Dagur would have to let it go and laugh with you.

But now, you weren't here. He wasn't able to laugh his boiling anger off. You were still somewhere in the icy caves. And Ryker wasn't going to be any help. Like always, it looked like Dagur was going to have to do this himself.

He really hoped his Skrill was in there, or else you'd be making him look like a fool. He also really hoped you were still alive. But he also really didn't want to look like a fool.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ryker's grating voice called out, making Dagur's whole body twitch with annoyance. By the Norns, he hated that man's voice, and endless proding!

"Getting my Skrill back!" He shouted over his shoulder. If it weren't for the iron grip he had on his torch, Dagur would've sent it straight through the Dragon Hunter's head, hearing Ryker laugh at him. If only the Skrill could come barreling out of the cavern just then. Like Hiccup and his stupid Night Fury always seemed to do.

The ice cave was just as expected - long, dark, and very cold. Barely five minutes into his search, Dagur started shaking like a fish out of water. Violently trembling from the cold. He debated on turning back. Let go of this Skrill dream entirely, that perhaps it was an unhealthy obsession he developed and would benefit him in letting it go.

The thought made him laugh. Loudly and sporadically, his hysteria bounced off the endless tunnel walls. He giggled to himself when he heard his laugh come back to him. Sounded just as insane as he remembered.

Another sound followed the dying echoes of his laugh. One that sent a full body shiver through the Deranged. That same howl, like a screech of home. A dragon's. His dragon.

Bursting into a full on sprint, Dagur ran down the cave, guffawing with excitement. He's dreamt of this day for years, the situation of reuniting with his dearest Skrill playing over in his head like a bard who only knew how to play one song. He would soon use his beloved beast to destroy little Hiccup in a blast of pure lightning. Another drool-worthy ideal that he never stopped wishing for.

Dagur turned the last twist of the tunnel before the beast of royal purple and toned grey became visible. Wide mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth bared before him. The metallic spiky crown the dragon wore was even more daunting in the unusual lighting of fire reflected against frozen water. A sight so enthralling, Dagur's mind went blank.

Mind flooded with excitement, Dagur broke out into a large smile and simply gawked. The cold didn't exist in this moment as he stared at his precious baby. So giddy that he raised both his hands up with a loud, concerning cry and spun in a circle.

"That's right!" He hollered to no one in particular. "Dagur and Skrilly, reunited once more! Ohohoho!" He laughed with his entire body, moving wildly in his joy.

The ripple of dark scales had Dagur turning back around. The Skrill curled into itself as a bright white hue began to glow from his mouth. Drawing his sword, he held it pointed to the beast.

"It's alright, baby." He tried shushing the Skrill, cooing in his gravelly voice. "Daddy Dagur's here for you."

The Skrill had better ideas. He shot a bolt of lightning barely a foot away from Dagur.

He was about to shout. Ready to lose his temper that his own darling would try to hurt him, but that sharp green gaze caught on something beneath those steely purple legs. A figure lumped under the dragon. It seemed like sweet Skrilly was protecting this nearly dead thing.

As another blast of lightning began to charge in the dragon's mouth, Dagur dropped his stance for a moment. His eyes fell to a sword that was laying far from the other two. The same sword he often sparred with. Grabbed along with his own, to hand to his partner in battle. The same sword he's had to help rewrap over 10 times because, for whatever reason, you couldn't keep the yak leather tight around the hilt.

Your sword.

Wait a second. That's you?

He tried to get a better look but the Skrill opened his mouth even wider, ready to blast again. Thank Odin he was a Berserker. Directing Skrills was in his blood.

Dagur waved his sword back and forth until the Skrill could only focus on it. Making sure those slitted pupils were trained on his blade, he lowered the sword and threw it across the ice. Away from you. Unfortunately, the beast stayed put, but his eyes were trained on the sword Dagur had to sacrifice. Skrill's are painfully loyal to those who treat them well. And saving them from an icy prison would be a perfect reason why the dragon refused to move.

Dagur made a mental note to yell at you for gaining his Skrilly's trust before him. After he saved you, of course.

"Come on, baby, work with me here." Dagur tried to reason as he lowered himself closer to the ground. "They're with me. And you like them, right? So you'll like me, too."

The fire-lightning sparked back up in his mouth the second Dagur tried to take another step. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of another way to get to you. They both looked at the torch he held.

Dagur wasn't about to burn the Skrill but he desperately needed to get to you. You had been in here for hours. How long have you been unconscious for? The next place he might see you is in Valhalla. He really didn't want to risk death in order to see you again.

Waving his torch around like he'd done his sword, Dagur began to walk around his Skrill. Every time the dragon tried to lunge forward, he would jump right back at him. The fire discouraging the Skrill just enough to push him away from you. Only the strong and unbelievably gorgeous wing of him hovered above you. Dagur could work with that.

"Hey, wakey wakey!" Dagur dropped to his knees beside you, his free hand reaching for your wrist. His hands always felt so rough compared to your skin. It made him feel... embarrassed that his hold could grate on yours.

As he ran his hand down your arm, panic started seeping in. You were as cold as the floor beneath the two of you. Your fingers were beginning to turn blue. He couldn't see you breathing, not when you were so curled in on yourself.

"Hey," He set his torch on the ground. He didn't care if it was burning out, he needed you alive. "Stay with me." His voice started to raise in tone as he softly grabbed your shoulders. Rolling you on your back, you moved far too loosely. He could tell you no longer had control of your limbs.

Eyes growing wide, Dagur cupped your face with one of his hands. The apple of your cheeks - where pretty freckles, often paired with a slight red the sun always burned onto your skin - was tinting blue. And so was your precious nose. That wasn't good.

Oh Thor, this wasn't good.

Dagur pressed his ear to your chest, silently begging for a breath. He could settle for a heartbeat, a faint one, even! He just needed to know you were still alive!

His search was interrupted when he was scooped into the air. He scrambled to grab you, holding you close to his chest as he started to raise and slide backwards. Letting out an uneasy laugh, his back hit a rod that winded him.

Keeping his arms tight around your freezing torso, Dagur looked down. Sitting on purple scales against dark spikes, he realized all too late what was happening.

"Easy, dragon!" He pleaded with a yelp. The Skrill roared and stood on his hind legs. He scrambled to seat you in front of him, awkwardly sliding behind your limp self and reaching around to grab the crown of the dragon. His left hand barely gripped onto a spike when the Skrill took off with a gut-deep growl.

Dagur's screams came out like his laughs, sporadic and changing in tone. And frantic. Very- extremely frantic. The light blue colors of ice blurred past him, cold wind whipping through his red hair. Cold quickly shifted into warmer air. Ice no longer surrounding him, turning into the sand of the beach outside.

He could barely make out the shouts of the hunters over his own. His next sight was crashing face first into sand. Tumbling further until he hit one of the ship posts. Taking at least one other man down with him.

"What in Thor's name-?" Ryker ran out from his ship. He was ready to shout and yell at the morons he was given to work with for being so idiotic. His loud voice died deep in his throat when his eyes landed on the beast. He was certain Dagur had gone insane, far more insane than normal when he trusted an ex Dragon Rider to lead him to the rarest dragon besides the Night Fury.

Purple and grey scales glimmered in the sun. Sharp teeth nearly chomping one of his hunters in half for getting too close. Metallic spikes running down the dragon's back. Ryker gawked with a dropped jaw.

"It's the Skrill!" One of the hunters called out. "Chain him!" Some screamed. "Cage him!" Yelled another. But Dagur beat them all.

"No one touches MY Skrill!" He bellowed, running back over to 'his skrill.'

Instead of throwing the nets over the dragon, Ryker watched with a scowl as Dagur skidded to a stop in front of the beast. His eyebrows shot up with surprise as the Berserker pulled you off the Skrill's back. Maybe having a Dragon Rider on the team wasn't such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was, since you flopped over into Dagur's hold like a ragdoll. You didn't ride that dragon! You were simply stuck on its back.

"Come on, please." Dagur set you on the sand gently, keeping your head steady. The words stumbled past his lips before he could reign in his emotions. "I need you." His voice was barely a whisper but it still cracked with pain. He didn't want to lose you. He couldn't.

His hand rested on your chest, still desperate to find a sign of life. Yet again, the Skrill had a better idea and knocked Dagur backwards. Falling on his butt, Dagur wanted to kick the beast in the snout. He was trying to make sure you were alive! What did the dragon think it was doing?!

The sun blacked out as clouds began to accumulate above the docks. The back of the Skrill began to arch, the metal rods on his back starting to vibrate. Bright and blinding, sparking lightning burned in his mouth.

Dagur watched in horror as the Skrill roared. His eyes nearly shot out of his head when the Skrill let his head drop onto your chest. Sending a Thor's worthy amount of electricity right through your body.

Static cracked the air, loud enough to leave everyone's ears ringing. As soon as they appeared, the dark storm clouds dispersed and the Skrill stepped back. Bursts of lightning still danced on the beast, weaving between the tall stakes of metal on his back. He watched you, eyes narrowed, and the tip of his nose brushing up your legs.

A scream of pure rage began to bubble in Dagur's throat. His beast, his Skrill, had just killed you!? Sending a bolt through you and probably charing your body inside and out?! Like yak on a stick!?

The sand crunched in between his fists, arms twitching with restrained anger. His two favorite things combined, resulting in one of them dead. He was going to wear that Skrill's skull as a helmet!

The silent building tension between the hunters, Dagur, and the dragon was interrupted by a violent choke.

You sat up abruptly, gasping and choking on nothing. Your arms locked around your knees, still shivering from the ice you once laid on. Whether you were deep in shock, too literally shocked, or far too cold, you failed to realize that you were out of the cave.

It took Dagur three seconds before he was bolting to your side. He was trying to be gentle, but his desperation seemed to make his movements too rigid. You saw him from the corner of your eye, and in a blind panic, smacked the ever loving Odin out of him.

A gasp went around the surronding hunters as Dagur stood back, still facing the way you hit him with his cheek beginning redden. You blinked a couple of times before letting out a relieved cry and jumped up to hug him.

"By Thor, I thou- thought you ha- ad left m- me!" Your words were skewered by your clattering teeth. He felt far warmer in your hold than you remembered. Not that you were complaining, you simply dug yourself into him even further.

Dagur stood still for a few more moments, emerald eyes glaring at you through the corners. It was then you realized what you had just done. You let your hold on him slip as you stared up at him, trembling from the cold - and new-found fear.

Two steps back was all you made it before Dagur's thick arms caught around you. Pulling you into his chest, he squeezed you tight enough to practically crush you. With this confirmation, you wrapped your own arms around him and sighed shakily.

"I wouldn't have left you." His breath tickled your ear, beard scratching against your cheek as he spoke low enough so only you could hear. He pulled back, and set you in front of him with a firm grip on your shoulders. "Let's get you into warmer clothes, especially out of that armour." He declared with a flick to your bracers.

You glanced down at your outfit. Your arms seemed to only grow colder if you held them around your chestplate. Nodding, you fell into his side. He wrapped an arm over your shoulders and helped you move towards the boats.

A sharp poke hit you in the back, followed by a low growl. Turning around, you saw the beast you had been chasing all week.

"Is th- that the Sk- skrill?" Your eyes went wide as you stared back at the dragon. Dagur nodded.

"He likes you," He pinched your ear lightly, making you pull away slightly. He always loved your little reactions. "You were supposed to just free it, not bond with it." The red head stuck his lower lip out in a pout.

"I fr- reed it-z?" Your tongue stiffened on the last syllable, making it sound like a buzz. He laughed and patted your back, urging you to keep walking.

"Yup. He flew you out here." You looked around with new eyes, the earlier shock beginning to fade.

"We're outside?"

"ENOUGH-" You flinched at Dagur's outburst. He held his other hand out, and took a breath. "Enough questions. Just- back to the boat."

You nodded and accepted his unofficial apology by continuing to lean into him. He was so muscular, it felt like you were walking alongside a tree. A very intimidating, genuine, and passionate tree log. Dagur was far more handsome than a log, too.

Your hazy gaze stared up at him from under his arm. If he could tell you were staring, he didn't show it. He wore his usual smug smirk, a gentle squeeze around you, but nothing more.

"The Skrill comes with us." Dagur held out his hand to the oncoming hunters. They slowed to a stop, green axes and chains in their lowered hands. Sharing a confused look, they turned to Ryker, who finally got off from his post on his ship.

"What makes you think that, exactly?" Ryker asked, eyes falling behind you to the beast.

Dagur hemmed and hawed as he removed his arm from you, guiding you to rest on the Skrill for support. The dragon purred, rough and deep, as you rested your hand on his neck.

"Oh I don't know," Dagur tapped his chin, his other hand counting something on his fingers. "Maybe because, well," He chuckled. "I FOUND IT?!" He shouted in Ryker's face, green eyes bugging out of his head. His nostrils flaring in his face.

Ryker stared down at him with a bored brow. Dagur glared right back, breathing heavily. With a roll of his eyes, Ryker backed up with a raised hand. His men backed off as well.

Dagur turned back to you, nodding to the large boat. He hit Ryker's shoulder as you three passed. The Skrill bared his teeth at the lead Dragon Hunter, sensing the discomfort he was causing. Growl vibrating his throat as you patted the dragon, a gentle reminder that you were fine.

You followed Dagur to the ship with small steps. Your tremors made it hard to stay upright, and the Skrill could only help you so much. Dagur threw his head back with a sigh when he noticed the distance between you two.

He trotted back and pulled you into his side once again, keeping an arm around your shoulders. The Skrill walked along your other side, offering more support, if you needed it. Together, they helped you to the ship and into Dagur's quarters.

#dagur x reader #dagur rtte #dagur the deranged #the skrill #httyd rtte #dragons #httyd fanfiction #dagur fanfic #bruhwrites

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