#fic: until i'm nothing but bones in the ground

[d10nyx]

paint the town red

ft. pyramid head x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, snuff(i think it counts for written work idk), big size difference, stalking, murder, physical injury, heavy non-con, gore, blood, violence, p in v, monster fucking

a/n: i'm so nervous to post this idek why 😭😭 um it's very dd:dne so proceed with caution! i lost followers after the cannibalism fic lets see if it happens again lmao

word count: 1k words

You've been running for so long that your lungs burn. In the distance, the loud screeching of the metal of that creature’s weapon grating along the concrete is the only thing letting you know he’s still hot on your tail. There's a heavy thumping of footfalls as he follows you, seemingly aware of every move you make. No matter how fast you run, he always seems to be close by, never faltering in his chase.

The fog is endless. The air is thick and starved of oxygen, making it harder to breathe and worsening your fatigue as you try to escape. You should be thankful for the creature's noise, as you can barely see two feet in front of you. You'd been drawn to this town, and now it would not let you go. Not until you had paid your debts - it appeared the Executioner himself would be the one to claim the price.

One wrong turn was all it took. It was so easy to get turned around in the fog, and you find yourself growing uneasy as an eerie silence settles around you. You can feel his presence, even if you can no longer hear him. There's an unmistakable terror that rises within you when he's nearby, like your subconscious can sense him even when there's no sign of him. The heavy thuds of his footsteps stop, and your steps falter as you try and figure out where to go next.

You didn't get the chance to make that decision.

You hear the familiar screech of his blade dragging along the floor right behind you, but before you can run, a strong arm settles around your waist, dragging you back against the hulking figure. He doesn't speak as he grabs hold of you, but you can hear the heavy breaths coming from underneath his large, triangular helmet.

You try your best to fight your way out. No matter what you do, he doesn't flinch. His breathing doesn't change. There's not a single sign that you're even hurting the thing. You kick back against his legs, hard enough that if he was human, his knees would give out. You claw, scratch, punch…

Nothing works.

He drops his weapon, and you don't stop panicking. He's no less intimidating without it - his hulking figure is a looming presence over you, and you're sure that he could snap every bone in your body without even trying. You scream as loud as you can, your throat turning scratchy and your ears ringing at the sound.

It doesn't matter. Nobody's coming to help you, and the creature only gets more excited by your torment. When you feel the evidence of his excitement, your blood runs cold.

You can feel his hardening cock pressing against your back, and you know any attempt to fuck you would kill you. It was long, and probably thicker than your forearm. You beg for him to let you go, plead until your voice grows weak. It just watches with sick satisfaction, waiting for the moment you give up and go limp in his arms.

In one fluid motion, he's got you pinned to the floor. His hand is harsh against the back of your head, slamming you hard enough against the ground that your nose breaks, blood pouring out steadily. You scream in agony, and the thing behind you lets out a pleased grunt, reaching under his bloodied apron to free his cock.

It ignores you as you beg for him to stop - to just kill you. His large hand rips right through your jeans and panties, leaving just enough access for him to push inside of you. It grows increasingly frustrated as any attempts at entry fail, eventually deciding to stop playing ‘nice’ and just thrusting his hips forward as hard as he can, tearing right through you.

Your throat is raw from how much you're screaming, your fingers clawing helplessly at the concrete below you. Your thighs are coated in a wet substance, which you vaguely register must be your own blood.

You're sure you're going to pass out soon. The pain has your body going numb, your body growing slack underneath him as he begins to thrust. Your mind tries to go somewhere else, but it's impossible to ignore the intrusion. Your stomach bulges grotesquely, the outline of the monster's cock visible even as he pulls back before slamming back in.

Your pulse weakens as he forces himself further inside, thrusting as deep as he can manage. You're barely conscious, bleeding and drooling all over the concrete beneath you. His thrusts falter slightly, and you feel a flicker of hope that this would all finally end.

Hope that is quickly ripped from you as soon as he grips your neck from behind, his hand squeezing your throat and cutting off all your oxygen. Good things don't survive in Silent Hill, and you should have known your brief respite wouldn't last. You raise your hands to try and pry him away from you, but it's no use. He's too strong, and you're too weak, only seconds away from passing out.

His thrusts resume, knocking you forward jnti his vice-like grip on your throat. You hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to your family. No one would know where to look for you - you'd just become another body lost to the horrors of this town.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to take in breaths. Your body consorts unnaturally as he starts to tug you back into his thrusts, a sickening crunch echoing in the air before he drops you back to the ground, your lifeless body thudding against the concrete.

The pain finally stops, the release of death smothering you like a warm blanket. The Executioner peels away from you, your blood joining the other victims’ on his apron. His punishment has been delivered, and he returns to stalking the town of Silent Hill, his knife dragging along the floor with that sickening sound echoing through the fog.

#dead dove do not eat #dark content #pyramid head #pyramid head smut #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head x you #red pyramid thing #silent hill smut

[persphonesorchid]

Auburn Skies - MYG

Summary:  Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she's off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There's no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time's passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he's still a little hopeful. Now you're here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi. 

Namjoon's gonna kill him.

Genre: 18+, fluff, angst, humor.

Word count: 12k

Warning(s): 18+, smut, oral (m+f receiving) unprotected sex, porn is mentioned. Yoongi and Y/n are BOTH stupid and they need help. Taehyung's trying his best, Seokjin is also trying his best but subtler. Yoongi's convinced that Namjoon's out to get him at every turn. Slight jealousy. Y/n and Yoongi have no idea how to actually hold a conversation like adults, until they do.

Notes: My addition to the Autumn Leaves Collab, hosted by the beautiful @bangtansmauyeondan !! I had so much fun working on this, and I met so many beautiful people that I'm so grateful for, so happy to call my friends 🥺 I love y'all! Please check out the other authors' fics on the Collab Masterlist! Everyone worked so hard, give my girls some love! Shout out to @blog-name-idk and @xpeachesncream for being absolute aNGELS, beta reading and helping me out when I panicked over this lol, and @madbutgloriouspond for helping me brainstorm. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please leave feedback, I'm nothing but a poor soul seeking validation (and motivation!) to keep going.

If you like my content, please, consider donating if you're able - Here

"You're staring." Seokjin nudges Yoongi's arm with his, snapping him out of his daze. He catches Seokjin's smirk, and there's a twinkle in his eye that promises nothing good. Yoongi pulls his eyes away from your form, sitting in a chair on the dock away from everyone else with a book in your hand. You're bundled up in a thick sweater and cozy sweatpants, completely lost in your book.

"Was not." Yoongi feels the need to deny it, distracting himself with cutting up onions, focusing on the way the blade of the knife cuts through the vegetable and definitely not the way Seokjin was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"Sure. I believe you."

Somewhere inside, there is music playing. A Lo-Fi beat that plays softly under the sound of rain. It's kind of sad, if Yoongi is being honest, but he supposes that autumn is a sad season. Nothing but changes all around. The leaves change colours, mixing like paint on an easel in the hands of a melancholy artist drowning in his own solitude. They shift and the vibrancy of summer fades until they die, falling off their homes to go drifting in the wind, or land on the ground to become everyone's problem.

He doesn't really like autumn, when winter is right around the corner and he can feel the cold seeping into his bones no matter how many layers he wears. Always leaving his cheeks and his nose red, and his fingers hurting when the chill gets to them.

You enjoy it though, even reminded him when he picked up you and Namjoon this morning. You were kicking at the pile of leaves in front of Namjoon's apartment complex like a kid, laughing like you didn't have a worry in the world. You greeted him like you hadn't seen him in years, running up to him with Namjoon's scarf wrapped awkwardly around your neck like you were in a rush.

Namjoon is currently skipping stones with Jungkook near the lake's edge, and Yoongi can see he's halfway to giving up because Jungkook is on his competitive streak again.

Namjoon is one of his closest friends. He met him in college when they were both fresh out of highschool and riding on shotgun dreams of being more than what they are. He remembers meeting you during spring break of his junior year, and you were blabbering about getting accepted into the same college as Namjoon; determined to follow your brother to the end of time.

The only word to describe your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. He'd only ever heard of you, with Namjoon going off about you whenever Yoongi lent his ear. His baby sister who was doing so well in school, his baby sister, who to Namjoon, practically hung the moon in the sky. Now, Yoongi thinks he's naturally awkward when meeting new people, he can't help it. Getting to know someone is hard no matter how much you hear about them, even though you've got a pretty good impression just by word of mouth. There were shy 'hi's' and the most soul crushing 'See you later's' when there's little to no chance of ever seeing that person again. Sweaty, nervous hands meeting in shakes and straight lipped smiles.

Now, Yoongi was sure he wasn't too bad at it. And you were good, smiling brightly, not looking as awkward as he felt. What was awkward was the way Namjoon had excused himself to his parent's kitchen, pretending to get a glass of water. Yoongi had followed him with his eyes, because why was he leaving him standing in front of his sister alone?

Yoongi still remembers the chill that went down his spine that morning, as Namjoon watched him dead in the eyes over your head. A look Yoongi had never once received from him before, one that simply said: "If you think anything about my sister that isn't innocent; you will die."

As a best friend, Yoongi respected that. As a man, Yoongi valued his life. He wouldn't dare. It's the code, do not, under any circumstances, think about your best friend's sister romantically or less. You were off limits from the day Namjoon showed Yoongi that picture of you.

Off limits.

Yoongi heard that loud and clear and Namjoon hadn't said a word that day.

You were off limits, still, when you'd called him at ass o'clock in the morning - not Namjoon, your brother who trusted with everything - about some smarmy asshole who thought it was funny to break your heart. When he picked you up outside a bar where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend of a year, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, crying and slightly drunk.

Looking beautiful even when you had stumbled your way to his car, asking what did you do to deserve getting cheated on. He didn't answer you then, he had too much to say and it wasn't the time, not when you were drunk and wouldn't remember a thing when the sun came up. So he cranked up the heat in his car, and white knuckled the steering wheel the whole drive to his apartment, because yours was too far and it was late.

Off the whole damn table, when you'd kissed him on the mouth, still drunk, still crying and clinging onto him in his living room. He pushed you gently away, even as he licked his lips to chase the taste of you. Keeping the distance between you both wide as he watched you shatter like glass in his hold. You apologized through your sobs, and Yoongi's own heart broke as he tried and failed to pick up the pieces of yours scattered at your feet.

You asked him not to tell Namjoon, and Yoongi never said a damn word. You slept in his bed that night, in his clothes that were way too big for you, and left the next day like nothing happened.

You're still off limits now, even as you've grown up and are going into your senior year. Now that Yoongi finished college and had a job like a responsible adult, now his biggest worry is the price of bread climbing up and whatever the hell was on the news.

"Namjoon, we agreed that you weren't gonna come within 10ft of this space."

Yoongi looks up to find Namjoon wandering aimlessly towards them, holding a bowl of something in his hand. He stops dead in his tracks though, frowning, "I'm not that clumsy."

Yoongi and Seokjin share a look, before raising an eyebrow each at Namjoon. He sighs, lifting the bowl in his hand, "Hobi told me to tell you that Jungkook told him..."

"For Christ's sake..." Seokjin sighs, "Just get over here."

Namjoon grins like a kid, hobbling over to place the bowl next to Yoongi's busy hands. The bowl filled with slices of pork belly that Yoongi forgot he told Namjoon to fetch for him a long while ago. Too distracted to ask about it when he was skipping stones with Jungkook, he didn't even notice when he'd moved to get it.

He wonders what else he missed, lost in his own thoughts, and his eyes dart around to catch sight of you. Of course, you were no longer in the spot you'd claimed, now standing next to Jungkook. Both of you are laughing at Jimin, who was struggling to reach a branch of a tree that Jungkook could easily reach without stretching. You attempt it, jumping to reach, but you just don't make it and it's Jimin's turn to laugh, all crescent eyes and round cheeks.

At least someone's having fun.

Seokjin was mumbling something as he pokes at the coals in the grill, and Yoongi avoids looking at Namjoon because he realised he's staring again. He's awfully quiet, and Yoongi isn't sure if it's because of him, and he really doesn't want to risk his life here.

"'Autumn is the season that teaches us that change can be beautiful.'" Namjoon says, and Yoongi finds that he wasn't even looking his way. Instead, he was watching the lake with an odd look in his eyes, distant, like if he was thinking about something too hard and struggling to grasp it. At the same time though, he looked like he knew exactly what he was talking about; smiling to himself. He pats Yoongi cryptically on the back - a little forcefully - catching him off guard, and says nothing more as he walks away.

"We all know what it means when Joon starts quoting." Seokjin snickers, "You're so screwed."

Yoongi hums, and Seokjin gives him a knowing look, a look that says way more than what Yoongi is comfortable with, and he wonders, briefly, if he was being obvious, or if Seokjin was more observant than he gave him credit for.

"I hope the weather holds up." Seokjin mumbles, head tilted up and leaning slightly forward over the table to see past the awning above, he watches the sky with a small frown, "Said it was gonna rain sometime today."

Yoongi is grateful for the subject change, dumping the seasoning he chopped up into a bowl. He glances at the lake, at the reflection of the clouds on the water, they look a little gray with the promise of rain. He doesn't mind the rain, though, if it does, Taehyung's plan of sitting around the fire with marshmallows on a wire would be completely dashed.

Yoongi's not sure he could deal with the kid pouting all night because of it, and he hoped that the weather held up, too.

When lunch was ready, it was a little after two pm. The picnic table was clear of leaves that were raked to the side and into piles to deal with later. Hoseok finally crawled out of the bunk room, hair sticking up in odd angles and eyes sleepy still as he helped set the table with you and Jimin.

Yoongi walks over to the table with the small cooler he'd brought with him, packed full with ice and cans of beer, because what's lunch without it?

Seokjin walks behind, still prattling on about the weather, hoping for a little sunshine later on so he could get in the rowboat and swing his fishing rod around. He may have asked Yoongi if he wanted to come with him, but Yoongi was once again distracted; your soft laugh tunnelling his focus.

He sighs, internally, because God forbid anyone hears and starts asking invasive questions. Taehyung, of course, was clinging to you, not letting you move two spaces out of his orbit. Which of course, wasn't strange, Taehyung was just clingy that way; always stuck to someone like a kitten that hasn't yet learned to regulate its temperature.

The sight of it though, makes Yoongi's chest ache in a way that wasn't unfamiliar to him. The kind of ache that squeezes tight and knocks the air out of him, the ache he felt that night in his apartment living room when you kissed him. Thinking about it now makes the ache worse, because Yoongi knows what that kiss was, he knows what it meant and exactly where it came from. You were reeling that night, fresh out of a relationship that ended in a way you never saw coming, and that's where it came from. You were drunk, hurting, and attached yourself emotionally to the first person to treat you nicely.

It just happened to be Yoongi at the time.

He hates to think about it that way, as though it meant nothing when he wanted it to mean something. Yoongi likes to take things the way they came, there's nothing more than what it was, nothing to decipher or to sit and mull over. Not like he did that night, sitting up late on his couch, long after you'd passed out, then beating himself up about the whole thing because he was this close to laying his heart out at that moment.

He's glad he didn't. When you left the morning after, he wasn't even awake, woke up to his empty bed and quiet apartment. No note, no text - not that you owed him anything - so he left it as it was; unspoken.

He passes everyone a beer, avoiding your gaze when your hand brushes his, ignoring the soft smile on your lips that brightens your eyes and makes his chest hurt. He moves around the table and takes his seat in between Seokjin and Hoseok. He's sitting directly across from you, and to his rotten luck, Namjoon sits to your left, which puts Yoongi within his direct line of sight. He wonders if he'll be able to keep his eyes to himself, not get caught staring at you, even if your brother wasn't even paying him mind. Yoongi is cautious, still.

The chatter that fills the air is gentle, with laughs and catching up with each other. It was hard to find the time to do things like this, everyone was busy with their own schedules; the younger ones had school, the rest of them had work. Shit always get in the way.

Yoongi eyes Taehyung, who sits to your right and was poking at your arm more than he was eating. He had half a mind to tell Taehyung to quit it, the little devil on his shoulder telling him that he should; poking at his cheek and pointing. It isn't his place, though.

There's a twinkle in Taehyung's eye when their eyes meet, something mischievous that Yoongi would normally see from him when he was up to something. He turns slightly to you, whispering something to you with a hand covering the movement of his lips.

Yoongi's curious, he wonders what he's saying that makes your cheeks flush a pretty shade. Wonders what it is, when your eyes meet his for a second and you swat at Taehyung's hand. The younger man was clearly pleased with himself, smiling eyes meeting Yoongi's for a second too long, and Yoongi busies himself with stuffing his mouth with food.

"Think the water's cold?" Jungkook was looking out at the lake, doe eyes curious, his tongue absently fiddling with the ring in his lip.

"It's still early in the season..." Jimin answers, piling a spoonful of rice onto his plate, following Jungkook's gaze a moment after. "Wouldn't risk it though."

"I mean, you can if you want." Yoongi shrugs, "Just don't complain when you catch a cold."

Jungkook pouts, leaning his weight against Hoseok with a groan. Everyone knows Jungkook well enough to know that's exactly what he'd do, and then abuse his position as the youngest for the rest of their stay at the lake house.

The table was silent for a while, everyone occupied with stuffing their faces with the food, interrupted when Namjoon laughed at something Jimin said and choked on the rice in his mouth and is now nursing a bottle of water.

Yoongi missed this, just hanging out with his friends like they were back in college sneaking beer into the dorms and laughing over their drunken rambles. Just being.

Once lunch was over, they cleared the table of the bowls and plates, carrying everything inside to be washed up.

"I'll do the dishes," Hoseok says, balancing the large pot with plates and eating utensils in his hands.

"I'll do them, Hobi." Yoongi takes the pot from Hoseok's lax fingers, not giving him room to complain before he takes everything to the kitchen.

Yoongi misses the way Taehyung pokes your side, he did hear the smack of you hitting the offending limb, though. "I'll help you."

Yoongi feels his shoulders tense, and he tries to ignore it, setting the pot into the sink, while the boys place the other dirty dishes. He watches you for a moment, as you busy yourself packing away the seasoning and packets of spices back into their rightful places. He starts on the dishes, hyper aware of your presence somewhere behind him, but tries his best to keep it as far from the front of his mind as he could.

At some point, you switch places, and Yoongi takes up the task of drying the bowls and plates, packing them where they're supposed to be. He doesn't question it, just grateful to have something to do with his hands, mindful, to keep his head empty, because if his mind strays just a bit, he'll be thinking of things he really shouldn't. Off limit things. Like how he wished he'd just suck it up and kissed you back that night instead of pushing you away like he did. But, that would've been wrong of him, no? It wasn't the time and you weren't in the right frame of mind.

Yoongi skirts by you, packing the bowls back into the cupboard. This is awkward, maybe he should have let Hoseok do it when he said he would.

"Can I ask you something?" You suddenly ask, and Yoongi almost drops the bowl he's holding, not expecting you to speak because you've been so quiet. He glances over to the living room, where Namjoon and Jin are starting up a game of Mario Kart before he turns to look at you. Why does he always do that? It feels as though he's sneaking around for no reason whatsoever, always looking to make sure that Namjoon isn't looking at him.

"Uh, sure?" God, is it just him that's awkward? You look perfectly fine, elbow deep in soap water, scrubbing away at something in the sink, a small smile on your lips. Yoongi wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, bringing them back up to stuff them into the pockets of his sweater. Play it cool, Min. "What's up?"

You turn your head, looking at him, and he swallows. The sink slowly drains, making that odd sucking noise as the water goes down and you look like you're struggling to grasp your words. There's a cute furrow between your brows, and Yoongi doesn't miss the way you bite your lip and look everywhere but at him.

Jin swears at Namjoon in rapid fire, in that way he does when he's got too much to say and not enough breath. Yoongi could see his arms flying up and swatting at Namjoon's shoulder, yelling about the blue shell he threw.

You take a breath, eyes settling somewhere above his head, clearly trying to block out Jin's racket, "Well...um..." You glance at him and look away, and Yoongi's just a little hopeful.

You look nervous, for once, wringing the life out of the dish towel in your hand as you press your lips together. There's a crease at your brow and Yoongi wonders what's bugging you. There were times when you'd freely spill your thoughts, up with him all ungodly hours just talking because that's what brother's best friends do, right? Offer comfort and a space to vent that isn't in the viewpoint of your sibling? He wonders what changed.

He knows though. It was that night, after that, things have been tense between you both, Yoongi just wishes it'd stop. He misses you texting him to tell him how your day went, or you constantly reminding him that he's way cooler than your older brother. He watches you now, if just to see you get even more flustered, even though he didn't know why.

Hope is an evil, never necessarily a good thing, if all it does is make you believe that something would work even though there's a slim chance that it actually would. Yoongi hates that he's hopeful right now. Hates that he's hoping that the flush of your cheeks and your nervous fidgeting has something to do with him, he hates that he wished you'd just spit it out already and stop his mind from coming up with all these things.

"Okay." You sigh, nodding more to yourself in a self-assured kind of way. Your eyes find his, briefly, before darting away, "Okay, so, I wanted to-"

"Hey, Y/n. Wanna play a round of Mario Kart with me?" Taehyung asks, walking into the kitchen with a smile, eyes filtering between you and Yoongi before they settle on you again. He pauses when you snap your mouth shut, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly look at him. You and Taehyung share a look that Yoongi's not too certain he wants to know what's about; the silence between you three is too loud.

"What?" the younger man asks, "Did I interrupt something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Yoongi stares at Taehyung, trying his hardest not to glare at him, because what you wanted to say was clearly important. You were staring at him, Yoongi could feel it, but he's giving you an opening to say what you need to.

"No, Tae, you didn't. I'll play." You smile a little forcefully, finally giving the dishcloth a break and laying it down on the island counter. "I'll tell you later?" You tilt your head at Yoongi and he can only nod, hopeful again, that you really would and not find an easy out.

"Okay."

"Tae, can't we do this later or something?" You frown, speaking lowly as he wraps his arm with yours and drags you away, "I was actually really close this time."

"Yeah, no. You looked like you needed saving. So you're welcome." Taehyung shakes his head, curls swaying, "One day, little butterfly, you'll be free to spill your feelings." He sits you down on the couch next to Namjoon, who thankfully, has his earphones in his ears. Jin had already wandered off to do God knows after his defeat, leaving your brother to fiddle mindlessly with his phone.

You can hear Yoongi moving around in the kitchen, probably still packing away the dishes. Taehyung plops next to you, throwing his legs over yours and almost knocking Namjoon's phone out his hands. He starts up the game after passing you a remote, smiling at you, "He'll probably come over here to watch the game, so I'll lose and he could play against you, yeah?"

"Tae..." You groan, tilting your head back, and he pats your arm in a friendly manner, though a little firm in his delivery.

"If you don't tell him now that's fine..." He points at Namjoon with a tilt of his chin, trying to remind you of your brother's presence without being obvious. "But at least you could spend time with him. Never know what could happen." He wiggles his eyebrows.

Evidently, Taehyung's the only person who knows about that night with Yoongi. He was the one who picked you up from his apartment after all, firing question after question and not giving you room to breathe. Though he was a tad upset that he wasn't your first call when you were stranded, he understood why you'd called Yoongi. At the same time, he gave you an earful about just leaving the man hanging after you kissed him. Something you shouldn't have done in that moment, lord knows what Yoongi thinks of you now.

You've tried and failed so many times to tell Yoongi that you weren't as drunk as you seemed that night three months ago, you knew what you were doing. You were hurt, yes, but it was more out of realisation. Your relationship with your ex had been rocky at best, you'd given into his advances to hopefully put your crush on Yoongi behind you. It was easy at first, to have someone to put your focus on and give yourself to rather than to waste it on someone who didn't see you the way you saw him.

Yoongi has always seen you as his best friend's sister, nothing more. And you'd kissed him that night hoping that even for a second he'd realise, but he pushed you away and you knew there was no use hoping.

Even now, embarrassment still burns at your chest when you think about it, because what were you thinking? You'd left without saying anything to him because you were positively mortified. There were hundreds of unfinished texts that started and ended the same, with you contemplating if you should tell him or not.

More often than not, a tipsy night would find you huddled under your sheets with your finger hovering over Yoongi's contact.

It was more likely that he still saw you as the fresh out of highschool kid who followed him and your brother everywhere.

You groan loudly at your own thoughts, and Taehyung turns his head, looking between you and the TV screen, "Uh....You can play Toad if you want.."

"Huh?" The choose your character screen is up, idle, waiting for you to move your joystick around. Taehyung's already picked, "No, it's not that. I don't even like Toad, you can play him."

"That's the rudest thing that's ever come out of your mouth." Taehyung pokes your side with a finger, "What's on your mind?"

"Everything." You sigh, scrolling around to pick a random character. Don't get it wrong, you love Mario Kart as much as the next guy, but right now your mind was far, far away from this moment and the game.

Taehyung pats your thigh, "Maybe losing will help." He snickers, just as the game starts up.

"Oh, you're on." You're not gonna lose, no matter how confident Taehyung is, no one could beat you at Mario Kart.

"Cheater! TaehYUNG. Joon tell Tae to stop do- You're cheating!"

"It's literally impossible to cheat at this game!"

Yoongi leans back against the island counter, content to watch you crash and burn as Taehyung wins yet another race. His victory laugh is deep, almost unheard under the sound of your indignant screeching. The rest of the boys gathered to see what you were yelling about, finding the sight of your losing streak more than entertaining.

Yoongi had paused only for a moment, making a light snack that everyone could enjoy if they wanted to, though, it was only an excuse to make your favourite. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the couch, he can't see your expression, but he doesn't doubt that you're pouting with the cute furrow of your brows that comes with your concentration.

"Namjoon." You whine to your brother, though Namjoon's hands fly up into the air, phone and all.

"Nope, leave me out of this."

"But he's cheating!"

"I'm not! You just suck."

Yoongi picks up the tray of Hotteok as soon as everyone calms down, carrying it over to the group. He rests the tray down on the coffee table, careful to move quickly so he doesn't block the screen for too long.

"Oh! Sweet! Thanks Yoongi." Namjoon is the first to move, leaning forward to grab one.

"Wait, Joon. They're ho-" Yoongi snaps his mouth shut as Namjoon has already picked it up. He promptly drops it, pulling air through his teeth before blowing on his fingertips.

"Ow." Namjoon pouts at his fingers, rubbing them against the material of his grey sweats.

Yoongi sighs, "Be careful, would you?" He focuses on the TV screen, you're directly behind Taehyung, throwing a blue shell that sends him skidding off the road just in time for you to cross the finish line.

"Ha!" You push at Taehyung's shoulder in your excitement, sending him against Namjoon, who drops his Hotteok on the floor.

Namjoon stares forlornly at the pancake for a quiet moment, while you do a victory wiggle in your place, his misfortune ignored.

"Well there you go, who wants to play?" Taehyung asks, glancing around the room. Jungkook waves his arm, getting up from his space on the floor by Hoseok's legs to totter over. "Yoongi! Nice of you to volunteer."

"What? I didn't...?" Yoongi stares at Taehyung like he's sprouted a second head.

Taehyung ignores him.

"Hey I wanted to play..." Jungkook whines, Taehyung ignores him, too.

"Guys, let's go take a nap in the bunk room." He stretches his long legs over Namjoon's, pulling him up by the arms and shares a look with Jungkook who was likely, as confused as everyone else.

"I'm not tired, though. I napped when I got here." Hoseok pipes up, pressing his lips together when Jimin not so subtly nudges his side with an elbow.

"Let's go take a nap." Taehyung repeats, eyes narrowing slightly at Hoseok. He relents under Taehyung's gaze, sighing as he stands and drags Jimin and a complaining Jungkook.

Taehyung smiles brightly, dropping his hands heavily on Yoongi's shoulders. Yoongi doesn't know what the kid's playing at, but allows him to direct him to sit next to you.

Yoongi shares a look with Seokjin, who shrugs and stands to leave too, linking his arm with Namjoon, "I found a book I think you'd like Joon. But we have to look for it, it's lost in my bedroom somewhere..."

"Oh...Kay? Sure."

Their voices trail off as they head up the stairs, and Taehyung waves as he backs out of the living room, with a sweet - suspicious - boxy smile."Have fun you two!"

"Okay what the hell." Yoongi mutters, turning his head to look at you. You didn't look his way, staring dead ahead at the TV, fingers tapping lightly at the control.

He hears you take a breath, "Wanna play Toad?"

"Uh...sure."

A few minutes go by before Yoongi could finally relax, getting comfortable on the couch focusing on the game and not the fact that you're less than a metre away from him. You're nibbling on a piece of hotteok, a little too quiet for Yoongi's liking. He was expecting you to be yelling because he's way ahead of you.

"So...can I ask you a question?" Yoongi keeps his eyes on the screen as he asks, afraid to look at you because he might slip up or stop all together. He could already hear the little voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. "I just wanna ask about...what you wanted to tell me in the kitchen?"

Yoongi doesn't normally pry, people's business are theirs and not his. But curiosity is driving him up a wall and he just needs to know. Maybe he was being foolishly hopeful again, thinking that whatever it was had something to do with him. That's why you hadn't said anything when Taehyung interrupted, right?

Yoongi wonders what Taehyung's deal was, first he was being too clingy with you - not that it's any of his business - and now he's acting so painfully obvious; trying to get you both in a room alone. It didn't go over Yoongi's head, as not a lot of things do.

He purposely lets you win the race, though, your victory was unsounded as you set the controller aside. "Right... kitchen..."

"You know you could tell me anything, right?" Yoongi says softly, fingers just wanting to reach for yours, if just to offer comfort. He tucks them against his palm though, and into the pouch of his sweater for an extra precaution.

"Yeah I know," You smile faintly, "like old times right?"

"Yeah exactly, and I won't judge, you know that. So whatever it is, just say it."

Maybe his words were a bit harsh? You stiffen a bit in place, sighing through your nose before you turn to look at him. The determination from earlier is back in your eyes again, and Yoongi finds it impossible to hold your gaze, and he's the first to look away this time. Keep it together, will you?

He feels heat climbing his neck, racing to each of his cheeks and he hopes to god you just think he's going pink because it's cold in here. Seokjin really needs to get that crappy heater fixed so Yoongi can blame something if you ask about it.

"Okay so remember the time when you-"

"You two are being awfully quiet." Seokjin pokes his head into the room, staring at you both, but not too long, before his eyes find the tv screen. "Oh, Yoongi, did you win?"

"No..." Yoongi sighs, watching as you shut him out once more.

"Really? It was so quiet..."

You make an offended sound in the back of your throat, straightening a bit to glare at Seokjin.

"Yoongi, can you help me with the firepit?"

Yoongi follows Seokjin outside along the wrap-around porch, the sun was halfway in its descent, painting the sky in a flurry of soft colours. The lake glistens with amber crystals, catching the sun's sleepy gaze as it drifts slowly off behind the hills; almost out of sight.

The sunken fire pit was in the backyard, something Yoongi helped Seokjin install last year. He's quite proud of it really, he did most of the heavy lifting while Seokjin stood around telling him how and where he wanted things like a glorified dictator.

As Seokjin gathers the firewood and steps down the three steps to throw the logs into the firepit, Yoongi realises that he didn't actually need any help.

"Watching you try to talk to Y/n is so painful. Like that time I broke my arm but worse."

"I actually wasn't doing the talking." Yoongi grumbles, enjoying the satisfying crunch of gravel under his sandals as he walks over to the cushioned semi circle bench and sits to watch Seokjin do all the work. "You have terrible timing."

Seokjin scoffs, shaking his head, "It's a wonder Namjoon hasn't figured it out yet...you're so obvious."

Yoongi feels like Seokjin just isn't listening to him, continuing his mission of getting the fire going; his words completely ignored.

"Joon is oblivious sometimes."

"You are too."

"Here, this one's longer."

Yoongi watches as Seokjin trades wires with Jungkook, patting him on the shoulder as the younger man happily sticks his marshmallow on the end of his wire. As usual when they're all together, there's laughter in the air, and the lightness Yoongi feels in his chest is something he misses when he's alone.

He watches the moon rise behind the trees, full and glowing brightly in the cloudless sky. The fire was warm, the burning wood crackling softly, sending little glowing sparks up into the air. Everyone had their own bag of marshmallows for toasting, with chocolate and biscuits for s'mores.

"This is nice," Hoseok comments, smacking Jimin's hand away from the smores he was setting up, tucking them into the corner of a small bowl he brought. Jimin gets one anyway; sneaking it away while Hoseok wasn't looking.

"Yeah, we haven't done this in forever." Namjoon sticks the wire with his marshmallow a little too close to the fire.

"It's gonna burn if you do it like that." Yoongi reaches over and raises Namjoon's hand higher.

"When it's burnt it's the best, though."

"Are you a sadist?" Taehyung frowns at Jungkook, "it's better when it's just a little toasty."

"It won't melt inside if you play kiss and tell with the fire. You gotta burn it." Jungkook's marshmallow was just on the edge of charred and Yoongi watches with mild disgust as he smushes the thing between pieces of chocolate and unsweetened biscuits. He shoves the entire thing in his mouth and closes his eyes, moaning around the treat like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

"Um? There's no way you're enjoying that." Hoseok didn't try to hide how he felt about it, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook. "Stop moaning like that!"

"I wasn't moaning!"

"Yes you were!"

Yoongi shakes his head, turning to look at you, who sat next to him, eating out of your own bag of marshmallows. The wire Seokjin had given you is still in your lap, untouched.

"Want me to make one for you?" He asks softly, already sticking a marshmallow on his wire. He hangs it over the fire and twirls it so it gets nice and brown, "Do you want it with the cookies?"

"Yeah, thanks." You smile sweetly at him, and Yoongi feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Once he's finished assembling the s'more, he hands it over to you. You take a bite out of it, and Yoongi struggles to breathe the very next second at the sound you make, turning his head swiftly to stare into the fire as though it would save him.

"Dude, Y/n. That's gotta be the best s'more ever created." Taehyung says, snickering from across the firepit, "Yoongi make me one, too!"

"You can make it yourself." Yoongi's cheeks flush, passing you a bottle of water when you choke.

"I wanna make happy noises, too."

When the fire in the pit smolders and the embers of the wood burn orange, everyone is ready to call it a night. The younger ones escape to the second floor bunk room first, Seokjin and Hoseok right behind them.

Hoseok is trying to convince Seokjin to flip a coin for the master bedroom while they go up the stairs.

"Owner's rights, Hobi."

"You have any idea what it's like to share a bathroom with those three? Have a heart!"

Their voices fade, and Yoongi is left standing in the entryway with you and Namjoon, feeling awkward and not quite sure what he should do with his hands. So he shoves them in the pockets of his sweatpants, and drags his feet towards the kitchen, suddenly thirsty.

You and Namjoon are talking in hushed tones, too quiet for him to hear, but he pays it no mind, it isn't his business, really.

You come in a second later, moving to the fridge just as Yoongi moves past you, and he's a little curious, a little worried, because you look a bit upset. There's a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth as you crack open a bottle of water.

"Everything okay?" Yoongi asks softly, fingers just itching to reach out for you, but he holds his own bottled water a little tighter instead.

"Yeah...Joon is just..." You shake your head, "Are you staying up to watch the movie with us?"

Your change of subject didn't surprise Yoongi, you've been doing that a lot today. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug, "I might...do you want me to?"

Yoongi would give you anything you ask for right now, hell, he'd find a way to pull the moon from the sky if you asked it of him.

"Huh?" Your eyes seems panicked for a second as they dart away to stare off elsewhere. "If you want to, it's up to you really."

"Then I'll watch." He gives an easy smile, "Are you sure you're okay?" He steps closer, a hand meeting your cheek gently, unintentionally and without Yoongi's consent. Simply out of his need to offer you comfort when he can, and maybe it's his wishful thinking, maybe it's that stupid thing called hope again; Yoongi swears you lean into his touch. Your skin is warm, like cooling tea on a winter's morning.

"I'm fine," You're staring at his lips as you say this, and Yoongi's heart skips before it gallops, threatening to burst from his chest. Maybe he's imagining it, but you move a step closer, and he does too, leaning down a bit to meet your height, "I just wanted to.."

Just another inch, if he moves just an inch closer. You're so close now that your exhales mingles with his in the space between you both, he could feel the chill seeping off the bottled water you hold, pressed against his stomach where your hands linger.

Yoongi decides he's not going to be awkward right now, he's going to be brave and just do this. He's going to kiss you and pour everything he feels into it, and hope - prays - that you feel it too.

"Ahem."

You and Yoongi both spring apart like teenagers caught doing something they shouldn't. Yoongi's cheeks are heating up too quickly for him to stop it, and yours are too, and he doesn't want to turn around because he knows who's behind him.

Think fast, Yoongi. Think.

"I hope your eye feels better. You should kiss - rinse! Rinse with warm water. 'Cause you know...germs...could uh.... get in there.... "

Really? Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, already anticipating his death when he turns to face the grim reaper behind him.

Namjoon stands in the kitchen doorway, eyebrow raised, doing that thing he does with his jaw. Yoongi feels a little faint, looking at the ugly painting Taehyung convinced Seokjin to buy and hang up in the living room over his head.

"Y/n had something in her eye and I was just checking." He looks back at you and you look just as confused as he's feeling, smiling though, as if his misery is funny to you. "R-remember. Warm water, okay?"

With that he leaves, not looking at Namjoon, who's gaze he could feel at the back of his head.

"Joon, are you serious?" Your voice was a harsh whisper, a little loud in the silence of the kitchen.

Yoongi walks away, hands in his pockets, not catching Namjoon's reply as he makes his escape. What the fuck was that?

"Let's watch The Conjuring."

"Fuck that." Hoseok puts his palms up, "Unless you're willing to cuddle me to sleep, we're not watching that movie."

A chorus of groans fills the room, "For the love of God, just pick something already. Not you, Jungkook."

"It's not my fault Hobi's a coward."

Hoseok's reaches over Seokjin to smack the back of Jungkook's head, who immediately retaliates by hitting Seokjin instead. The three of them trade playful smacks for a moment, while Taehyung and Jimin argue about which movie would be best to watch.

"Okay let's just all pick something." You say, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers, "Rock, paper, scissors, whoever wins; we'll watch."

Terrible idea really, everyone knows Jungkook is going to win.

Yoongi opts out, not really caring what goes up on the screen. He's sitting with his hands under his thighs, trying to keep them warm but at the same time, keeping them from doing something stupid. You're right next to him on the couch, he's once again hyper aware of your closeness, the way your arm would brush his every time you moved, the scent of your shampoo, soft and fruit scented.

He focuses on the way a single tear slips from Hoseok's eye, the way he tries to make himself as small as possible on the other couch next to Seokjin with a white knuckled grip on the latter's sweater. Jungkook triumphs in his endeavour of beating everyone who played against him, laughing, carefree and malicious as he pulls up The Conjuring.

Hoseok keeps his head tucked behind Seokjin's shoulder for most of the movie, clinging to him and jumping at every loud sound from the TV; poor guy's going through it.

Yoongi is just barely watching, staring at the screen, but not really following along - he has no idea what's going on. Mind too distracted with the fact that you chose to sit next to him and not next to anyone else. He's still reeling from the incident in the kitchen, glancing at Namjoon who was stuffing his face with popcorn, form outlined in the glow of the tv.

He could feel the warmth of your thigh through his sweatpants, and every little movement you'd make at the jumpscares and the loud sounds.

Hoseok dips halfway through, going up the darkened upstairs hallway with his phone torch on. Jungkook had the audacity to fall asleep, drooling on Seokjin's shoulder and mumbling unintelligible words; unbothered.

"I'm going to bed." Yoongi says to you, not really sleepy, but not interested in the movie enough to stay and watch. You grab at his hand and he pauses, "What?"

"You're leaving me here to suffer?"

"You're a big girl, you can take it." He shrugs, patting your hand before getting up. "Night guys."

Yoongi lays quietly in his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a frown, unable to sleep. He turns his head, looking at the clock that blinks sleepily back at him and sighs, it's getting later into the night and sleep continues to evade him.

The house seemed to have quieted, the sound of Jimin and Taehyung arguing about who gets to use the upstairs bathroom first stopped a while ago, though, the stillness only allowed Yoongi's mind to wander off. He wonders if you're sleeping yet, he knows you have trouble sometimes, a common curse you both share.

He wonders about what you and Namjoon argued about, if it had anything to do with him. God he hopes not. The last thing he wants is for you and your brother to fall out because of him.

There's a soft knock on his door, quiet enough that he almost misses it. Just almost.

Yoongi gets out of bed, dragging his feet to the door. He isn't completely shocked to find you on the other side, looking like you're two seconds from walking away. Your hand still hovers, eyes impossibly big when they meet his in the soft light of the downstairs hallway.

"Hi." You say, softly, hand falling and gripping at the hem of a tee shirt he's sure belongs to Namjoon.

"...Hi?" Yoongi's brows furrow, not quite sure what you're doing knocking on his door at one in the morning, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wanted to talk to you..." He lets you shuffle into his room, and you walk over to the bed while he closes the door.

"What I wanted to tell you earlier..." You sit on his bed, a good distance away, enough to leave the space between you both cold and Yoongi longing for you to come closer. You seem to be struggling, staying quiet for a little too long.

"Hey." Yoongi calls, "Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay? You know I'd never judge you." He feels the need to repeat himself, just in case you need to hear it again.

"You will." You glance at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and you shake your head, "This was stupid..."

"Hey, hey." Yoongi grabs your wrist, stopping you from getting up. "How about I look over there?" He points at a random spot beside him with a thumb, "I won't look at you and you can just say it." He turns for good measure, staring at the wall on the far side of the room.

You're silent for a moment, a long moment that has Yoongi wondering. Maybe he should stop pestering you about it, bury his curiosity - his concern - in a box somewhere to forget about. He's been on your back about it for most of the day, granted, the universe apparently didn't want you to say anything, not with the way you were constantly interrupted every time you tried to talk about it. He should take that as a sign and drop it all together.

"You okay back there?" Yoongi asks softly, turning his head slightly, but not facing you.

"I wasn't really drunk." You say

Confused, Yoongi's brows furrow, "Huh?" He turns to face you, "What are you talking about?"

"The night you picked me up outside that bar." You're not looking at him, instead, you're looking down at your hands in your lap. The events of that night comes rushing to the front of Yoongi's mind, the way you kissed him, how soft your lips were.

"Wait, so..." Something in Yoongi's ears was buzzing, loud and distracting, as realization dawned, he feels a heat rising from his toes. "You-" he stands quickly from the bed, now that he knows exactly why you've been trying to say all day, he thinks he just might lose it.

"Why'd you leave without saying anything?" It's the first thing out of his mouth and Yoongi wishes he'd just shut up.

"I was embarrassed that I just kissed you out of nowhere like that. And you pushed me away, what else was I supposed to do?" You say in a rush, "I know you only see me as Namjoon's little sister."

"I don't." Yoongi says, and at your pause, his palms start to sweat, heart kicking against his ribcage. "Why did you kiss me that night?"

"You probably think it was because I was drunk. That wasn't it." You look him in the eye, "I wanted to."

Yoongi takes a breath and a moment to think carefully about what he's about to say, "Y/n." He runs his palms against his thighs, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You were drunk. Just out of a relationship and you only kissed me because you were hurting, that's it."

"That's not-" You sigh loudly, pursing your lips and staring at the ceiling, "Do you even know why I dated that idiot? It's because you..." You trail off, picking at a loose thread on your t shirt.

Yoongi waits, giving you the moment you need to gather your words.

"I dated him so that I could forget you." You say softly, not looking at him, and Yoongi feels like he's buffering, like a frozen computer screen. Just standing there as he processes your words, it's taking a while to sink in, or they have, Yoongi is only trying to understand them. "I thought that dating him you would..."

Yoongi sighs, "Tell me something, yeah?"

You nod quietly, waiting. Yoongi watches you for a moment, he's more curious now, "How long?"

He watches as you fluster, eyes darting around to look at anywhere that isn't him. The way your fingers pinch at the dark sheets on the bed, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and Yoongi just wants to kiss you. But as he's been doing all day, he gives you a moment; Yoongi is nothing but patient.

"Since we met?"

Is that a question? There Yoongi goes buffering again. He blinks a couple of times, mind going through the motions of his forced epiphany. The moments when you used to follow him and Namjoon around, all the staying up late texting as though you both were more than you were at the time.

"I really really like you and I tried to show you that night, but well..."

You get up from his bed with a sigh and step towards him and Yoongi tries his best not to take a step back, he allows you to reach him, to stand close enough for him to touch. He's panicking, on the inside, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that this is a terrible idea and that he should probably stop you.

He can't bring himself to, words stuck in his throat.

You're closer now, Yoongi could feel the warmth of you, and he swears this time that he'll be brave. So he kisses you first, fingers tangling in your hair, a hand gripping your waist to pull you even closer. He feels your hands against his chest as his eyes close, your lips are warm and as soft as he remembers, and he groans at the taste of you. His tongue finds yours, slowly, sliding against yours and he wants to savour this, commit your every sound to memory. Yoongi groans when your hands slide into his hair, tugging lightly at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back for air, lungs trying to take in as much air as possible, too quickly, he feels lightheaded. But that could just be because of you. He presses a fleeting kiss at the corner of your mouth, nose brushing against yours lightly. He's pretty sure this is what being high feels like, the rushing of his blood in his ears and the tingling at the tips of his fingers.

"You're gonna end me." Namjoon will too. The thought alone was enough to make Yoongi pause, realise the grip he had on your hips. One of his hands is just shy of the exposed skin under your tee shirt, hyper aware of the way your chest is pressed to his, your lips on his neck.

Namjoon is going to kill him.

He feels your teeth nip at the skin of his neck and he hisses between his teeth, your tongue follows. He pulls away, pushing you from him gently to take a couple steps back. He sees the question in your eyes, the soft furrow of your brows. He sighs through his nose, thinking about how much of a terrible idea this was, and how Namjoon would very likely drown him in the lake.

"Y/n...we can't." This was the reason he pushed you away the first time. Yoongi likes to think ahead, think about all the outcomes of a situation before he walks into it. This could go two ways, and Yoongi's mind can only focus on the worst scenario. What if this goes wrong? What if doing this now ruins everything, he'd not only lose you, but Namjoon as well.

He sees your pout and he looks away, wondering why he can't just let it happen and deal with the consequences later. But Yoongi isn't like that. He likes to sit and over think things.

"Is this about Namjoon?"

Yoongi startles at your question, jolting a bit as he drops his hands from your waist, fingers curling against his palm. He's not as good at hiding his thoughts as he presumed, or you just knew him too well for his own good. He answers your question with a silent nod, not meeting your eyes in the darkness of his room.

"Yoongi. He wouldn't care. Namjoon can't do anything, what I do isn't his business."

Yoongi goes to argue that that's not the point. You were so off the mark that he almost laughed, Namjoon wouldn't care what you thought. He wouldn't be able to look past Yoongi even thinking about touching you. So much for being brave.

You sigh, and Yoongi catches the hurt in the sound.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't push me away again, please." You reach for him and Yoongi doesn't stop you, because he can; he doesn't want to. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

"Are you sure?" He asks seriously, catching your wrist, ducking his head so that he could meet your eyes properly, "Tell me now that this is okay because when I start I won't stop."

You barely got to nod before Yoongi was kissing you again, pouring everything he had into it, hands moving down to grip at your ass in your cotton shorts. He takes careful steps, walking you backwards towards the bed.

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" Yoongi gently pushes you back onto the bed, taking his time to strip you out of your clothes. Not letting his worries and doubts stop him from telling you how beautiful you are, or from kissing every inch of skin revealed to his eyes.

He kisses his way down your thighs once your shorts and panties are out of the way, stopping every now and then to nibble at the soft flesh. Your little sighs and moans are something he wants to record and keep with him forever, even though he wouldn't need them to remember.

He touches you lightly, just to tease, sliding his hands down your thighs, eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He wants to draw this out, ignoring your impatient whine and the rise of your hips at his touch. He's waited so long for this, wanting to taste you beyond the kiss you shared so long ago, Yoongi wants to make you beg. Reduce you to a mumbling mess of incoherent words, but at the same time, he too is impatient.

He shushes you gently at your call of his name, fingers parting your folds and watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing at his gaze. "So pretty, baby."

It was your only warning before he dove in, licking a board stripe from your engerance to your clit, focusing the tip of his tongue at the bundle of nerves. You suck in a sharp breath, hand tugging at his hair and it only spurs Yoongi on. He sucks gently in your clit, tongue moving in slow figures and dips a finger into your wet heat. He groans at the way your cunt just sucks him in, arousal dripping down his hand and he adds another, curling them against the soft spot within you.

He looks up at you, past your heaving chest to your fucked out face. Your parted lips, furrowed brows, glazed eyes looking back at him.

"Yoon--fuck."

Yoongi groans lowly in his throat, pressing his tongue flat against your clit, mouth flooding with your taste. He'd stay there forever if you gave him the chance, listening to the way your breath hitches and the sound of your moans and the feeling of your fingers in his hair. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly. He drives his tongue inside you, and the whine that leaves you has him rutting his hips against the bed. He can't get enough of your taste, the way your pussy clenches he's around his fingers.

"You taste so good, baby." Yoongi loves the way you grip at his hair, the way you tug sends tingles down his spine. He thrusts two fingers inside you, crooking them right, hitting the spot that sends your moans into a higher octave. He can't be bothered with how loud you're being, or if anyone's awake right now and would know exactly what you're both up to. You don't seem to care either, too lost in the pleasure; moaning his name.

"F-fuck, right there," you whimper, thighs tensing around his head. Yoongi groans as he obeys, crooking his fingers and rubbing at the spot that makes you sing so sweetly. His lips never leave your clit, tongue swirling around the swollen nub in figure eights. Dragging his fingers within the tightness of your dripping heat, he could tell you're close, feeling the way your thighs tremble. "Fu-"

Your back arches off the sheets, and Yoongi moans when your release gushes out of you and into his mouth. He stays there and takes it all, until you push at him instead of pull and Yoongi lets up, running his hands up your sides in an attempt to soothe as you tremble in the after wave. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," you squeak out and Yoongi chuckles, getting up to sit back on his thighs. He watches you for a moment, watching the way your chest heaves with your every breath, your hair a tangled mess against his pillows. His eyes trail your form, down to the mess between your thighs that twitched at his attention.

"Sure? You good to go on?" He asks to be sure, squeezing your hip gently. You nod, reaching for him and he goes without complaint, caging you within his arms and kisses you slowly. His tongue tangles with yours, and he grinds his hips down against yours, seeking friction for his aching cock, dampening the front of his sweatpants.

"Fuck that feels so good." He groans, sucking bruises into the soft skin of your neck. He angles his hips so that the length of his cock rubs directly against your clit, shuddering, it feels so good and Yoongi can't stop. He slows down though, because he could feel his release racing down his spine. "Fuck, baby."

"Wanna..." You push at his shoulders, "Wanna suck your cock." Your hands are at the drawstrings of his sweatpants already, tugging, "Wanna taste you, too."

"Fuck, okay."

Yoongi gets off the bed to shuck off his sweats, cock springing free, red and pulsing, precum beading at the tip. He chuckles at your facial expression, eyes surprised even though your bottom lip is caught between your teeth. He notes the way your eyes follow the movement of his hand, he grips his cock and squeezes, thumb catching the translucent drop and dragging it down his shaft.

"You're big."

"Good for you, then?" He pumps his shaft slowly, whispering curses under his breath.

You roll your eyes, "It wouldn't have mattered if-"

"Shh." Yoongi shushes and crooks the fingers of his free hand at you, "Come here."

He leans down to grab a pillow behind you, pausing, "Where's comfortable for you?"

"Wherever you want me," you say sweetly, and it would've been cute with the way you smile, if it wasn't for the look in your eyes. For a moment Yoongi feels like he's in for way more than he bargained for, with you looking so pretty, alluring, like a succubus ready to siphon his soul. Such a far contrast from the you of earlier, fumbling with your words and flushing under his gaze.

"This isn't about me." Yoongi swallows, "Are you kneeling or do you wanna stay on the bed?"

"I'll stay here." You make yourself comfortable, propping up on your elbows, and Yoongi passes you the pillow to help you reach his hips in your position. You slide the pillow under your chest, already reaching for him before he steps closer and Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath when your smaller hand wraps around his cock.

You mirror his motions from before, pumping slowly and Yoongi's not sure if you're teasing him or not. Tongue snaking out to kitten lick at the head, you swirl it around before taking it into your mouth.

"Ah fuck." Yoongi throws his head back, a hand finding your hair as you take him slowly to the back of your throat. He feels your exhales against his tummy, just barely, his mind too muddled to focus on anything but the warmth of your throat and the wiggling of your tongue under his shaft. "You're doing so good, baby."

You hum a gurgle of a word Yoongi would probably never decipher, the vibrations around the head of his cock has him tugging lightly on your hair and pulling out and away from your mouth, breathing hard. He'd be damned if he comes so quickly, that shit will probably haunt him for the rest of his life.

There's a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock, and you smile like the minx you are, not letting him get far enough away before you're taking his cock into your mouth again, bobbing your head at a quick pace. Yoongi could cry, he's trying so hard, there's sweat dripping from his hair, you're pulling him closer, taking him deeper and his eyes roll back.

"Shit. Slow down." His words trail off in a moan, and he's unable to help the rolling of his hips, thrusting his cock into the warmth of your throat, gently, mindful of your breathing. You swallow and he swears, thighs tensing and he stops, pulling away again to release a stuttered exhale. Leaning down, he kisses you, licking into your mouth with haste, tasting himself on your tongue. "Wanna fuck you." He breathes against your lips, releasing your hair for you to scoot back up the bed.

He's quick to follow, slotting his hips between your thighs, stopping to map bruises against the skin of your chest. He laves his tongue over a nipple, fingers toying with the other, he takes the pebbled bud into his mouth just to hear you make a pretty sound.

"Yoongi." You whine his name, and Yoongi doesn't waste another second, hooking one of your knees over his elbow, other hand guiding his cock to your wet cunt. He stays there for a moment, tapping his cock against your clit just to watch you squirm. You raise your hips to meet his teasing thrusts and Yoongi chuckles, easing back to slowly drag his cock down your slit until it prods at your entrance.

He slowly presses into you, watching the way your pussy sucks him in, arousal coating his cock. "You're so fucking tight." Yoongi stills, gripping your hips, watching you through a lust filled haze. He thrusts shallowly into you until he bottoms out and stills, free hand squeezing your hip gently. He swipes his tongue over his thumb, pressing the digit against your clit to rub in slow circles, "Relax for me, baby."

When he feels your body relax around him, he moves, setting a slow pace to start, leaning down to slot his lips over yours, swallowing the sounds you made. You arms wrap around his neck, nails scraping red, angry lines at his shoulder blades. The pain only heightens the pleasure he feels, crossing his eyes and curling his toes.

"Fuck." Yoongi bites gently on your earlobe, "You're so good for me baby. So fucking good. Taking my cock so well."

He knows you're getting tired of his pace. You're lifting your hips to meet his thrust, moaning helplessly into his ears. "Want more, baby?" He leans back in time to catch your nod, kiss swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth. He grips your hips again, keeping you from moving, and slows down just to watch you squirm and beg for him.

"Ple-fuck. Jus-" your words cut off with a gasp, hands gripping Yoongi's wrists where he holds you. He sets a punishing pace, the sound of his thighs hitting your ass loud in the quiet of the room. "Oh F-fuck, Yoongi."

"This what you wanted, hmm?" He tilts his head at you, one eyebrow raised, sliding a hand up your sweat slicked skin to cup your jaw, you take his thumb into your mouth and Yoongi's cock pulses with the need for his release. He smirks, pressing his thumb down on your tongue, pace never faltering, his nerves are on the edge of frying, orgasm tingling at the end of his spine. Pulling his hand away from your mouth and presses his thumb against your clit, looking down at the way his ccok, covered in your arousal, disappears inside you.

Yoongi groans, the sound rumbling in his chest, feeling your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing tight as your breath hitches. "Ah--fuck I'm gonna-"

"Yeah? Come for me, baby." As your body tenses and tremble, Yoongi chases his end, hips stuttering and he gasps, cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat as his release spills into you. "Oh fuck."

Head light and ears ringing, Yoongi kisses you, it's more tongue than anything else, but he doesn't care. He does his best to keep the full weight of him off you, peppering kisses along your jaw. He feels your every breath and his sweat cools on his skin, "You okay?"

There's sweat burning his eyes and he squints at you as you push his hair back and away from his face, you're smiling and giggling shyly. Like if he told you a joke and didn't just fuck you nine ways to hell. "I'm perfect."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaning back up again to carefully slip his softening cock out of your still pulsing walls. His release comes flowing out not two seconds after, he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth, cock giving an interested twitch.

Yoongi gets up before he starts something again, because he just might die trying to go through a second round so quickly. "Don't move, I'll be right back."

He looks around on the floor for where he left his sweatpants, he puts them on and shuffles quickly to the door. He only realises just how quiet it is now that it's quiet, he realises how loud the two of you were being.

He goes back to you with a warm, damp washrag, finding you close to falling asleep. He cleans you up anyway, mindful of your sensitivity.

When he's done he watches you for a moment, fingers finding yours first. Mindlessly he fiddles with them and reaches for his discarded shirt and passes it to you, releases your hand only for you to put it on. "We probably could've done this sooner." You say softly, smiling.

Yoongi tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "What? The sex or...?"

You lightly swat his arm, "You know what I mean."

"I do." Yoongi presses a kiss to your wrist, sighing when you gently lay that palm against his cheek. He believes that action speaks volumes and there's no need for words, but he realises that he hadn't said it back to you earlier. Though, he was very much distracted and his thoughts were absent. "I like you too...alot...just in case that wasn't clear."

He shifts on the bed to be closer to you and leans his head on your shoulder, "I'm sorry it took me so long. It takes me a while to come to terms with things. I overthink and make things harder for myself, I wasn't sure if this was the right way to go."

You hum softly, breath tickling his ears, "It's okay. I suck too. We could've avoided the run around if I'd just told you."

"Yeah, you're terrible. I had no idea what to do with your smoke signals." Yoongi raises his head, chuckling. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to your forehead and tilts your chin to kiss you softly. "Can I take you out? When we get back."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Yoongi smiles, feeling like a kid and nudges you softly, "Go pee. I'll strip the sheets, go on."

He watches as you walk on wobbly legs till you reach the door and pause, turning your head to watch him with wide eyes, "you don't think they heard us, do you?"

"Nah, they're asleep."

"Dude, whoever was watching their porn so loudly last night, fuck you. Honestly, the lack of respect in this household."

It's the first thing Jimin says when he comes downstairs the next morning, looking like he'd slept on the wrong side of the bed. Eyes swollen as he takes the coffee Seokjin offers and the sympathetic pat to his shoulder.

Yoongi ignores the conversation, even though you looked like you were about to combust next to him. Seokjin was giving him a look from his spot by the stove, looking ridiculous in the pink apron he favoured.

"Yeah the walls are so thin in here it's wild." Seokjin wiggles his eyebrows at Yoongi and you choose that moment to choke on your sip of orange juice.

Taehyung pauses, fork halfway to his mouth with a strip of bacon hanging for dear life at the end of it. He looks between the both of you for a quiet moment, strong brows furrowed until something lights in his eyes. "Oh my god."

Jimin, who's slumping in his seat, looking like he wanted nothing more than to crawl his way back upstairs perks up at Taehyung's words, "What?"

Yoongi stares silently at Taehyung, daring him to open his big mouth and say exactly what he definitely wants to say.

"Nothing. Nothing...." Taehyung waves his hand with the fork, sending the piece of bacon flying off it and into his glass of orange juice. Jimin watches on with disgust as Taehyung fishes the piece out of the cup and tosses it into his mouth.

"The bin is right there."

"Are you drinking the juice?"

Yoongi runs circles into the skin of your knee, as Taehyung and Jimin bicker.

"Oh, Joon. Come eat." Seokjin wanders over to the entrance and Yoongi just barely catches the sight of Namjoon passing by, saying that he was going for a walk first. Hoseok and Jungkook enter just then, finding their spots at the table as Seokjin sets plates for them.

"I'll be right back." Yoongi says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple, leaving Jimin sputtering into his coffee. He pushes his chair back and stands, catching the way Hoseok squints at you.

He points, not saying anything before he leans around Taehyung to smack at Jimin's arm, "I told you so! You owe me fifty."

"Bold of you to assume I came here with money."

"You guys made a bet?" You ask, incredulous.

"Yeah. It's either someone was watching porn, or someone was getting it. You and Yoongi are the only ones not sharing a room..."

Hoseok voice fades as Yoongi shuts the front door behind him. It's cold, mist and dew clinging to the world and Yoongi regrets leaving his sweater in his room. He rubs his hands over his arms, the long sleeves of his t shirt barely keeping him warm.

Namjoon's already walking, a good distance from the house near the lake's edge. Yoongi takes his time walking over, gravel crunching under his feet, he slots his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

When he reaches Namjoon, the younger man is crouched down, cooing at something on the ground. There's a little crab scurrying around trying to get away from Namjoon's curious fingers.

"Just let the little guy be." Yoongi announces himself, "Thing's probably scared shitless."

"I just wanna pick him up, though," Namjoon continues to try, sighing when the little crab escapes into the lake. "Oh well.." He dusts his hands and stands up, finally looking over at Yoongi.

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, and remembering he's standing out in a tshirt and sweats, Yoongi shivers. Namjoon looks all cozy in his beige sweater and matching beanie.

"I wanted to run something by you." Yoongi says, looking out at the lake and the way the light of the morning sun glitters against the still waters. He shoves his cold hands into the pockets of his pants, rubbing his thumb over his curled fingers. He realised that this is going to be as hard as trying to talk to you, and Namjoon waits patiently, watching Yoongi with eyes that seemed to know too much.

"Uh.." Yoongi chances a look, glancing at Namjoon who's just as quiet as him, waiting. "Look man, Y/n and I had a talk last night."

"Right?" Namjoon gives him a look, a confused one, head tilting and all.

Yoongi takes a breath and decides to go headfirst, though he takes a step back from Namjoon to be sure. "I really like your sister and we talked about it and I just wanted you to know that."

The uncomfortable look that morphs Namjoon's features wasn't what Yoongi was expecting, especially since the look stays there for a while as Namjoon just stares at him. He raises a hand to scratch at his cheek, "Dude."

"What?"

"Are you saying that I owe Hoseok fifty dollars?"

"...Eh?" Yoongi's confused, and it feels as though he's spent this whole weekend running on pure confused energy. Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in a way that makes Yoongi take another step back.

"I know. You two are terrible at hiding shit." Namjoon points his thumb over his shoulder, back at the house where he glances. From where he stands, he could see Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin peering out through the window. "I know my sister, and I know my best friend. You guys are adults, so, really, there's nothing I can do but watch it happen."

Namjoon shrugs, and Yoongi flushes, cheeks heating. "But when I met her...you...you gave me a look."

"I was trying to ask if you wanted water!"

"That was not a 'do you want water' look, Joon."

Namjoon reaches over and pats his shoulder softly, hand lingering, "You have my blessing, if that's what you came to ask for." He smiles, eyes disappearing, but Yoongi's relief is cut short when he tries to shift away, Namjoon's grip tightening. "Though, she's still my little sister. I know where you live."

Yoongi chuckles, a little scared.

"Good talk." Namjoon nods to himself, "I'm going inside. Get out of the cold!"

Tagging: @madbutgloriouspond @blog-name-idk @taestefully-in-luv @btsstan12 @hamsterclaw @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @doneimnida @here2bbtstrash

#min yoongi #min yoongi fics #min yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fics #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x reader angst #yoongi x reader fluff #bts fic recommendation #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongkook #best friend sister au #bts fic collab #autumn leaves collab #Danielle writes: Auburn Skies

[olivyh]

Howdy do~! Since requests are open, I would like to request a fluffy fanfic in which Falena, Leona's older brother, invites Leona's female s/o to visit the palace after hearing about her from Cheka. Of course, Leona feels a little reluctant to introduce his girlfriend to his family. How will the visit play out? Thanks a lot!

A/N: thank you for the request <33 I was a little nervous about writing another Leona fic- his character is so interesting to explore but I'm always worried about him being ooc </3 this came out a lot longer than my other fics for some reason,,,, also I only have two more weeks left in the UK <//3 but that means more time & energy put into this acc <33

The beastman bites back a grumble as he tosses his phone off the side of the bed, not caring when he hears the device hit the ground with a thud and a crack. The prince turns his attention to the setting sun outside, the heat of the Savanna finally dying down and cooling down the sweat that had beaded on his skin from practice. He could hear the rest of the dorm through the thick wood of his door, wincing when he hears a shout and then something shattering.

His brother had invited him to the palace (One call and about eighty messages that he had refused to answer to), followed by about a million calls from Kifaji (the old bird really didn't know when to shut up, did he?), and, finally, a call from his sister-in-law. He could tell by the calm bite of her voice that she was no longer requesting that he bring his love to the palace- she was demanding that he do so. Leona has no choice but to begrudgingly give in to her wishes, despite the desperate clench of his heart at the thought alone.

The man rolls onto his back, taking a deep, shaky breath that rattles his chest as he throws his head back against the silk pillows and allowing the cold to seep into the back of his neck, eyes tracing over the shapes of the beams that crisscrossed his ceiling. The chill of the outside air mercilessly traces weak lines in his skin, penetrating every pore until it finds a home deep within his bones as a sudden burst of annoyance has him letting out a weak growl as he grabs a pillow and throws it as hard as possible at the wall, the fabric making contact with a soft thud as it lays limply against the wall.

"Shit," The man growls, thinking of the castle. His mind spirals, pulling and pulling until it unearths memories that he'd hidden long ago, tugging the emotions with it.

Confinement.

Isolation.

Fear.

As much as he'd hated NRC, it was his home. He couldn't imagine being forced back into that prison, decorated in intricate patterns of gold and jewels as far as the eye could see. The lock that had kept him confined was decorated in rubies and amber, the clinking would have driven him mad if he hadn't gotten out of there as soon as he could. He remembered how the cold felt there too, how it seemed to bite at any and all exposed skin, how the stars provided little comfort against the darkness of the night when his mind would wander into the shadows of the Pridelands and offer itself to the claws of his birthright.

He was free in NRC, he was free with his lover. He could be carefree, smile and nip at their shoulders playfully without the jeers of the servants and maids, without the confines of propriety looming over him. Leona wanted nothing more than to isolate them from that world he grew so accustomed to.

"Leona?" His door creaks open, and he rolls over, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it?" He grumbles, staring at the figure of the human slowly approaching his bedside. In the darkness he could make out their smile, soothing the ache within him for a moment as they slowly place their knee on the edge of his bed, raising their hand and brushing some of his sweat-soaked hair off of his forehead. They don't flinch at the feeling.

"I was going to ask you to shower, but," They finally sit beside him, rubbing a warm hand over his shoulder gently. "What's wrong?"

They were so soft with him that he felt as though he would rather die sometimes, their feather-light touch reminiscent of the reverential touch upon blown glass or the petals of a flower. Not the touch of a second-born prince cursed with the touch of destruction.

Not that he wanted them to stop, ever.

"Kipenzi," He mumbles the pet name quietly, despite how loud the rumble of his deep baritone seems to rock the air around the couple. "My family wants to meet you." The excited look that flashed in their eye for a moment breaks his heart, even more so at the crestfallen look that falls over their face not even a moment later. The silence in the room is deafening, as though the insects and animals outside the dorm had been just as shocked by the statement as his lover.

"How do you feel about it?" They ask after a moment. Leona freezes.

"I have to bring you. I don't have a choice anymore," The beastman grabbed the hand that rested on his shoulder and pressed a chaste kiss to their open palm. When they'd first started dating he wouldn't have ever dared to do such a thing. What a fool they make of him. A lovesick fool.

"You do," The mutter. Leona can't bring himself to meet their eyes, opting to stare blankly at the way their shirt fits around their torso, memorizing every crease of the fabric. "I don't have to go."

An odd part of him yearns for them to tell him that they wanted to go, for them to see the place that made him the man in front of them, a reasoning behind what he really is and what will never be- a future that he wanted neither of them to be a part of.

"Cheka misses you," He knew he wasn't a lie, but he knew for sure that nobody had told him that. It was likely the little rat that told his brother about his lover. "We should go for him."

He feels the way the air shifts around him with their smile as they lightly pull way their hand, the lion biting back a disgruntled huff at the loss of warmth.

"Let's go, then," They sit up. "You need to shower first."

"Make me."

"I'll join."

Leona chuckles. "Deal."

The next morning crept through the open windows, the sun gleaming almost painfully against his eyelids as he slowly remembered what would be transpiring that day. His lover seemed to be much more excited about this trip than he was, so he forced himself to bite back any bitter comments. He passed through the mirror in a blur, settling in as they meet in the center of the square, whisked away in a split second by a chauffeur and sent flying off towards the palace.

"I'm sorry," He mumbles to them quietly in the backseat, his tail making its way around their wrist and holding it firmly. "I wanted you to do some sightseeing."

"No worries," They smile up at him, eating away at his guilt. He knew he was being stubborn, and that he was shutting down again.

Please, he begged his mind, not now. Anytime but now.

"I missed you so, so, so much!" They didn't even have a minute to step out of the car properly before Cheka had sped his way over to the couple, wrapping his arms around the human's legs affectionately and blinking up at them with round, deep chocolate-brown eyes.

"Hi, Cheka!" They chirp, crouching so they could hug the young prince properly, nuzzling the top of his hed affectionately. "I missed you too, little guy!"

Leona bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a familiar warmth blossom in his chest. It was no secret that he cared deeply for his nephew- despite how often he shoved him away and called him a pest. It was a secret, however, how much he adored the relationship between his lover and the young boy, how their friendship grew and developed the more time they spent together. Cheka had told Leona once that he'd considered them to be in the same position as Leona- family, and a mentor, and a playmate.

"Come on! Baba's waiting inside!" The small cub tugs at their arms, leaving servants to unpack their bags from the car and lug them into the palace. He can't help but notice how the human's footsteps waver as they enter the building, in awe of the intricate tapestries and the sheer size of the place. The grand entry hall was lined with statues made of pure iron and draped in golds and silvers, the multicolored gemstones that hung from their necks cast splinters of color through the hall as they caught the sunlight and threw it.

The wide, open windows adorning the hall and framed in exquisite silk curtains that hung loosely to the ground let in the harsh sunlight of the savanna and allowed them to see over the vast swaths of land that the Kingscholars ruled over, houses and builds as far as the eye could see. Servants bowed to the Prince and his lover, lowering their heads as they turned their eyes to the floor.

Leona couldn't help but notice the way they tensed at the action, walking ever-so-slightly closer to the beastman. He leans over, careful of any prying ears.

"You okay?" They bite their lip and gulp, looking straight ahead of them and nodding. He grabs their hand in his own, noticing how their palms were slick with sweat as a chill settled on their fingertips despite the heat. "Don't be scared by it. It's all just a show." His voice sends a noticeable chill up their spine, which, under normal circumstances, he would take pride in being able to tease them with his voice alone. Now, however, it worried him more than anything.

Another nod and an affirmative squeeze from the beastman, a promise of more comfort once they were away from the countless eyes of the servants and other visiting nobles.

The doors to the greeting room swing open, and Leona feels the way their grip tightens upon seeing his brother and wife standing at the end of the long carpet, framed by the backs of their thrones.

"Glad you could make the trip, kaka mdogo," Farena states plainly, a grateful smile dancing onto his lips as Leona scoffs slightly, nodding towards the man. "I suppose this is your lover, then?"

He nods and takes a step forward, gently pulling the nervous human with him.

"Yeah, this is them," He says, rather informally in contrast to the air that the King and Queen give off. Out of the corner of his eye he can see them smile up at him softly, their grip on his hand loosening in the slightest.

His brother's wife steps closer to them and Leona feels torn- the nervous look on their face made his heart scream to protect them and hold them close, but he was also terrified of angering the lioness. He opts to stand next to them, frozen.

She gingerly lifts a hand. "May I?" They nod and she places her hand on their cheek. "Relax, sweetheart."

Her soft tone- the same tone she uses when she speaks to Cheka oftentimes, Leona notices- seems to work wonders on them as they take a shaky breath, smiling nervously. "You're stunning." she chuckles. "It's no wonder Leona fell for you."

"T-thank you, Your Highness," They sputter, flushing a bit under the attention.

"Shani works fine, my dear," She corrects softly, backing away for a moment. "Please, no need to be so nervous. You're practically family now."

Family.

The word seemed to hang in the air for a moment, still as it hovered just out of reach of Leona's fluffy ears atop his head. Was that it? It was strange, he hardly felt as though he were a Kingscholar himself. However...

Hearing they could become one made his heart race, imagining their first name paired with his last. Their form, which he had grown to love so deeply. He misses the second half of the conversation, too lost in his own mind to even notice the way his nephew clung to his legs and tried to grab at his tail.

"Come now, we prepared an early dinner," The woman motions for the human to walk beside her. They look to him, an uncertain look in their eye as he uses a similar hand motion, silently telling them that he's right behind them.

His chair was too far from theirs at the elaborate table, too much food and too much space for a fairly small gathering, the dining hall was meant for larger groups. The other end of the table felt desolate and cold, a lifetime away from the warmth of the top of the table. Leona remembered how he would sit at that far end with his mother, and his father would sit on the other end with Farena.

"-Oh, he was such a dear-" The man in question chuckles, sending a warm glance at his younger brother, who focuses more on mindlessly stirring the liquid in his cup. "He would often come into my room when we were younger, you see-"

"Farena," Leona begins, a warning note slipping onto the end of his words like a weight.

"Please, Leona," The man's words would be a plea, if not for the shifting of power underneath the breaths that escaped his mouth. "Jokes aside, we truly are glad that Leona had finally found a lover, I was truly beginning to worry."

"You think I was that hopeless?" The younger prince snarls.

"I wouldn't say hopeless," Shani places a firm hand on her husband's shoulder, a frown on her face. "Uninterested, I would say."

His human giggles, casting a teasing glance over at Leona as his frown deepens. The pull of the longing for solitude begins to eat away at his heart, his mind racing to gather any sort of excuse to finish the dinner as quickly as possible.

"I'm glad I managed to catch his interest," They begin.

"How did the two of you meet? I can imagine it was rather difficult to meet, seeing that you're quite different," The King begins.

"They stepped on my damn tail when I was trying to take a nap," Leona shoots a sly grin over at them, a little embarrassed at being questioned in front of his entire family. Minus-

"It wasn't my fault!" They deny, taking a small sip of water.

"I'm sure there's a dent there somewhere."

"Is there really?" Cheka asks quietly, voice breaking towards the end in near terror. "Can that happen?"

"No, my love," The Queen comforts the boy, casting him a short smile. "It was an exaggeration."

"Then they snuck into my room and disturbed my sleep. I had to put them in their place somehow," He glances over to the flustered human.

"N-not in that way, your Majesties. There were issues at my dorm-"

"Keep tellin' yourself that," He could see the way their eyebrows furrow on their forehead as the shade decorating their face darkens more by the minute. They eat in silence after that, occasionally filling the space with other questions- mostly of their life at NRC and their family. The second prince detested his forgetfulness as he noticed the quake in their voice when they spoke of the home they could not return to. The King and Queen seem to notice

"Cheka," He hears his lover say softly. Leona's gaze travels over to them as they lean far off their chair, far enough that if the armrest weren't there they would be tumbling to the ground. Their hand was extended, gently wiping off the juice that the boy had spilled down his chin as it dripped onto his shirt, staining the expensive fabric. "Here, sweetheart." Their tone was gentle, loving as they wiped at his chin with the napkin. The boy looks up at them, beaming, the gap from his missing tooth only serving to add to the wide-eyed gaze of the young prince (Leona vaguely remembers the boy excitedly telling him about the missing tooth over a video call, brandishing the tooth like a trophy as he held it a little too close to the camera for the man's liking).

Something about the way they treated him with such kindness, a gentleness compared to the reprieve of a soft breeze on a hot day. Leona practically feels the ghost of their fingertips against his flushed skin, a chill down his spine.

In that moment, it was as though a door had opened. Every day and every night- sometimes within the palace, others in a place of their own far, far from the Afterglow Savana- with them, with his family, a concept that was foreign to him. Just as untouchable as the fairytales trapped within the Royal Library.

There weren't many times that Leona could say he was jealous of Ruggie, but hearing the kindness of his grandmother and the close bond of his neighborhood would often cause Leona's ears to twitch in agitation, envy creeping up his spine.

Now he felt as though he had it.

"It's getting late," Leona mutters, standing. "Come on, I want you to meet someone else."

They nod and stand, bidding the others goodbye as they follow him down the hallway, into a darker corner of the palace. Tapestries line the walls as they approach a room, a dark wooden door decorated in gold embellishments. Leona slowly knocks, the sound of the bed creaking followed by a hoarse voice sounding from within.

"Baba," Leona mutters.

"Leona? Mwanangu?" The King sits up, long gray hair frames his aged face, lines with wrinkles and scars from days past. The dulled spark within his deep brown eyes- the same as Farena's and Cheka's- fills the beastman in front of him with a deep sadness.

"Yes, Baba," Leona grabs his lover's hand and leads them inside, only letting go to pull up two chairs by the man's bedside. "It's me. I bought my partner, too." His voice had taken on the soft tone he often used with his dying father (Leona didn't want to consider him dying, but seeing the weariness in his eyes and the tremors of his wrinkled hands made him believe otherwise). The man's eyes wearily travel over to the human before them. Leona thought it would have been poetic should they have been in a novel of sorts, or perhaps one of the cheesy movies he claims to hate so much.

A fallen king, a lost human, and a second-born prince.

For a moment the man is silent, the human's worried gaze turning more and more tearful by the minute. They only have to wait a second before Leona winds his tail around their wrist, pulling it to lay in his lap so he could play with their hands, just the way he knows they like it.

"What a lovely little human," The old king finally speaks, lines on his face deepening with the toothy grin that breaks loose- a shadow of his strength, Farena told him once. "You have kind eyes, child."

"T-thank you..." They mumble, ducking their head slightly.

"Tell me," The man chuckles, raspy voice a whisper against the commotion of the savannah outside. "Has my son been treating you well?"

"Baba-"

His human smiles, before breaking into laughter. "Better than I could have ever imagined."

"I'm glad."

As the two talk, Leona feels a comfort seep into the cracks of his heart, filling the void that was once there. It spreads through his chest. His father- the strongest man he knew- and his human- the loveliest person he'd ever been given the privilege to meet, let alone hold- talking so casually, about him no less.

The time passes too quickly for Leona's liking. The beastman would have rathered the second creep by like they do during his lectures, or in the way they do when he's alone at night without the warmth of his lover beside him. However, the king is tired. Leona knows better than to hold his father any longer than physically possible.

Once out in the hallway, the human sighs and practically collapses against the wall, holding up their trembling hands. Leona chuckles, stepping closer to them and casting them in his shadow- an act that, at first, appeared intimidating now served as a means of protection as he hid them from the world and sacrificed himself to be their shield.

He feels as though he's lost control as he steps closer, prompting them to gaze up at him with those tender eyes that he adores so much. Any unlucky spectator would think he was annoyed when they wrapped their arms around his broad shoulders, but the two of them knew better, The annoyed quirk of his brow spoke a silent 'don't stop', the swish of his tail was merely to stop it from wrapping around their waist and pulling them impossibly closer.

He can't stop his arms when he places his calloused hands on their hips, pressing them flush against him.

"Leona-" They mutter, burying their face in the crook of his neck. "The servants-"

"We're all alone here," He chuckles under his breath, lowering his head so his breath brushes against their ear with every syllable. If he wanted to, he could scrape his fangs against their earlobe to fluster them further.

He was in no teasing mood for that, his main goal to find an outlet for this swell of affection that seemed to make his heart burst.

Leaning closer, he presses a warm kiss to their temple. He moves down more, giving extra attention to the tip of their nose and the gentle curve of their cheek. He finally presses a deep kiss to their lips, finally able to spill out what had been building over the course of the day; All the 'I love you's that went unsaid; every single moment they made him feel so damn soft.

"Ninakupenda," He gasps softly when they part for air, engraving their flushed expression in his mind. He feels their hands trail through his hair, taking a lock and twirling it in their fingers as they beam up at him.

"Ninakupenda, my king."

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #leona #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona x reader #twst fanfic #twst oneshots

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Okay, now that you've introduced us to gym crush Dave, what about gym bf Dave where he's a lot more confident in watching you do your sets, and being a total hype gym bf <3

(Sorry if it's not descriptive enough... it's late asf and I'm tired)

aww this is adorable! thanks for the request lovely 🧡 sequel to this fic but not necessary to have read :) short n sweet for this one

The gym isn’t crowded today; you thank the early hour for the emptiness. It’s not your preferred time (5 A.M is a little too early for you), but Dave couldn’t find any other room in his schedule, and it’s always better to have a built-in-boyfriend/gym partner.

You’re benching, the rhythmic movement up and down timed with your breathing, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead. The burning in your arms has already started, a feeling on the edge of pain. You already finished one set, following the plan that you and Dave made this week for your goals together. If it was anyone else, you would’ve told them to fuck off for talking about your workout routine; but it’s how you and Dave connect, among other things. Somehow, it’s easy to listen to his guidance and his encouragement. It helps that he’s always the most sincere, quietly supportive person that you know.

He’s beside you now, scrolling through his phone while he takes a break. There’s a layer of sweat covering his body, the black material of his shorts and tank-top doing nothing to hide his muscles.

Through the haze of your music, you hear Dave’s voice, always patient and calm. “You can do more than that.”

“What?” you ask, frustration seeping through your tone. Ever since you started working out with him, your routine has become decidedly harder, which you’re both thankful for and tired of. It’s undeniable that Dave pushes you past your limits in the best way possible. He takes a step closer to you, leaving his own weights on the ground.

“Come on, baby. You can do more than that. Here-” he helps you rack your weight and adds another five to both sides “you go. Try now.”

“Dave,” you start, peeling yourself off from the sticky plastic of the bench, “I could barely do what I was already doing.”

“But you did it,” he points out. “You go until failure, right? So add more.”

Reasonably, you know he’s right. You’ve got more in you, even though you may not feel like it, but the heaviness of your breathing and the shakiness of your limbs protest.

“Fine,” you huff, ignoring the grin on his face. “But you have to spot me, bub.”

“Of course.” Easily, he steps around you to get into position, ready to help if you need it. There’s no one you trust more than him to spot you; he’s always unfailing protective of you. Quietly, when you lift the bar from the resting position, he urges you on. “You got it, honey.”

Breathing in, you bring the bar to your chest and pause before pushing it back up, breathing out. One rep. Two reps. Dave’s voice steadily counting as you keep going, encouragements littered in-between. You finish the first set and take a breath, sitting up.

“There you go, baby,” Dave cheers quietly, his headphones around his neck, curls sticking out in all directions despite your attempt to pin his hair back. “See, you didn’t even need my help,” he points out.

“Asshole,” you grin, popping the knuckles in your hand. He sees it and takes your hand in his own, massaging your knuckles and giving your wrists a squeeze before helping you lay back down on the bench.

The next set passes and the next set passes, until you can’t lift anymore and Dave has to help you rerack your weights. Your arms are bone tired, burning, and shaking.

“Good job, baby,” he says once you’re sitting up, your face flushed and heated with sweat. There’s pride on his face that makes you feel proud of yourself. “I knew you could do it.”

“That makes one of us,” you reply, taking his hand when he offers it to you. He grabs your water too and hands it to you, and you gratefully take it.

“Come on, have a little faith. You’ve got a great coach, you know.” Running a hand through his curls, Dave starts his own set, not waiting for you to start again, which you appreciate.

When he takes his next break, you take a look around the gym to make sure that no one else is looking your direction. Once you’re satisfied, you wrap your arms around his neck, sweat be damned, and peck him gently. “Thank you,” you whisper before pulling away, leaving Dave to stare at you, open-mouthed, his eyes wide and surprised.

“You’re going to pay for that later,” he warns breathlessly, a half-grin on his face.

“Yeah?” you ask, pulling his headphones back up to cover his ears. “I’m counting on it, coach.”

#gym crush dave #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski x y/n #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski fic #kick ass #kick ass fanfic #kick ass fic #atj #atj x reader #atj x you #aaron taylor johnson #nova writes

[mandos-mind-trick]

Inside

Summary: A mission on a seemingly uninhabited planet goes wrong for Clone Force 99’s civilian member. The Bad Batch find themselves having to make a tough decision as they face an unthinkable situation. 

Pairing: None, but hinted at Hunter x reader flirting

Warnings: Body horror, alien species, injuries, vomiting, surgery, very graphic medical stuff, needles.

A/N: Taking a break from the horny to deliver my second horror fic for Halloween. This one is inspired by the Alien series. One of my favorite horror series. Please do heed the warnings, this one is rather graphic.

MASTERLIST

You wake with a pained groan. You're face down on something hard and uneven. There's water dripping somewhere, the sound echoing around you. Your mouth feels dry and your tongue swollen as you attempt to swallow. Your throat aches, not unlike when you would get sick as a child. 

You try to move, but pain erupts all across your body. You take a deep breath, your stomach aching in protest. You crack your eyes open, but you're in pitch black darkness. 

You push past the aching in your body, reaching a hand down to your belt. You fumble until you find the pocket with your torch, pulling it out. You turn it on, shining it around you. 

You're laying on a rocky surface in what looks like a cave. Memories come back to you as you lay there, your brain finally catching up. 

Your squad had been sent to an uninhabited planet to search for an emergency beacon that had been set off. There were no records of any personnel in this area, but with war waging across the galaxy, it wasn't uncommon to get distress signals from the most unlikely places. 

The planet was host to non-stop high winds and storms, and the beacon led you into a cavern in a hillside. You remember entering the cavern and searching, and you remember the ground giving way under your feet. 

That was how you got here. 

You slowly push yourself onto your side, gritting your teeth against the agony burning through your very bones and the deep cramping in your stomach. You shine your torch at the ceiling, but it's too high to see where you fell through, or how far you'd fallen. 

You push the button on your comms, calling out for anyone, but you get no reply. Comms had been spotty on the planet's surface. Just your luck they won't work at all down here. 

They know you're missing. Hunter had called out to you as you'd fallen. You're not sure how long you've been down here, how long you were unconscious. Could have been mere minutes. Could have been hours. You don't think they'd leave you down here for hours. 

You try the comms again, getting nothing but a garbled static sound in return. It was something, but not nearly enough. You can't just lay here, but you're not sure what else to do. 

You slowly work on turning yourself onto your back, your stomach spasming painfully with every small movement. You're definitely injured, no doubt about that. You just hope they can get to you before it gets worse. The ache in your throat has subsided, as well as the dryness in your mouth. You'd kill for some water, and the dripping off in the distance is doing nothing to help that. 

You shine your torch at the ceiling as the sound of rocks falling reaches your ears. Fear spikes through you as it gets louder. You can't be sure you're alone in the cave. You don't feel like there's anything else inside, but then again, you'd have no way of knowing. There were obvious weak spots in the cavern above too, which could give way and bury you under rubble. 

More debris falls into the cavern before lights appear a few feet away. Two figures drop from the ceiling, their headlamps lighting the cave. You breathe a sigh of relief, resting your head back against the ground as they approach you. 

"You alright?" Hunter asks as he kneels down next to you. 

You squint in the bright light of his headlamp. "All things considered, I think I'm alright." 

"No life threatening injures that I can see." Tech says, scanning your body. "Where is your pain located?"

"My stomach." You say, wincing as you press against the tender area. 

"How did you land when you fell?" Tech asks.

"On my stomach, I think. I woke up face down." You say. 

Tech hums, injecting something into your neck. "Likely a blunt force wound. No signs of internal bleeding or damage."

The pain begins to ebb, the fog in your brain clearing as the stim shot kicks in. 

"The whole cavern floor could be unstable." Tech says as the sound of more debris falling reaches your ears. 

"Let's get out of here." Hunter says, looping your arm around his shoulders. 

Tech takes the other side and they lift you to your feet. You curse, trying to fold in on yourself as your stomach screams in protest. 

"Come on, let's get you back up to the surface." Hunter says, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Then we can get a better look."

You lean against him as they guide you to where they'd entered the cave. Hunter maneuvers you so you're chest to chest, securing both of you with a rope. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head on your shoulder as he sinches you tighter together. 

"You know if you wanted to get me in this position, you could have just asked." You murmur, and you can practically hear Hunter's eyes rolling. 

"Bring us up." Hunter says, tugging on the rope.

He wraps one arm around you as you're lifted off the ground, holding you securely as he works his way back up into the cavern. It's a long way, further than you expected. 

No wonder your body was aching so much. 

You breathe a sigh of relief as you're lifted back into the cavern, Wrecker waiting to pull you up. He sets you gently on the ground, the pain starting to disappear as the stim shot continues to work. 

"Let's get out of here." Hunter says, pulling himself up over the lip of the hole. "Before something else happens."

You lean against Hunter as the squad makes their way from the cavern and back into the perpetual storm. He guides you, keeping you steady as the wind whips around you. 

You're ready to get off this planet. It's not the worst place you've visited, but you're certainly not going to consider coming back. 

***

"There's bruising developing." Tech says, fingers pushing against the sore spot on your stomach. "Likely the cause of your discomfort." 

He jabs a bacta needle into the center of the bruise, making you hiss. 

"Ow." You grit out, but you can already feel the ache easing just a bit. 

"You'll be fine in a few hours." Tech says, clinical as usual. 

"Get some rest." Hunter says as you fix your blacks. "I don't doubt we'll be getting new orders soon."

You hum, rubbing your eyes. You do feel tired, more so than you usually do after a mission like this. It's more akin to how you feel after a fight. You don't argue any, pulling down one of the bunks before practically collapsing on it. 

You don't get much rest, though. You feel strange, beyond the fact that you fell a few hundred feet into a cave. There's a strange pressure in your chest, like something is pushing up against your organs. 

Tech had reassured you that nothing was injured, that everything looked normal internally. Your armor had done its job and protected you against any major damage that could have been caused, and it was a miracle you didn't hit your head very hard. 

You drift off into an uneasy, restless sleep. Despite your exhaustion you don’t sleep well, the nagging feeling of something being wrong not easing any.

You’re not sure how long you float in and out of sleep. They let you rest, setting themselves up in various places around the ship to rest as well. Downtime is rare, so the squad always takes advantage of any time available to rest and recuperate. It always seems to take you longer to recover, likely something to do with their enhancements. 

You rise after a while, tired of tossing and turning. Your stomach churns a bit as you move, the pressure still evident in your chest but you brush it off. Likely just some residual side effects from falling as far as you did. You make your way towards the cockpit, slipping past Hunter and Wrecker sleeping in the computer seats. 

You pause as the pressure increases in your chest. Your stomach feels like it’s squirming and you barely make it to the fresher before you’re vomiting up what little you had eaten before the mission into the toilet. The squirming feeling continues until you're dry-heaving, nothing left to come up. 

You fall back against the wall of the tiny fresher, taking in gasping breaths. Tears blur your vision as you try to control your stomach. You run cold water in the small sink, splashing some on your face. 

Your stomach still feels like it's squirming as you step out of the fresher, still shaking a little. You don’t feel good, but you try to write it off as just being the exhaustion coupled with the events of the day, coupled with you hitting your head. 

Hunter and Wrecker are awake, both of them staring at you. Tears continue to burn your eyes. You feel bad for likely waking them. 

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, ever the sweetheart. 

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. “Yeah. D-Don’t feel so good.” Your stomach still feels as if it's squirming, the pressure increasing in your chest. 

Hunter says your name, his eyes focused as he stares at you. You turn to him, frowning in confusion. “Don’t move.” 

You hold your breath, your heart starting to thump with fear as he kneels in front of you, one hand pressing against your stomach. Your insides squirm, but not in a good way as he presses lightly against your abdomen. 

“There’s something inside you.” He says, pulling his hand back. 

Your stomach drops, your body going numb with fear. “W-What.” 

“I can hear it moving.” He says, standing back up. “Tech, do another scan.” 

Tech holds his datapad in front of your stomach and you stay as still as possible, despite the fear making you want to drop. Something inside you? Was the squirming in your stomach not your own body’s doing? Or the pressure in your chest? Was something moving in there, causing you to feel this way? 

“There.” Tech says, holding up his datapad. 

It looks like a worm. A large, alien worm just under a foot long nestled right under your ribs. 

“H-How?” You gasp out, unable to tear your eyes away from the image. 

“It’s possible it entered your body while you were unconscious.” Tech says. 

“But wouldn’t it have shown up on the scan?” Hunter asks. 

“It’s possible it was too small to be picked up on the initial scans.” Tech explains. “Which would mean it’s growing quickly.” 

“The bodies.” Echo says, having appeared as well as Crosshair, a tense silence settling in the hull. 

“Wh-What bodies?” You ask, shaking in fear. 

“Right when you fell, we found the beacon. There was nothing but bodies left. They’d been there for a while.” Hunter explains, his voice low and calm. “Their injuries...something had...forced its way through their chests. Like they tore right through from inside.” 

You’re hyperventilating. Your fingers and toes are tingling. The interior of the Marauder is swimming. You’re on the floor, Hunter’s hand on your back as you sob. 

“Get it out of me.” You gasp, clinging to his wrist. “You have to get it out of me.” 

“Reroute us to the nearest medical facility.” Hunter says. 

Echo heads to the cockpit, Tech still staring at the datapad. “We may not have that kind of time.” He says. “It’s impossible to guess the length of the gestational period. It could attempt to free itself any moment now.” 

Hunter gives him a look as you sob harder, the squirming and pressure in your chest becoming more prominent now that you know something is inside you. Something is causing it to happen. 

“We’re six hours away from the nearest medical center.” Crosshair says, coming back into the hull. 

“She doesn’t have that kind of time.” Hunter says.

“Get it out of me.” You cry. “I don’t care what you do, just get it out!” 

Hunter looks at Tech as he adjusts his goggles. “We could attempt to remove it before it reaches the end of its gestational cycle. That would cause the least amount of damage, though this is hardly a sterile environment for something so invasive.” 

“If you don’t do something I’m going to cut it out myself.” You say, reaching for Hunter’s knife. 

He pulls his arm away before you can grab it. “We have to try. She could die if we don’t do anything.” 

***

The metal bunk is cold against your bare back. You’re in nothing but your breastband and pants, your shirt tucked into your mouth to give you something to bite down on. Tech is standing over you, situating the scanner at just the right spot. Hunter is hovering over your head, Wrecker sitting at your feet. 

“We will have to be quick.” Tech says, looking over the tools on the crate next to him. “Try not to let her move too much.” 

“Why can’t she be sedated?” Hunter asks, his breath fanning the top of your head. 

“Forced sedation may cause the creature to prematurely attempt an escape. If it is feeding off her in any way, we don’t want to risk disrupting the environment in a way we are not prepared for.” Tech says, grabbing a scalpel. 

The beeping of the monitor on your arm increases, your body tensing in preparation for what’s about to happen. Hunter wraps his arm across your chest, leaning in close to your ear. You wrap your hands around his arm, holding on as Tech presses the scalpel against your skin. 

“Oh I can’t watch.” Wrecker says, turning his face away. 

You let out a whimper, your body tensing as he slices through the skin. Your teeth sink into your shirt as your face contorts with pain. Your very nerves are on fire as he opens the wound, just enough to find the creature inside you. 

Hunter presses his arm against your chest to hold you still as you attempt to jerk away from the pain, Wrecker holding onto your legs. 

“You’re alright.” Hunter whispers in your ear. “It’s almost over.” 

Your chest pushes against his arm as you sob, able to feel the alien worm inside you moving as Tech attempts to extract it. Your hands are gripping Hunter’s arm so tightly it has to hurt. 

Your whole body jerks, a muffled scream tearing from your throat as sharp pain erupts inside you. You’re hyperventilating, the monitor on your arm beeping rapidly. 

“Tech?” Hunter asks, the desperation noticeable in his voice. 

“I have a hold of it, but it’s attempting to attach itself to her.” Tech says, reaching for a long needle.

Your eyes roll back, darkness filling your vision as Tech lifts the creature from your stomach, a high pitched cry sounding from it before you slip into unconsciousness. 

***

It’s bright when you wake. For a moment you think you might have died, but the sound of beeping tells you otherwise. 

You squint against the bright lights of the medical center, lifting a hand to try and shield the bright lights. Someone says your name, pulling you out of the fog. You turn your head, staring up at the blurry figure beside you. 

“Hunter?” You rasp out, rubbing your eyes. 

“Good to have you back, cyare.” He says.

“You’re very lucky.” Another voice says and you tilt your head to stare up at a doctor standing over you. “You’ve made a full recovery, thanks to the interventions of your squad.” 

“I am pretty lucky.” You say, looking around the cot at the five members of your squad. 

“One last round of tests,” The doctor says. “Then you’ll be free to go.” 

You look back at Hunter as the doctor steps away. “Thank you.” You say. 

His brow furrows a little. “For what?”

“We wouldn’t have even known if it wasn’t for your senses. And I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Tech’s skills.” You say, turning to look at Tech. 

“It was a very simple procedure.” He says, adjusting his goggles. “And the little I got to study the creature before it was confiscated rendered some fascinating discoveries. I am looking forward to reading the full report once the Republic has finished its own studies.” 

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm despite everything. You slip your hand into Hunter’s as Tech continues to babble on about the creature, squeezing it gently. 

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @thrawnspetgoose @originalcollectionartistry @gwalchmai2970 @maddiedrmr @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mooncommlink @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @hellhound5925 @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare @jediknightjana @dalu-grantkylo

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #horror #horror fic #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #alien

[mellaithwen]

Tried to conceal the scars we wore buddie (6.9k) coda to 6x12 "Recovery" [on ao3] After the lightning, Buck's having trouble sleeping (at least, when he's not on Eddie's couch, that is...)

I finally finished the coda fic!! so I'm going to cheat and use that for my several sentence sunday post ;) thank you so much for the tags @homerforsure @rewritetheending @like-the-rest-of-la @littlespoonevan and @capseycartwright 💕

Buck wakes up in the middle of the night with a strangled gasp.

His heart’s racing, his ears are ringing, and his chest is heaving. His whole body feels taut—muscled coiled tight, ready to snap, his knees spasming as the remnants of his last nightmare slowly slither back into his subconscious. 

For the first time in over a week Buck hadn’t been dreaming of his dead brother, or his dead captain, or his not-so-dead ex-brother-in-law. No. Instead, he’d been falling. Falling through the pitch black darkness, with nothing to hold on to, nothing to halt his descent, and no idea if or when he might hit the ground. Air had been scarce, leaving him breathless and cold. He thinks he might have heard someone calling out to him, but he couldn’t see who—and all of that paled in comparison to the searing pain setting his body alight.

He doesn’t know how much of it might have been a garbled memory—suppressed until now—or how much of it was just an imagined horror based off of everyone else’s accounts of what they’d seen that night. 

What he does know, however, is that it’s late—and despite being surrounded by the softest blankets and pillows that he and his sister own (insistently donated by Maddie to aid his recovery) his body still aches with a bone-deep- gnaw as though he’d just finished a grueling twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse, and headed for a long run straight after.

Consequences of his injuries maybe. The doctors had told him to take it slow; to expect muscle pain, and fatigue, headaches and hearing loss. Seizures. Nerve damage and arrhythmia.

Subconsciously, he starts kneading his fist into his chest as though if he tried hard enough he could reach in and fix whatever might have broken when he got hit...

He remembers seeing a video once of this beautiful huge sequoia tree getting struck by lightning. The booming sound of nature’s wrath had shook the forest—or at the very least, scared the shit out of the guy filming. And then out of nowhere a vicious fork of burning light had split the large trunk in two. Loud and terrifying, like a gunshot in the street on a sunny day—awful and sudden and so painfully fast. Bark, like skin, flayed from the tree’s body as its innards exploded outwards; branches flying, and little fires sparking everywhere in the brush.

(It’s no wonder then that Buck wakes up from his nightmares with a burning under his skin, when it’s a wonder that he’s even waking up at all. )

[keep reading on ao3]

& i'll tag @princessfbi @zainclaw @renecdote @hopeintheashes @nymika-arts @ghosthunterbuck @fcntasmas @henswilsons @thekristen999 @shortsighted-owl @woodchoc-magnum @tripleaxeldiaz aaaand @buttercupbuck (in the hopes that I can be redeemed from my previous crimes?? akdsjkds)

#911fic #911 #buddie #buddie fic #911fanfic #911fanfiction #911 on fox #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 spoilers #911 fox #911 fanfic #911 fic #mellaithwen fanfic

[gerrystamour]

push down into membranes and layers

Explicit | Steddie | 4100 Words | Complete

[ FIRST FIC ] [ PREVIOUS FIC ]

Eddie didn’t want to say he felt like crap waking up, but he definitely didn’t get the most restful sleep thanks to a horny demon named Steve Harrington, and everything around his tail bone felt a bit tragic... CW: Cunnilingus, vaginal fingering and sex, squirting, something that might be watersports idk I'm not looking at that too closely

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Eddie didn’t want to say he felt like crap waking up, but he definitely didn’t get the most restful sleep thanks to a horny demon named Steve Harrington, and everything around his tail bone felt a bit tragic. However, Eddie really couldn’t complain about having two of the best orgasms he’d ever had in his life, and he could smell either pancakes or waffles being made.

He was pretty sure he was in love.

With a grunt, Eddie pushed himself up off the bed, blushing at how slick he was between his cheeks. “Just how much lube did Steve put in the syringe last night?” he grumbled to himself as he grabbed his boxers off the floor and shuffled over to the bathroom.

The two dildos that Steve used on him the night before were on the counter drying, and looking at them in the morning while he was sore and still leaking apparently just deepened his blush. He thought the second cock was much smaller than the first, but honestly, now that his brain wasn’t flooded with hormones demanding he be fucked within an inch of his life he realized that any difference in their sizes was negligible.

How was that for post-nut clarity?

“Who leaves them on the bathroom counter like that?” Eddie complained as his ears grew warm with his blush.

Turning his attention away from them, he worked on cleaning himself up a bit. There was a towel and a washcloth set out on the edge of the tub which seemed like an invitation for Eddie to shower. And honestly, a shower sounded divine.

Deciding to be quick so he didn’t miss out on whatever food Steve was making, Eddie tied his hair up in a bun and hopped into the shower. If he washed his hair, he would be in there all day, and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome like that. Yes, he was pretty sure he had some of Steve’s slick in his hair from when the man sat on his face, but he could deal with that at home.

Once he was done in the shower, Eddie felt a lot better. Still very sore, but at least he wasn’t sticky, or in some places crusty anymore. Seriously, he was going to have to lay down some ground rules about not being fucked until he passes out unless Steve cleaned him up really well after.

Leaving his hair up, Eddie put his boxers on and limped out to the kitchen to see what Steve was making. He was not prepared for the sight that was waiting for him.

Steve was standing at his counter, his back to Eddie as he hummed along with the song coming from a speaker on top of the fridge. His hair was still a wild mess, as if he didn’t even try to tame it when he got up, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs and a dark blue apron. There was nothing covering the tanned, freckled expanse of Steve’s back other than the strings tied around his waist and the Barbie tattoo Eddie put on his shoulder blade.

Eddie wanted to taste every single one of Steve’s freckles and moles.

With a low sound, Eddie stepped close behind Steve and placed his hands on his waist before winding his arms around him. When Eddie rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, he could see that the man was smirking down at the waffle iron.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Steve teased, and Eddie narrowed his eyes, dipping his mouth to bite his shoulder lightly. “Hey! Quit it,” Steve laughed, reaching back to dig his fingers into Eddie’s side, immediately finding a tickle spot.

With a squawk, Eddie went to jump away from that hand, then hissed at the soreness in his lower back and ass.

“You okay, babe?” Steve asked softly, taking the waffles out of the waffle iron before turning around in Eddie’s arms.

His expression was impossibly gentle in a way that made Eddie’s stomach squirm. The front of the apron had the words ‘kiss the cook’ embroidered—messily and crookedly—across the chest, and Eddie couldn’t deny an order like that if he wanted to.

“Was it too much?” Steve asked when Eddie pulled back, and now his face looked guilty, unsure, or worse, ashamed. That expression after the last twelve or so hours looked wrong on Steve, but Eddie could tell there was something deeper there.

“No!” Eddie quickly said, shaking his head with a little laugh. “No, not too much, it was perfect. It was a lot but not—just not used to being fucked that much.”

Steve smirked at that a bit before raising a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek. “Sounds like something that should be fixed, huh?” he hummed teasingly, tilting his lips up for a slow kiss. “I’m happy to volunteer my services, of course.”

Eddie laughed against Steve’s mouth before pressing close for more sweet kisses. “I bet you are, big boy,” he said after a bit, sighing a bit dreamily as he added, “You’ve got quite the collection of accessories.”

“That’s what I said, remember?” Steve teased, and Eddie nodded with a grin.

“Steve, that line of yours has haunted me,” he admitted before letting out a dramatic groan. “Knowing exactly the sort of accessories you’ve got isn’t going to make that any less of a problem.”

Steve just smirked, tipping his head back to meet Eddie’s gaze. “I think I like the idea of you thinking about my cocks,” he teased, and Eddie felt heat beginning to pool south.

Jesus, he had been fucked, thoroughly so, twice in the last twenty-four hours and he was still somehow getting horny again? What did Steve Harrington do to him?

Then Eddie thought about the night before, the half-awake romp and how, to his embarrassment, he had pretty much passed right out after Steve somehow fucked another orgasm out of him. Eddie hadn’t even returned the favour, which went against everything he stood for as a partner.

That—partner—had Eddie stopping his thoughts in their tracks, because ‘partner’ sounded a bit heavy without discussing that with Steve.

As if sensing the direction Eddie’s thoughts had veered, Steve got an adorably shy expression on his face, and he glanced away. “I wanted to talk about this,” Steve started, pointing back and forth between their chests. “About us. Before we kept going or whatever.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped a bit, suddenly terrified that Steve could tell just how much Eddie was into him even without the sex. The sex was going to make Eddie’s feelings even more unbearable, but he figured it was worth it.

“I’m happy with casual,” Eddie blurted with a half-shrug, and the lie was made very obvious with the way his voice broke just a bit. “If that’s what you wanted, I mean.”

Steve was looking at him again with that bitchy, judgmental look that was, unfortunately, irrevocably tied to Eddie’s boner as he discovered right that second in the middle of Steve’s kitchen. When Eddie moved to discreetly tip his hips back, Steve just reeled him in tighter with a knowing eyebrow raise.

“You think I did all that last night just for casual hook-ups with you, Eds?” Steve asked, and Eddie could tell it was a genuine question, but his tone had a delicious edge of condescension to it that was really doing something for Eddie.

“I don’t know, did you?” Eddie asked with a shrug, trying to play it off as teasing. He felt like he was mostly successful in doing that, but Steve just frowned at him. With a huff, Eddie said, “Seriously, Steve, I don’t really have people lining up to actually date me, so I kinda need it spelled out.”

Steve was still frowning at him, but there was an amused quirk of his lips. “Other people are idiots, then. But Eddie, I need you to know something,” he said, his expression turning incredibly serious as he leaned in closer to Eddie’s face. “I’ve been trying so hard to date you for months.”

Eddie couldn’t help the stunned, disbelieving giggle that tumbled out of his throat at that, shaking his head. “No way,” he said, and Steve just rolled his eyes affectionately.

“I’ve been trying to ask you out since that one-shot I played with your club, Eds,” Steve insisted. “Couldn’t seem to get you alone though.”

“You could’ve called me, or texted me,” Eddie insisted, thinking back over the months and how he avoided being alone around Steve because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from saying something inappropriate.

“I don’t ask people out over text, dude,” Steve said, making a face at the suggestion. Then he sighed and pulled Eddie in tighter against his front. “Seriously, I would like to date you, Eddie, and I would also like to use every single one of my cocks on you eventually.”

Eddie blushed, both at the heartfelt intimacy and the filthy images Steve’s words brought up. “Even the boring ones?” Eddie asked, blushing darker at Steve’s grin.

“None of them are boring with the way I use them, Eds,” Steve practically purred as he coaxed Eddie into a hungry kiss.

It didn’t take long for them to lose themselves to the kiss, groaning into each other’s mouths as Eddie rocked his half-hard cock against Steve. Eddie let Steve take control of the kiss, melting against him as Steve’s hands slid up under Eddie’s shirt, spreading his fingers across the bare skin of Eddie’s back.

Rutting his hips forward against Steve again, Eddie remembered the night before, how he felt about not reciprocating, and how it appeared that Steve was his partner now, so he didn’t have to shy away from that.

Steve pulled away just a bit, barely putting an inch of distance between their lips, and said a bit breathlessly, “We should eat some breakfast.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie agreed, and part of him definitely wanted to eat the waffles Steve had prepared. But Eddie was thinking about something else he would like to get his mouth on. It was just his luck that Steve loosened his hold on Eddie, probably to let him go sit down at the table.

With a quiet hum, Eddie hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs, sliding them down as he got to his knees at Steve’s feet. Steve was still wearing the apron, still covered up and hidden from Eddie’s hungry gaze, but it was still so perfect.

“Eds, what’re you doing?” Steve asked, even as one of his hands found itself tangled in the messy bun Eddie had put his hair into.

“Choosing my breakfast,” Eddie said cheekily, lifting his hands to hike the apron up. The moment Eddie’s eyes landed hungrily on the thick patch of dark hair between Steve’s thighs, he let out a soft sound and kissed Steve’s hips.

Letting out a soft, contented sound wrapped around a laugh, Steve spread his legs a bit and hooked a knee over Eddie’s shoulder, reeling him in. “Well, eat up, sweetheart,” Steve practically purred, and Eddie didn’t have to be told twice.

The groan that left Eddie as his lips wrapped around Steve’s dick was low and heavy, his tongue sweeping over it before he sucked happily. Eddie figured Steve had gotten cleaned up at some point after getting up, but he could remember the way Steve had tasted the night before. The salt of his slick mixing with that of his sweat, the smell of Steve’s arousal as he rode Eddie’s face. The memory of it was enough to have Eddie whimpering and pressing closer, desperate for that taste again.

Above him, Steve was moaning his praises, one hand cradling Eddie’s head while the other held the apron up so he could watch. Looking up through his lashes, Eddie whined at the heavy, hot stare that was waiting for him, hazel eyes half-lidded and dark. Preening a bit under Steve’s gaze, Eddie doubled his efforts, messily licking into his dripping cunt. Steve was so wet already, the obscene noises Eddie’s mouth made as he sucked and licked at his dick loud in the small kitchen.

Something in Eddie fucking preened at the way Steve’s eyes crossed at a particularly clever combination of teeth and suction on his dick, and Eddie chased that reaction. Within a handful of seconds, Steve held Eddie’s head still by his grip on his hair and was rutting against his mouth. All Eddie could do was try to suck his dick while Steve literally fucked his face, or he could flex his tongue and give the man something to properly grind against.

“Fuck, close, baby,” Steve moaned, his heel digging into the center of Eddie’s back as he tried to haul him in closer. That was an impossible task short of somehow crawling inside Steve’s skin. Then he was pushing at Eddie’s hands where they were holding Steve’s thighs in a grip that would likely leave bruises, and said, “Give me your fingers.”

Sobbing against Steve at the order, Eddie immediately pressed two of his fingers inside Steve’s hot, wet cunt, wasting no time before fucking them in and out. If the sound of his tongue and lips against Steve’s entrance was obscene, the way his cunt squelched around Eddie’s fingers was pornographic. With a low whimper, Eddie crooked his fingers against Steve’s g-spot, his eyes fluttering back at the near scream Steve let out.

Now, that was a sound Eddie wanted to hear more of.

With single-minded purpose, Eddie worked Steve’s g-spot relentlessly, massaging it roughly as he sucked and licked and bit at Steve’s dick. Steve’s perfect, muscular, hairy leg tightened around Eddie’s shoulder and back, his pussy clenching tighter and tighter around his fingers in a way that had Eddie wishing it was his cock nestled inside.

“O-oh, fuck, Eds, gonna come!” Steve warned, his breathing punctuated by high-pitched whimpers and his eyes wide, almost panicked as Eddie intensified his attention on his g-spot. Crying out, Steve pulled at Eddie’s hair, gasping, “Eds, I’m gonna—fuck—”

Smirking against Steve’s dick, Eddie had a feeling he knew exactly what Steve was trying to warn him about, especially with how frantic his warnings got with each new swipe and press at his sweet spot. When Steve looked down at him again, Eddie let out a shivering moan and shuffled forward so he was kneeling even more beneath him, tilting his head further back. Opening his mouth, Eddie stuck his tongue out as far as it would go and just held it against the smooth, slick skin between Steve’s dick and the wet heat of his cunt.

Eddie saw the exact moment Steve realized what he was doing, and it was almost like that was the final straw for him. Steve’s entire body shuddered with the beginnings of his release, his abs bunching up as he let out a low groan. Eddie hit Steve’s g-spot a final time, cutting off Steve’s breath with a strangled scream, and then a hot gush washed over Eddie’s tongue, and chin, and down his throat and chest. It was so fucking filthy, the way he was wearing Steve’s water, a small pool of it sitting in his mouth before Eddie audibly swallowed it down.

With a desperately hungry whine, Eddie didn’t relent with his attentions, starving for more of that, of Steve coming undone and the hot gush of his release splashing against his tongue and skin.

“Eds, st—I’m gonna fall,” Steve gasped out, and sure enough the leg he was still supporting himself on was beginning to shake. “I actually—holy fuck, I need to put my leg down now.”

With a pleased hum, Eddie lifted Steve’s leg off of his shoulder and placed his foot on the floor. With a start, he realized there was… not quite a puddle, but more than just a few drops of Steve’s water on the floor. Taking that in, Eddie realized just how wet his front was. His cock was hard and straining against the lap of his boxers, a big wet patch around the head of it showing just how hot it all made him.

When he looked back up at Steve, he froze under the heat of the gaze directed at him. It was heavy, hungry, wholly demanding. Eddie blushed hotly at the intensity, realizing just how fucking messy he was, face shiny and slick with Steve’s spend, throat and chest wet with his water. Surely, Eddie’s hair was messed up from Steve’s hands in it and he was pretty sure Steve’s gush got in it as well.

Eddie would absolutely have to shower properly before he got on public transit back home.

“Get your cock out,” Steve blurted, his breath quickening, and his eyes widened when Eddie immediately lifted up onto his knees just enough to push his boxers down. Once he was seated back onto his knees, Eddie went to touch himself, but Steve let out a soft sound. “Wait.”

“Stevie, I’m so hard I’m about to fucking cry,” Eddie whined, and yet he still dropped his hands into his lap, palms up as he blinked up at Steve.

There was no real reason for Eddie to listen to him or do as he was told, and he knew that Steve probably wouldn’t just make him stop in the middle of his kitchen. And yet, there Eddie was, kneeling with his cock out, boxers bunched down around his knees, hands laying ineffectually across his bare thighs while he waited for Steve.

Nostrils flaring, Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I wanna ride you,” Steve said thickly, meeting Eddie’s eyes the same moment Eddie shuddered. Smirking lightly, Steve carefully got to his knees and scooted forward until he was straddling Eddie’s thighs. “Want you to come inside me, really make a mess of my cunt.”

Eddie shook at that, the wet drag of Steve’s bush on his bare skin filling his head was just full of heat. “We don’t have to worry—?”

“Nope, tubes are tied,” Steve said, leaning close and hovering his mouth over Eddie’s lips. “Been tested recently?”

“Yeah, for my certification,” Eddie blurted, blushing hotly. All he had to say was “yes,” why did he have to bring up his fucking shop. “I haven’t been fucking anyone, but I have to—for the shop, y’know? It’s not—”

“Eds,” Steve interrupted, as he lifted up higher on his knees, cunt hanging above Eddie’s weeping cock. Eddie closed his mouth with an audible click of his teeth, and he could feel his blush crawling down his chest. “Do you want me to ride you?”

“Yes,” Eddie practically squeaked out. Holy fuck, he was determined to embarrass himself apparently.

Steve smirked as he lowered the wet slit of his cunt to rub against the head of Eddie’s cock. “Do you want to come inside me, baby?” Steve asked, voice almost mockingly sweet as he took just the head of Eddie’s cock inside his cunt.

“Oh, fuck, yes, please Stevie, I wanna come inside you,” Eddie whined before he choked on a punched-out moan when Steve sat down, taking the full length of Eddie’s cock into his hot cunt.

The pace from there was frantic, with Steve bouncing in Eddie’s lap, hard and fast, leaning back to get his cock at the right angle for his g-spot. They were loud, with Steve’s low groans and Eddie’s whimpering pleas, and Eddie wanted to feel Steve come. He needed it more than he needed air at that point.

Reaching down to play with Steve’s dick, Eddie made a noise of frustration when his hand was blocked by the apron. Steve had let it drop in favour of bracing one hand on Eddie’s knee, and the other one above his head and hanging onto the counter, using that as leverage to lift himself up and drop back down, hard and fast and desperate. Looking down between them, Eddie couldn’t deny that the apron added something, the way he could hear the wet, squelching sound of his cock sliding in and out of Steve’s pussy, could see wet spots beginning to form where it was being splashed from beneath.

Eddie could’ve watched the lap of that apron all day, but he had a dick to get his fingers on.

Reaching behind Steve, he untied the strings at his waist and then just spun the apron around, so it hung down his back like a fucking cape. Seeing Steve naked in the warm morning daylight, sun-kissed and sex-flushed, was nearly enough to do Eddie in, especially when he looked down and watched the way his dick disappeared with every heavy drop of Steve’s hips.

“C’mon, Eds, touch my dick,” Steve pressed when all Eddie did was stare. Swallowing thickly, Eddie looked up at Steve with wide eyes, whimpering at the smirk that was twitching at the corner of his lips. With a sinful roll of his hips, Steve tipped his head back with a loud cry. “Make me come, sweetheart.”

Immediately, Eddie’s knuckles framed Steve’s dick and started tugging it, working it with quick, frantic little motions that had the man above him jolting and letting exultant cries spill from his throat. The wet heat around Eddie clenched on the next bounce and then the slick walls spasmed, seemingly pulling Eddie’s cock when Steve lifted himself a final time. Steve dropped onto Eddie’s cock with a guttural sound, grinding down onto his lap as he came, eyes rolled back in his head as he shook.

Steve was still catching his breath when he lifted himself up a bit and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. Sloppily kissing Eddie while he panted, Steve shuddered with each twitch of his pussy around Eddie’s cock.

“Fuck me, Eds,” Steve mumbled against Eddie’s open mouth, eyes heavy-lidded when he pulled back. “Want you to hold me tight and take what you need, hard and fast. ‘Til I fucking shatter.”

Again, Eddie did not have to be told twice.

Wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist, Eddie held him there and pounded up into his dripping hole. Everything was so wet, droplets splattering his thighs and lower abdomen as Eddie fucked Steve, his own orgasm surging forward and pulling the coil tighter in his gut. Distantly, he was aware that he was still incredibly sore from the night before, and he would likely have to take it very easy for the rest of his weekend, but there was no way in hell he was going to stop now. Not when he was so close, and Steve was writhing on his dick and crying out, babbling about being close again.

With a desperate whine, Eddie grabbed the back of Steve’s head and pulled him into a messy kiss that was mostly just teeth clacking together as they panted into each other’s mouths. Eddie whimpered, loud and keening against Steve’s tongue as the man shoved it into his mouth, his balls drawing up tight and his stomach bunching as he reached the edge, so close to tumbling right over it.

When his thrusts grew erratic, Steve sighed. “C’mon, baby, give it to me. Come inside me,” he breathed and Eddie was done for.

The sound that was torn from Eddie’s throat was raw and shattered, muffled by Steve’s mouth and tongue as his cum painted the walls of the man’s cunt. His hips stuttered against Steve in short jolts, the wet slap of Eddie’s lap against him driving Eddie absolutely insane with lust, even as his cock began to soften, and the pleasure became sharp.

With a broken sound, Steve came again and dropped heavily into Eddie’s lap, pressing him back onto his heels and grinding onto Eddie’s half-hard cock while his pussy clenched and rippled around it.

Finally, they were both done, just riding out the aftershocks as they lazily kissed each other. Well, “kiss” was a bit of an ambitious word for it. They were doing a lot of brushing of lips while they tried to catch their breath, their tongues touching each other lightly in the air between them. As their breathing slowed, Eddie started to pull away to look up at him, and then Steve poked the tip of his tongue up one of Eddie’s nostrils.

The delicate, soft moment shattered with their laughter as Eddie wrenched back, pressing the back of his hand against his nose with a grimace.

“What the hell, man, what kind of animal sticks his tongue up a guy’s nose?” Eddie complained.

“Oh, so that hole is off limits?” Steve asked with a shit-eating grin, his expression unreasonably pleased when Eddie blushed.

“Yes, freak,” Eddie said with a bright laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around Steve and pulling him into a searching kiss.

And if they spent the next ten minutes making out on the floor of Steve’s kitchen, cum and slick drying between them and the waffles Steve made long-forgotten on the counter, that was just fine. Perfect even as far as Eddie was concerned.

[ TBC ]

[ READ ON AO3 ]

Taglist! @scarcrossdlvrs @patchworkgargoyle @mylilplanet @spicysix @xenon-demon @wormdebut @stobinesque @inairbinad @steddieas-shegoes @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @rugbertgoeshome @starryeyedjanai @thefreakandthehair @theheadlessphilosopher @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @cardboardqueen @estrellami-1 @kkpwnall

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #transmasculine steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #gerry writes #TransmascSteve. #GoodBoyEddie.

[imagine-darksiders]

DUDE your bowser fics are keeping me FED. I so appreciate the work u do, thank u for existing <33

Do you think we could see the scene where reader sprains her ankle? I am in love with your writing!!

Ah, I can't believe I'm joining this Bowser train, choo choo!!

Here's part one of the ankle sprain. Pt 2 is in the works <3

Bowser X Reader

-----

This is a bad idea.

This is a very bad idea, and you've known it would be a bad idea from the moment you started tying your silken bedsheets together, fastened one end around a column of the four-poster bed and tossed the other end straight out of an open window.

While certainly not the most creative method of escape, you're well aware that time is of the essence.

The ruler of this wretched castle – King Bowser – is nothing if not your most frequent visitor.

The last of the sun's rays have slipped back down behind the horizon, stealing away the day's warmth and light, which suits your plans just fine. Less light means you'll be harder to spot as you shimmy your way down the side of the tower, clinging to your unconventional rope like a limpet clings to rocks on the shore.

Of course, as seems to be the case with your recent run of bad luck, there is another major factor you hadn't accounted for that has already proven more of a hinderance than a help.

In your haste to make a quick getaway, you hadn't considered the rain.

A relentless onslaught of water cascades down from the darkening sky, lashing against the side of the castle and drenching your flimsy nightdress until it's plastered against you like a second skin, offering little protection against the icy downpour.

The bedsheets you're scaling are already as sodden as you are, and your rain-slicked hands squeak and slip precariously against the fabric as you ease your way down inch by terrifying inch.

The breath in your lungs heaves out of you in crisp, white clouds of white air.

Quivering, you cast a glance down at the ground, still so far below your dangling feet and utterly barren of foliage or grass. Just a desolate wasteland of wet, churning mud.

The ground isn't the only thing that's churning.

Your stomach rolls over itself at the prospect of how far you still have to go before reaching solid ground once more. You must be several storeys up, right at the tip-top of Bowser's Northern tower.

Twisting your fingers and toes desperately into the sheets, you drag your gaze away from the perilous drop and squeeze your eyes shut, scrambling down a little further.

Time is not on your side. There's an awful burn in your arms that's starting to spread like venom to the rest of your muscles, and you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to hold onto the slippery sheets before your strength gives out.

And that's when you hear it.

That dread-inducing, booming knock - A damning sound that stops your heart in its tracks and draws your descent to a halt as you instinctively freeze up against the wall, your white-knuckle grip crushing the sheets between your fingers.

"No... No, no, no!" you whimper breathlessly.

Why is he here now!? He's only visited you every hour, on the hour. By your count, he's at least twenty minutes early, he shouldn't be here!

Not yet...

Even from several storeys down, you can hear the thunderous voice of your captor calling to you from beyond the doors of your prison - a plush and luxuriant little corner of the castle that he's been trying to convince you is your bedroom.

“Princess?” he calls out in that gravelly rumble you've come to fear, “Are you decent? I'm coming in...!”

A vicious shudder travels down the length of your spine that has nothing to do with the cold seeping like ice into your bones. You have to move.

Now.

Urgency and adrenaline compel you into action, driving you to move hand over hand, inch by agonising inch, down the rope of bedsheets. High over your head, you hear the ancient, wooden doors creak open, announcing Bowser's entrance.

“Princess?” comes his muffled call once more.

You drop another few feet, pulling a face at the false title he's given you. You may not like it, but you suppose it's better that he thinks you a princess than a queen.

There's silence for a time, lasting a scant few seconds as you presume he's giving the room a cursory sweep, until, inevitably...

“Princess!”

It's far more urgent than you expected, and his shout is immediately followed by the clatter of several objects being dropped to the ground, smashing to pieces across the marble floor of your prison-come-bedroom.

You realise that by now, he has to have seen the open window and the sheets you've tied to the bed.

The whole tower seems to shudder as he lumbers across the room, and in a thoughtless move borne of fear, you crane your neck back and squint up through the rain until your gaze lands upon the golden light that spills out through the window, what had once seemed like such a beacon of hope.

There, through the darkness, a colossal snout pokes out into the downpour, swiftly followed by a thick, fiery mane.

For all of a second, you find yourself gaping up at the underside of his chin.

But of course, as was bound to happen, he tips his nose and finally looks down.

The dark does little to hide the striking gleam in those wild and crimson eyes. They lock with yours, and for a moment, you both stare back at one another, unblinking, each as apprehensive as the other.

Somewhere far in the distance, a growl of thunder almost supersedes the Koopa's deafening roar. “WHAT'RE YOU DOING!?” Bowser bellows, loud enough to spur your stiff muscles into action once again.

Gasping for a breath you hadn't realised was trapped in your throat, you recommence your mad dash down the side of his tower.

“Wait! Stop!” His tone is suddenly miles away from its usual, authoritative lilt. “You're gonna get yourself killed!”

You pay the King's threat as little mind as possible and begin to clench and unclench your fists, allowing the weight of your body to pull you down in jolting, jarring increments. The sodden palms of your hands burn as the fabric pulls through them, rubbing the skin raw, but you don't stop.

You're nearly two storeys from the ground when, all of a sudden, you feel the sheets in your hands jerk and there's an odd swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach as gravity gives an unexpected shift.

It takes your brain a moment to realise what's happening.

One, rapid glimpse of the ground confirms your fear. The mud below you is falling away again, getting further instead of closer with each passing second.

“No!” you gasp hoarsely, snapping your head back to see that Bowser has stuffed his arms and torso out of the window and fisted his enormous, meaty paws around the bedsheets, hoisting them back into the room, one armful at a time.

“Just hang on!” he belts out, spraying rainwater from his rubbery, upper lip, “I gotcha! I gotcha!”

He's pulling you back up, you realise with a sinking sense of dread tugging your heart down into the soles of your feet. He's taking you back to that prison, back to the confined and claustrophobic walls of his fortress.

Heaven knows what he'll do to you when he gets his hands on you after this, but you can't imagine that anyone who is willing to kidnap a person is going to pull their punches if said person attempts to escape.

You can't let him get you back into that room.

Right now, you're more afraid of the Koopa King's wrath than you are of a fall.

Dropping your head, you watch the ground sink further and further away below your bare toes.

Two and a half storeys... at least... and steadily getting higher....

You can't stop to hesitate.

Besides, you've already had several bad ideas today, what's one more?

Your breath stills as you try to override your natural instincts and pry your trembling fingers from the bedsheets. One moment of courage, that's all you need.

“Come on!” you whimper to yourself, slamming your eyes shut tight.

At last, with every synapse in your brain shrieking for you to hold on, your hands spring open and you finally let go.

“NO!” Bowser's almighty clamour is lost to you in the abrupt rush of air that screams past your ears.

There's a gut-wrenching second of free fall, and then..

'SPLAT!'

The muddy earth is eager to greet you with a sickening squelch.

You land feet first, letting out a shrill yelp of pain as you instantly crumple over onto your front in the muck. It oozes between your fingertips as you clench your fists and bite down hard to keep a sob trapped behind your teeth, eyes burning with unshed tears.

You feels as if someone has taken a red-hot poker and shoved it straight through your ankle.

“Y/n!?”

Your own name sounds far away to your ringing ears, and you deduce that distance must be the reason why the voice sounds so frantic.

It won't occur to you until later the significance of Bowser calling you by your name instead of 'princess.'

Mud clings stubbornly to the front of your night dress, caking your thighs and arms as you tenuously peel yourself up off the ground and rise to your hands and knees whilst the rain hammers down on you from overhead, plastering your hair to your skull.

Wet, freezing cold and sporting an ankle that sings with agony, you drag yourself away from the wall on shaking limbs. If you can just make it beyond the castle grounds and into the Dark Lands, you might stand a chance of finding a place to hole up in until the worst of the storm passes, proverbial and literal.

The odds are slim, but right now, you don't have much of a choice. You have to go home. You have to get back to your people.

It isn't lost on you that you're far from your kingdom, separated by vast oceans and unfamiliar biomes. But as you struggle through the mud on hands and knees, you resolve to cross that bridge when you're out of immediate danger.

Another grumble of thunder rolls across the swiftly-darkening sky.

“Stay there!” Bowser hollers from the window, “Don't move! I'm comin' down!”

You risk a strained glance over your shoulder to see how far you've crawled, but when your eyes land on the Koopa far above you, your efforts to drag yourself forward are put on temporary hold.

Blinking through a mixture of raindrops and your own salty tears, you see the Koopa bracing his hands on either side of the open window, but he doesn't retreat into his castle, as you assumed he would.

By your count, it should take him at least five minutes to get out here to you, which would subsequently give you precious time to put some distance between you and his terrible fortress.

Sadly, your hopes for that outcome are promptly scuppered when the king hoists his hefty bulk through the window and, to your shock, pushes himself out of it, foregoing your bedsheet rope entirely.

Mouth hanging agape, you're too stunned to do anything except watch as Bowser drops like a meteorite, plummeting towards the earth with his knees bent and his arms held out at his sides, mane whipping around his horns in the rain. He hits the ground with an almighty 'BOOM!' that sends shockwaves rippling out through the mud around him and shakes the ground below your fingertips.

Nothing but a low grunt is torn out of him at the impact.

Horrified, you reel back as he lifts his head, and his bright, blood-red eyes slide open, zeroing in on you with the immediacy of a honing beacon.

Gods... he doesn't even look winded.

You wonder how you must seem right now to a tyrant like him – sopping wet and bedraggled, mud-caked from head to toe, and shivering like a leaf in a hurricane. You're far from the proud, adventurous person who first landed on the shores of the Mushroom Kingdom.

You're given no more time to your thoughts however, as Bowser starts towards you, stomping easily through the sloshing mud.

With a sudden flare of alarm, you whip yourself around and struggle valiantly up onto your one, good leg while the beast's resonant breaths drift closer and closer, urging you onwards like spurs to a horse's flank.

The moment you're upright however, sharp agony crawls up from your ankle to your knee and you cry out in pain, half stumbling, half hopping awkwardly through the slippery mud.

“Hey, stop!” Cumbersome footfalls are almost upon you.

You make it all of a few steps before your ankle suddenly crumples under your weight and you let out another bleat of anguish, toppling backwards with your arms pinwheeling to try and right yourself again.

At your back, Bowser makes a sound of alarm, but you don't see him lurch towards you, his colossal hands outstretched. There's an almighty 'thud!' behind you as something enormous hits the ground.

Gravity pulls you greedily backwards and you brace yourself, waiting in anticipation to feel the earth connect painfully with the back of your skull.

So it comes as something of a shock when, instead of a cold, hard landing, your backside hits a warm, spongey surface...

Stunned rigid, you pry your eyelids apart and find yourself blinking straight up into the falling rain.

“What...?” Reaching behind your head, you try to feel for the ground underneath you, only to further baffle yourself when your probing fingertips meet a layer of smooth, .

A hot gush of air suddenly blasts against your thighs and you squeal involuntarily when something groans under your rump. With a gasp, you hurl your torso upright and twist yourself around to peer down at the soft surface you've landed on.

Oh... Oh, you really wish you'd just fallen in the mud...

For reasons utterly beyond the scope of your imagination, it seems that Bowser has thrown himself to the ground just in time to spare the seat of your nightdress from further mud, but evidently, he'd overshot, enough that you've ended up landing right on top of his head, not in his outstretched hands.

You're sitting on Bowser's muzzle.

His muzzle, your brain helpfully reminds you, and you're dreadfully aware of the little puffs of breath that blow from his nostrils and warm the backs of your thighs. All of a sudden, the gargantuan body underneath you lets out another groan and a single, red eye peels itself open, swivelling up to meet your stupefied gaze.

“Ngh, you okay?” the King mumbles through his lips, half of his jaw squashed into the mud.

It takes you another second to register your mortifying position. And another second entirely to react to it.

You're not sitting there for long. With a scandalised squawk, you hurl yourself off the koopa's snout at the speed of a bullet and twist yourself around in mid air to face him. The seat of your dress eventually collides with the mud but you don't care for the ruined fabric, too preoccupied with gawking up at Bowser as he starts to heave himself onto his feet.

“You!” you blurt shakily, “How... how dare you!” Trembling hands drag yourself backwards, but Bowser, it seems, is hardly paying attention.

In another second, he's stepping forwards and leaning down towards you, wholly undeterred by the feeble slaps you land on his outstretched arms.

“Don't you dare!” you bark, wriggling with fervour when his huge, scaly hands slide around your back and slip easily underneath your kicking legs, clamping your knees together.

“Quit movin' around! You wanna make that foot worse?” The King's rumbling timbre does nothing to dissuade your struggles. With far too little effort, Bowser clutches your squirming body against his chest and rises to his full height.

You regret tossing yourself about so much when a wayward kick sends spasms of white-hot fire lancing through your ankle and you promptly go rigid in the koopa's arms, hissing a breath through your gritted teeth.

Bowser lowers his colossal head over you, covering you from the worst of the weather as he curls around you until you're almost lost from view behind his broad biceps.

“C'mon, Princess,” he thrums, his throat so close to your ear that you feel his voice more than you can hear it, “Let's get you outta this rain...”

#mario #bowser #bowser x reader #whump #hurt #comfort #fluff #possessive bowser #protective bowser #do you want to see part 2?

[krispdreemurr]

I'm not sure if you're still doing fic requests, but maybe you could write one about Kris meeting (or experiencing might be a better term) Gaster? I can only imagine the properties of a man who exists both beyond and interweaved into the fabric of reality would also bend reality itself. I wanna know how messed up it would feel to be in proximity to this guy. Like a warning aura.

[i've done first meetings a few times before so this is a second one lol, hope that's ok]

The first thing they notice is always the words.

IT HAS BEEN

SOME TIME.

He doesn't speak. There is little sound here; the distant howl of wind, the pulse of their own heart. His words cut through that all and leave behind a silence deeper than is possible, a silence that their brain struggles to fill back up with noise, with words, with anything at all but the aching empty spaces.

They open their eyes.

They're standing on level ground in the dark. They have to remind themselves of that, because somehow they feel a sick lurch in their stomach like the ground has given out under them, like the wind is rushing past them, like they're falling on and on without end--

They're standing.

He's facing them.

Bone white against black, a shape defined by cracks and emptiness. Hands - more than make sense, more than they can keep track of. Eyes. A smile.

He was smiling the last time, too.

Their heart pounds in their chest, setting its own time, and they want to turn and run but they know the ground would give out, they know there is nowhere, there cannot be anywhere, they are lost they are gone they are drowning falling falling forever forever forever forever forever

One of the hands lands on their shoulder. It's shockingly cold, and it is burning hot, and it is burning bleeding melting dying, and they yelp and pull away.

"Don't," they hiss.

APOLOGIES

BUT THIS MATTER IS CRITICAL

I REQUIRE YOUR ATTENTION.

"I don't care about--" They shake their head, force themself to step closer on shaking legs. They can feel nothing beneath their feet, sharp and solid. "You've... Where's Dess?"

A pause.

With a thunderous crack that makes no sound at all, the smile splits wider.

YOU ARE TRULY

TRULY

CARING.

SHE IS SAFE. SHE IS PROTECTED.

ESCAPED FROM THE GAZE OF THE ANGEL

Another hand outstretches. It is lightyears away. It is directly in front of them.

WHICH IS WHAT I ALSO

OFFER TO YOU.

They stare for a moment, then manage a bare, "What?"

The shape--the man--straightens. Fingers tap aimlessly on dark air, with sharp clinks coming with each motion.

THERE IS A STORY YOU ARE CALLED TO SERVE.

THERE IS A ROLE YOU ARE CALLED TO FILL.

YOU CANNOT FILL IT.

He looks at them for a moment, cold light shining in broken eyes, and his gaze smells like bone and rust and feels like something cutting through their chest.

THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT. YOU ARE AN EXCELLENT CHILD.

THIS IS JUST SOMETHING YOU CANNOT DO.

I SOUGHT TO ASSIST YOU

AND HAVE BEEN TRYING TO ACCUSTOM YOU

BUT IT IS CLEAR MY AID

IS UNWELCOME.

They remember. Finding themself at the bunker again and again, with only dazed half-there memories. People remembering conversations they'd never had. Hours, days, weeks slipping into a gray haze.

The growing weight on their chest, until one night they'd awoken and caught hold and pulled--

Their hand goes to their chest now. Feels a hole cut through, leeching away warmth. Feels something damp and clinging, blood through their fingers. Feels an alien pulse. Feels something that burns them. Feels everything and nothing at all.

"Why me?" they mumble.

BECAUSE IN A WORLD THAT WAS NOT

AND NOW WILL NOT BE

I WAS A FOOL.

They're back in the dark of the bunker, watching with wide eyes as hands in the dark grip the hilt of a blade and tell them to watch closely, because this is something only they can do, and--

They're dressed in armor they've never seen before, blue and silver, his hand firm and real on their shoulder as he gestures at the sky and talks about reaching to heaven, and--

They're holding out their hand, offering mercy, forgiveness, trust, and his own hand pushes it away and he drives a blade into the earth and nothing pours out and nothing happens and nothing and nothing and nothing and--

They shake their head, trying to clear out memories, to sort out what fits in their head and what is something alien to them.

I CANNOT CHANGE THE PATH.

THE KNIGHT

GIFTED KNOWLEDGE OF THE DARK

WILL OPEN THE FOUNTAINS

SEEKING FREEDOM

SEEKING ESCAPE.

THIS IS SET.

BUT.

YOU CANNOT BE THE KNIGHT.

"Because I'm a failure?" they croak, too overwhelmed to try and hide the truth.

BECAUSE YOU ARE KIND.

He gestures with many hands, and--

There's a window, or a door, or a warp in space, or they have been somewhere else all along. There's a body wrapped in gray, floating empty, hair shifting lengths, face missingabsentgonelost. There's more of those soundless words, but they're not meant for Kris, and they cannot make sense of them.

COME WITH ME

I WILL KEEP YOU SAFE IN THE DARK

FOR A TIME.

ANOTHER WILL CARRY THE BURDEN YOU CANNOT.

AND YOU WILL RETURN SAFE AND WELL.

They hesitate, looking at the stark white shape of the hand. It holds itself steady, a fixed point against the ever-falling ever-rising dark.

They don't want to.

But--

But they know. If there's a need for a hero. For someone who can save the world. It can't be them. Not Kris, tired lonely Kris messaging a brother who won't answer again and again, passing through the days in silence. Not Kris, who no one has even noticed as they slowly vanished.

Maybe it would be better to be gone.

Just for a little while, after all.

They're so afraid. They hate it here. They hate the man and his promises and his demands and his conviction that everything is set for them. They hate the dark and the way it clings to them and drips down them and weighs down their feet without touching them at all. They want to wake up tomorrow and eat breakfast with their mom and go to school like normal and live their life like normal and just keep on through the endless days and pretend.

But in the end--

They're so tired.

They reach across the distance, preparing to grab hold

and that's when red light cuts through the world blade-sharp and someone is yelling something at them in a voice they can almost hear and they feel something hooked in their chest snag taut like the other end has caught hold of something far distant and the man reaches across the infinite distance between them but they are

rising

rising

rising

"Kris!"

Something opens their eyes.

#krisp fic #this is probably the most detailed layout ive done of a LOT of my headcanons

[nexusnyx]

hello, i hope you're doing alright! i was wondering if you could write a tasm!peter fic based on the song "Honest" by The Neighbourhood! (it can be really angst, i won't complain) 🤭 Thank you so much in advance, and i'm completely in love with your writing!

i'm doing great babe, thanks for asking. and you? i secretly love writing angsty scenarios with my fav boyfriend so tysm for this one. hope you like it <3 | tasm!peter parker x gn!reader ; 1.4k

🎧 i wish you could be honest with me...

Despite the idea of a 'victory', Peter's bones screamed at him that it was all lost.

They ached.

No matter how much they hurt, he carried you all the way home in his arms, swinging from building to building while biting back his tears because a blurry sight was a terrible idea. Your arms holding tight around his neck grounded you to the present. Everything hurt, but it would be okay, he guessed. Hoped, with everything in him and a bit more.

Peter wondered why you stood by him.

"Peter."

"Not now," he asked—no, begged. The lump on his throat was hanging by a threat as thin as a hair, and he needed it to be as strong as his webs.

"Okay."

Nothing could erase the fact that you were hurt because of him. Because of who he was.

Peter accepts your silence with loosened shoulders and takes you home—his home, not yours.

The place you share with Felicity reeks of other problems and things I'm not thinking about right now and Peter needs to have eyes and hands only for you.

He needs his head still fixed on top of his shoulders as he cleans your wounds, and as always, you give him what he needs.

It's eerie staying in the silence with you, but he's grateful even for the weirdness in the air.

Embracing it means he gets to taste it, and if it stains his tongue, then it's real.

The blood in your stomach is metallic, hot, and sticky. The roof of his mouth tells him — warm, rich, precious — and his temples throb underneath the shower stream.

Outside your bathroom window, the noises of New York City deafen his ears to the sound of your teeth chattering.

"You know it has to be cold," he mutters.

There's a nod from you. Warm or hot water dilates the skin—it's not good for wounds that are starting to heal, baby.

It was your own sermon, back when you first discovered who he was and why he always had something purple and ugly painting some part of his body, or why sometimes Peter had nightmares that woke him up drenched in sweat and screaming until his throat was sore.

He couldn't just say—I'm sorry, because words of regret meant nothing next to the blood on his hands. Your blood on his hands.

Peter had a lot of things he kept to himself.

Most of them were ugly. Truths filled with rage, bursting with red, spiked energy of moremoremore.

Peter couldn't just say he was fucking glad he killed the people who laid their hands on you.

Instead, he finished cleaning you up.

That's how long you graced him with time to process—you allowed him to carry you home cradled in his arms, let Peter remove each item of your clothes, and clean, wash, and care for every inch of you until you were as okay as you could be.

Then you spoke.

"Now you."

Peter wanted to shake his head.

"Hey." Your hands reached up to his cheeks, cupping his face in your palms. Peter's eyes found yours. "Hi, Spidey."

You should've never said yes to me. "Hi."

"I know what you're thinking," your voice deepened when you were serious about something, and Peter felt himself swimming in your depths.

"Hardly think so."

"Can I take a guess?"

"Go ahead."

"You're thinking..." that going after you at that museum was a mistake. "That I would be better off without you."

It hurts again when you smile. "Close call." That smile—the softness around your edges that only he saw; he couldn't have stayed away even if he prayed to the skies for it. I was doomed from the start.

"Sucks to be you, Spidey."

He barked a laugh. "Oh—that's on the spot."

"But—" he braced himself for it. "It sucks even more for anyone who never gets to meet you. Because—when I met you, I found it again. I found... peace. And — call me cheesy, that's fine — I found that... some things just are. And they're beautiful. And they're colorful. Even though all the horrific, pale, lifeless things suffocating us. And you're that for me."

It hurt to keep all the horrible, poignantly sharp things about him locked away inside a cave, but Peter could have this.

His knees gave out, but you were there.

With arms wrapped around his upper body holding him firmly in place, cradling him into your embrace. You were there to place his head on your shoulders and whisper soothing words as he cried, anchored only by your hand rubbing circles on his back.

Peter cried in silence at first, but when all of his air ran out and he struggled for a breath letting the first sob rip its way out, all he could do was cling to you.

You held him with care.

He cried, thinking about that date in the museum and how he knew.

"So you have a spider?"

"Yup. Her name is Arabelle."

"Wow. Arabelle. That's not scary at all."

"She's not scary. Was she supposed to be?"

"I don't now. Most people are terrified of arachnids."

"Most people can't be trusted with most things... I mean. Have you looked around lately?"

"Wow—"

"—have you seen things? It's like... a nightmare."

"Very Black Mirror."

"Yes! Exactly! Very Black Mirror."

"What's a spider, right?"

"A beautiful and artistic animal. Not terrifying at all."

"What are you scared of?"

"Uhm... humans. First and foremost."

"Of course."

"Space. Angry geese. And people who are obsessed with nothing but true crime and horrible things."

He told you that day more things than he remembered telling anyone.

Peter still felt like an invisible hand gripped his throat most of the time. Maybe his control was slipping. Maybe traveling between universes unscrewed more things in his mind, but there was less regret and more fire than he'd had in years.

"But that's okay. You're allowed to be angry, Peter."

He feels dizzy— "I'm scared," he confessed, pulling back to look you in the eye.

All the soft glow you had when leaving the shower was gone—Peter's aura mingled with yours and he could see the bags under your eyes as well as the cuts on your face.

"I'd be weirded out if you weren't. That was scary." You patted his cheeks. "I haven't thanked you yet."

"For what?" he frowned. All he did was destroy. Break. Shatter.

"Saving me," you stated simply.

He stopped. His breathing slowed. "You saw what I did." He may not be able to say I liked it and I would do it again, but Peter's not blinded by the truth. You were there. You saw sides of him he wished didn't even exist.

"Yeah." So simple. Not a hint of judgment.

Peter held his breath. "You saw I could've stopped."

You smiled at him. "I wouldn't have."

Peter's world narrows down to the floor of his bedroom. There are parts of his body mending and stitching themselves up together as you two speak, but he feels as light as a feather. "What..."

"Peter, if someone kidnapped you, kept you in a dark room for 24h, and made you bleed just before bringing you to see me... I'd have done exactly what you did." You leaned in, sealing your lips on his. "And I wouldn't regret a second of it."

I love you.

Peter was unsure if the words are what he felt or an echo of your thoughts that he might've heard, but they released him of more than a hot shower and some stitches could have.

"Can I help you now?"

Peter nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat with the tears he bit back.

He no longer felt like crying.

"Yeah." You can do anything. "Thank you." I love you.

Your eyes said you heard the sentiment—or felt it, just like he did.

"C'mon'," you helped him get up, and Peter spent the night with you laying on his chest, wondering what else he kept locked away that was safe in your knowledge.

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#usernexusnyx #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker angst #tasm!peter parker smut #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter #tasm fic #tasm peter x you #tasm imagine

[strawhatsoraya]

*kicks down door* i'm baaaack~ (are u kidding, i never left in the first place) anyway, ummm can i request levi (obey me) & the prompts: ❛hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you.❜, fireflies, & garden; i leave the rest to u, bonus points if it's angst, but it can be whatever u like *smooches*

wao this is my first leviathan fic. i'm excitedddd. i tried to do something a lil different with the prose. i think i messed up halfway but it is what it is lmao. i hope you like it anyway. it's got some angst at the beginning and finished it with some fluffy fluff for you. there's some smooching but nothing explicit. it's cute.

OBEY ME LEVI X FEM READER / SFW

WC: 2.2k

CW: angst, maybe some depresso espresso implied, but nothing crazy, some fluff, some kissing, that's it!

In the Devildom it was always night.

For some, that would be a miserable existence. Never a speck of light, never the warmth of pure absolute brightness easing the ache in your bones. Instead, there’s an indescribable coldness that settles in the spaces between your joints. It grows a home there, builds turrets, and turns your pain and suffering into a kingdom. Your body becomes ammo for the very same war it wages against you. It conquers you, buries you under its tyrannical foot until you forget what it’s like to look up from the ground. 

Not that it made a difference to Leviathan.

It had always been like that. The cold. The pain. The ground.

Even in the Celestial Kingdom, he had a tendency to keep his eyes on his feet. He’d count his steps carefully, petrified of going down the wrong path. More than anything he wanted to fit in; a place to belong.

But the funny thing about wanting; about real want. The kind that grows like vines between your ribs, and constricts and binds until you’re left breathless, starving, delirious. That kind? 

Want almost always leads to disappointments. If you have enough of those piled up, they quickly turn into fear; and once fear has a hold of the deepest parts of you, you learn to hate the light.

So for Leviathan, who hated the light that reminded him of what he could not have and could not be–the darkness of the Devildom was hardly a punishment.

At least that’s what he would tell himself.

Then why was it that for you, Levi found himself always making exceptions? 

He never planned for you to be in his life. He hadn’t asked for your time, your presence, your friendship. He hadn’t asked for your patient considerations, your gentle kindness. He hadn’t asked for any of it. 

Levi tried to keep you out at first, like the rays of light disturbing his deep slumber. He’d pull the curtains across his heart, hang up a keep out sign, yell and shake his fist at the sky like an old man on a lawn. He did everything he thought he could to stop you from trespassing. 

You paid him no mind. You pushed past the curtains, took down his sign and tucked it under your arm. You joined the old man and yelled at the sky too, then sat on the lawn with him to point at passing clouds. You did everything you could, and he didn’t stop you.

It was admiration, he’d tell himself as his heart would race at the sight of you. It was just merely, purely, only admiration. It didn’t matter how badly his hands would sweat when you’d sit next to him, playing video games with the concentration of a top scholar. It didn’t matter how badly his stomach would flip when you smiled at him. 

It didn’t matter, and it shouldn’t matter, because he didn’t like you. Not like that.

He was Levi, and you were you. There was no changing that. He had no right to have romantic feelings for someone as amazing as you, as lovely, and perfect as you. 

He does his best to bury these feelings. He consumes pounds of his favorite snacks, until Beel expresses concern about his sudden appetite and takes it as a challenge; one that Leviathan quickly loses. There was no competing with Beel when it came to a food challenge.

He tries to hide his wistful sighs between the pages of his favorite manga, so much that Satan finds him annoying, and goes on a tirade that ends up ruining several volumes.

His day is only made worse, when Asmo and Mammon inadvertently break one of his figurines in a fist fight. When he almost threatens to summon Lotan, Lucifer yells at him and calls him overly sensitive. 

Leviathan has had enough. He feels the rage that slumbers always under the surface bubble up. He hears himself say words he’ll regret later that he can’t take back. He feels hot tears prickle behind his eyelids, so he shakes his head and storms off.

He didn’t have much, but Lucifer wasn’t the only one of the brother’s with pride. 

Leviathan locks himself away in his bedroom, curled up on his side under the blankets inside the bathtub. It is cool, and dulls the noise. It feels like being inside a water tank, away from prying eyes. Levi closes his eyes and wishes, not for the first time, that he could sink under dark waters and stay there for eternity; wrapped in its cold current, away from those who don’t understand him.

There’s a soft heaviness that falls over him. He sighs as his breathing becomes shallow, and sleep touches his eyelids gently with cold fingertips. He thinks about giving in, sleeping it off, and maybe feeling better in the morning but he hears a familiar voice calling out his name repeatedly. Levi’s dark brows pull together as the voice persists, and there’s knocking on the door.

“Ugh!” he groans as he throws his blankets off and sits upright in the tub. “Go AWAY!” he yells, his cheeks turning crimson with his efforts. His breathing is ragged, and he is doubly annoyed that he was now disturbed from possibly having a peaceful sleep.

You don’t go away. Instead you knock more furiously.

“Open up, Levi! Come here and talk to me!” you ask him; your voice was clipped with annoyance. Levi felt even more annoyed now. He jumps out of the tub, and stomps barefoot to the door.

“Well, I don’t wanna!” he yells through the closed door. “I have nothing to say to you or my brothers. So if that’s what you’re here for you can forget it!”

There’s silence after he speaks. Leviathan’s breathing starts to calm down, and he swallows, wondering if he successfully spooked you off. He leans in towards the door, trying to hear past it. He presses an ear against it, his indigo hair falling over his eyes.

“You know I’m not going anywhere without you, Levi,” you say softly. It’s like he can feel you, pressing yourself against the door. Leviathan presses his hands against it, imagining you doing the same behind it. “Come out, please. There’s something in the garden, I want to show you. Won’t you come with me?”

Leviathan huffs. 

“It’s late,” he mumbles, pushing away from the door. He glances around the entrance of his bedroom, eyes on the ground–always on his feet. You hear him shuffling behind the door and can’t help but smile. By the softness in his voice, you know you’ve piqued his interest at least. The door creaks open, and Leviathan is peeking from behind it, his golden eyes peer at you from behind a curtain of blue.

You smile as a soft laugh tries to reveal all your secrets. There’s a timid heat rising on the back of your neck. You ignore it, and push your curls away from your face.

“Come on, Levi,” you say, trying on your sweetest whine. You hold out a hand towards him. “I promise you’ll have fun.”

He grumbles as he takes it, mumbling and blushing.

“T-this is-isn’t making me happy or anything,” he says even as you intertwine your fingers with his. “You’re such a normie.”

You hum in agreement to appease him. There’s a smile that once again threatens to destroy all your carefully constructed lies. You bite at the inside of your cheek as you lead him away from his bedroom and towards the garden. 

It was difficult to tell time in the Devildom without a clock or a watch. There weren’t changes in the sky that could be memorized or get used to. All you knew was that it was after dinner time, and you were surely to get in trouble if Lucifer found out.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and surely, he could turn a blind eye this time. After all, you were trying to cheer up one of his little brothers.

“Sit with me,” you ask Levi as you take up space on a stone bench. Leviathan looks down at your joined hands, and feels himself combust. He stammers some kind of response, as the softness of your hand finally settles within him. Your palm is warm against his. Levi drops it and himself onto the bench, keeping a small amount of distance between the two of you.

You sigh, and try to stifle the laughter as best as you can. You bite down on your lip, and look away to help yourself in the end. It wouldn’t do to laugh at Levi right now. It would just sour his mood. The coolness of the stone bench is soothing under your hands.

“Look,” you tell him quietly, and point at the glowing orbs floating in the air all around with a nod of your chin. “Fireflies.”

Levi looks away from his trembling hands long enough to catch the sight of fireflies dancing in the air. Their surreal light glows faintly in the dark. There are so many of them they cast the side of your face in a soft green light. Levi finds himself transfixed. He watches you silently, taking in the roundness of your cheek, the curve of your top lip. He is mesmerized at the way your lashes flutter when you blink, at how the wind softly plays within your wild curls. 

Something tightens in his chest. The sight of you is too beautiful. He feels sick and yet he knows this could not be an illness. This pain had a name. This pain had cost his sister her life.

Levi knows he should cut it out at the root. He should rip out the vines tangled in his rib cage with his hands, even if the thorns tear his skin apart. He knows he should incinerate it all, set it ablaze, throw it out, and never let it resurface again, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

He’d hold on to you with bloodied hands, with his fingernails torn apart. That selfish part of him, that he loathed, was the only thing keeping him afloat most days.

“Oh, maaan,” he groans under his breath, barely audible. You blink, and avoid turning your head, terrified to interrupt his thoughts. Levi’s expression was one you saw in him from time to time. The way his sunlit eyes would soften, how it seemed like his whole body was lighter. You could feel a revelation there, as if he was dying to tell you a secret. 

“It’s hard to sit here and be close to you, and not kiss you,” his voice is a whisper; a prayer barely spoken. You feel your world stop, and then spin quickly. The fireflies dip in between the two of you, their little dance of lights never stopping. Levi is staring at your mouth, the one that now is agape. You don’t know what to say, or what to do next even as your heart leaps into your throat. 

The words spoken finally register to Levi. He sees your brows drawn in confusion, your eyes riddled with questions, and panics. 

“Uh-uh I mean!” he starts, hands going out as if to stop you from going further–to keep you from asking him for further explanations, to repeat himself. Or perhaps, just to protect himself. “I mean, just pretend you didn’t hear that, okay?”

You shake your head softly.

“I can’t do that, Levi,” you tell him gently. He’s still panicking when you reach out. Your hand gently pats his head, until he calms down. His hair is feathery and soft under your fingers. You smile sweetly as you play with it. “How can I pretend? I can’t forget it now.” You slip your hand behind his head and bring him close to you.

Levi barely has time to breathe when your lips collide with his. He freezes at the warmth of your mouth, the sensation both foreign and thrilling. There’s a fire that sets its course through his body, running rampant along his veins. His hands feel awkward, as if they should be anywhere but in the air touching nothing as they were now–so he settles, quite bravely, by holding your free hand with both.

You pull away to give him room to breathe, and smile back at him, mirth dancing in the dark depths of your brown eyes. Leviathan thinks he’ll never stop blushing in your presence now.

“Next time give me a warning!” he says while watching you, pressing the back of one hand against his mouth. His face partially hidden there makes him look even more precious. You fight the immense urge to kiss him again.

“And I think, next time you want to kiss me,” you say, carefully and slowly reaching out to touch his face. Levi is so skittish you’re afraid he’ll run from you if you move too fast. Your fingers dance over the shell of his ear, before you tuck his hair behind it. Levi shivers, feeling a  new strange heat pool at the pit of his belly. “You should just do it.”

“Okay,” he agrees, mostly because he can’t think straight with your fingers against his ear; mostly because now all he can think about is kissing you, and kissing you, and kissing you.

And so he does, just like he promised. 

You smile into his kiss. Levi wraps his arms around your waist and you hold on to him gently, letting him lead this dance for once, with the fireflies as witness.

#leviathan x y/n #leviathan x you #leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x you #obey me levi x y/n #leviathan fluff #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me fanfic #fic request

[gabessquishytum]

One of the ideas I’m obsessed with is Hob getting summoned instead of Dream because he has been touched by Death. The Corinthian would be unmade. So no glass sphere. But Burgess would find out very soon that Hob is immortal—but is not Death. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his uses.

Burgess forms a collar that hides Hob and keeps him bound to his will, but is easier to maintain than the circle. Either way, hob is trapped but not protected by glass. That means Burgess has a lot more options. He does experiments on him and sells his organs and blood, whatever he can do to make a buck.

Hob however isn’t like Dream. He begs and shouts and tries to befriend the guards and nothing works.

But he also tries to befriend Alex Burgess. Ironically as Alex grows up, Hob is a rare positive presence in his life.

One day, when Alex is a young man, Burgess catches him talking to Hob. Alex fights him and he dies the same way. For a moment, Hob is full of hope. But Alex doesn’t let Hob go. He takes Hob’s face in his hands and professes his love.

This was not the outcome Hob wanted at all. Hob tells Alex he can’t return his feelings. He has grown to be fond of him, but it’s too weird for him since he watched Alex grow up. But also, Hob reminds him, he is a prisoner, so even if he did feel the same, he can’t truly consent. Again he pleads with Alex if he really loves him, he would let him be free.

But Alex says he can’t let him go. He begs Hob to give him a chance; Hob begs for freedom. They’re at a total impasse.

The years pass. Alex tries to treat Hob better. He doesn’t sell parts of him or torture him. He lets him out of the basement to roam the house, walk the grounds, feeds him the best food money can buy. But no matter how much Hob asks, Alex refuses to let him go free. If enough time passes he is sure Hob will grow to love him back.

Hob is walking on eggshells. He knows Alex has all the power, only he can remove the collar, and Hob is very aware that if Alex snaps, all bets might be off. Every day that passes, neither of man getting what they want, Alex and Hob each get a little more desperate.

No one is looking for Hob. Even his stranger won’t know to look until 1989 at least—and that’s assuming he even shows up after Hob offended him so badly…

Wowee, I love this!!! I also love a good "Hob gets captured instead" fic and I really like the idea of Hob and Alex having this super complicated thing going on. I feel like Alex is a great narrative foil for Hob in many ways, I guess they have certain similarities. The differences all come in the ways that they view and perceive Dream as a friend/person/object.

Anyway I'm adding the second part that you sent which is also super interesting. I'm quite fascinated by the idea of Destruction being Hob’s rescuer, that has the bones of an AWESOME Hobstruction whump fic right there. I'm also very keen on the idea of the Corinthian somehow coming to have ownership of Hob...

Other possible candidates for who might free Hob that come to mind...

Calliope - once she escapes her own captivity, perhaps she seeks out other beings in trouble in order to give herself some closure. She "inspires" the captors to free Hob, not knowing anything about the friendship between him and Dream.

Death - she's kind of noticed that Hob hasn't died for a while (he does it periodically and it's a way for her to check in with him) and she goes to see what's up. OR Hob mentally breaks down and asks for Death to come to him. Whether she takes him to the sunless lands or not, I'm not sure!

#the sandman #hob gadling #nsft #cw kidnapping

[kitashousewife]

warm glow

an: *sigh* time to write for the love of my life :) another winter event fic!

pairings: yuuta x fem!reader

warnings: all characters aged up, yuuta helps teach now bc he is out of school, manga spoilers? angst at the beginning, angst to fluff, food mentions, drink mentions, lowercase intentional

-

yuuta's apartment feels cold, the blanket draped over his back and a chill in his very tired bones are a rather harsh welcome to the new season. winter has never been his favorite. the changing of seasons acts as a reminder of passing time, seconds and minutes falling from his fingertips no matter what he does.

stolen time. a stolen youth.

his final teenage years were far from normal. fighting, running from nothing and everything at the same time. he's gotten himself to a much better place, but the ache lingers. memories are brought up in little ways. small phrases, the raised skin on his sides, arms, and hands. the darkness underneath his eyes and the lines that rest beside them.

growing up too fast, some might say.

calloused fingers turn off his tv, making him realize just how dark it's become at night. yuuta walks quickly, shuffling into his bedroom and flicking on his lamp before shutting the door. for many reasons, he's grown scared of the dark.

it's thursday night, and after a very routine day, yuuta is ready to head to bed. navy eyes flit to his phone that sits atop the bathroom counter. something he's done a lot of lately. throughout each part of his nightly routine, he looks, waiting for it to light up.

yuuta met you a few years ago, after his first few weeks at jujutsu high. he had been in the city, grabbing a few things that he needed on the weekend with his fellow first years, when he saw you. knelt on the ground, picking up coins that had fallen out of your then ripped purse. he went over to help you, and after talking for just a few short moments the two of you became friends.

you thought he was charming, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as he talked to you. he thought you were fun, and your friendly words made him feel so welcome. with exchanged numbers, frequent texts and calls, even meeting in the city whenever the two of you could make it work.

and then he left.

he told you, of course. at that point, you knew all about his school, his life, and his abilities. his responsibility. you weren't surprised by any means when he told you of his opportunity, but you couldn't help but be upset that he decided to take it. days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became almost a year until you had heard from him. your frustration and hurt were short-lived once you learned why.

he grew up too fast.

the two of you talked once a month or so for a couple years, and once he finished with school and began helping out he had a lot more time to have friendships.

or, in this case, mend them.

yuuta leaves the bathroom light on and shuts the door slightly, allowing the glow to seep through the cracks. he climbs into bed, humming at the comfort and warmth, even shutting his eyes slightly. they open almost immediately, though, once his phone buzzes with a text from you.

did you have a good day? i'm just getting home

the previous chills, aches, and fatigue he felt melt away when he sees your name.

it was pretty normal! how was your day? you deserve a warm shower!

one of your favorite things about yuuta is how his personality, voice, and care show through every text message. you can read it in his voice. you grab yourself something to eat, groaning at the rather late hour of the night before trudging to your room.

it was long, but i'm glad to be home. i miss ya. are you free anytime soon?

the rather fine line between friends and something more has been tripped over by both of you, now more than ever. what used to be innocent compliments and touches now feel heavier, lingering longer than before. yuuta wants to forget the line, kick it out of the way and just make you his, once and for all. but, with all the missions and fighting, he doesn't know how.

stolen youth.

oh, i miss you too!

he thinks for a second. tomorrow is friday, meaning he only helps at the school for half of the day. and, with winter break starting next week, he's completely open. he's not sure why, but his heart begins to beat a little quicker. he remembers something about lights downtown, close to where the two of you met.

i'm free tomorrow evening, would you like to do something? i heard there are some really nice christmas lights downtown!!

once in your own bed, you smile wide after reading yuuta's message. you were hoping he would suggest that, you've been dropping hints about looking at lights for weeks. you thought, maybe, that spending some time together where you first met could help you build up the courage to tell him how you really feel.

i would love to! i can meet you near the convenience store across from the laundromat at 7? does that work for you?

it's only a few seconds before you have your answer.

7 is great! i'll see you tomorrow!! :)

-

it's below freezing. the air stings, and your breath swirls above you with every exhale, but you feel warm. your commute was long, only adding to the anxiety you feel. you cannot figure out why. it's yuuta, for crying out loud. you've spent many hours with him, even days at a time.

this feels different.

yuuta thinks out loud, feet stepping off of the bus to walk the final stretch before meeting you. gloved fingers push back his once-styled hair, strands now falling naturally instead of the pushed-back style he set them in. he stops walking when he catches a glimpse of you.

standing under the flickering convenience store sign, bundled up and looking around, for what he assumes to be himself. yuuta sighs, feeling like he needs to do something more to prepare himself, but before he can think anymore his feet are carrying himself towards you.

"yuuta," you smile, voice warm and full of care. he could swoon. with a call of your name, yuuta pulls you in for a hug, cradling the back of your head with his hand. he pulls away first, wearing a toothy grin and rosy cheeks.

"it's so nice to see you! what has it been, three weeks?" his palms face the sky in question. you laugh.

"almost four, yuu! you know, you're too busy for someone so-" young dies on the tip of your tongue, fading into the air with the warmth of your voice.

"ugh, i know!" he smiles at you. if he noticed what you said, he didn't say anything. he looks behind you, then to the side of you, before scratching the back of his head. "i'll be honest, i'm not sure if i remember how to get to the lights from here,"

you snort before linking your arm in his, pulling him in the opposite direction to walk down the street.

"what would you do without me?"

he shakes his head. he doesn't answer, though.

yuuta isn't sure if he could even put that into words.

"do you remember last christmas, when we got all of that snow? i kind of hope that happens again," you reminisce before yuuta scoffs.

"are you kidding? did you forget the part when you lost power?"

you wave your hand dismissively. "that doesn't matter! come on, yuu! wouldn't you like a white christmas?"

he thinks for a moment, before looking at you at his side, arm still wrapped around his.

"it would be nice. i think it would be pretty, that's for sure. but don't come crying when your landlord forgets to turn on the generator," he teases, winking at you before laughing. thankfully he turned around so that you could force the warmth on your cheeks to leave.

"oh, yuuta! we're here!"

yuuta hums and looks up, gasping when he realizes where you are at. the exact spot you met years ago is now covered in lights of all sizes and colors. every tree is wrapped, strings of lights embracing every branch and limb, looking like small street lights. even the buildings are included, some linked together by strings of lights that swoop down, creating a canopy that drapes over the entire plaza.

"oh," he breathes, taking it all in. you are smiling, looking around in wonder at it all. you are pointing things out, cheerfully exclaiming things that he can't hear. you are glowing. the warmth of the lights surrounds you, making you stand up. if you turned around and had soft wings coming out of your back, yuuta wouldn't think twice.

"yuuta, did you hear me?"

he shakes his head before looking down at you. his rosy cheeks, enhanced by the warm glow around the two of you. his navy eyes twinkle, and the few strands that came loose around them are pushed back.

"no, sorry. i got distracted. what did you say?"

you give him a small, very nervous smile.

"i said, you look pretty yuuta."

pretty.

his brows furrow. if anything, that word should be saved for you and you only.

"you think i'm pretty?" he says, shocked. you giggle, which doesn't help.

"of course i do! especially in this lighting!"

"are you saying i don't look pretty all of the time?"

you playfully smack his arm, hoping that he drops the subject before you say anything you might regret.

thankfully, he beats you to it.

"you know, i think you're very pretty too."

you blink at him. "you do?"

he steps closer, the gap between you is small.

"yeah. i always have," he breathes, eyes searching yours for something, anything at all. you turn away, unsure of what to say before a fabric covered finger turns you to face him once more.

"prettiest girl in the world."

your lips part, completely unaware that you are staring at yuuta's until the sound of bells pulls your attention away. a few kids go running by, holding bags of goodies from the nearby stores and shops, laughing and waving at the two of you as they pass.

yuuta doesn't turn away from you. his eyes follow your hair, your eyelashes, the shape of your nose and down to your lips. his heart is racing, he's not sure if he should just listen to his heart or play it safe.

he decides quickly that he's tired of running. tired of fighting, tired of putting his emotions aside in favor of his safety.

"hey?"

you turn your attention back to him, eyes wide and head tilting slightly.

"hi," you smile, feeling your body leaning towards his.

"you mean a lot to me," he whispers your name before grabbing your hands in his, gloved fingers lacing together.

"you mean a lot to me too, yuuta."

you are face to face, noses almost brushing and lips just one push away from meeting.

"i meant what i said. about you being the prettiest girl in the world."

your heart races and you look up into his eyes, forcing yourself to calm down when you see he's serious.

much like the first time you met, you feel as if it is just the two of you in the plaza. time stands still, everything melts away leaving the two of you alone.

"i want to keep you by my side, call you mine," he looks at you with a small smile. "can i?"

you nod, before giving him a big, toothy grin. "yes, yuuta. i want to be yours."

his fingers leave yours before coming up to cup your face, pointer finger moving a few strands of hair from your face. he leans in, lips brushing against yours before they finally meet. soft, warm, and moving perfectly against yours, all while he smiles. he pulls away, eyes searching yours for any sign of regret, but instead you laugh.

grabbing his arm, you pull him towards the food and drink vendors.

"where are we going?"

"i heard your stomach rumble, yuu. i want to get some food with my boyfriend,"

his mouth drops open, before turning into a wide grin.

"i would like that, very much."

#heidswinterevent #yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta fluff #yuuta okkotsu fluff #jjk fluff #yuuta x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuuta #jjk scenario #jjk imagine

[masterqwertster]

Hi!

So I love your writing, especially the prompt thing you've been doing recently. I'm super curious on what you think it would look like after the last little fic with Ashton and Orym, since they have no healers.

Maybe #6, #19 or #27, if you haven't done those or are okay with repeats? With Orym having to accept Ashton and Laudna's help until they can find a way to heal him, since it doesn't seem like he can even lift his arms? Or even accepting help from the other three traveling with them right now.

Or maybe for another focus, Laudna being panicked and scared about him being hurt and almost losing them both, but also worried about Imogen, so she's projecting onto Ashton and Orym to feel in control and maybe a little too pushy about helping him heal and making sure Ashton is alright too.

Thanks! 🤗

Alright, last one for this prompt list (for now) Sorry this one took a while. The prompt decided to fight me, but I got that sucker in the end! 6 "Don't move, you're still hurt." 19 "You need to eat something." Gonna pass on 27 "I'm going to carry you, okay?" since I've done Ashton and Orym both separately and together on that one. And since episode 63 was a whole thing, this references that, just the tiniest bit. Also, my brain decided this is a canon adjacent where Orym, Laudna, and Ashton are off on their own having split from their guests. So it's just the three of them in this little fic. A follow up to this one.

Laudna clutches her boys close.

For a bleak while there, she thought she'd lost them. How could she have gone back to Fearne, to Fresh Cut Grass, and told them their best friends didn't make it? That her reflexes hadn't been fast enough to catch them in a life-saving Feather Fall? And what about her, left alone without her family?

Lucky her, they managed to save themselves.

There's even the pleasant surprise of Ashton returning the hug, pinning her and Orym to their chest. Laudna really does enjoy hugs from the genasi when they're willing. Just the reassuring weight to their arms, the seemingly unshakable solidity to their body and presence, juxtaposed with the absolute care and gentleness they handle her with. Sometimes she'd swear there's nothing more grounding than an Ashton hug.

A hiss escapes the group hug, sending Laudna scrambling backwards as Ashton's arms spring open.

With that space, she fully takes her boys in, almost immediately spotting the problem: Orym's arms look a dreadful mess. Bright red and swollen at the joints, and dislocated too, if she's any judge (and she is, with as often as her own joints will pop out of place).

"Oh. Oh, that doesn't look good at all. Hold still, give me a moment," Laudna worries, hands going into the motions for a Wither and Bloom. Healing is hardly her specialty, but this spell can heal. It doesn't have to kill hurt.

And it's not as much healing as what Fresh Cut Grass or Fearne could provide if they were here, but it is some measure of healing. The worst of the swelling reduces, the redness recedes some, and some nasty cracks and snaps indicate that all the bones have popped back into their sockets.

"Wait," Orym pants out as Laudna's hands begin the motions for a second casting. "S-save the magic. We might n-need it later."

Laudna bites her lip. She really thinks Orym should take a second round of healing, even if it does bring her magic reserves down to uncomfortably-low-should-another-fight-occur. Because it's either her magic or one of their few potions to get the halfling into something better approximating working order.

"Heal him," Ashton commands, cutting through the indecision.

Orym splutters as Laudna quickly completes the spell, trying to be indignant about the used resources even as the tension in his body relaxes a bit more from the second dose of healing.

"Can you hold your shit, or does Laudna need to hit you again?" Ashton demands, no room to lie or evade in their gaze.

With a stubborn jut to his chin, Orym picks up his sword and shield. He only slightly fumbles stowing them away on his back, earning a grunt of approval.

"Alright, let's keep moving," the genasi says, groaning a bit as they lever themself back onto their feet.

"Are you okay?" Laudna has to ask. It can be a little tricky to tell when Ashton is vocalizing his chronic pain or a current injury.

"I'm good," Ashton says, rolling his shoulders and flexing his hands a bit, producing a barely audible popping that Laudna’s fairly certain wouldn’t be audible at all if his body wasn't made of stone. "After all, I'm not the one who caught, like, ten times their body weight and still some-fucking-how held on."

"Are you complaining?" Orym raises an eyebrow at them.

"Nah. Just saying you absolutely fucking needed the healing after doing something that crazy," Ashton easily explains, flicking the halfling's ear.

Orym grumbles, but lets it go.

Laudna, for her part, is very glad Orym managed such an impossible feat, even at great cost to himself. Certainly, having Ashton handle their own weight is always the better option, but needs must. And they obviously got around to it quick enough, since Orym's arms are still attached and the boys did haul themselves back up the cliff.

And maybe, maybe, Laudna spends the rest of the day hovering and worrying. Even though her boys are perfectly fine besides Orym's sore arms, Ashton's sore everything and there's really no need to worry. They're quite capable and can handle themselves. She's seen them in action, so of course she knows that. There's really no need-

"Here. Eat," Ashton grunts, shoving a bowl of stew into her anxiously wringing hands.

"Oh. Oh. I'm alright," Laudna demurs, even as her fingers curl around the warm bowl.

"Eat," Ashton demands again. "I know you don't need much, but you still need some. 'Sides, food is energy and you need to regain yours for-" and he wiggles and flicks his fingers at Orym in what is actually a half-decent impression of her casting Wither and Bloom.

And well. When they put it like that.

Laudna eats her stew.

As they settle down for sleep and watch, Laudna hits Orym with another Wither and Bloom, getting a little sigh of relief from the halfling. Then she spins one last one on Ashton as well for good measure.

"Good night," Ashton intones as almost a threat, flipping her off good-naturedly. And they resettle in their seat, obviously feeling some relief from her spell as well.

"Good night~" she sing-songs back, curling into her bedroll. Her boys live (she can hear them breathing), and soon, all of Bells Hells will be together again.

#MQ&A #critical role #ashton greymoore #laudna #orym of the air ashari #MQfic #hurt comfort dialogue prompt

[boygina-philosopher]

OSHA violating bullshit

Feat. Spock/McCoy/Kirk

Meta: multiple shots, mlm,

Tags: oviposition, vibrator use, eggpreg, cum swallowing, alien deepthroat, sounding, absolutely egregious medical malpractice, if you don't like eggs coming out of the weiner maybe skip this one, facehugger-type alien, multiple orgasms, belly bulge, borderline body horror, parasitic aliens, pleasure dom McCoy, power sub Spock, Easter fic, parasitoidism, aftercare, still calling the hole a cunt lol, voyeurism/exhibitionism, OOC but nobodys reading this so who cares

The cavernous underbelly of the giant planet should have been the first sign that the day wasn't going to be normal. Thank God for that, if there ever was a god, which there can't be. A benevolent god would have reduced these creatures into a blasphemous memory.

Spock, ever the curious man, stepped forth beyond the stalagmites seeping from the ground to look closer into a duct in the rock. The mineral in the walls of the cave shimmered with chatoyancy, reflecting into the eye of Kirk, willing to walk closer to Spock to investigate whatever grabbed his infinitely focused attention.

In a hushed breathy tone, Spock addressed the captain. "In the crevice... There's something alive in there." He said, not taking a single look away from it. The rumble of his deep voice seemed to stir it awake, and it backed away.

The captain whispered,

"that shouldn't be-"

And as in uffish thought he stood, the creature lunges forth, grappling onto Spock's face as he attempted to wrestle it away, backed into the wall by the large thing, far too large for the small crack it leapt from.

Kirk can only act as fast as he can understand what is happening, with no one present to snap him into gear. Still, in only a millisecond it seems he grips the creature, pulling away from Spock to no avail, until he hears a disgusted, throaty sound.

Spock's sharp canines were bared as the creature's thick fleshy tendril slipped between his lips and deep into his mouth. Spock has nothing to emote, but immediate revolt against the tentacle prying his throat open. His eyes vaguely darted to the captain in a sliver of shock before a liquid gushed forth and his eyes were quickly squeezed shut. The bitter foreign liquid piped down the man's throat and down his gullet, never ending as it seemed, flowing forth at a rapid pace from the creature latched onto him.

Involuntary tears pricked Spock's eyelashes as he gagged around the appendage, whimpering trying to keep his esophagus closed. The cloudy liquid spilled from Spock's mouth and dropped down his strained neck, until Kirk tore the alien from his face. The alien's crab-like leg sliced into kirk's chest. The excess of strange liquid made the grip too slippery to keep up, and the alien was flung into a nearby wall, splattering goop all over the glittering rock. Kirk looked down at his first officer, coughing up a storm, brought to his knees and utterly exhausted. That's what this brief moment was. The eye of the hurricane.

Immediately after being beamed up, Spock collapsed and was caught in a hectic battle to carry the dense man to the sick bay. Dr. Leonard McCoy eventually got to him and, joined by Kirk, he hooked Spock up to his faster x ray machine.

"it shouldn't be normal for a Vulcan to pass out from exhaustion from something as simple as wrassling an alien. I don't suppose you still have said alien, Captain?"

"Ah, I'm afraid not, bones. It didn't seem like a priority when it was pumping toxins into our first officer."

"oh, bite me." McCoy retorted, flicking a steel switch, cracking on the image of Spock's organs. All where they should be, which is to say, where they should most definitely not be. No perforations, only the liquid traveling throughout Spock's body.

"maybe it had some sort of sedative properties..." McCoy muttered, feeling around on the bulging stomach. Before shooting Spock his adrenaline. He awoke to the feeling, In an admittedly unsettling manner, flicking his eyes open and staring at the doctor.

"I do not mean to alarm you, but it feels as if the material is growing."

Okay, well, that's probably not a good sign, now is it? And Spock was not wrong, as the liquid took a more gelatinous form inside his system. It clumped together, forming squishy beads.

"why, doctor, that looks like frogspawn."

"eggs..."

The alien was trying to use an unsuspecting Spock as an unconscious incubator, possibly even larva feed when the eggs hatched. parasitoidism, not uncommon within earth wasps, such as the jewel wasp. They needed to purge the body of steadily hardening, thick beady eggs until the moment they would tear through him. Near exactly what was conveyed to Spock.

He couldn't cut into Spock without risk, the eggs hardened to injured tissue, seen on kirk's chest, when the goop clung to the slice on his skin. An idea struck Leonard, but not without predetermined conflict.

"now Spock, we need to try something but you need to bear with me."

Spock's stomach bulged now, stiff and glistening with sweat, flushed. Kirk sat behind him, gently patting his shoulder like a proud father of two dozen parasitic alien eggs. If he had not already been dating his superior officer and doctor, he'd surely be ashamed of this horrifyingly wanton display.

"captain, you are surely needed in H.Q., I suggest that you leave my side and-"

"Spock I'd just about die on that chair knowing what's happening to you and knowing I didn't help."

Leonard had Spock sit up and lean back slightly, spreading his legs and presenting to the doctor.

"doctor, might I ask what you're doing?"

"you need to flush them out of your system. I'd understand if you don't want Kirk to be here for this part." McCoy announced, presenting Spock with a steel rod, a small bullet shaped... Machine, and lubricant. Spock's face flushed a stoic green and pursed his lips.

"i would not want to exclude the captain from such a groundbreaking discovery." Spock said, with utmost control.

Spock attempts to keep his legs open as McCoy presses the vibrator to his hardening cock, twitching and emanating heat with every stroke. Of course Kirk wanted to stay, Of course he did. Nothing embarrassing could ever stay between Spock and his doc.

"I think that's enough. This might hurt, so tell me if it's too deep." McCoy said, wiping lube across the sounding rod. He leaned downward between Spock's thighs, sighing gently onto Spock's sensitive cock, causing him to squirm. He pushed the rod into the tip, stretching him gently and stinging Spock with pleasure. He whimpered around the new sensation. Kirk furrowed his brow, bringing a hand to his heating face, red, with pupils blown out.

Spock tipped his head back and bit his lip as the rod pushed deeper.

"hold this, keep it up, okay?" McCoy pushed the vibrator towards Kirk, pushing the button to turn it on and gesturing towards Spock's cock. Kirk barely even registered his task before he pushed the toy onto the cock from behind the other man. Spock's demeanor unraveled and he moaned gently into the air.

Man, he really should stop getting into these situations. This is quite possibly the most illegal thing McCoy ever done on board, jerking off his superior officer and hard under the table. That man didn't even know how perverted he was, god, he's so fucking weird. That did not even begin to describe it. He pulled the sounding rod from the hole-

Spock gasped into a moan as an egg popped out from his tip. And another. Three eggs slipped from his cock, and Spock pulled his legs together. The vibrator buzzed around his cock, sliding up and down and sending waves of pleasure across his body.

"d-doctor, I think I'm going-ah!"

Another egg slid from his cock as an orgasm rocked his body, cumming hard onto McCoy's and Kirk's hand. His thighs trembled gently.

"ah...excuse me-I didn't-"

"that was the plan. That's how we purge them out. McCoy, you've done it again." Kirk announced, a crooked smile hiding the raging heat growing in his pants.

Spock looked up at the captain, eyes droopy and glazed over.

"this will hurt. It's best you try to withstand it, cuz it's working." McCoy assured, before plunging the rod back into Spock's cock. The Vulcan arched his back and whined, before he bit onto his hand to muffle the sounds of ecstasy. Kirk Drew his arm from his face and pulled it up.

"c'mon Spock, let me hear it." Kirk whispered into Spock's hot ear. He nibbles on the tip and Spock gasped.

McCoy should have known better. He really did expect Kirk to be into it, and yet he still let him stay. That's not to say it was shameful, it would be a crime not to get horned up at the masterpiece in front of them.

The pressure was unbearable, any single touch was enough to make Spock whelp, as the constant upkeep of sensation was momentarily unpredictable. He could feel them sliding inside him, replacing one another, eager for the opening the doctor made with the rod. They clacked dull against the inside of his cock. It was too much, too... Zing-y. The slow gape was the worst. For such small, golf ball sized eggs they sure liked to take their time.

Eggs slipped one after another from Spock's throbbing, wet heat. It stretched him to the brink and brought him back just in time for the intense relief to make him cum again. It was too much, too sensitive. He came six times and reactionary tears unashamedly flowed from his face, slick with sweat and a deep green. He was not crying, but this sure was something. He could barely speak anymore, begging and moaning loud as Kirk pried his legs open for Leonard.

"ah, please- enough... Ah-!"

Spock's hips bucked forward and one last egg came loose from his poor, sobbing body. The x-ray was back to normal, as it seemed. He would almost miss that feeling. His body wracked with electric heat, trembling and spasming against his doctor's hands. He panted and gasped through the last egg, shoulders stroked and patted by his captain ever so gently.

McCoy stood up without thinking, immediately regretting his decision and turning to put away his things. Thank God they were in a private area, if not for the loud moaning, then for the cackle that came from Kirk as he notices the doctor's hard-on.

"I should have known that this was your forté. No one else would have suggested such a thing, especially-"

"ah shut yer yap, you're just about as hard as I am, if not worse, you deviant."

As things settled down, drowning in heartbeats and panting gasps, Spock was eased down onto the bed and massaged by rough hands.

"you did so good, Spock. You must be exhausted. We'll clean you up, get some rest."

Kirk wasn't wrong, he was on the verge of falling unconscious once more, and his head became clouded. Clear enough that Spock heard McCoy say he'd have his duties filled out as he "recovered."

Before he could be whisked into blissful sleep, Spock muttered:

"The egregious song you insisted on referencing last week. I understand why it amuses you."

What song?...

"does he mean doctor dick-"

"NO, no, this is not standard for me, that's not why it's funny, what we just did was so, incredibly illegal. I wouldn't-"

Spock drifted off to sleep as McCoy raved and Kirk shut him up with a kiss and a hand under the shirt.

#fanfic #fanfiction #smut #mlm nsft #ovi kink #ovipositor #3somme #spock/kirk #kirk/mccoy #spock/mccoy #happy easter #eggpreg #egg laying #mcspirk #queer nsft

[benjamin-ovich]

i tore out like half my hairs trying to choose a line. and okay. i'm cheating a little, still. i'm giving you TWO lines and you have to write a soul tearing mini fic about it:

number 7 (there isn't anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, and a bottle of pills) and number 15 (i carried you to the car and drove you home but you weren't making any sense) PLEASE THANK YOU ILY <33333

(send me a richard siken line and i'll write a mini-fic inspired by it)

ok so dani listen. i tried to make this a mini-fic but my brain physically cannot narrow the ideas down to under 1k words. so yeah i'm making this a fic fic instead, snippet below (it's a muggle au for obvious reasons) and i'll gift it to you when it's finished <3

James Potter knows better than to fall in love with boys like Sirius Black. 

Sirius, with his cigarette-ash fingers and quick, dark laugh, burning up an entire room just by standing in it. Sirius, with his gunpowder eyes and long hair and flashing, dangerous smile; worn leather jacket and sleek new motorcycle, the dog tags around his neck clanging as he takes off in a blur of smoke and dust. 

Boys like Sirius are nothing but trouble. But what can James say? These things happen.

It’s a hot, dirty night, swollen with stars. James is in the wrong place at the right time – slightly drunk and strolling aimlessly around the neighbourhood. He’s just down the street from his apartment when he hears a strange, muted noise that stops him in his tracks. 

It’s coming from the alley. James sidles between the narrow walls until he reaches an opening on the other side. There, on the ground, he sees the stranger for the first time. 

The stranger is sitting heaped against the wall, bent over and clutching at his stomach, groaning quietly. The alleyway is dark, save for the thin moonlight, but James can still see the glistening pool of blood the stranger is sitting in. It’s all over his hands and his clothes, staining them like wine. 

“Are you okay?”

The stranger looks up. His face is hostile, unfriendly, lips drawn back in a snarl and all the skin pulled tight over bone. “Who the fuck are you?”

It’s evident he wants to be left alone, and is in a nervous, irritable state, but James isn’t so easily fazed. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, no shit,” the stranger snorts. 

“What happened?”

“Fuck off,” the stranger snaps at him, turning his body away with a dragging, painful-looking twist. "It's none of your business."

James kneels beside him, approaching him the way one might approach an aggressive, feral dog – slow and calm, without making any sudden movements. “You need help. I’m a medical student, I might be able to fix you up.”

“A medical student?” the stranger mutters, rolling his eyes. “So not even a real doctor?”

Now that he’s closer, James can see that most of the blood is from a wound in the stranger’s stomach. “Listen, I don’t mean to be blunt, but – you’ve lost a lot of blood, and that wound needs to be closed up. My apartment is just down the street, will you come in and let me take a look? Because if you don’t, you might bleed out and die right here.”

Something in his words seems to register as vaguely alarming to the stranger, because the latter starts heaving himself onto his feet, groaning with pain as he does. 

“Fine,” he says, stepping toward James and giving him a sullen look, like it’s him extending a favour toward James, and not the other way around. “Let’s go.”

---

“Why are you helping me?”

They’re in James’ flat, the cool fluorescent light stark against the stranger’s marble-pale skin. James has laid out an array of medical supplies on the kitchen countertop, and is now in the midst of pulling a pair of sterile gloves on while the stranger peels his sticky, bloodstained shirt off. 

James smiles. “I like helping people. Why do you think I wanted to be a doctor?”

“To cut people up,” the stranger replies, in a deadpan voice that makes it hard to tell whether he’s joking or not. 

“Here,” James says, holding up some squares of gauze. “May I?”

The stranger doesn’t flinch when James gently dabs off the excess blood so that he can get a better look at the wound. It’s a long gash that runs across his stomach, but fortunately doesn’t look too deep, and seems to have avoided all his major organs and arteries. 

“Am I dying?” the stranger asks in a whisper, and when James glances up he’s startled to see the wet, cautious gleam of vulnerability in his eyes, as though he's genuinely afraid.

“No, you’re not dying,” James reassures him, as he begins working with nimble, precise movements. “I can stop the bleeding and suture the wound closed, but you’ll still need antibiotics when we're done.”

The stranger holds remarkably still as James does his thing, which is impressive given the size of the wound and the fact that James doesn’t have any pain pills on hand. Every now and then James catches his face tightening, eyes snapping shut, but other than that he barely even winces. The minutes flit by in silence, and neither of them speaks until James is nearly done.

“You must have a high pain tolerance,” James comments, straightening up as he finishes his handiwork. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the stranger says, looking down at his stomach. His wound looks far better now that it’s cleaned and closed.  His voice is softer, quite a bit less rough than it had been, when he speaks to James again. “Thank you. For, um – for this.”

James pulls his gloves off. “What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking? The incision looks like it was made by some sort of large knife, wielded in the hands of someone who clearly had no intention to kill.”

The stranger turns his gaze away. Now that he’s no longer scowling and snarling, he’s actually rather handsome – with elegant, refined features and a willow-thin build, all slender limbs and narrow shoulders. James notices this, and then is embarrassed at himself for noticing, because it’s not often that he encounters someone so good-looking that it knocks the breath right out of his lungs.

"Alright," he says at last, when the stranger still hasn't spoken in several minutes, "will you at least tell me your name?"

The stranger's eyes meet his; they're a light, impossible shade of grey, shining like steel. "Sirius," he says, clearing his throat and holding out a hand toward James. "Sirius Black."

James goes still, dropping the metal pan he's holding with a thunderous, resounding crash. "Sirius Black? As in, of the Black mafia?"

#writing #prongsfoot #bambibelle #muggle au #basically james is a med student and sirius is the rebellious heir of a powerful mafia family #jsndfkjsdnfjksnfjk #answered