#i had to make him just slightly more self aware than would have been a perfect characterization of him

[hurthermore]

He deserves someone to dote on him! Alastor who injuries his dominant hand and is unable to properly do basic tasks for a while, you come over and cook for him as well as feed him and he’s so embarrassed!! I mean let’s be honest last person to look after his was his mama. Doesn’t stop you, I mean you’re helping him dress, writing out his ideas for potential scripts for future broadcasts, scolding him for trying to use said arm…you kiss his fingers that stick out from his sling <3 he’s so greedy even after he heals he pretends that he still needs you’re help and you’re more than happy to oblige !

This is so cute >.< for this ask we will imagine that Alastor x Reader from Misconduct are in an AU where Vincent doesn’t exist and they’re romantically involved. Poorly written again because I wrote this at uni lmaooo warning for suggestive content, mention of murder and self harm

He didn’t mean to hurt his hand to this extent when he badgered his knife into the neck of a man who wouldn’t stop flirting with you; he tried so hard not to let his pain showcase when you were near him, even when you would thread your fingers through his, he tried so desperately to not make you aware of his pain.

But you were, fortunately, very perceptive of your lovers tells; and when you held his broken hand, you noticed the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

It took a while, but you managed to get him to admit that he had hurt himself; whether he told you how depended on whether you knew about his morally malevolent habits or not.

You reprimanded him; obviously, it made you feel so inadequate that he didn’t feel as though you were a safe space for him to tell you of his pain, but you brushed your feelings aside to tend for the man you loved.

He struggled with everyday tasks you had come to figure out; hiding the pain he endured whilst attempting to complete those tasks. So you decided it was best to temporarily stay at his home, regardless of your own responsibilities; you wished to help and assist the man you planned to marry one day.

And he had agreed, rather quickly to your idea, seeming like a child excited with a new toy they had just been gifted.

You began completing every little task for him, even so far as washing his body and hair for him; you always ignored how he would get just a tad excited below the water whenever your bare hands scrubbed his skin clean.

He always held an arm around you as you cooked and washed his dishes for him, forcing you to always become flushed as he only spoke words of endearment into your ear whilst stroking your waist with his free hand.

Whenever he would try to help you, or give you physical affection through his broken hand, you would again, reprimend him. Scolding him like a child before you would inevitably apologise, stating you only wished for him to get better.

And when you laid in his bed, no matter what the two of you were doing during that time, you would place kisses along his broken hand, telling him of how much you loved him, how much you cared about him; how much he meant to you.

He basked in it, loved everything his broken hand had brought him; how it had brought you even closer to him, basically moving you into his home whilst you played the part of his little housewife.

A wife he would make you.

And as the weeks passed by, and his hand ultimately began to heal; he would, to simply have you always with him, break it. Purposefully.

He won’t tell you that though.

He just wants you near him.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel

[altair214]

If Dream of the Endless had access to the Am I The Asshole subreddit "Am I the Asshole for condemning my lover to Hell?"

"I was informed quite recently by a friend that this is a good place to receive unbiased judgement on past actions of mine that were not well received by people. As there are few beings I trust to ask for unbiased, well-meaning judgement from, I turn to the internet.

After a recent excursion to Hell, my raven saw fit to inform me that condemning a past lover to Hell might be seen, in my raven's words "as a dick move." My sibling, who has seen fit to give a mortal the tools to imprison me for a century and has made an attempt on my life, has criticized me before for the decision I made to condemn my lover to Hell.

Our story took place 10,000 years ago. She was a mortal queen and very beautiful. She was desired by many, but she refused them. One day she laid eyes on me, not knowing who or what I am, and decided that I would be her lover. She pursued me, and eventually found me in my realm. We began to get to know each other. She truly loved me at first. And I loved her. No one had ever loved me enough to go to the lengths she had to find me. I offered to make her the queen of my realm. But when she truly began to understand what it is that I am, and that I would not abandon my realm to be her lover, she became fearful. I did not want her to leave me, so when she ran, I ran after her. She hurt herself in the hopes that it would make me disgusted with her and leave. When she saw that she did not scare me away, she allowed me to heal her. We made love all through the night.

In the morning, her city was destroyed, for the First Circle had decreed that one of the Endless cannot love a mortal. We had both known that. She had tried to put an end to our relationship before it was too late, but in the end our desire for each other had overcome all else.

In her despair, she killed herself. I was distraught, I would have made her my queen. But she chose death over me. She chose to abandon me, she chose to abandon hope, for death. Still, I would have forgiven her for that transgression. I would still have her as my queen. I would still love her.

But she rejected me. Even though she loved me, she would rather die than be with me. So I told her that I would offer my love a final time, but if she once again would choose death over me, that I would condemn her soul to Hell.

She did not answer at first. She said that we were never meant to be together and that darker things would come to be if we tried to be together. I asked her once again as she was making the journey to the Sunless Lands. She told me to leave her. I asked her for the last time. She refused me and I condemned her to Hell.

She sought me out, only to reject me. To reject dreams by killing herself. She loved me and yet would choose to die rather than be with me. She would choose Hell rather than be with me even though she sought me first. I felt that my actions were justified. She was not moved by the pain that her actions caused me. What could I have done except punish her for her callousness?

I felt I was completely justified in my actions until very recently when I saw her in Hell. I had not thought of her in a long time, though I still loved her. But my recent experience of being imprisoned for a century had changed me in ways that I have only recently admitted to myself. For the first time I wondered if perhaps my original judgement to condemn her to Hell was made in error. So I am turning to here at the recommendation of a friend. Am I the Asshole?"

#dream of the endless #okay so to start this might not be perfectly in character #but in order to make it plausible that dream would turn to the subreddit #i had to make him just slightly more self aware than would have been a perfect characterization of him #secondly this is from dream's pov so of course it's not an unbiased view of what happened #thirdly i made some changes from the story tales in the sand because i don't think that story is an exact retelling of what happened #because firstly it's not a love story it's a story warning against the dangers of pursuing a power beyond your understanding #it treats dream as just a storytelling device rather than a lover #which he is both so you need both to characterize him accurately #plus nada still offered that he join her in the waking world so i don't think dream was as bad in actuality as tales in the sand might lead #one to believe #though dream is still absolutely the asshole here #trying to make him look sympathetic even from his own perspective was kind of hard #anyway #but this was fun to write #i think some of dream's problems would have been solved had to consulted the am i the asshole subreddit #he's not unreasonable #he'll fix his mistakes once he's realized he's made them #but he has a tendency to have extremely bad judgement on occasion

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

#opla #one piece x reader #one piece live action #x reader #reader insert #roronoa zoro #zoro live action #zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece headcanons

[hoshifighting]

Okay... But what if Y/n tells his best friend, Wonwoo, since highschool that she wants to join as a stripper as a joke. But then Wonwoo asks her to do a sexy dance in front of him, and Y/n played along, dancing, stripping naked in front of him and rode his lap with him still wearing shorts, until Wonwoo couldn’t hold back and fucked her hard.

Warnings: Smut, lap dance, reader jokes ab being a stripper (all respect to the profession), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, best friends, stripping.

Word Count: 2k

It was a typical Friday evening, and you found yourself lounging on the couch with your best friend, Wonwoo. The two of you had been inseparable since high school, forming an unlikely but unbreakable bond. Wonwoo, with his quiet demeanor, was the yin to your yang. While he navigated life with a calm and collected approach, you were the unabashed extrovert, always seeking excitement.

As the evening progressed, you couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot a bit. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Wonwoo and blurted out, "Hey, Wonwoo, you know what I've been thinking lately?"

"What's on your mind, Y/n?" Wonwoo replied, his eyes reflecting curiosity.

"I was thinking of becoming a stripper."

Wonwoo's face immediately furrowed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He blinked a few times, processing the unexpected revelation. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to comprehend your words.

"Wait, what? A stripper?" Wonwoo finally managed to articulate, his voice laced with bewilderment.

You chuckled at his reaction, fully aware of the stark contrast between your outgoing nature and Wonwoo's reserved personality. "Nah, Wonwoo, it's just a joke! Can you imagine me on a stage, dancing in front of strangers?"

His furrowed brow deepened as he tried to process the information. "You...want to be a stripper as a joke?"

"Yeah!"

Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, his furrowed brow relaxing. "You scared me there for a moment. I couldn't picture you doing something like that."

The truth is, Wonwoo was a fucking liar.

However, deep down, Wonwoo couldn't deny the vivid image that flashed in his mind at your mention of becoming a stripper. The mental image of you dancing around a pole in skimpy clothing lingered, creating an unexpected tension in the room. He quickly brushed aside the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on the conversation.

You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and couldn't help but tease him. "Oh, come on, Wonwoo. Are you sure you can't picture it? I bet I'd be the star of the show!"

Wonwoo's cheeks flushed slightly as he awkwardly coughed, attempting to dispel the lingering mental image. "No, Y/n. Let's not even entertain that idea. It's just not you."

With a sly grin, you turned to him and asked, "Wait, are you saying I'm not hot enough for that kind of job, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. "No, no! That's not what I meant at all!"

But his reddening cheeks and ears told a different story. You couldn't help but revel in the mischief, adopting a mischievous expression. "Oh, I see. So, you do think I'm hot?"

Wonwoo stammered, trying to backtrack, "I-I didn't say that. I just meant, um, it's not something I could imagine you doing. Not because of how you look!" His eyes darted away, and he mumbled, "Well, I mean, you're... You're pretty, very pretty."

He couldn't help but attribute his discomfort to more than just the thought of you pole dancing—it was the unspoken crush he harbored on you. Each playful comment seemed to amplify his self-consciousness, making him acutely aware of the feelings he kept under wraps.

Attempting to steer the conversation away from the provocative topic, you chimed in, "You know, it's not like I genuinely want to be a stripper. But I've always thought it would be fun to dance for someone, you know? Just to let loose and have a good time."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at your revelation. The notion of you wanting to dance for someone, while not necessarily in a provocative way, fueled his imagination, igniting a subtle curiosity.

"Oh, really?" he responded, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "Dance for someone, like, just casually?"

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah! I mean, not in a professional setting, but just dancing for someone special. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun, don't you think?"

Wonwoo's mind raced, grappling with the newfound information. His gaze focused on you, and with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/n," he began, his voice softer than usual, "you mentioned wanting to dance for someone. Would you... uh, would you mind dancing for me?"

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and a playful grin formed on your lips. "Oh, really? Wonwoo, are you asking me for a dance?"

"Well, you know, you mentioned it, and I thought it might be... nice. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."

You couldn't help but find his shy request endearing. "Sure, Wonwoo. But you have to promise not to laugh at my moves. I can't promise they'll be any good."

Wonwoo chuckled nervously, "I'm sure you'll be great."

Your hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a playful grin, you tossed your clothing aside, letting it land somewhere in the living room. Wonwoo's eyes widened behind his glasses, focusing on your exposed tits, his usually composed demeanor giving way to a hint of surprise and curiosity.

His voice came out as a soft whisper, "Does this... does this make part of the dance too?"

You simply nodded, your own confidence shining through. "Of course!"

The room was filled with the sultry beat of the music as you continued to move, your hands gracefully making contact with your body. Wonwoo couldn't tear his eyes away, the subtle allure of the moment captivating his senses. The dancing became a mesmerizing display, the connection between you and Wonwoo growing hotter with each passing moment.

As the music's tempo intensified, you decided to take it a step further. With a bold move, you gracefully moved to sit on Wonwoo's lap, your dance becoming more provocative. His breath caught in his throat as your movements became a sensuous exploration, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your hips moved up and down, back and forth, and of course the bulge inside of his pants grew harder. Wonwoo, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure, let his hands find your hips. He tried to disguise the effect your movements were having on him, not wanting to make it obvious how affected he was. Your hips moved in a tantalizing rhythm against his, and Wonwoo felt a surge of lust that he struggled to conceal.

Unexpectedly, a low, sensual moan escaped your lips, hanging in the air like a shared secret. Wonwoo's ears caught the sound, and a jolt of awareness ran through him. Did he hear that right?

His hands instinctively pushed your hips down, a silent plea for you to continue. The dance resumed, and your hips moved deliciously against his. Wonwoo bit his lip, desperately trying to contain the desire that surged through him.

"Hm… Wonwoo…"

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n."

In the blink of an eye, the delicate balance of composure that Wonwoo had been struggling to maintain shattered. His hand found its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you into a hungry, passionate kiss. The air crackled as your lips met, the tension between you finally finding release.

Wonwoo's free hand moved with a sense of urgency, grabbing your ass through the material of your shorts that still clung to your body. The touch was both possessive and hungry, his tongue fought yours, and your hips continued to grind on his dick.

Your hardened nipples were pressed on his chest, and he felt that, also, he felt your wetness soaking his pants through your shorts. His mouth found its way to your neck, leaving a trail of eager kisses. The soft touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp as his kisses ventured down towards your bust. His hands, now firmly gripping your tits.

He slowly guided you to lie on the couch. The air was thick with anticipation as his hands skillfully worked on the buttons of your shorts, his touch sending a cascade of sensations through your body.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid the clothing down your legs along with your panties. In the charged atmosphere of the room, as Wonwoo lowered his head closer to your thighs, you felt a sudden surge of impatience and need. Your hands gently pressed against his shoulders, halting his descent, and you looked into his eyes with a sense of urgency.

"Please, Wonwoo," you pleaded, your voice a breathy whisper. "Hurry, I need you."

His dark eyes met yours, the intensity of the moment reflected in the depths of his gaze. Understanding the urgency in your plea, Wonwoo's movements became more purposeful. With a swift motion, he aligned himself with your pussy, his pants and underwear also thrown around. 

The hot head of his cock rubbed against your entrance. He entered slowly so he didn't hurt you, since you didn't even want to wait for him to prepare you.  "How did you get so wet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and desire.

Rolling your eyes in response, you could only manage a breathless murmur, "You," the single word encapsulating the effect he had on you. 

His cock stretched your walls perfectly, loving the fullness of Wonwoo, the initial discomfort giving way to a wave of pleasure. As Wonwoo's breath danced across your skin, his nose taking in the scent of your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. 

The throbbing length of his cock being squeezed by your wet walls, until his pelvis hits yours, a relief moan leaves your lips, as Wonwoo kisses your cheeks, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you. 

Your skin slapped together as he thrusted into you harder, making your body squirm under him. Meanwhile, Wonwoo admired the scene. How can a simple dance take him to paradise? He felt like he was seeing a work of art that some divine being had forbidden him from for so long.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your pussy making him wetter by the second, and your moans were driving him to the brink of an orgasm. "F-fuck Wonwoo yes! Right here!"

The explicit encouragement fueled a surge of energy within him, and Wonwoo, driven crazy by you, found the strength to respond. His movements became more purposeful, with a renewed vigor, he shifted your legs, pushing your knees toward your chest, deepening his cock inside of your pussy abusing the g'spot.

As you drooled from the corners of your mouth, the sheer pleasure and desire took over. In a breathless symphony, you cried out his name, as the climax overtook you, you felt yourself clenching uncontrollably around his cock, making him moan the loudest. 

Leaving an indelible mark on the couch beneath you, his cock throbbed inside of your pussy, the white hot spurts, being spilled inside of you, while you could only mumble his name softly enough to make him melt over you.

The air hung with a sense of ease and contentment as you found yourself still catching your breath, your voice reduced to a soft murmur of his name. Wonwoo, lying atop you, he couldn't help but savor the tender sound.

"Mmm, Wonwoo," you whispered, the quiet intimacy in your voice reflecting the connection between you two.

He stayed nestled on top of you, his weight providing a comforting support as you both recovered. Wonwoo looked into your eyes, a gentleness in his expression that hadn't surfaced before. "You know," he started, a playful glint in his eyes, "I think I want you to dance for me more often."

A genuine laugh escaped your lips, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected comment. "Oh, really? You enjoyed the show that much, Wonwoo?"

He nodded, his cheeks sporting a subtle blush. "Yeah, it was...unexpected, but I liked it. A lot."

Unable to resist a bit of teasing, you reveled in the sight of a more playful and confident Wonwoo. "So, you're saying you want a private dance performance on demand?"

Wonwoo's shy demeanor returned, but this time, accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe...just a little. It was...nice."

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen #svt smut #svt imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #nana tour #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo angst #wonwoo au #wonwoo drabble #wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo social media au

[nanamin-nah-nanamine]

Nanami Kento NSFW alphabet

I hope you guys enjoy this long awaited headcanon! If you enjoy pls leave a like,rb and if you’re feeling extra girly pop maybe a little comment ^_^

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kento is very practical in his aftercare to the point of it being a bit boring and routine, but that's the way he liked it. He wasn’t too fond of surprises in general, but especially not during a time that was meant to be soothing and bring both of you back to a leveled headspace. In other words, he’s basic. Two glasses of water on the nightstand, balms for soothing and dinner laid out on the stove in case you two had jumped the gun and hadn’t gotten to it yet.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kento is very proud of his chest and his thighs. In coming back to Jujutsu society and being back on a strict training regiment, he’s happy with the fruits of his labors and he’s even more pleased when you grope around his chest and hum in appreciation. He’s a simple guy and having his lover’s hands all over him is a simple pleasure that he wishes to overindulge in whenever given the chance. If you were to ask him your favorite part about you, he would say everything and kiss your temple. If you were to ask him again and ask him to be brash, he would say with a red blush on his cheeks your ass. He loves how plush it feels, how it molds perfectly against him when the two of you cuddle and the sounds you make when he strikes it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not the biggest fan of mess so if you’re having protected sex he prefers to just cum inside of a condom for easy disposal. If you two are fucking raw then he’s cumming so deep inside you that if you weren’t on birth control there wouldn’t be a year you weren’t pregnant💀

But Kento is Kento and he’s nothing if not safe so it takes months before he’s fucking you raw and he’s very dilligent about making sure your pill is taken on time and regularly. He does want kids with you but he doesn’t want any surprises.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes when you play with his nipples. He’s got a sensitive chest and even though it’s slightly embarrassing and he likes to act unbothered, he’ll let out the cutest little sighs and buck his hips up if you twist the rosy buds between your fingers and stroke him nice and slow. He likes when you take control occasionally, but he would never outright admit it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s only had one partner before when he was a lot younger, so most of his experience has been developed through you. He was basically a virgin when you two met, but he’s a diligent learner and we know when Kento is locked in he is LOCKED in.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He really like missionary 🥺 He wants to be able to see your pretty face when he’s making love to you. In general he prefers to have you on your back, and if he’s feeling rougher than usual he’ll put you in the mating press. It’s a win-win situation for both of you, you get your shit rocked and he gets to blow off steam. He likes the way your eyes roll back when he’s fucking you nice and deep 🥴

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’ll let a little chuckle slide now and then, but as mentioned prior when he is locked in he’s locked. When he’s in the moment, he wants to remain in the moment with you, like he’s painting every sound, every twitch of your lip and jerk of your hips to memory. He’s just about as aware as any sorcerer that life is fleeting so he wants to remember every moment he can with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yes y’all the carpets match the drapes 🙄 i’m just playing, his pubic hair is more of a dirty blonde brunette color than the hair on his head. He likes to keep things neat and tidy so he manscapes every week to make sure things are smelling good and its not too rough, because his pubes are actually quite coarse. He worries about your skin when you’re down there so you don’t get irritated. 🥺

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

We all know I am a big fan of tender lover Kento. He’s not a casual lover type of person, so when he finds the one he’s an all in kind of person. He wants to give his body to you, mind and soul, he wants to marry you one day, but due to life being so fleeting it's not something he can promise. So every time he makes love to you, it’s a silent promise he’s making to you, a vow of body and blood. Tied together by your pleasure. Sex isn’t just sex to Kento, it’s love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He is but a man. It's not as often as when he was single, but when he’s pulling over time and his mind wanders to you asleep in your shared bed he gets a little hot and bothered. He’d pull his cock out of his slacks with a hiss and have a napkin ready on standby.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BDSM. Every aspect of it appeals to Kento. He lives a very high stress life so being able to come home and have a sense of control for once. He’s also not opposed to occasionally giving up control, if you’re into that. It wouldn’t be his first time doing so. He does his research and actually finds the practice to be really stimulating to his mind. He’s more involved in the community than anybody would assume given his looks. He goes to workshops in his own time and comes back looking absolutely pleased with himself as he relays the information he’s learned.

He thinks you look very beautiful tied up and wanting for him. He also can’t help himself but to press on the bruises he’s given you to tease you throughout the day.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Home. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Submission. Complete unabashed submission drives him crazy. He finds it cute when you’re bratty but it makes him melt when you’re good. He can’t help but dote on you and give you whatever you want if you behave and ask him nicely. He does think it’s cute when you think having an attitude is going to get you what you want.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn’t like pain being inflicted on himself or degradation. Those are the two things that would have him safewording. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like most of the JJK men Kento is a munch. This is a show full of munches and he’s got his degree in munchology from the university of headington. He loves to come home from a long day at work and lay between your thighs, lapping at your clit giving you nice slow orgasms.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It honestly depends on the situation. He’ll give it to you however you want, unless you were being especially bratty. If so then he’s going to tie you up and give it to you so mind numbingly slow until you’re crying and giving him an acceptable apology.

“I-ah! Kento!”you cry out. His hands grip your hips tightly as he pushes in slowly.

“That’s not a full sentence, my dear”he coos, sliding his hand down to rub his thumb teasingly over your clit.

“Mmm fuck!”

“So close baby, but it's not nice to curse your dom”he chuckles, increasing the speed of his thumb, but stopping anytime he feels you get a little too tight.

“Try again.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It’s not really his thing 🤷🏾‍♀️ he really enjoys taking his time when it comes to these matters, so quickies don’t necessarily appeal to him. If you push him enough to make him snap tho, let’s just say the bathroom of the fancy restaurant is starting to look acceptable.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Kento kinda just follows the motto of RACK(risk aware consensual kink) he would argue that every type of sex has some level of risk involved(um actually 🤓☝🏻 headass 😒) but since so much of sex is new to him in this relationship he’s game to try new things.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Kento has a good 2 rounds in him I’m ngl🧍🏾‍♀️ but he lasts an almost abnormally long time during these two rounds. He has an immense amount of self control during sex and will hold back his own orgasm until you’ve cum. You can sit there and ride him to your heart's content and he’s not busting until you’re seeing stars.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has an extensive amount of toys in his collection and it’s still growing. He thinks that toys enhance play so he’s completely down to use toys in the bedroom. He likes nice, well made things so he’s got a few small businesses that he gives his business to. He’s on a first name basis with some of the shop owners and he tips handsomely so he’s given tons of freebies. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nanami Kento is one fucking tease alright. He enjoys teasing you and he’s very eager to use it as punishment because he’s so fucking good at it. It’s mainly because he has unwavering patience and self restraint especially when it comes to making a point. He leans towards edging vs overstimulation when he’s teasing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a sigher and a groaner. He prefers to keep his noises to a minimum so he can hear you, but there’s a really cute thing he does when he gets close in missionary. His cheeks go pink and his ears go red, and he’ll bury his face in the crook of your neck to hide his stuttered moans and grunts. He gets really soft and keening when you rub his back or stroke his hair while he’s thrusting in you. Call him a good boy at the right time and he’s sobbing.

Kento praise kink supremacy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

His scalp is really sensitive so he likes having his hair pulled. It drives him crazy.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Kento is a good 6-7 inches, he’s definitely packing. The girth of his cock is average and he’s got a slight curve to him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a pretty routine sex drive if that makes any sense 💀 like he’s pretty predictable so it’s easy to fall into a pattern with him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep until you’re asleep. It’s always been a thing with him to make sure you’re asleep before closing his eyes. He likes to debrief right after scenes during aftercare so he’s getting you two nice and cozy in the living room with cups of tea and pastries he’s stashed. He’ll hold you close to his chest and praise you tenderly while you guys discuss the scene.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk x y/n #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #nanami headcanons #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk kento #nanami kento smut #kento x reader

[impishjesters]

Jax x Reader w/depression/suicidal tendencies

warning(s): mentions of depression/suicidal behavior/tendencies, nothing graphic though, mentions of morbid/dark humor note: it's only mentioned that he has feelings for you, whether romantic or platonic is left up to the reader. A/N: I think this is the fastest I've ever wanted to write for something utterly new to me, usually it takes a while of being into a series or liking a character to wanna write something. This was...less than twelve hours? This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while.

Nobody was safe from Jax’s pranks, including you—regardless of how much he found himself gradually enjoying your company.

It’s actually a right of passage at this point that every new person (as rare as it is) who shows up is subjected to some awful prank to gauge just how much of an easy or difficult target they’ll be.

You handle the pranks with ease. Sure it can be annoying, but there’s little that can seemingly “kill” you here.

Which is a shame really—well, only slightly.

Your therapist would’ve probably found it a good thing, trying to off yourself in a digital world where sleeping and eating were no longer required likely meant the inability to die.

Not in a traditional sense anyway.

You’re the only one ballsy enough to prank Jax back, which isn’t easy but when a prank is successful? Oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction.

There’s an unspoken prank war back and forth, but typically the other’s are the subject of your guys’ pranks. Somehow it feels more rewarding with the joint effort.

It's not often, but sometimes Jax's pranks will go a step too far and trigger something unpleasant. He's not really sure why you just walk off like that, those pranks don't make him feel as satisfied for whatever reason.

Once a special type of friendship grows between the two of you, the pranks lessen—not entirely though—nah he loves the unsuspecting reactions of a prank you didn’t see coming.

The pranks become less hostile and more casual—he’s got a reputation to keep after all, regardless of how he feels about you.

The initial reaction to someone being told there was no way out was to panic, you however, didn’t..well not outright. Your initial reaction is dark humor—even with the whole censorship thing.

Ragatha is the only one initially disturbed/worried over your dark sense of humor, which should be expected from one of them since they’ve been there longer.

Jax is aware of your morbid sense of humor and often plays along with it, especially in the beginning—later in the friendship though? Yeah, there’s no noticeable physical change, but he’s only a tad worried.

When not tormenting the other’s Jax stuck with you, or vice versa.

After the attempted drowning and standing (willingly) in harm’s way of one (or three) of the rides, Jax keeps your bedroom key closer in hand than the others.

And honestly? Ragatha doesn’t even blame him. You aren’t distant from them, but you do tend to favour Jax’s company. Regardless of her feelings about him as a person, it becomes obvious that he feels something less hostile towards you compared to them.

It takes a while before you finally confess to Jax that prior to being trapped in this digital hell, you were medicated for depression/suicidal tendencies. And while the digital world took away things like needing sleep and food, it didn’t get rid of the thoughts or urges.

Now—had this been someone else telling him all this? He’d be very uncaring and probably make a nasty “joke”, but because it’s you? He’s treading into foreign territory here when it comes to emotions.

There’s not really anything he can say that would make you feel better, but he does show a more rare tender side, offering to be there whenever you need him. Just to backpedal like a tsundere and say that he won’t always be free ( a lie, the fuck else does he have to do?), but he’ll try and make time for you during those moments.

He doesn’t do some pinky promise bullshit, I mean he can and would, but he doesn’t expect his offer and attempts to do that much (words of promise aren’t on the same level as a prescription drug after all).

But if being around his rude ass self and doing the occasional nice *gag* gestures of like, hugging or whatever helps you, he’ll do it—just, not with others around obviously. Again, man has a reputation.

From then on Jax is more aware of where you are around him at all times, not in a suffocating way though. Well, not intentionally, he has his moments. But he’s trying, again this is new territory for him.

Jax makes it his unspoken, personal goal to make sure you don’t tread the line of becoming abstracted.

Bonus (fluff)

Jax will make an attempt not to immediately recoil from your touch when others are present.

I’m not talking “Whoops, sorry to bump into you”, I’m talking about grabbing onto his arm or being in his personal bubble because you need something grounding or whatever.

More often than none his immediate reaction is to just use you to lean on, elbow or arm resting on top of your head to give you some contact and pressure. (He does it out of habit even when you don't need it.)

Sure he probably looks like an ass to others, but after a while, they sort of just get used to it since you never bring up being offended by the act.

But in private? Yeah, sure shoot, just don’t expect him to put any effort into returning anything. Maybe the drape of an arm or his legs, but if it’s really bad? He’ll lay or sit there while you cling to him like a koala.

Jax actually finds it kinda funny how tightly you hold on whenever he gets up.

“Wow, you really holdin’ on there.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader

[plutoswritingplanet]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intro Dialogues

a/n: some slightly flirty dialogues for suggested characters from Mortal Kombat 1 (and 11), reader is a blood mage, adjacent to "Unpunishable"

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Obscure References, Poor Attempts at Comedy

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Liu Kang is squandering your potential.

Reader: I trust his judgement completely.

Shang Tsung: You were made for so much more.

...

Reader: You want me to make a deal with the Devil.

Shang Tsung: All I ask in return, is your soul.

Reader: It's too high a price!

...

Shang Tsung: I lay before you my eternal heart...

Reader: There is no love with you, only ownership.

Shang Tsung: I dearly love all of my possessions.

...

Reader: I must believe there's good even in the darkest corners of the world

Shang Tsung: Finding it in me might turn out to be a futile fight

Reader: I don't give up easily, Shang Tsung

...

Shang Tsung: Have you ever thought to say "stop"? "If you love me, you would stop?"

Reader: Not in a thousand years.

Shang Tsung: I see now, why we're destined for each other

...

Reader: The things you've been doing in your laboratories are vile

Shang Tsung: I've used the same magic, as the one coursing through your veins

Reader: Liar!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang: Empress Sindel has approved your application to study Outworld's medicine.

Reader: I'm honored by her trust.

Liu Kang: You'll do a splendid job as Earthrealm's ambassador.

...

Reader: I fear the pull of darkness overpowering me.

Liu Kang: I will guide you, until your mind is at peace.

Reader: What if it never ends?

...

Liu Kang: In the previous timeline, you were my close friend and adversary.

Reader: And in this timeline?

Liu Kang: I'm inclined to say the same.

...

Reader: Doesn't it get lonely, being a God?

Liu Kang: I'm devoted to protecting Earthrealm and its people.

Reader: You didn't answer my question.

...

Liu Kang: Beware Shang Tsung's honeyed words.

Reader: You've said we were destined for each other in all timelines.

Liu Kang: And your union always leads to your suffering.

...

Reader: You knew I'd reject Shang Tsung's offer? Fight him every step of the way?

Liu Kang: I had faith, you would make the right choice

Reader: Honestly, do you have music playing in your head when you say garbage like that

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Let me just say, there's no other place I would rather be, than right here with you right now.

Reader: I can change that very easily.

Johnny: Why so serious, sweet cheeks?

...

Reader: No, Johnny, I won't be playing in any of your movies, ever.

Johnny: Can I ask why?

Reader: Why I don't want the job that makes your brain explode?

...

Johnny: You might wanna reconsider your rendezvous with the Sorcerer.

Reader: Which one?

Johnny: Oh, you are a bad woman.

...

Reader: Don't be such a baby, it's just a scrap.

Johnny: And I need a hot nurse to patch it up.

Reader: Why do I even… You're impossible.

...

Johnny: You have experience with emotionally fragile men, right?

Reader: You're self-aware today.

Johnny: I was talking about Kung Lao...

...

Reader: Okay, Ninja Priest was actually kinda good.

Johnny: YES! I knew you had a thing for the clergy.

Reader: That's not what I... You're such an ass!

Kung Lao

Reader: Do you think Liu Kang has destined us to become friends?

Kung Lao: Obviously, I'd never choose this for myself.

Reader: He could've made you less of twat...

...

Kung Lao: It's way too dangerous for you to travel Outworld alone.

Reader: I don't need a babysitter, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: Prove it, then.

...

Reader: If you buy me dinner at Madame Bo's, I'll heal your arm.

Kung Lao: I see your time with Shang Tsung is rubbing off on you.

Reader: See, now I gotta hurt ya.

...

Kung Lao: How does it feel, being in the center of the Snake's attention.

Reader: Fuck you man, I didn't ask for this.

Kung Lao: Not good then.

...

Reader: Come on, I paid for dinner last time.

Kung Lao: I'll be happy to pay... Once you beat me.

Reader: You can be an ass sometimes, you know that?

...

Kung Lao: You know I only meant it as a joke, right?

Reader: Let me show you just how funny I think you are

Kung Lao: Bring it on, Nurse.

Bi-Han

Reader: You betrayed everything your clan stood for.

Bi-Han: You have no moral high-ground here, Healer.

Reader: I don't need it.

...

Bi-Han: Join the Lin Kuei, and unleash your true power.

Reader: Not while they're under your command, traitor.

Bi-Han: Your pride will be your downfall.

...

Reader: I can feel your blood run cold through your body...

Bi-Han: It will boil while I destroy you.

Reader: You'll freeze to death, then.

...

Bi-Han: Your aversion to power is your greatest flaw.

Reader: Should I follow your lead, then, and betray all I love for a promise of greatness?

Bi-Han: Is it wrong to want more?

...

Reader: Maybe I can beat some sense into you…

Bi-Han: I will crush you, little girl.

Reader: Great, a quip about my height, so original.

...

Bi-Han: We meet again, Blood Mage.

Reader: I knew you couldn't stay away, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Let's see if your training has progressed.

Erron Black

(am i the only one devastated he wasn't included in mk1?)

Erron: What's a pretty lookin' thing like you doin' in a place like this?

Reader: Holy shit, you even talk like a cowboy!

Erron: …Nevermind.

...

Reader: If I win, I get to wear the hat.

Erron: You'd look mighty fine in it, I'd wager.

Reader: Don't you pull your punches on me now, Black.

...

Erron: There's quite the price on your head, sweetheart.

Reader: And you'll do everything to collect it, right?

Erron: I could be persuaded against it, with the right motivation...

...

Reader: Do you flirt with all your targets?

Erron: Only pretty little ones, like you, girlie.

Reader: Well then, let's dance, Cowboy.

...

Erron: I wouldn't mind giving you a ride around town, little lady.

Reader: I'd rather beat you where you stand.

Erron: Be still, my beating heart.

...

Reader: I know who sent you.

Erron: Someone who's eager to get their hands back on you.

Reader: You can both keep them to yourself.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mosrtal kombat 11 #shang tsung x reader #liu kang #johnny cage #kung lao #bi han #sub zero #erron black #shang tsung #my writing #requested

[clairdelunelove]

cigarettes and exchanges

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (smoking drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, smoking, suave!ghost

synopsis: ghost understands that his cigarette addiction is getting out of hand. but, in his defense, he's just never had a motive to quit! you offer to help and perhaps your new reward system will work for the lieutenant!

a.n. this could be read as a continuation to 'frosty kisses' or a standalone! and no, I typically don't like when men smoke but will I make an exception for ghost? yes. I hope you lovelies are doing well! let me know what you think about this headcanon I have for him heh! here's my kofi! <3

-

-

-

been pondering about ghost’s inclination to smoke a cigarette whenever he’s stressed and how you might’ve found a better alternative– one that he craves even more.

-

another operation typically meant an increased likelihood of risking a multitude of unknowing, blind lives– an embittered fact that accompanies the line of duty he’s in. it’s a cruel contract that he’s familiar with yet the guilt never dissolves. in truth, it’s the torture of bad conscience that he can never shake off. he shoulders through resting recruits, footsteps heavy on the patchy floorboards while weaving clear of the crowd. some shift on their feet to avoid being pummeled by his powerful gait as he makes a beeline to the door. it’s assumed that such a strong reaction from the man would raise alarm but no one pays him any mind– aware of the lieutenant’s ache for solitude after the completion of a mission. whispers of his infamous smoke break settled amongst the lips of veteran recruits. and truthfully, it acts as a deliberate retreat that he wouldn’t commit to in the public eye. stepping outside and gazing into the abyss was an escape from the detached facade he gives into when he slips into a role of leadership. a position that’s necessary yet promises contempt– an emotion that not even he could run away from.  

ghost who perceives that his reliance on cigarettes is a bad habit he should break. knows that he could quit, in all honesty, since his self-discipline was so tenacious that many envied him for it. was never tempted with superficial vices that other task force members sought after. however, cigarettes are a psychological and chemical crutch that he’s been unwilling to drop. and he’s wise enough to realize that the chemicals do more harm than good to his body but it serves as a form of self-medication for him. helps him deal with wartime stress– the unyielding tension and restless nerves that disturbed his rare nights of sleep. reasons that his thoughts are clearer whenever he pulls out his lighter. he rationalizes that his incessant, troubled mind is finally hushed. lulled to rest. all he has to do is flip open that little white box and he’s instantly rewarded with the one predictable outcome in his life. 

ghost who wordlessly offers a spare cigarette to you when your figure slips beside him. his gloved fingers pinch at the small roll as he outstretches it towards you. you shake your head, muttering a gentle, “no, thank you though,” and he wittingly predicts the polite decline. there was nothing else you could’ve requested from him at this moment. food, entertainment, and rest were all found within the base– not outside. he rocks back on his heels. your tendency to keep him company is a habit you’re guilty of. not that he minds. recalls a similar scene that unfolded the night before the new year. and he’s aware that your lingering is intentional; as deliberate as the giggles that he manages to pull out of you during these softer times. the companionship sparks a fervor in him. one that he’s compelled to cultivate and cherish with you. 

ghost who rumbles, “your life expectancy just went way up then, pup,” due to your unwillingness to smoke. it’s a praise. don’t engage in the faults he has. you’re too pure for that. his heavy-lidded eyes spot the tinge of a smile dancing on your lips on behalf of the nickname. satisfaction burns within him. possessiveness claws at him. needs to get his mind off of the strong emotions. grasping at the lower edge of his balaclava, he tugs the darkened fabric up and neatly folds it over the slant of his nose. it’s not the first time he’s been partially unmasked with you. presumes that you wouldn’t actively question his identity and throw him into a crisis. yet, your curiosity magnifies to unveil the enigma that is simon ‘ghost’ riley, your lieutenant, who unknowingly causes your stomach to excitedly flip and churn with every interaction. 

ghost who turns away from you to place the cigarette in his mouth. it balances atop his full lips, a position so enticing that you’re willing to trade places with the inanimate object, and ultimately quell the yearning. his other hand fondles the box of cigarettes. “you can always replace the cigarettes with a new reward system, ya know,” you suggest. your voice is light, dipping on the last syllable, and he understands that you mean well. yet, he raises a dark eyebrow while flicking on his engraved lighter. connecting the cigarette to the end of it, there’s a satisfying burn before he deeply inhales. a cloud of misty smoke swirls around you even if he shifts away. the stench intermingling with your sweet fragrance and lingering. a sort of imprint that brands you as his. your gaze flits over to him to eagerly trace the fair, sharp jawline that’s visible without the guise, and you sputter, “like having something sweet. I heard people quit smoking by chewing bubblegum or having lollipops.”  

ghost who curiously prods, “somethin’ as sweet as you?” and the idle thumping in your chest accelerates into hammering when his gaze locks onto yours. his teasing is too sudden. you stiffen at the inviting drawl of his voice and the mannerism is one that he’s too familiar with. his eyes skim the soft features of your face, noting your skittish behavior, and deems it necessary to compose himself a bit. doesn’t wish to scare you off. but he’s pleasantly surprised to hear you ask, “you think I’m sweet, lieutenant?” his gloved fingers lift the cigarette to his lips again to take another long drag, “oh, I think we both know the answer to that, pup.” another mention of the nickname– another wave of heat rushing to your core. the statement throws you into a frenzy because his deep-set eyes seem more fitting for the bedroom and the revelation has you internally scolding yourself for the stray path your mind takes. 

ghost who’s unaware that it’s his turn to be as motionless as a marble statue when you edge closer. speculated that the rancid cigarette smoke would dampen that sugary aroma that invades his senses when you’re in his proximity. it doesn’t. just promotes the stark difference since it’s a specific scent he traces back to you. always causes his skin to tingle whenever he catches a whiff. a curse abruptly leaves his lips when he’s broken out of his reverie. your hand settles on the center of his chest, a tender touch that compels him to trail his gaze to your face. makes no effort to halt your movements. why should he when you’re the root of all his desires? immediately, his brain conjures up an arrogant remark; a natural reaction to his usual encounters. however, when he drags his eyes to yours and perceives that your usually bright eyes are hooded– he’s silent. 

ghost who allows you to push yourself up on your toes and pluck the cigarette from his mouth. doesn’t even manage to get another drag of it. never finds himself craving for it once it’s taken from him. instead, he’s fixed to the spot while you stare at his lips, revealing a small scar blending in with a muted shade of pink. your thumb gingerly brushes against the meager feature. a detail that is so ardently ghost. the rather concealed scar ignites something affectionate between the two of you. a shared secret that he’s let only you uncover. you slide your fingers underneath the sharp curve of his jaw and the gentle touch seizes his attention. pressing close to the juncture of his neck, you murmur, “let's exchange your cigarette for something sweeter, yeah?”   

ghost who stifles a groan of satisfaction when your glossy lips finally press against his cheek. warmth blossoms in his chest. fiery sparks, a discerned emotion that he thought he had lost, set him alight. for once, he’s rejoicing at the mere coincidence of being partially unmasked. and when he conceived that this overwhelming rush was fulfilled, you stunned him again by pressing another delicate kiss dangerously close to the corner of his lips– directly where his scar was. “a prize whenever you don’t smoke,” you propose while pulling away. he curses a resounding, “fuck.” it was dizzying. a singular glance was all you needed to discover that he’s completely flushed from your touches. his breathing is uneven too, teetering on what some would call desperate. drawn out and amplified. however, if that’s what he is– for you– then so be it. ghost was free-falling. plunging into another bad habit. a dependence that he’s afraid is more addicting and chronic than nicotine. you.  

ghost who hums deliciously low, “playing a dangerous game here.” his voice invokes a shiver within you. a sweltering heat crawls up your face, lingering at the uppermost part of your cheeks. the vowels dripped from his tongue like honeyed venom and you caught it. stored it, like it was fundamental to your existence. before you can withdraw, a strong hand encloses around your wrist. the touch is sure and solid– undoubtedly his. and when you peer at him, he’s admiring you through thick, pale lashes. his eyes are like silvered stone, cutting through all your defenses as his focus darts along your face. mapping– no– sketching out your softest features for the sake of his pleasure. the pleasure of admiring art. 

ghost who then raises the hand that’s gripping the box of cigarettes, notably to gain your attention, and tosses it behind his shoulder. the cardboard carton falls to the floor with a muffled thud. and in the span of a couple seconds, ghost completely eradicates his dependence on cigarettes. the promise of something sweeter causing him to reconsider and amend for all the time he could’ve spent smothered in your syrupy kisses. he leans to graze his lips against a sensitive spot in your neck, his nose nudging at the tantalizing crevice of skin. without the barrier of his mask, you’re hyper-aware of the greedy nip that ghost leaves and he’s awarded with a breathy exhale escaping your glossy lips. anticipates the way your knees buckle but he easily steadies you. he hums, dark and encouraging, at the receptive noise. fancies hearing it regularly. surely reserved just for him. you distinctly sense a corner of his lips tug upward once they’re on your neck again and he questions, “gonna give me ‘nother prize now, sweetheart?” 

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley drabble #ghost x you #ghost cod

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Ok so Harry has a tendency to blatantly state out loud just how much the Dursleys don't give two shits about him (to the point that the people around him think it's just a typical teenager over exaggerating their complaints), but... Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

Also like, I know that the way the Dursleys treated him plays a huge part in the way Harry behaves and views himself- specifically him not thinking an adult is a reliable source of help and protection + his disastrouly low self esteem + how he doesn't respond to Snape's everything (which is the exact opposite of what James would have done) ... But what are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows? (Someone once mentioned that they hc that when feeling extreme emotions Harry tends to skip out on food and may have nearly wasted away in his second year had it not been for Ron and Hermione- which is also why they act so much like Harry's bodyguards)

Yep, Harry put no effort into hiding his abuse. He literally told anyone who would listen. By 5th year, he was making jokes about it to Ron and Hermione who seemed used to it.

Now, you've raised a few questions and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability.

Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

I think he does. Most of his comments about his relatives' treatment definitely sound like Harry is very aware that he shouldn't be treated like that.

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —” “Stop gibbering,” said Ron. “We’ve come to take you home with us.” “But you can’t magic me out either —” “We don’t need to,” said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. “You forget who I’ve got with me.” “Tie that around the bars,” said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry. “If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car. “Don’t worry,” said Fred, “and stand back.”

(COS, page 31)

“It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(COS, page 39)

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules.

(GOF, page 33)

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OOTP, page 54)

“You don’t seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles. . . . All they want is an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies. . . . ‘Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!’ ” “You’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,” said Harry darkly. “Good sense of when to duck, more like . . .”

(OOTP, page 657)

It seems Harry is very much aware that the way he is being treated is wrong. the younger Weasleys and Hermione are clearly aware of that too. Harry calls the Dursleys' rules stupid, he knows the Dursleys aren't treating him the way they should and that he doesn't have to take it. That he shouldn't have to take it.

Harry is kind of a best-case scenario of an abused kid and Dumbledore was so lucky Harry ended up functional enough for his plans. It could've so easily gone down differently.

Honestly, I'm enraged on Harry's behalf at how Arthur, Molly, and Lupin (and every other adult) just completely ignore his mistreatment. He really does just state plainly what's going on and has Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione backing up everything he says.

What are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows?

I do like when Harry's approach to food is affected by the Dursleys starving him, that being said, there isn't really any book evidence for it. It's an interesting headcanon to explore though. His low self-esteem, willingness to endanger himself, and his thinking that adults be counted on are definitely effects seen in the books. As for other things we do see in the books:

1. Harry is actually really quiet. He doesn't speak as much as Ron and Hermione and he's pretty awkward with social interaction. He mimics Ron in many ways since he never had any friends before him.

His approach to studying is one of the ways he mimics Ron socially. Harry actually read their school books before 1st year, he found Hedwig's name in a History of Magic. And he planned to study at the beginning of Philosopher's Stone. Then he meets Ron and realizes no one in Gryffindor except Hermione actually studies, and she is hated for it. So he didn't bother studying either, even though he planned to because he wanted to fit in.

2. Harry isn't great at emotional regulation, specifically anger. Harry is a pretty angry character and throughout the books, he actually has moments when he completely loses himself to a sense of anger.

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(POA, page 339)

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!” Somewhere under Harry’s numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?

(GOF, page 275)

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GOF, page 300)

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OOTP, page 11)

He does calm down the older he gets. But he definitely has a lot of anger in him.

3. Harry, in general, has a disrespect for authority. I assume this is an extension of his distrust of adults, in that no teacher or nurse ever helped him. Harry is so anti-authority and anti-orders, that he can resist the Imperius Curse decently from the first try.

Harry just doesn't do orders or authority. Actually in the earlier books, and even in books 6 and 7, Harry has his doubts about Dumbledore. He repeatedly tells people he's Dumbledore's man, but in his head, he has doubts. Like he has for any other adult with authority over him.

“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(COS, page 282)

“Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels.” There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore’s name that told Harry that Sirius was not very happy with the headmaster either. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.

(OOTP, pages 82-83)

He's very distrusting of adults and authority, but also his peers. He doesn't tell Ron and Hermione everything in the earlier books because he is very slow to trust. Which, makes sense for someone who grew up like he did.

4. His occasional impulsiveness is an extension of his issues with emotional regulation, I think.

5. I think Harry's cunning Slytherin streak is a result of his abuse. The Dursleys' mistreatment taught him to sneak around, to lie, to be clever. It taught him to keep a blank face when being yelled at because if he reacted it'll make it worse.

He learned how to insult the Dursleys in ways that go over Dudley's head. His little way to rebel.

6. His response to pain as well. We see it with Umbridge and the blood quill for example:

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time

(OOTP, page 267)

Harry can hide his pain and not react to it, and he does it well. He learned from the Dursleys that she wants to see his pain, and he isn't going to give her what she wants. Instead, he grits his teeth through it and doesn't react externally.

Even later in the book when Umbridge threatens with the Crociatus Curse, Harry just braces himself for it, not planning to break (in later books too, Harry is very willing to get hurt and just deal with it). He is willing to take torture without reacting, and I think this is something he got from the Dursleys.

These are the some other things that came to mind regarding your question. There are probably more that I can't think of now that I might add later. Harry is who he is in part because of his nightmare of a childhood. So many facets of his personality just link back to it.

#harry potter #hp #asks #harry james potter #harry potter analysis

[inbarfink]

So when I talk about how the Winter King is, on some level, far more removed from original-flavor Simon than Ice King ever was - Betty is the most obvious example. Ice King’s whole obsession with princesses and the kidnapping therefore and general romantic neediness has always been a Mad, Sad and Magical reflection of just how much Simon misses Betty.

Even when he was too far too gone to recognize Betty when she was standing right in front of his face

Ice King always carried the hole she left in his heart. Meanwhile, the Winter King has full access to his old memories, he just forgotten her because he doesn’t care anymore. 

Even while he was forcing Princess Bubblegum to dance along in a recreation of that same romantic grief.

But still, I feel like what happened Winterworld version of Marceline is an ever more poetic example, even if figuring out what exactly happened includes a lot of inferences and headcanons.

In “I Remember You”, during yet another emotional breakdown, Ice King accidentally shoved Marceline - and he was immediately absolutely overcome with regret and shame

Because although he didn’t consciously remember what Marceline meant to him, he still retained these feelings of fatherly care and affection. Some sort of core element of Simon’s being that persisted despite the effects of the Magic Crown. Because of that, he couldn't even stand the thought of hurting her, even slightly.

Ice King was capable of doing some fucked-up things in his desperation and madness - but hurting Marceline was the one line he never ever wanted to cross.

But the Winter King?

We only have hints of what went down between Winterworld Simon and Winterworld Marceline. All we know is: 

The Winter King and Winterworld Marceline had the same Simon and Marcy backstory as in the Mainworld, and the Winter King fully remembers it - since he conjures a vision of them during his song. 

Since Marceline’s Ax Bass still exists in its familiar form, it’s safe to say this version of Marceline did reach adulthood and probably had a pretty similar life to Mainworld Marceline.

The Winter King did something absolutely morally repugnant to the Candy Kingdom in general and Princess Bubblegum specifically. Although at the time the Winter King came to being, Marcy and Peebs were still reeling from that centuries-old breakup (assuming there are no other major divergences in the timeline) - I have no doubt that Marceline still had enough lingering feelings (and also maybe general human decency) that she would not stand for Simon’s actions.

And yet the real Marceline is 100% unaccounted for, only her Ax-Bass remains, in the Winter King’s possession. 

Or rather, in the possession of Ice Marcy, an icy duplicate of Marceline as a child living in a gilded cage in the Winter King’s palace - presumably just as lacking in Free Will as the Ice Scouts and any other creation of the Winter King.

The Winter King’s little conversation with Simon about Betty is the best hint we have to Winter King’s motivation for making Ice Marcy. Namely, he suggested making an ‘Ice Betty’ as a way for Simon to get over losing the love of his life. And he’s fully aware that this is unethical - he just doesn’t care.

I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Marceline and the Winter King would have some sort of confrontation about what he did to Bubblegum and since the Winter King implicitly compares it to the situation with ‘the dead one’ (Betty)… I honestly think it is not a stretch at all to assume the Winter King killed Marceline. 

And even if he didn’t straight-up kill her, I think most scenarios that fall under Occam’s Razor still involve the Winter King knowingly inflicting a great amount of emotional and potentially physical damage to Marceline. And it definitely involves the Winter King claiming Marceline’s most beloved posession as his own and giving it to a false icy duplicate of her child self he made to replace her. 

I mean, the fact that he even bothered implies that he at least misses her more than Betty. But his discussion with Simon still means he considers replacing her with a nonsapient magic ice construct that copies not the person she was when she was speaking out against him but the child who adored him to be more than a suitable solution. Which is a demonstration that whatever sort of love remained in the Winter King’s heart for Marceline was a very twisted and selfish kind of love. 

Even if you want to argue that the Winter King has nothing to do with Marceline’s disappearance - the fact that this is how he dealt with her being gone shows how much of the love Simon genuinely had for Marcy is now become a hollow and self-centered sort of thing. This is also a form of hurting her.  And again, with the way the Winter King is in general - I think it’s very likely he has a lot to do with what happened to Marceline.

Meanwhile in the Mainverse, the Ice King couldn’t even lightly shove her away in a fit of emotions without being overcome with pain and regret.

So which Ice Wizard really retains more of what made Simon Petrikov who has is? The one who kept his identity and memories but has lost all of the love and care that has once motivated him more than anything? Or the one who can’t remember his name or his old face most days but still retains this ever-persistent echo of his romantic love for Betty and his fatherly love for Marceline even if he doesn’t fully understand where it comes from? 

#adventure time #atimers #fionna and cake #fionna & cake #at #at spoilers #fac #fac spoilers #f&c #f&c spoilers #adventure time fionna and cake #adventure time spoilers #adventure time simon #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake series #fionna and cake simon #fionna and cake show #simon petrikov #simon adventure time #the winter king #winter king #ice king #the ice king #simon and marcy #ice marceline #ice marcy #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #marceline abadeer #marceline and bonnibel

[wilbursprincess]

Arranged Marriage With Princebur

Princebur x Reader

Warnings: Sex, mentions of sex, angsty towards the end :D

Hi Tumblr. I wrote this as a ‘crack fic’ (mostly just self indulgent) but was so proud I figured you all deserved it too :) If you’ve read parts 1-4 of my Princebur headcannons, then this is familiar, but if not, you’re in for a treat! This is very loosely inspired from one of my favorite books of all time, ‘The Giver Of Stars’ by Jojo Moyes.

Fic below cut!

When my parents sat me down one day, I knew the news couldn’t be good.

The king and queen of my country were getting older, and all the newspapers were talking about their son, Wilbur, soon to take over the throne, wondering who would be his bride. I’d seen him, a black-and-white photo adorning these articles, and secretly felt sorry for whoever he’d be forced to marry. The royal family was big on arranged marriages. How else would they get more heirs to the throne?

“We’re going to the castle for tea,” my mother explained briskly. “The queen was aware you’re her son’s age, and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt, gaining a sharp glare from my father. “You want to marry me off to a prince?”

My father smiles, though it’s far from warm. “Well, hopefully, if they take liking to you.”

“Have you considered I don’t want to be forced into a loveless marriage, just to be a vessel for heirs to the throne?” I say, both my parents’ gazes turning stony.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother snapped. “It’s a great honor to marry into the royal family. Wilbur’s a good man. Handsome, even.”

Sure. Wilbur’s handsome, if you like the snobby prince look.

“Go get ready,” my father adds, getting up from the table. “Wear your nicest dress, and try and do something with your hair. It looks like you rolled around in a barn.”

~

“It’s so lovely to meet you,” the queen simpered, giving me a watery smile. “You look lovely. Just like a future princess should.”

Lovely?

The corset my mother cinched me into was so tight, I couldn’t take a deep breath in, a trickle of sweat running down my back. My best shoes hadn’t been worn in over a year, and they were slightly too small, with a blister already forming on my heel. The heavy makeup caked on my cheeks and eyelashes felt thick. Maybe this was why all the royals looked miserable all the time.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, forcing a smile when my mother nudges me under the table. “These cakes are delicious.” That wasn’t a lie, however, my father had stopped me from taking more than one. Probably on the grounds that it wasn’t ‘ladylike’.

The queen forces another smile. “Our cooks here are very talented, dear. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger when you marry Wilbur. They’ll wait on you hand and foot.”

I force my face into what I hope is an impressed expression.

I might complain about the chores at home, but I’d be bored silly without them. What would I do, just sit around all day? And wait, wait, did she say ‘when’?

“Did you say, ‘when’ she marries Wilbur?” My father says, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

The king nods. “We did. Your daughter is exactly what we’re looking for in a bride for our son. She has lovely composure, perfect manners, and we can tell Wilbur’s already taken a liking to her.”

I sneak a glance over at Wilbur, who gives me the tiniest smile. Begrudgingly, I had to admit he was vaguely handsome. Sharp jawline, refined features, slightly messy brunette curls, and sparkling deep brown eyes.

Maybe this won’t be too bad.

“They’ll make such perfect babies,” my mother adds, the queen nodding her agreement. Snatching my eyes away from Wilbur, I pick up my now-lukewarm tea to hide my embarrassment.

Nevermind.

“So it’s agreed?” My father asks.

The king smiles. “It’s agreed. We’ll get to wedding planning right away. Everyone loves a good royal wedding. It’ll bring the country together.”

~

I’d never seen such a ridiculous waste of money before. The newspapers were eating up any tidbit they could about the wedding, and all the headlines made me groan.

‘Wilbur’s bride-to-be rumored to walk down the aisle in a pure silk gown!’

‘The royal family reported to be buying the future princess an entire wardrobe of velvet and silk, complete with jewlery to match!’

‘Royal wedding to be decorated with thousands of roses!’

I did my best to avoid looking at the bold headlines on the papers that piled up on my kitchen table.

My parents were over the moon, helping me pack up my belongings in preparation for moving into the castle. Or, rather, they were deciding which of my belongings belonged in the castle.

“Why would you bring such an old dress? They’ll just buy you a new one.”

“Those shoes are dreadful. A princess should only be seen in heels!”

In the end, I ended up with just a suitcase of clothes, shoes, and the occasional personal belonging my parents let slide.

My mother decided to teach me all about how to raise children, complete with handing me a satchel of all my old baby clothes and teaching me how to pin a cloth diaper on an old teddy bear. She also had to give me ‘the talk’ about how I’d go about having these babies, which left me horrified.

“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “It’s natural. It’s how you were made.”

My father took it as his responsibility to teach me about royal etiquette. He’d once worked as a servant, and had decided it was up to him to drill everything into my head.

“No! Head up, shoulders back, heel-toe walking.”

“You sip tea with your pinky finger out! And stop slouching!’

Honestly, if they were sending me off to work on a farm, I’d be more excited.

~

“You may now kiss the bride!”

I force myself to stay calm as Wilbur’s rough lips brush mine, and the entire church errupts in cheers and applause. It was sealed. I was now a princess.

Wilbur offers me his arm, and I take it, letting him lead us back down the velvet-covered aisle. I force myself to relax and smile, waving elegantly to the people in the pews, just as my mother drilled into me.

He helps me into the shiny new carriage, drawn by two shiny white horses, flicking their braided tails. More velvet on the inside of the carriage, all the metal features pure gold.

“Is ‘congratulations’ appropriate?” Wilbur says, breaking the very tense silence.

I shift against the seat uncomfortably, the lace edges of my gloves chafing my skin. “I think so.”

“Well, then, congratulations,” he adds, slightly awkwardly. “And sorry.”

He’s sorry?

“What are you sorry for?” I ask, finally looking him in the eyes.

Wilbur sighs. “You didn’t ask for this. Neither of us did, actually, but you especially.”

The heavy silence is even worse when the entire country seems to be cheering us on.

“I promise I’m not that bad,” I offer, and Wilbur cracks a smile.

Neither of us speak for the rest of the ride, and when we arrive at the castle, two men dressed to the nines open the doors. I go to hop out, but Wilbur gently stops me.

“I’m supposed to help you,” he whispers softly.

Luckily, the photographers didn’t seem to catch my slip up, and I accept Wilbur’s hand to step out onto the grounds of my new home. My heels are hurting my feet, and I’m exhausted, but I fix a smile on my face and walk through the grand front doors.

~

“Well, happy wedding night, darling,” the queen says, kissing both my cheeks with a flourish and handing me a paper-wrapped package. “Just something to make tonight better for you both.”

I accept with a smile, trying not to think about what the package is, before turning and heading up the main staircase to Wilbur and I’s new bedroom.

Wilbur’s not in the room when I walk in, so I flop into the middle of the bed and cautiously unwrap the package. Something small and silky slips onto the sheets, and I unfurl the bundle to see a baby-pink, silk nightgown, the deep neckline and hem lined with lace. I hold it up to my body, seeing it barely reaches my knees.

The door opens, and I drop the nightgown, turning around to see Wilbur carrying in a massive amount of packages.

“Wedding gifts,” he explains, setting them down next to another huge pile I didn’t notice earlier. “Mother wants us to open them before we go to bed. And I have a suspicion-” he indicates a lot of tiny parcels. “-that I know what these are.”

Wilbur tosses them all to me, grabbing several himself before joining me on the bed to unwrap them.

“It’s shoes for you,” he says, handing me a pair of dainty red heels. “What’s in that one?”

I rip open the package and sigh. “A hat for a baby.”

He nods, opening the next one. “Some jewelery for you.”

“Baby shoes and socks.”

“An evening gown.”

“A baby blanket.”

“Some cufflinks.”

“Baby clothes.”

Wilbur gently stops me before I reach for the next one. “I’m detecting a theme.”

“Me too,” I sigh, showing him the nightgown. “Your mother gave me this.”

His dark eyes widen. “Thats…” he trails off, swallowing. “A nightgown.”

“Uh, yea,” I reply. “It’s a nightgown.”

Another awkward silence.

“Look,” Wilbur says, starting to gather up the gifts. “It’s been a long day, and we’ve still got something to do before we can get some sleep. I’ll clean up here, you go get ready, ok?”

Something to d- oh. That.

I nod, grabbing the nightgown and scrambling for our bathroom.

~

The nightgown is certainly… something.

It seemed far too inappropriate a gift from my now-mother-in-law, as I look at myself in the mirror. Everything is covered, sure. Just barely.

The lace scoops dangerously low in the front, raising dangerously high at the back, and is so thin, it leaves nothing to the imagination.

Now I see what she meant.

There’s a sharp tap on the door. “You ok in there?” Wilbur asks. “You, uh, ready for bed?”

“Yea, I’m good,” I lie. “Just, uh, putting on the nightgown.”

A solid 5 seconds of silence.

“Can I see?” Wilbur’s voice comes out a lot more desperate than either of us was expecting. “I mean, if it’s ok with you-”

When I open the door, his eyes widen, taking in every single inch of silk, lace, and skin. “You…” Wilbur trails off, eyes everwhere but my face. “It’s definitely a nightgown.”

My face burns. “It is.”

“You go get comfortable, and I’ll, uh, get ready.” He says, trying to sound casual.

The bathroom door shuts behind him, and I get into our new bed. The only upside is that our bed is massive, so it’s not like I’ll be spooning the guy every night.

I blink open my eyes as the bathroom door opens, and my new husband walks out in nothing but a pair of striped silk pajama pants, sitting low on his hips. He gets into bed next to me, hesitantly setting a hand on my thigh.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Wilbur murmurs, a caring note in his voice I hadn’t heard before. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

I feel a new but welcome warmth blooming in my chest, both from the pet name and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. “I’m ready.”

~

Imagining what would happen on the wedding night, and actually doing it, were two different things. Two very different things.

I expected him to do what he needed to do pretty quickly, roll over, and we’d both go to sleep. Something I’d just lie there through.

Oh God, was I wrong.

There was something otherworldly about our two bodies becoming one, so strange, but so welcomed. It made heat pool between my thighs, pleasure bubbling up between our entwined bodies.

I couldn’t tell if Wilbur was enjoying it, but the noises he was making… soft groans and whines. They were like music to my ears, adding to the tightening in my core, something I’d never felt before, but I never wanted it to end.

The spiral low in my stomach kept tightening, ecstasy running over my body as he kept rutting into me, tightening until it snapped. And when it snapped, radiating out from the apex of my thighs, it was like I was on cloud nine, floating in the clouds, far above the castle, the country, and the planet.

I’d barely recovered from the wave of pleasure that slammed into me when Wilbur lets out a loud moan, burying his face in my shoulder as I felt my inner thighs suddenly wet. The only sounds in the room were mine and Wilbur’s shaky breaths, trying to collect our composure once more.

“If that didn’t work,” Wilbur murmurs, panting. “Could we, uh, do it again?”

~

I’ve been living in the castle, married to my husband, and a princess for a month now. I still wasn’t quite used to it. Gone were the days I pitched in around the house and could come and go when I pleased. Now, I sat around in a castle, wearing lace, silk, and velvet dresses that made me feel frumpy. All there was to do was sit in the library and read. I’d loose myself in leather-bound tales, about far-off and imaginary lands, trying to wish myself to live between the worn pages instead of here.

“I’ve washed your nightgown for you, ma’am,” one of our housekeepers says to me, dropping off a loud of laundry in our room, thankfully interrupting the conversation the queen was trying to have with Wilbur and I. “I couldn’t quite get the menstrual blood out of it, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no issue,” I reply, face burning as I take the neatly folded pile, avoiding the gaze I’m sure the queen was giving me. “Thank you.”

The queen shakes her head, continuing knitting something that looked, suspiciously like a hat for a baby. “It’s ok, dear,” she says, forcing kindness into her voice. “Maybe next month Wilbur will do his job.”

Wilbur snorts into his tea, making his mother give him a very stern look. We make eye contact over the rim of the mug, warmth blooming in my chest.

He’s on my side.

“That hat looks nice,” I say to hopefully break the awkward silence.

The queen grimaces. “It’s a sweater for a newborn,” she says briskly, making Wilbur hide his laughter with a pretend coughing fit. “Wilbur, are you ill? Why are you coughing.”

“I’m fine, mother,” he lies, gulping down the rest of his tea. “Why don’t you head down to the sitting room and let me and my wife spend some time together?”

She immediately brightens up. “Oh, yes, of course,” she says, packing up her knitting and giving me a wink. “Good luck, you two.”

The second the door shuts behind her, Wilbur groans, burying his face in his hands. “Does she only care about you as some sort of baby-vessel?”

I sigh, wringing one of my carefully-folded dresses in my hands. “I think so.”

Awkwardly, Wilbur leans over, carefully putting a loose arm around my shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think of you like that.”

Blinking up at him, I feel a heat spread through my face. “Thank you, Wilbur.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “So the… blood, it means you’re not pregnant, right?”

I nod. Wilbur’s face, inexplicably, breaks out in a grin.

“That’s good news?” I question, and he nods. “But, your parents-”

He shrugs dismissively. “Look, I had about as much of a choice as you did. Just because I have royalty in my blood, it doesn’t mean I like it.”

“You don’t like being a prince?” I reply, shocked. “Whenever I see you in the papers, you seem to like this life.”

Wilbur laughs, shaking his head. “That’s called ‘acting’, darling.” The pet name makes my face flush, though it’s not unwelcomed. “And now I’ve somehow dragged you into this mess.”

“At least we’re both equally unhappy?” I offer. “I promise I won’t mention this to anyone else. We can get through this.” I hesitate before adding the last word. “Together.”

Nodding, Wilbur brushes his lips against my cheek. “Together.”

~

“Wilbur, are you alright?” I ask, walking into our room a few nights later to see my husband sitting on the edge of our bed, looking pensive. “What happened?”

He sighs, patting the blanket as an invite for me to sit. “Mother’s been complaining to the staff about not getting her grandchildren yet. Apparently, she got pregnant with me the night she married my father, and saying I’m not living up to the family legacy.”

“Oh.” As much as I hate myself for it, my core tightens deliciously at the thought of Wilbur and I’s wedding night. “I’m sorry. I… parents.” I awkwardly finish.

“Parents,” he agrees. “So, uh, if you’re down, do you want to, y’know, try again?”

I nod immediately, a little embarrassed by how eager I look. “Sure.”

Wilbur awkwardly chews on his lower lip. “Did you… enjoy it? Last time?”

“I did.” I whisper. “Did you?”

He kicks his toe against the plush rug our bed sits on. “More than I should admit,” he murmurs. “I’ve read a lot of books in my years in this castle, so naturally, I’ve read about… that. If my parents knew I found those books, they’d be horrified.”

Surprisingly, I hear myself giggle. “Why would they be horrified about you reading about how to give them grandchildren?”

“Because those books don’t exactly see it as something for having babies. They see it as something to bring you closer to your partner, something that feels good.”

We’re both silent for a few moments.

“So, since you want to do it again…” Wilbur continues. “I know how to make it better for you. Do you still want to?”

I find myself nodding before the words even leave his mouth, reaching down to pull off my top. I’m left just in my bra and skirt, Wilbur’s eyes running all over my exposed skin.

“Can I take your bra off?” He whispers, cupping my breasts through the fabric. Even the hint of his touch makes my stomach tighten, and I nod.

His hand reaches around to my back, struggling with the clasp for a good few seconds before it pops open. Eyes wider than dinner plates, Wilbur rubs a thumb over my nipple until I groan.

“That’s good, right?” He asks anxiously.

“It’s good,” I reply, shimmying my skirt and tights down my thighs. “Do you want me to lie down, or-“

Wilbur nods, pulling off his shirt and reaching for the zipper on his pants. Just the motion of unzipping his pants makes the apex of my thighs throb.

When I look up again from taking off the rest of my clothes, he’s fully naked, chest heaving. I’d never seen him like this, and it’s not unwelcome.

“Tell me if this hurts, ok?” Wilbur whispers, tracing up my thigh and fumbling around a little before finding a spot that makes me gasp. His long fingers circle around and rub the little nub, the pleasure so intense my legs go weak.

“Oh my,” I manage to gasp out, that lovely tightening in my core getting stronger. “Please… don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, speeding up his touches and looking slightly smug at my blissed-out expression.

My hand grasps at his wrist so I can rub against his fingers, the ever-tightening spiral threatening to snap…

…And it snaps.

I close my eyes tight as I let out a long, low moan, hips bucking up against Wilbur’s hand as I ride it out, floating up in the clouds again.

“Safe to say that felt good?” Wilbur’s voice brings me back down to earth, and I’m disappointed when he pulls his hand back. “It’s going to get even better, I promise.”

While I’m still wondering how on earth he managed to do that to me with just his fingers, I feel him pushing himself inside me, everything so much more sensitive this time, and it’s wonderful. We groan in unison, his face buried in my shoulder.

“Can I move now?” Wilbur asks.

“Please,” I reply, wrapping my legs around his waist to steady myself. This lets him push in even deeper, putting pressure on the spot he’d been touching earlier.

Wilbur’s a lot less gentle this time, and a lot more vocal. A lot. Our hips snap together, and I let myself move with him instead of laying still.

“So good,” he murmurs in my ear, breath hitching. “So good, sweetheart.”

I wasn’t expecting another moment on cloud 9 for the second time in one night, but when the familiar feeling builds up again, I practically feel like I’m floating. It’s different than earlier, deeper and more intense, but just as welcome.

The second high is just as intense as the first, my back arching as I ride it out. Wilbur’s not far behind me, sighing as I feel my bare stomach suddenly wet.

“Sorry, I kind of…” he trails off awkwardly, grabbing his shirt off the mattress and wiping up the mess. “This is awkward.”

“You’re good,” I murmur sleepily, absolutely exhausted from the night’s activities.

Surprisingly, Wilbur cleans both of us up, climbing into bed and pulling me into his chest to cuddle.

“This ok?” He asks, and I sleepily nod.

He drifts off to sleep, but I stay awake, wondering why exactly my arranged husband could make me feel things like this.

~

Life keeps dragging along. Wilbur seems more distant and secretive, hiding envelopes in his pillowcase and burning letters before anyone else can see them. My mother-in-law keeps insisting I join her for tea every afternoon, which essentially means being extremely nosy and overbearing for an hour or two, drilling me on everything from how I carry myself in public to her ever-lack of grandchildren. My dresses keep disappearing after I hand them to the staff to wash, Wilbur blaming it on his mother.

One evening, I walk into our bedroom to see Wilbur in his warmest coat, a suitcase open on the bed, and two envelopes sitting next to it on the bedspread.

“I’m getting you out,” Wilbur says, smiling at me with indifferent eyes. “I’ve packed you some casual dresses and shoes, stuff nobody will notice missing. There’s money in that envelope, and a letter to my friend. He lives over the border on a farm, and he’ll find a place for you.”

I expect to feel a wash of relief, getting my life back, but no. All I feel is a tugging at my heart, a pang of sadness.

“You’ve got 10 minutes. Grab anything else you need, and I’ll take you as far as the border,” Wilbur continues, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll sneak downstairs and wrap up some food for you.”

While he’s gone, I quickly glance around, slipping the books on my nightstand into the suitcase. Wilbur’s done a good job packing my things, leaving behind the gaudy dresses and tasteless jewlery, slipping in my most-worn dresses and comfiest shoes. I change out of my nightgown and slippers, packing them and slipping on a warm dress, boots, and my heaviest coat. Fat snowflakes were falling from the sky, a chilling wind rattling the windows of the castle. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Here,” Wilbur whispers, making me jump and turn around. “I couldn’t get much, but there’s some bread and apples. It’s better than nothing.”

He closes the suitcase, grabbing the woolen cap off his head and pulling it over mine. “Wrap this around your shoulders,” he tells me, handing me the thick blanket off our bed. “If we leave now, you’ll be out of the country by daybreak.”

I do as he tells me, nestling into the blanket as he wraps a heavy scarf around my face. “Grab your suitcase, and we’re leaving.”

I watch, dumbfounded, as Wilbur pulls open the window and leaps onto the steep shingled roof. “I’ll help you,” he promises, taking my suitcase and my hand so I can climb out. I lean up to shut the window.

There’s no going back now.

~

We walk all night in the frigid, unrelenting wind. My face, hands, and feet are numb, and I can’t recall ever being this cold before.

His friend hasn’t arrived at the meeting spot yet, so we settle into the shelter of a massive holly bush to try and rest our weary legs. Wilbur takes off his coat, placing it over my lap, and wraps me in his arms. Finally, I let myself cry, the hot, salty tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re ok,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. “Once you leave the country and forget about the past months, you’ll be ok. Your life is just beginning.”

All I can do is nod, continuing to sob into his chest. I couldn’t even begin to verbalise that the tears weren’t for our country or my old life, they were for him.

The time we spend in the shelter of the holly bush feels like an eternity. Just as the sun gives hints at appearing over the horizon, we hear the bumping of a cart, the snorting of a horse, and I know it’s time to go.

Wilbur loads my suitcase onto the cart, settling me down in the scratchy hay and nestling blankets around me. “I’ll be back,” he whispers.

I hear him and his friend exchanging a few words, the envelope being handed over, and Wilbur’s footsteps coming back towards me. To say goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Wilbur, ok?” I say, trying to hold back the tears running down my cheeks. “What wil your parents say?”

“That doesn’t matter. Please, forgive me,” he begs. “Forget everything we did, forget the past months. I’m giving you your life back.”

He wipes away the endless flood of tears, kisses me on the cheek, and steps off the wagon. His jacket is still over my lap, and I press my face into it, his familiar smell washing over me.

The reins snap, the horse and cart rattling down the cobbled road, heading away. Away from my home, away from the castle, and away from Wilbur. Ahead? Whatever lay over the border. I had food in my suitcase and more money than I’d seen in my life. I’d find a way.

My eyes close, Wilbur’s face swimming over my closed lids, and I force the image away.

~

“Wait!”

I snap my head up as the cart rattles to a halt.

“Please, wait!”

It was Wilbur’s voice.

Dumbfounded, I watch as he comes running up the road, not slowing down until he reaches the cart, practically leaping into the hay and wrapping his arms around me.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he sobs. “Please let me come with you. I’ll leave my country, leave my chance at the throne, whatever it takes to stay with you. I love you.” His face is pressed against mine, slick with both our tears.

“Don’t leave me again,” I manage to say through my tears. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I never will,” Wilbur promises. “I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

The cart continues to make its way down the road, every step taking us closer to our new life. Our new home.

~

Wilbur and I’s new life is everything I’d ever dreamed of.

Once we made it across the border, we moved into a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods on a couple acres of farmland. Wilbur ended up sneaking my most valuable jewels into the bottom of my suitcase, which we promptly sold to afford some things for our house.

Coming from a life of luxury, being waited on hand and foot, to living on our own in a one-room cottage was a shock, to say the least. Wilbur really stepped up, teaching himself to cook and clean so the housework wouldn’t all fall on me. With the money from the jewelry, we bought a bed, kitchen table, two chairs, and some linens. It was all we had, and all we needed.

I taught myself to farm fruit and vegetables, as well as bake bread and make jams out of our harvests. Wilbur bought a cow, thinking we could get a decent amount of meat from her, but got too attached and ended up naming her Daisy.

“It’s a real farm now,” he said proudly, stroking Daisy’s forehead. “But doesn’t she look a little lonely?”

The next addition to our farm was a chicken coop, laying us plenty of eggs for breakfast. At Wilbur’s suggestion, I bought some flour and sugar, and used some of the butter I made from Daisy’s milk and eggs from the coop to start baking bread and cakes.

I went to the market every week, selling my homemade bread, cakes, and jam, which brought in a significant amount of money. For now, our family was complete…

…Until Wilbur showed up one morning with a skinny stray dog, looking very proud of himself.

“She can guard the farm for us,” he announced, scratching her behind the ears. “She can eat scraps, too.”

Princess, as she came to be known, did not end up guarding the farm or eating scraps. She slept in Wilbur and I’s bed each night, licking the pan clean from dinner or chowing down on scrambled eggs that Wilbur made for her.

“This certainly beats the castle,” I murmured to Wilbur one night as we lay in bed, Princess fast asleep between us as the fireplace crackles.

He leans in to kiss my forehead. “It does. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

#princesswrites #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur x you #princebur #wilbur angst #wilbur soot smut #bursona smut #wilbur smut #dsmp smut #mcyt angst #wilbur mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut #princessfics

[soap-ify]

nsfw , minors dni.

☆ : lonely is a man without love — kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader

kyle's lonely life experiences a change when he moves into a new place — ♡

. . 11.1k words.

tags and cw : neighbors to lovers, angst but LOTS of comfort, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence (briefly mentioned), hush if you see any military inaccuracies, reader is struggling and kyle too, reader is somewhat shy, mentions and descriptions of anxiety and depression, reader is afab and therefore the smut contains afab anatomy but other than that gender neutral terms have been used, smut, p in v, missionary position, fingering, cum eating, body worship i think, LOTS of kisses this man is insane about you, LOTS of consent check-ins because he is amazing, some laughing during sex, use of alcohol, kyle smokes, kissing in the rain.

notes : this is very self-indulgent and probably horribly written i am sorry . . went overboard with the word limit too i didn't think it would be long. this is for the gaz likers, eat your dinner up!

Kyle sometimes felt like he was doomed to be alone forever. So much love floated around him yet not a single bit was directed at him.

It’s a good thing. He would reassure himself. Will help me focus on my work. Though that wouldn’t explain the gnawing feeling in his heart, the loneliness that just spread within him like a virus while he would curl up in his bed, arms wrapped around himself while his fingers would caress his shoulders, pretending that it was someone else.

It wasn’t that he was bad. He was far from it. Handsome with a nice husky voice and a fairly athletic build. Not only that, he had a great personality too — loyal and determined. Still not fucking enough though, it seemed. People did like him, just not in the way his heart desired to be liked. At some points, it was as if no one ever took him seriously, making him feel like the odd one out. The leftover.

Kyle is a sweetheart — heart full of love that was aching to be given to someone, aching to be understood and embraced for once.

A few days ago, Kyle had rented a new apartment on impulse. Not that he regretted it though, it was clearly better than the current apartment he was living in — more spacious and closer to the base.

He was moving in today, cardboard boxes scattered on the floor as he stood in front of the door of his apartment, fiddling with his keys. He was about to open the door when he felt someone tap on his shoulder, causing him to abruptly turn around to face the culprit, senses on alert.

“Sorry!” A warm voice squeaked out, instantly catching Kyle’s attention. It was you, a friendly yet surprised smile adorning your lips as you angled your head to look at him. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.” You laughed sheepishly, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt as you gestured to the door beside his door. “I’m your neighbor.”

Kyle would relax a bit, her dark eyes flickering towards the door you had gestured at before landing back at you, a soft smile slowly gracing his lips. “Nah, s’fine. Don’t be sorry.” He chuckled warmly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was used to being hyper aware all the time due to his work, so that sudden touch on his shoulder had nearly made him have a heart-attack. “...And I’m Kyle.” He added after a while.

Silence would soon take over as you two looked at one another, thinking over what to say next. “Well…” You would trail off, not wanting to disturb this new neighbor of yours any longer. Your eyes would glance down at those plump lips for him for a second before you snapped out of your thoughts, offering him a smile. “I’ll see you around then… Don’t be afraid to ask for anything at all.” You mumbled quickly, feeling like a damn bother already, turning around on your feet before jogging back into your apartment, gently shutting the door behind you.

Kyle would stare at the spot where you stood with a dazed look in his eyes, his lips parted slightly as he let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding until you went away. Fuck, that was awkward, he internally thought, yet unable to shake off this warm feeling that was spreading through his heart. Typical Kyle, always being left shocked and giddy after anyone would show interest in him. You are a weirdo, Garrick.

Now he had another mini goal in his life — to get to know you. You were his neighbor after all so it was only polite for him to at least know you, right? And with that, he resumed moving the packed boxes into his apartment, blood rushing to his cheeks.

The following weeks were very much uneventful — simple greetings exchanged whenever you passed by Kyle, little waves here and there alongside the sweet smiles you would give him that would just melt his heart. Yet still, there wasn’t any real interaction. He didn’t know anything about you, and at this point, he felt like he had read too much into the time he first met you a few weeks ago.

It wasn’t as if he himself was making any effort. He was too caught up in work, coming home late at nights, barely having any time for himself or others.

Tonight was different though. He had come early. Well, not really — it was 11:00 PM, but still earlier than usual though he was just as tired as every time. As he made his way towards the door of his apartment, he felt a familiar figure next to him. You. His head was quick to turn to the side, brown eyes instantly meeting yours as you looked at him as well, the time suddenly slowing down. There you were outside your apartment’s door, in your work clothes and a bit of disheveled appearance, highlighting just how exhausted you were after work. Just like him.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other tiredly before he managed to gather up some courage, his hand holding the door knob. “Drinks?” He asked, internally cringing at how hoarse his voice sounded due to his throat randomly going dry at the sight of you. Though you were quick to nod, causing a familiar warmth to spread in his chest.

That’s how you found yourself in Kyle’s apartment, your eyes taking in the details. It was quite warm and cozy, not overly decorated but having little things like books, certificates and pictures around that made the apartment his.

You settled down on the couch, sinking into the softness while your fingers absent-mindedly played with the sleeve of your shirt, eyes watching Kyle as he came towards you with two bottles of bourbon. “Sorry that I look like a disaster.” You mumbled quietly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Nah. You don’t. And even if ya do, I do too. That'd mean we're matching.” He grinned and sat beside you, passing you one bottle of bourbon before opening up his own, taking a swig of it, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He would lean his head back, and you couldn’t help but look at the way the bulge in his throat moved as he gulped down the alcohol.

Kyle looked pretty. He always looked good-looking in your eyes ever since you had first met him, but right now, something made him look even better. Maybe it was the dim yellow light from the lamp on a nearby stand that fell onto his face, creating a soft glow around the face of his shape from the angle you were seated on. His eyes were closed while the bourbon relaxed his nerves, his plump lips parted slightly. You couldn’t help but admire his lashes, the mild stubble that adorned his jaw and the mustache that neatly rested above his upper lips — and that small scar on his cheek, your fingers aching to caress the rough surface. You silently took a sip from your own bourbon bottle, your eyes traveling down to his neck, the sight of skin making your insides feel weird, in a good way. You would soon find yourself in awe of his arms, the way his shirt was rolled up to rest on his elbows, and fuck, those hands. Your throat went dry as you mindlessly stared at the veins on his hand, and those long fingers of his. Get your head out of the gutter, you reminded yourself.

You weren’t usually like this. Yes, you had a fair share of people you have had a crush upon, but they were never a person that you sat with and drank a bourbon with, someone who also happened to be your neighbor. This all felt too weird, too real. It was maybe also the fact that you weren't so used to all this — this level of calmness and almost sickening domesticity. You don't even remember the last time you had let someone see you being vulnerable, open around them or anything. You were mostly alone.

Failing to rip your eyes away from Kyle, you silently continued to stare at him while drinking the bourbon until his eyes fluttered open and met yours, catching you staring at him. Shit. You went still, feeling your blood rush to your cheeks.

He went still too, his brows raising in curiosity and subtle amusement, his lips twitching a bit — as if contemplating on whether to smile or not. Why am I so awkward?, he internally scolded himself, his fingers tightening around the bottle of bourbon.

A part of him felt proud that you found him attractive. He wanted you to find him attractive. He silently took one last swig of the bourbon before putting the bottle aside, turning over to him. His cheeks felt warm, and he didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol or this situation — or both. Sensing your embarrassment, he decided to let this little action of yours slide and change the topic.

“Hey, you wanna hear somethin’ funny?” He asked, his elbow gently nudging your arm. You nodded curiously, fingers tapping against the glass of the bottle.

He would shuffle a bit closer to you, your shoulders brushing against one another. It didn’t feel odd this time, or creepy even — it felt just right. The type of right where the time seemingly slows down and the room grows warmer, the type of right where everything blurs around the person your eyes are focused on — Kyle. The type of right where your breathing gets slower in contentment and tranquility, an odd sense of serenity flowing through your veins, making it impossible for you to not lean into him.

He began talking, his tone not slurred at all but seemingly more confident now, and you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was because of the alcohol or just him warming up to you. He talked about his job, how he was an operator in the Special Forces, not disclosing much more than that because apparently, that information was classified. He subtly talked about some fucked up moments that he had to face, that he found funny even, despite it being somewhat horrific actually.

“There was this one time when I had to rescue a friend of mine. I was in the heli with Nik — he’s a nice man. Anyways, some stuff happened and I slipped off the heli, but hey, I didn’t hit the ground. I was danglin’ by a fuckin' rope, and my cap'n kept tryin’ to talk to me through the earpiece. It was hell, he couldn’t believe it.” Kyle chuckled, voice a bit raspy while his eyes were focused on you, eager to see your reaction.

You would have normally been weirded out by something like that, something that just seemed so dangerous. But the way he had described it, the way he had chuckled even — it made your lips twitch into a bright smile, a soft giggle leaving your lips that soon turned into full blown laughter. “Dangling by a rope?!” You try to mutter in between your laughs, hands clutching your sides as you try to regain your composure. Your reaction made him burst into laughter too, and now you both were just a mess, tearing up. At this point, it didn’t even seem to be about Kyle’s experience anymore. It was a sweet, genuine laugh — evidence of how you had gotten so comfortable with your neighbor, how you had started to feel this odd sense of affection towards him.

Kyle was no better, his heart drumming like crazy against his chest. You are an angel, he internally thought, so enamored by the sound of your laughter. It didn’t matter what you thought of your laughter or how much you tried to keep it quiet, he absolutely loved it. He began feeling that familiar ache in his heart, the emotions that begged to be spilled out, to be directed towards someone, anyone — you. But he was going to hold it in like every time, like all the times he had to keep his emotions bottled up, knowing that they wouldn’t be reciprocated. They never were reciprocated, and it made him into this — a love-starved fool.

The laughter eventually dissolved into muffled giggles and shaky breaths, your hands loosening around your sides while your glassy eyes looked over at Kyle, who was also looking at you. Both of you were panting softly, eyes locked on one another. You could feel your heartbeat picking up its pace, your lips parted slightly while your cheeks were all warm. God, he is gorgeous, you wondered in awe, feeling an oddly fuzzy feeling clouding your brain.

You two were so close, and you could just kiss him. You wanted to. But wouldn’t he find it weird, being kissed by his neighbor? You felt skeptical, but seeing the way his eyes just didn’t seem to move away from yours, you found yourself leaning forward. And he did too. He actually leaned forward!

Closer, and a bit more, and more—

Until his phone rang. Fucking hell. Kyle audibly groaned, looking at you with a collectively embarrassed and apologetic look. You backed away, cheeks burning up while your eyes darted away shyly, nibbling on your bottom lip.

He mumbled something inaudible under his breath, getting up from the couch so he could accept the call, pressing his phone against his ear. “Yes, Cap’n? Yeah… Oh, alright... On Friday? Yeah, okay.” He whispered, soon enough ending the call before turning back to you, clearing his throat sheepishly. “Uh— Sorry. Work call.” He grumbled, brows knitting.

You shook your head, still in a bit of haze after how you almost kissed him. Or maybe you weren’t going to. Maybe you were just overthinking the whole situation, clinging onto some false hope because fuck, your neighbour was gorgeously enticing. You pushed those thoughts away quickly, not willing to fall into another delusion, just like you had with your past crushes. “S’fine, Kyle. Need to go anyway. Too late now.” You mumbled softly, looking over at the watch on your wrist that read 12:45 AM now. You hadn’t realized how much time you had spent with him already. It was as if time seemed to melt away around you, just like the way he seemed to melt your heart.

But there was no time to think about that. You had work tomorrow. It was already too late. Kyle looked over at the clock hung on the wall, a soft sigh leaving his lips before his brown eyes looked back at you. “Thanks for keepin’ me company, mate.” He spoke, internally cringing at calling you ‘mate’ though he didn’t know what else to call you. Love? Sweetie? I will freak her out, he internally thought, you think too much, Garrick.

You made your way towards the front door of his apartment, glancing at him one last time. “Goodnight, Kyle…” You whispered, a soft smile adoring your lips, senses a bit clouded due to the alcohol though you knew that your smile was sincere — full of warmth that you had shown multiple, but managed to seem different when shown to him — more genuine.

When you stepped out into the corridor, your eyes caught a glimpse of his expression, a hint of disappointment and loneliness lingering behind the warm smile he wore on his plump lips. Maybe you were imagining it, maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you knew that you wanted to be there for him more and more. He was like a painting, placed in the far corner of the museum where no one would see him, but you were the visitor who had coincidentally stumbled upon the isolated area, now in awe of this painting.

It was just one of those days for you today, brows knitted in frustration as you went over the paperwork of your job, not understanding a single word written there. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep you had gotten the past few days, or the boisterous laugh of your fellow colleagues that roared in the workplace, overstimulating your senses. Or maybe it was your annoying boss, slamming loads and loads of papers on your desk and you just silently accepted them because, well, you couldn’t afford angering your boss. Or maybe it was just Kyle who had been stuck in your brain ever since that little experience you had with him a few days ago.

You didn’t have the luxury of having a pleasant lifestyle. It was monotonous more than anything — most days passed with you absolutely drowning in your work, giving you barely any time to take care of yourself. You were horribly burnt out, exhausted with the same old stuff going on. Maybe that’s why you were so drawn to Kyle in the first place. He was new, fresh like the spring breeze, his smile enough to kindle a strange warmth in your chest.

Whatever it was, you knew that you wanted to get to know him better, even though you weren’t the best at making connections — or even maintaining them. The thought made you wince, mind drifting away from the paperwork.

Your phone hadn’t pinged with a new message for a few days. You knew it, they had grown tired of you. Your friends — everyone. It was your fault, right? It was always your fault. Pushing people away, not letting them see past your mask, to see the real you that yearned to be understood, to fit in. If it weren’t for your depressive episodes, you would still have managed to maintain some relationship. But no. You just had to push them away. Now hopelessly sitting on your bed, dark circles adorning your under eyes while you gazed at your silent phone, a familiar emptiness lingering in your heart that just never seemed to go away. Your room was a mess, neither your body nor mind having any energy to get up. You needed help, you needed someone — anyone. But you didn’t want to be a burden, you didn’t—

You were snapped out of your memories at the sound of the glass shattering and some yells, your head snapping up to see that one of your colleagues had managed to break a glass, now getting yelled by the boss. Fucking great. You bitterly groaned silently, eyes looking over at the clock. Just a few more hours, you could do this.

Once the time was up, you were quick to grab your things and scurry out of the office, too exhausted to deal with anyone. 6:30 PM — you had actually managed to leave early today. You followed along your usual path, taking the crowded bus and then having a small walk along the street until you reached the small apartment complex.

About an hour passed and you had properly freshened up with a nice shower, now cladded in one of your pajamas. The fatigue still lingered in your muscles, refusing to go away. You frowned silently, eyes darting over to the balcony door. Putting on some slippers, you walked over to the balcony door and opened it, stepping into the cool, chilly evening air — the sky having mostly darkened up. You breathed in the fresh air, feeling a sense of ease clouding your senses. Though your moment of peace was interrupted by the smell of cigarettes. Wait, what?

Your head turned to the side, catching the sight of your neighbor on his balcony. Fuck, you had forgotten that your balcony was connected with Kyle’s.

Your brows rose in surprise, eyes carefully looking over at him. He looked, well, like a wreck. You felt your heart sink as you looked at him, taking in his appearance. He wore a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, the hood covering his head up, restricting you from the view of his short curly hair. His eyes looked tired, dark circles visible under his eyes, his brows knitted while his eyes were focused on the sky, gaze distant. A lit cigarette was snug in between his fingers, connecting with his lips as he exhaled some smoke. You wondered what happened, what caused him to look so… dejected. Though you resisted from asking him that directly, not wanting to pry into something you clearly didn’t belong in.

“Smoker?” Your voice cut through the silence, causing him to look over at you in surprise.

Kyle hadn’t expected to see you here. There you were, in your balcony, staring at him with concern that was masked behind nonchalance, though he could easily spot it. “Sometimes.” He replied, voice hoarse as his eyes looked away, staring back at the sky. He wanted to talk to you, had missed you so much, but this really wasn’t the best time. He didn’t mean it, but his voice sounded uncharacteristically annoyed.

You winced at his lack of reaction and the subtle show of annoyance, swallowing the strange lump in your throat as you silently stepped forward, leaning against the barrier of your balconies. “What’s wrong?” You finally decided to hit the sore spot, eyeing the change in his expression.

“Nothing.” He replied gruffly.

“Well there’s clearly something wro—”

“It’s none of your business. You don’t wanna hear it, trust me.”

“You won’t know unless you—”

“I told you, it’s nothing!”

“Stop fucking talking over me!” Your voice raised unintentionally alongside his. For a second, you just stared at him with wife eyes, panting softly as he looked back at you with an equally surprised reaction. This was such a stupid thing to argue on, and for a moment, you thought that maybe he was right. Maybe it really wasn’t any of your business. You were just his neighbor, right? Good job, ruining everything once again, you internally scolded yourself, a groan leaving your lips. If only you could control your goddamn temper.

Kyle was stunned, your voice pulling him out of his depressed haze. He huffed, brows knitting in embarrassment as he walked over to the barrier that separated the balconies, getting in front of you. “Fuck, sorry. It’s just…” He hesitated, taking another drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke aside. “I am tired, y’know. Working’ so hard every day and for what? I got no one to be proud of me. Fuck, even my own cap’n doesn’t give me the validation I want…” His voice cracked at the end, nose scrunching as he looked away, as if ashamed by his own vulnerability.

Fuck, you froze, You knew this feeling too well.

“And now look at me… Talkin’ to my neighbor about it. I am supposed to be protecting people, n-not be the fucking weak one.” He sniffled irritably, forcing out an insincere chuckle. Self deprecating thoughts, typical for Kyle. Though you were clearly unaware of it.

Kyle’s mind was a mess right now. Do better, do better, do better. Ever since he had joined the taskforce, he had this itchy feeling in his heart that urged him to prove himself. To make everyone sure that he was worthy enough to deal with the horrors of the world. But no amount of training or missions gave him the satisfaction he desired. There was always someone better than him. Who even was he anymore? He had molded himself so much for others, and now he couldn’t recognise himself.

You had noticed how Kyle had suddenly gone quiet, the connected balconies now surrounded by a thick layer of silence, sparking a familiar sense of anxiety in you. You wanted to say something to him, something you longed to listen to when you were struggling a few years ago. But what could you even say without properly knowing his situation? You knew nothing about what actually even goes on in his job despite the little things he had told you that wouldn’t really be considered classified.

So you simply reached your hand forward, grabbing his free one. You felt him stiffen up for a split second before relaxing again, his eyes moving back to you. You took this time to silently admire his hands, your fingers lacing with his as your thumb rubbed gently circles on his skin. His hand was so fucking pretty, the type you’d want after a manicure. His nails were nicely cut, and his skin was clean and only mildly callused. You were surprised that his hands weren’t so madly roughened up in the way you would normally expect a soldier to have.

“I have a hand care routine.” Kyle blurted out sheepishly, probably having sensed your fascination. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, causing his eyes to soften up. Your laugh. It reminded him of how you gave him company alongside drinking some bourbon a few nights ago. It was his favorite night in his damn life already.

“I don’t know what's going on in your head, Kyle. But…” You trailed off, giving his hands a gentle squeeze while your eyes darted away in an almost shy manner. “You can always rely on me. I swear.”

Kyle could have sworn that he heard his heart explode in his chest.

There was no way you weren't an angel. The familiar painful warmth made its appearance into his heart and this time, he didn’t push it away. He was smitten. You, sweet you. His lovely name. Not emphasis on his yet, because well— yeah.

Kyle had started feeling hopeful all over again, blood rushing to his cheeks and lips parting breathlessly. He didn’t know what exactly he was feeling towards you. Maybe a silly crush like many others wherein his feelings were never reciprocated. But he instantly pushed that thought away. He knew that you were different. Unlike others who had made him into this anxious, perfectionist mess — you didn’t put any burdens on him, simply made him feel safe and seen. Safe. He had never felt safe with any person before, maybe with his task force but that was really different from what he felt right now. He didn’t feel unlovable for once, despite the self-loathing thoughts scratching on the back of his mind, making him struggle to think straight.

He simply wanted to fall in your arms and cry. Cry about how it was just too much for him now, the sheer immorality of his work that he had promised himself that he would face. Cry about how no one ever wanted him, how he was always left out. Cry about being the second option. Cry about feeling like a fucking outsider. Cry about never being perfect. Cry about everything.

He would have actually made his way into your arms if it wasn’t for the little barrier in between your balcony and his. And the barrier between you both — the invisible one. You were still just a neighbor, and maybe a friend. He didn’t want to overthink this, to give himself hope like every time.

Once his cigarette had run out, he sighed softly and kept it tucked in between his fingers, his lips forming a soft smile — the one that you were so familiar with. “You’re a special one, lovie.” He said, before pausing, lips twitching a bit. Going all out now with the nicknames.

Your eyes lightened up under the faint, dim light of the balcony, lips forming a sweetly goofy smile. Lovie. That just sounded so… Kyle. You liked it, this new little change in your relationship. You never let go of his hand, your body pressing up against the barrier of the balconies. “C’mon. Wanna hang out again? My apartment this time.” You offered, gently nudging him.

And oh boy, he was embarrassingly quick to agree.

You had put down fluffy pillows in front of the couch, Kyle seated on them alongside you with your backs pressed against the couch. You had bought a bowl of popcorns, which was now settled in between the little distance you two had. The light from your TV illuminated your face, and he couldn’t help but silently stare at you.

“I’m going to put on a rom-com.” You mumbled softly, hands fiddling with the remote of the TV as you scrolled through the lists of movies, until random on a recently added rom-com movie you don't recall ever watching.

Kyle’s eyes drifted over to the TV screen and then back to you, a cheeky grin soon adorning his lips. ”I feel like this is a trap.” He chuckled under his breath, playfully nudging you with his elbow.

“Oh yeah? Why would it be?” You couldn’t help but giggle, eyes squinting.

“Well, I dunno! Didn’t know that lovie here was into rom-coms.”

“You don’t know much about me then, Kyle.”

The banter between you both went on for a few seconds until the opening credit song of the movie started playing, causing you to immediately hush him, focusing fully onto the movie. Kyle went quiet, pulling the hood of his head, finally. Those short curls of his were visible once again.

He was definitely more relaxed than before. He had even sprayed himself with your perfume so the smell of cigarettes goes away. His mind felt a bit clearer too, albeit a weird dull ache still present in his heart. The usual emptiness, the ache for you. He ignored those feelings for now though, trying to properly focus on the movie.

Easier said than done. You were so close to him, warmth basically radiating off you while your eyes were fixed onto the screen, mouth silently chewing onto the popcorns. He sneakily shuffled a bit closer, his shoulder gently brushing with yours. You didn’t flinch away at all, making his heart warm up even more.

He wanted, no, needed to hold you. His arms were aching to embrace you, and as much as the rational part of his mind would have normally stopped him, this time it didn’t. He gently leaned his head a bit close, lips a few inches away from your ears. “Can I hold you…?” He asked, voice soft and a bit raspy.

Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity, your head tilting to the side to face him, only for your noses to almost be pressed together. Warmth bloomed in your chest and you couldn’t help but nod, lips forming a sweet smile. “Yes…” You whispered. You wouldn’t have let anyone else hold you. You trusted him.

Kyle was overjoyed, but he managed to hide it well. His arms, firm with muscles, slowly around you and scooped you towards him until your back was nicely snuggled into his chest, seated between his legs. You could almost feel his heartbeat against your back — rapid and loud with soft thumps. you found yourself relaxing in his arms, leaning more into him as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

You picked the bowl of popcorns and gently placed it back on your lap, resuming to eat it. Kyle took this time to place his chin on the top of your head, happy that you couldn’t see the absolutely goofy grin that adorned his lips, his heart practically jumping up and down in his chest. He had never felt so connected with someone, your warmth seeping into the sheer loneliness that engulfed his heart. He wasn’t alone.

“Crappy guy.” He commented on the love interest of the female lead, some tall and cold man — very much typical in romance movies. You hummed in agreement, your hand grazing him as he put his hand alongside yours into the bowl, picking up some popcorn.

The movie wasn’t even good at this point. Mostly because all of your mind was solely focused on how nice and warm he felt behind you, making you feel so relaxed. You could basically fall asleep on him if you wanted to, but you restrained yourself mentally, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. What even were the boundaries now?

You closed your eyes momentarily, curling up against him after you put the popcorn bowl aside, your cheek pressed against his neck. “Bored?” He asked quietly, his hand rubbing up and down your arm in a gentle manner, earning a silent nod from you. He sighed softly and nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“About earlier…” You trailed off, brows knitting in confusion. What were you doing? It was as if you wanted to comfort him as much as you could, your heart speaking instead of your mind. It was like an itch, one that wouldn’t go away unless you talked to him. You shifted in his arms so you could face him, comfortable in between his legs, not caring about the movie anymore. “I…” You sheepishly cleared your throat, hands hesitantly twitching before grasping onto his shoulders. “I… I was struggling real bad a few years ago. Still am, but… Just wanted to tell you that you aren’t alone…” You nervously looked away, chewing on your bottom lip.

You had never opened up to anyone before. It was basically written all over your face.

Kyle’s brows furrowed momentarily, going quiet after your words. It explained a lot actually, the subtle dark circles under your eyes and the absent-minded fidgeting you always did. Though it wasn’t really noticeable, he noticed. Perks of having a job that required high attention.

“Lovie… You don’t gotta say anythin’ you don’t wanna.” He spoke after a while, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you in just a bit more closer, the tip of his nose almost touching yours. “But thank you… Really. And I am also here for you, always” His voice softened up even more at the end, so quiet and warm.

You scoffed softly, but nodded, your hands shyly caressing up his shoulders, fingers trailing up his neck, face before eventually reaching his scalp. Your fingers soothingly ran through his short, nicely cut hair, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You had been waiting for this. And the way Kyle’s eyes closed relaxed encouraged you even more to gently scratch his scalp.

Kyle leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttered shut and lips parted slightly, relishing your touch. It was achingly comforting, and he could feel the noises in his head becoming inaudible, his heart rate relaxing and his nerves calming down.

You, you, you, you.

That’s what rang in his head, blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he felt himself get all giddy over his neighbor — sweet neighbor.

The movie was long forgotten in the background, the only trace of it being the muffled sounds and the light from the screen that fell onto you both. Kyle slowly opened his eyes again, his hands reaching up to gently cup your face, fingertips pressing against the back of your ears. His eyes looked all over your face, from the fond look in your eyes to your lips. Lips he wanted to kiss so bad.

“Can I kiss you?”

His own words surprised him, but he didn’t back away. Not now, not ever. He gently pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing syncing with yours as he felt your hands slide down to gently hold onto his shoulders again, your lips forming an adorable smile.

“Yes… Okay.”

He slowly closed the distance between you both, pressing his lips against yours. His lips felt soft, moving with your lips delicatel — a chaste kiss. The kiss didn’t seem inexperienced by any means. He knew what he was doing, holding your face so tenderly in his hands as if you were the most precious thing ever, breath hitching subtly as he parted from the kiss, looking at you with half-open eyes. Holy shit, he actually kissed you. If he were to die this very moment, he would die a happy man.

“Am I going too fast, lovie…?” He asked, his hands slowly easing their way down to your waist, helping you up to sit on his lips before he wrapped his arms around your waist one again, a blissful smile on his lips.

You shook your head lazily, arms wrapping around his neck as you comfortably sat on his lap, blood rushing to your cheeks while your heart thumped fast in your chest. You actually kissed him. “I liked it… You can do more, Kyle.”

God, you were perfect, he thought to himself, brain buzzing with glee while his hands gently caressed your lower back, fingers applying some pressure to your hip bone, earning a relaxed sigh from you. “I told ya I felt like this was going to a trap.” He chuckled in amusement under his breath before pressing his lips against yours once more.

Your mind felt fuzzy as you responded back to his kiss, soft smooching sounds lingering in the air. It felt nice. Too nice. Your brain wanted to somehow disconnect from the feeling of the kiss. Memories of you isolating yourself from everyone made their way into your mind once again like a fly that never went away, scratching at your head. Fuck. What if you pushed him away too? This felt impossibly good, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

Still, you didn’t pull away from the kiss. You couldn’t. You still wanted this.

You felt his tongue gently caressing your bottom lip, poking it as if requesting entrance. You could almost feel him unable to hold in his grin in the middle of the kiss when you complied, gently parting your lips. He coaxed you closer and closer, the tip of his tongue gently caressing yours. A muffled whimper left your lips as you tightened your fingers around his shoulders, brows furrowing as you tried to keep your mind clear. This time, you properly felt his light stubble and mustache graze against your soft skin, heightening up your senses.

Once the kiss ended, Kyle pressed some more quick pecks on your cheek before burying his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. You were breathless, clinging onto him tight, not wanting this moment to end at all as you leaned into him, fingernails gently scratching against his nape. “Bloody gorgeous you are…” He croaked out against your neck, gently pressing soft kisses on your skin.

Warmth pooled in your stomach, your hips twitching unconsciously. He was so sickeningly sweet —you felt your heart growing more and more fond of him. Your body shuddered once he began lightly nipping on your skin with his teeth, testing the water and bloody hell, it was working. You didn’t even know you were sensitive in that area until now. “K-Kyle…” His name left your lips in the form of a shaky giggle, a bashful smile playing on your lips as you gently tugged on his hair with his fingers, earning a groan from him.

“Fucking hell, lovie…” He huffed, playfully yet lightly biting on your neck, eliciting a surprised squeak from you.

“Kyle!”

“Hush.” He peppered sweet licks on the place he had given you a bite. He pulled his head back slightly, eyes meeting yours once again.

He could feel the subtle tension in your muscles, the mild hesitation that seemed too familiar to him. Maybe you were scared of this softness just as much as he craved it. It wasn’t a bad kind of scared though, he knew that much.

“I have really bad luck with… all this.” He blurted out after a few seconds of silence, brown eyes fixed on yours, filled with vulnerability that he wasn’t reluctant on showing you anymore. He trusted you anyways. “I dunno, lovie. I have been goin’ on with my life thinking that I was just… not lovable at all. Got sick of being so alone all the time, of being left out a-and—” His voice cracked, his lips quickly pursing shut with a subtle hint of embarrassment. Not now, Garrick.

He cleared his throat, licking his bottom lip that suddenly felt dry. “You are the only one who makes me forget about the emptiness in my heart. I mean it. You are the only one who doesn’t make me feel like a fool, lovie… Ever since I met you, ever since we drank a few nights ago, every greeting of yours every morning— Fuck, makes me so warm.”

This was the real Kyle in front of you. You could finally see him beneath the flesh and bones. His words made your heart ache. Him? Unlovable? He was surrounded by the wrong people then because nothing in him could ever make him unlovable.

“It’s okay. I am also… not very good at all this.” You mumbled, unable to suppress a soft giggle from escaping your lips. Idiots, you both were. “And… don’t think that you are unlovable.”

Kyle nodded and pressed one more quick kiss on your lips, his heart hammering against his chest fast at your words, his hands fiddled with the hem of your pajama shirt, his fingers aching to lift it up. “Can I…?” He asked, his eyes focused on you so intently, as if trying to memorize your very soul.

With a nod from you, he gently eased your shirt off you, sliding it up your head before putting it on the couch behind you. His breath hitched once his eyes landed on your bare torso, lips parted in awe. Pretty. Prettiest.

You looked away in embarrassment, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra. You didn’t know that someone would be there in the balcony when you had gone out for fresh air — that someone being Kyle. You wanted to say something, but your thoughts were cut off when you felt both of his hands gently caressing your breasts, sizing them up while his fingers dug in your soft flesh, causing your breath to hitch and body to tense up.

“Relax, lovie… Tell me if you don’t want it.” He pressed a kiss on your cheek, smiling warmly at you. Kisses, kisses, kisses — he had given you so many kisses already, made you feel so special. And now this. All the earlier stress from work today, all the bad memories just seemed to wash away as his hands lovingly fondled your breasts.

You took a few deep breaths, feeling your muscles relax. “Okay… Okay.” You nodded, nibbling on your bottom lip as your eyes watched him, his thumbs gently brushing against your nipples that had begun to harden up under the sweet attention that he was giving to your chest. A little squeak left your lips when his thumb pressed against your right nipple gently, your sensitivity causing you to accidentally buck your hips forward.

“Woah there…” He chuckled teasingly, pulling his hands away from your chest before he held onto your hips gently, keeping them still. You grumbled at how he was getting amused at every embarrassing thing your body was doing.

Kyle was truly taking pleasure at the little twitches in your body, and as much as he wanted to take you right this very second, he wanted to be patient, to gently coax you into fully relaxing. Only then was he going to fuck you. He gently lowered his head, ignoring the way his back was leaning forward in a somewhat awkward manner, his lips gently brushing against your right nipple.

“Can I?” He whispered, looking up at you from this angle, watching the way your brows were furrowed and lips were slightly parted, your head nodding too quickly. He slowly latched his mouth to your nipple, his tongue caressing the soft bud with care. You moaned softly, your fingers going to his head once again, clinging onto his hair.

He took his time sucking on both of your nipples, hands never leaving your hips. Each swirl of his tongue around on your sensitive skin caused you to shiver, chest rising and falling with each breath you took. Once your nipples were all wet and swollen, he began peppering gentle kisses on the softness of your breasts before eventually pulling his head back, licking his bottom lip in delight.

“You have no idea what you're doin’ to me, lovie…”

He slowly eased you off his lap before laying you down on the ground, making sure that the fluffy pillows you both were seated on earlier were now resting underneath you. Once he got on top of you, kneeling in between your legs, he slowly began to press soft kisses on your belly, his hands holding onto your hands. He smiled against your skin once he felt your fingers lacing with his, his lips trailing a line of kiss down to your belly button before resting on top of them hem of your pajama trousers.

“Can I, lovie?” He groaned softly while pressing kisses on your waist line, wanting to make sure that you wanted this as much as he did. He was kissing on a particular ticklish spot of yours, causing you to squirm and laugh shyly.

“Fuck— yes. Yes, Kyle…” You whimpered out in between your soft giggles, your fingers slowly leaving him once he pulled his hands back. He slowly tugged your pajamas down, sliding them off your ankles and socks-cladded feet. His eyes fell onto the pair of panties you wore, a wet patch visible on them. His heart bloomed with fondness at how adorable you looked like this, all flushed and squirmy, visibly needy.

His thumb brushed over the wet spot, gently outlining your folds from the fabric of your dampening panties. Your hips twitched, your hands desperately holding onto your breasts since they didn’t know what else to hold onto. His other hand gently fondled your thighs before reaching to slide your panties down, tossing them aside.

“Holy fuck…” He breathed out in awe once his eyes fell onto your glistening cunt. It was so fucking gorgeous, his lips trembling a bit. Fuck, how did he get so lucky? He looked at you to make sure you were okay, noticing how you looked so fuzzy with pleasure, an excited smile adorning your lips.

“Kiss…” You whined out softly, hands reaching forward, aching to hold his face. He chuckled under his breath and nodded, gently leaning down to press his lips against yours while your hands cupped his face, his tongue finding yours. While he kissed you passionately, his fingers reached down to gently caress your wet folds, sliding his fingers up and down your cunt. Your whimpers were sucked in by his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands held onto his face dearly, your hips bucking forward to somehow get more contact with his hand.

He slowly pulled away from the kiss, his other hand going in between your legs too. His thumb cautiously brushed over your clit, feeling it pulsate and twitch underneath. God, just how needy were you? It was adorable, causing him to smile affectionately, his thumb beginning to rub your clit in circular motions. A breathy moan left your lips, your hand coming to cover your mouth because what if your noises are just so damn annoying to him? But the glare he shot you after that made you uncover your mouth once again. “No need to hold in your noises.” He grumbled softly.

You nodded sheepishly, your body struggling to stay still as his thumb continued to rub your sensitive clit, his finger gently coming to circle your entrance, feeling how warm it was. “Can I push my fingers in?” He asked softly, leaning down to press a peck on your forehead. You nodded, taking a few deep breaths to relax your muscles.

He started with one finger, gently sliding it into your tight entrance with surprising ease, probably due to how wet you were. Your walls tightened around his fingers as he gently began to rub it inside you, his thumb continuing to mindlessly fondle with your clit.

“Mmh… Kyle…” You let out a soft moan, eyes glossy due to how good it felt, your nerves feeling tingly — in a good way.

“Want more?”

“Yes—!”

Kyle slowly eased in another finger inside you, and soon one more. He couldn’t help it, you were being so good for him. He gently began thrusting his three fingers in and out of your tight cunt, stretching you nicely, his thumb never stopping from giving your needy clit some attention.

Your eyes rolled back, lips parted as your hips gently bucked back and forth in sync with his fingers. His fingers were rubbing against the sweet spongy spots inside you, causing your face to contort in pleasure. Even your own fingers couldn’t make you feel so good.

It wasn’t long until you felt your walls tightening up around his fingers, breathing getting shaky as your mind became blurry. “S-So close…! P-Please— Need it, need it.” You mindlessly babbled, almost sobbing out once the wave of pleasure hit you hard, warmth bursting in your stomach as your climax hit you hard, your body squirming. Kyle’s eyes were wide with adoration, his fingers slowly down but never stopping, letting you ride your orgasm out while his eyes looked down at the sweet, sticky white cum on the base of his fingers — your cum.

“Fuck… You are so good f’me, lovie.” He eased his fingers out of your pretty cunt, leaning down to gently kiss your chin, your teary eyes fluttering open to look at him. He smiled at you before gently putting his wet fingers in his mouth, lips nicely closing around his fingers as his tongue licked your cum off them. Your eyes widened in a mixture of surprise, arousal and embarrassment. He was actually licking your cum.

He savored the bittersweet taste before pulling his fingers out of his mouth, grinning cheekily at you. “Tastiest thing I ever tasted.” He commented, earning a gentle swat on his arm from you.

“Cheeky bastard…”

“You know I am.” He cooed before slowly sliding his hoodie off his head, revealing his nicely muscular torso.

You gawked at him, a tiny gasp leaving your lips as your eyes roamed over his upper half, looking at his smooth skin that was adorned with some little scars here and there, a bigger one staring from his waist and probably leading to his back. He's pretty.

He noticed your reaction, the cheeky grin never leaving his lips. He knew that he was good looking enough, and the fact that you find him attractive as well somewhat boosted his confidence even more — in a very good way.

Your hands gently reached up, caressing along the small scars on his shoulders before moving to rest against his muscular chest. “You look nice…” You finally managed to gather some courage to compliment him, all the anxiety just melting from your body. Your thighs were still trembling, the wetness continuing to pool in between your legs. Your eyes looked down, catching a glimpse of light happy trail leading down to his sweatpants and them— Holy fuck. You felt your mouth water once your eyes landed on his sweatpants, a visible erection visible there that you seemingly hadn’t noticed before. Your mind blanked out for a few seconds before you quickly looked back at his face, catching him staring at you with a knowing gaze.

“Do you want me, lovie? Want me in you?” He asked, tone a bit firm yet gentle at the same time — highlighting how he truly cared about you. He didn’t want to fuck you if you didn’t want it. You nibbled on your bottom lip for a few seconds, staring at him with a hazy gaze as you thought over his question.

Did you want him? Oh fuck. So much.

“Yes… But I-I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” You responded in a meek voice, causing his eyes to soften up.

“Trust me. Gonna take ya out on lots of dates after this, I promise.” He whispered, words full of sincerity. With one final kiss on your lips, he slowly tugged his sweatpants down alongside his briefs, not bothering to keep them. He tossed them aside before gently resting back in between your legs.

His cock was so hard, precum already sliding down his length. He was nicely sized with a big length and an even better girth. It would probably destroy you if you weren’t so wet right now.

He paused for a while, brows furrowing as he looked around. “Don’t have a condom, fuck.”

“I’m on pills.” You reassured him. It was true that you were on pills, despite having barely anyone to hook up with. Maybe you were just waiting for someone, someone like him — someone that reminded you of the sunset with how warm they were, somehow who eased the storm inside your head. He was just so perfect in every way, and he didn’t even know it. Fucking evil.

Kyle nodded, gently spreading your legs apart with his hands, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh of your thighs, massaging your muscles. “Gonna fuck you so nicely, lovie. I promise I will.” He said, words dripping with genuine warmth. He slowly pressed the tip of his cock in front of your swollen clit, nudging it — like a kiss. He began rubbing your clit with the tip of his cock, his hand gripping the shaft to keep his throbbing erection still. You let out a breathy sigh, melting into the pillows beneath you while he continued to tease you.

“Kyle, please…” You groaned shyly, voice laced with mild frustration and overwhelming need. You needed him in you, to feel his skin against yours so you could assure him of how lovely and special he truly is — a fucking gem in the rough battleground he had to face so much.

Kyle nodded, eyes glinting at amusement at your pleas as his hands moved up to gently hold onto your waist, aligning his cock in front of your entrance. “Ready?”

With one final nod from you, he gently began pushing the tip of his cock in your tightness, a blissful groan leaving his lips as he wetness engulfed him slowly. He made sure to look at your face for any signs of discomfort from the stretch, because fuck it was a lot. He found none and that was the green light for him to slowly push his cock in, inch by inch, until it was nice and snug in your tight cunt, some of his public hair tickling your skin.

“You okay?” He asked, one hand reaching up to gently brush some of your hair off your forehead which was a bit wet from sweat now, placing a kiss in between your brows while you nodded.

“Mmph—… So good…” You slurred out, feeling so full with his cock all stuffed in you. Your hands made their way to rest on his back as he leaned down on you, your fingers rubbing gently on his nape. “L-Like you a lot, Kyle. Don’t want you to think that you are not loveable… O-Or that you are a fool. You are so perfect in my eyes…” You fumbled on your words in the midst of the pleasurable haze, though your words were as genuine as they could — your heart speaking to him.

Kyle’s heart skipped a beat at your words, his brown eyes softening up. Fuck, you’re just so sweet, filling his empty heart. He smiled to himself and nodded, pressing soft kisses on the tip of your nose, causing you to let out a heartful giggle. He chuckled alongside you, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately before he slowly began to thrust his cock in and out of your tightness, his right hand clasping onto your waist again while his other hand moved in between your legs, thumb resuming to gently play with your sensitive clit.

His thrusts were gentle and paced nicely, not too agonizingly slow and not too fast. This was all to give you pleasure, to show how you had made your way into his heart so easily. He rested his head in the crook of your neck while your fingers gently dug into his back, not too hard to leave any marks. Breathy, blissful moans left your lips while a smile adorned your lips — just refusing to go away.

You could hear his soft groans echoing in your ears, his lips peppering kisses on your earlobe and down your jaw. Your skins were pressed together, making everything so humid as he kept a steady pace, the tip of his cock gently slamming against your cervix, causing your toes to curl up. His girth rubbed against your spongy sweet spots just perfectly, making you literally swoon while your eyes struggled to keep open, mind fogged with this feeling that was making you melt into mush.

“So tight— lovie. So perfect and warm f’me…” He breathed out, thumb sliding up and down your sweet clit as he hips moved alongside yours, skin gently slapping with one another. His musk mixed with yours, alongside the perfume that he had worn earlier, making his head spin.

You couldn’t stop a tear from escaping your eyes, your sniffle catching Kyle’s attention as he pulled his head back from your neck to look at you, your eyes all teary. “Feels too good?” He asked, kissing the tear away as you nodded, whimpering softly as your lips quivered.

“Never felt so good before…”

“Me too.”

A familiar pressure began building up in your lower abdomen once again as he continued playing with your bundle of nerves, cock continuing to thrust in and out of your cunt, balls smacking against your skin. “Close…” You mewled out, the pressure feeling stronger than before as your fingernails dug into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him as close as you could, your movement causing the swollen tip of his cock to hit your cervix once again, causing your mind to go all white as your orgasm hit you once again, your body convulsing in pleasure as you cried out meekly, his cock coaxing you to ride your pleasure out while your folds fluttered around him. a white creamy ring made its way on his shaft, which was your doing. Your brain felt so foggy, body lightheaded and relaxed as he pressed soft kisses on your cheeks.

“Good God… Such a perfect thing ya are, cummin’ on my cock. Can I cum in you, lovie?” He grunted, his own orgasm approaching as his thrusts got a bit sloppy from the wet mess you created, his cock throbbing inside your tight walls. You nodded breathlessly and his balls tightened almost immediately, his orgasm hitting him in waves as thick ropes of cum spurted out of his cock, painting your insides white.

He didn’t pull his cock out once his thrusts slowed down before coming to a stop, his hands sliding up to cup your face lovingly, looking at how pretty you looked after being fucked, letting himself relish the way you were wrapped around his cock. An adorable mess actually.

“Kyle…” You shyly smiled at him, eyes half open while your hands moved to hold onto his shoulders, your body feeling so damn sensitive.

After a few more minutes of just basking in your warmth, Kyle slowly pulled his cock out of you, some drops of thick cum sliding down your cunt. It made him want to fuck you again, but he didn’t want to tire you any more than you already were.

“Let’s get you cleaned up…” He slowly got up on his feet and searched for your bathroom in the apartment, coming back after a few minutes with a pair of wet towels. He began cleaning your body, which was still trembling in pleasure — the towel gently gliding against the skin and in between your legs, cautiously cleaning your inner thighs.

“Pillows got dirty.” He cheekily mumbled, causing you to pout and look at him lazily.

“You will clean it… S’your fault.”

“Fine.”

After he was done cleaning you up, he gently eased you up on your feet, leading you into your bedroom, his hands carrying both of your clothes and putting them to the side, tossing the towel in the laundry — already memorizing each corner of your apartment.

He went to the bathroom momentarily to quickly clean himself up before he came back, guiding you to gently lay on your bed, your hand grabbing his wrist. “Stay with me…” You tiredly giggled, mustering up as much strength as you had to pull him on the bed too.

Kyle’s heart almost exploded in his chest at your words, his breath hitching as he looked at you in awe before nodding. Not bothering to wear any clothes, you both slid into the covers, his arms wrapping around you while your head neatly tucked into your neck, one leg hooking around his waist. “Sleep well, lovie… Gonna be here with ya when ya wake up.” He promised, placing a soft kiss on the side of your head as he felt your breathing calming down, your body and mind soon entering a state of peaceful slumber — probably the best sleep you had in months.

You never put a label on your relationship with Gaz. It was definitely not casual — something more for sure, especially with the blossoming feelings in your heart that could be described as nothing but romantic. Love, even. You didn't know what properly being in love felt like, maybe whatever this was that you felt towards him. He had taken you out for a date to an amusement park before he had to go for his deployment. A date. It meant something to both of you, right?

“Only three weeks, lovie. Promise I’ll be back soon.” He said softly while standing in front of your front door as he prepared to leave, reassuring you even though he had spent the whole last weeks cuddling you and trying to tell you that it will be quick. Your eyes were all teary, mind overwhelmed with anxiety because you had no idea how the whole thing even works. You just prayed that he would come back safe.

You nodded at him, handing him a box of cookies you had baked for him after hours of watching tutorials. “For you…” You sheepishly mumbled, wiping the tears that had formed in your eyes.

Kyle gratefully accepted the box before pulling you in a tight hug, smothering your face up with kisses. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Fuck three weeks. It had been five. You had stopped receiving messages from him after the two week mark, and all you felt was nauseous from how anxious you felt, hearing the loud beating of blood in your ears while your stomach uncomfortably twisted.

It wasn't until this morning that Kyle had finally texted you with a “Coming today.” — so painfully dry in comparison to his other messages but you could only rationally conclude that something must have happened in the mission. You were frustrated, yes, but that was just a result of being so overwhelmed for the past five weeks.

It was raining heavily today, the sounds of the rain sliding against the glass of your window alongside the muffled thunder somewhat soothing your nerves.

Though for Kyle, the rain was a mess. His flight had just landed an hour or two ago, and now he was at the base. The traffic was fucking jammed around the area, and his teammates couldn’t give him a ride home too because one of the SUVs had to go for repairing. Just his bloody luck. He didn’t want to keep you waiting anymore, he couldn’t. Not after everything he had gone through in this mission.

Blood was dripping down Kyle’s forehead as he struggled to maintain his vision, hiding behind a wall while gunshots roared behind him. The enemies had outnumbered them badly, and he had to hide here until more of the team arrived.

He didn’t want to die. God, not here, not now. Not after just figuring out so much about himself, not after just meeting you. Oh, you. You were there, waiting in your apartment. And fuck, he was so late. He had said three weeks, but it had been four starting today.

Wasn’t his fault though, even though it felt like one. They had gained new intel on the enemy last minute after what felt like a failed mission, and they knew that they couldn’t leave it.

God, he was terrified. It wasn’t often that he felt true fear. But he felt it now, only because he didn’t want to leave you alone, not at least without telling you how he felt about you. To expressing his undying feelings for you, to—

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud thunderclap, a groan leaving his lips. Slowly but surely, he made up his mind. He was going to run over to the apartment complex. It wasn’t that far away from here and he had enough stamina, plus he didn’t give a fuck about the heavy rain.

With his duffel bag in his hand, he sprinted out of the base, legs carrying him towards the streets. His blue cap was soaking, barely covering his face or providing him some sort of cover as he ran and ran through the slipper pavement, ignoring the ache in his head that was a result from the wound he gad gotten, although not fatal but still painful, a bandage now place on the sidre of his forehead.

Eventually reaching the apartment complex you both lived in, he breathed heavily, standing outside the building, not caring about being all wet. Still, hopefully nothing inside the duffel bag was ruined. He sent you a quick text, asking you to meet him outside.

You had rushed out of the apartment building as soon as you got his text, heart beating fast due to the sudden rush of adrenaline, a jacket hastily put on you while you held an umbrella. Your eyes looked around the foggy street before you spotted him, a big smile coming on your lips.

“Kyle!” You gasped in pure excitement, carefully making your way over to him. Though as soon as he saw you, he dropped his duffel back and rushed over to you, his arms pulling you in fast and tight, causing the umbrella to drop from your hand and fall onto the ground.

“Lovie! G-God, fuck… So sorry for leaving you… So sorry—” His voice cracked as he fumbled out every explanation he could form, his mind already overwhelmed at the sight of you. God, he missed you so much. His arms were wrapped around you tight, facing burying into the crook of your neck, feeling the familiar scent cloud his senses and calm him down.

“Kyle… It’s okay. Hey, s’okay…” You mumbled softly, still a bit confused though he could explain it all later. Right now, all that mattered was him. “We are gettin’ wet, we should— Wait, is that a bandage? Are you ok—”

But before you could finish your sentence, his mouth had already found its way to yours, kissing you gently. Your eyes immediately fluttered shut, your hand reaching up to gently take his cap off his head and hold it as you kissed him back, both of your arms wrapping around his neck while his hands held your waist.

The rain fell on both of you, your clothes clinging to your skin while a cool breeze brushed past you both. But he was already lost in the taste of your lips, and the feel of you in his arms. For the first time, Kyle felt like he was worth something, like he was not alone anymore. That he's loved.

He gently parted from the kiss, whispering gently into your ear, words that made your heart swell up in affection that you didn’t know you were capable of feeling.

“I love you, lovie.”

And God, you loved him too. More than anything.

#broke my fingers with this #KYLE !! THE MAN THAT YOU ARE #who else is self projecting on kyle (me!!) #god i love gaz so much you guys dont get it #making up for the lack of gaz fics #more will come soon #this is too long im sorry #not sorry #anyways !!! GAZ. #reader is trying their best i think #gaz is trying his best too !! they both are sillies. #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #cod fic #gaz x reader #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #rurufic #for the gaz lovers (me)

[andy-15-07]

Can you do a fic where Y/n and Drew have to do an intimate scene, and she is stressed about this and Drew calms her down, friends to lovers.😘😘

Stage of Love

Paring(s): Drew Starkey x reader

masterlist / Outer Banks Masterlist

The set buzzed with energy as Y/n and Drew prepared for their upcoming scene. They had been friends for years, but today marked a new chapter in their relationship as they were about to film their first intimate scene together. Y/n couldn't help but feel a knot of nerves tightening in her stomach as she went over the script one last time.

"Drew, I'm really nervous about this," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

Drew turned to her, his eyes filled with understanding. "Hey, it's okay to be nervous. But trust me, we've got this. We're professionals."

Y/n forced a smile, grateful for Drew's calming presence. "I know, it's just... it feels different with you. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

Drew reached out and took her hand in his, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. "Y/n, look at me," he said softly, his gaze locking with hers. "We've known each other for years. We trust each other. We can get through this together, okay?"

Y/n felt a wave of reassurance wash over her as she looked into Drew's warm brown eyes. He was right – they had been through so much together, and she trusted him more than anyone else in the world.

"Okay," she said, squeezing his hand tightly. "Let's do this."

As they stepped onto the set, Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. This was it – the moment they had been preparing for. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart as they began to rehearse their lines.

But as they started to act out the scene, Y/n couldn't help but feel self-conscious. She was acutely aware of Drew's presence beside her, his body inches away from hers. Every touch, every word felt like it was magnified a thousand times over.

"Drew, I'm sorry, I just can't do this," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Drew turned to her, concern etched on his face. "What's wrong, Y/n? Are you okay?"

Y/n shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just so nervous. I don't know if I can go through with this."

Drew reached out and gently brushed away her tears, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her body. "Hey, it's okay. We don't have to do this if you're not comfortable. Your well-being is more important than any scene."

Y/n felt a rush of gratitude towards Drew, his words washing away her fears like a gentle tide. She knew that she could always count on him to be there for her, no matter what.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Drew smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You'll never have to find out. We're in this together, remember?"

And with Drew by her side, Y/n knew that she could conquer anything – even the most daunting of scenes. As they prepared to try again, she felt a newfound sense of confidence coursing through her veins.

Together, they would create magic onscreen, their friendship blossoming into something more beautiful than they could have ever imagined. And as they lost themselves in the world of make-believe, Y/n couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support of her dear friend, Drew.

#drew starkey #drew starkey blurb #drew starkey headcanons #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x you #rafe headcanons #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader

[pedgito]

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: reeling from the night before, eddie's mixed signals lead to new revelations and a spontaneous night of activities that you can't help but play along with.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, first kisses and more, skinny dipping, oral (f recieving), handjobs, hair pulling, lots of cute interactions, it's a lot calmer than the first part lol. if i miss any tags pls let me know!

word count: 7.7k ♡ part one, part three

There had been radio silence from Eddie the entire morning.

You shoved the dice in Eddie’s hand when you caught him at lunch, roughly slapping them down into his palm and curling his fingers over them, assuring they were squeezed shut. Eddie’s stricken with a wordless response, staring up at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape—his brain is short function behind those sweet brown eyes, realization settling into him as he thinks back on the night prior, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he swayed you toward an orgasm, all while desperately starving himself from his own. 

He watches you sit down, pulling your lunch tray closer to your chest. A baby carrot gripped tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, the crunch deafening in the silence that had fallen over the table. The other side of the problem suddenly dawns on him, pulling your own pair from his jacket pocket, sliding them gently onto the tray, the small clinking grabbing the attention of the entire group. 

“I’m sensing some hostility,” Dustin ponders, eyes squinted as he glances between the two of you, “what did he do this time?”

“Huh?” Eddie’s wounded by the accusation, hand pressed to his chest in offense, “Why is it always me?”

“Because, it is always you.” You reply sharply, using the weak plastic fork to stab into the dry spaghetti, twirling the noodles around the utensil but never making the trip to your mouth. It made you want to barf. “Isn’t it?”

“That prank you pulled last year that ruined her science project?” Dustin recalls, watching Eddie’s face fall at the memory. 

It was harmless, Eddie had so foolishly assumed, sneaking up behind you one dreary, rainy Monday morning–already frazzled by how soaked your project was– scaring the daylights out of you; thus sending your project, which had taken days—days, you’d told him. Hours of paper mache and labeling, just to get everything right, all ruined in the small span of ten seconds, the sad remnants left to wilt away on the ground. He apologies for a week straight, following you around like some sick puppy, but to no avail. Eventually though, you got over it and it wasn’t hard to forgive him. Still, you would never forget.

Eddie really knew how to get under your skin, through pleasure and pain; the pain of annoyance, to be clear. It wasn’t his voice, or his personality—it was the unbounded lack of self awareness and grandioseness.

“So, what did you do?” Dustin pushes, all of the boys now narrowing in on the both of you.

“Nothing.” It’s simultaneous, both of you glancing up with narrowed eyes, quickly flicking back toward your trays. Eddie shoved a small almond into his mouth, chewing harshly. 

“Shit, maybe I was wrong.” Dustin concedes, hands thrown up. “Was it you, then?” 

Dustin’s staring at you expectantly, determined to get to the bottom of this obvious tension between you and Eddie—though, you are having none of it.

“Dustin, I’m giving you five second to drop it before I tell this entire table that Suzie said—“

“Okay!” He shouts over you, hands waving around in panic, begging you to stop. “I’ll drop it.”

It’s a low grumble, dejected at how easily he’d been subdued by you; he couldn’t help how head over heels he was for his girlfriend, even talking to you about it in confidence—but you weren’t afraid to use it as armor if need be. Dustin really needed to learn his limits. 

Your lunch gets cold, the lingering silence switching from awkward to extremely uncomfortable—you excuse yourself immediately. Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t follow.

☆.｡.:*

You think about Eddie the rest of the day, despising yourself for it. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything to you, other than a simple nod or acknowledgment your way, despite how often you sought him throughout the day. Was he embarrassed now? You couldn’t find any reason why that would matter, having done what you did willingly.

He’s setting up the table for another campaign session after school that day, the entire trudge of boys piling in behind you, gabbing and talking about their days, all the while, Eddie meandering around silently, placing and displacing certain things. Dustin noticed too, leaning in over your shoulder from your seat—which so happened to be directly across from Eddie’s, traveling the long stretch of the table, you glanced in the direction of the long haired boy, his head turned away from the both of you.

“Did you break him?” It’s a valid question. None of you had ever seen him like this. Ever.

“I told you—I didn’t do anything.” You defend, voice hushed as you look over at your younger friend. “He’s just got a stick up his ass today, he’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” Dustin sighs, “He’s really gonna go hard with this campaign today, clearly.”

And it’s a stark difference from his usual relaxed demeanor as he directs the narrative, almost harsh in the way he delivers his lines. It’s almost like he’s attempting to rush through, which is unlike him, entirely left field from what you’re used to.

His fingers are curled around the privacy screen setup at his end of the table, eyes glancing up at you every so often. He thinks you don’t notice, but you’re so hyper aware that it’s impossible not to.

“Come on, Gareth—the lemures are dying, there’s no time for leisurely decision making. You either attack or flee.” Eddie demands, eyes scanning over the few of you huddled together, determine your plan of attack.

“Just fucking fireball it,” You suggest, exhausted from how hard your brain was working to follow the campaign, feeling like this was a losing battle from the beginning, “if we die, at least we’ll finally be put out of our misery.”

“Fine, fireball—we’ll fireball him.” Gareth decides, eyes glancing nervously toward you as he rolls. It’s just enough to give you that edge, ultimately defeating the horrible monster Eddie had conjured up—he smiles slightly, but it’s so faint you almost didn’t notice. 

The campaign lasted nearly five hours, yet somehow, you felt energized, awake—but that was mostly the frustration that had built within you throughout the day, bothered by how irritated and distant Eddie seemed with you.

This was all his idea, originally—so how was this fair to you? Why did you have to feel guilty? It’s a partial reminder to yourself to never rely on anyone else for an orgasm, because clearly it was too difficult to even face that person afterwards (it's an absurd thing to think about, but it was true).

And while everyone else had already said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, helping him pick up like you always did, but there was a lot less talking and a lot more narrowly moving around each other, making it a point to avoid touching. 

He huffs under his breath slightly, shoving the sprawled out papers into a folder, snapping it shut.

It’s a shock to your body, turning on your heels to look at him—his back was still tense, noticeable through the thin fabric of his shirt, his vest jacket slung over the back of his chair. 

“Oh, would you fucking cut it out?” You nearly beg, talking to the back of him, hands thrown out to your sides in anger, balled into tight fists, “You’re acting like I scandalized you or something.”

His head turns slightly, the sharp line of his jaw visible to your eye, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Sorry,” He finally says, one of the very few words he’s spoken to you all day, “I’m not trying to—I just, don’t know what to say.”

“That’s news to me,” You laugh slightly, a little flippant sting behind your words, “If it’s really a problem we can forget it ever happened—“

“That’s not it,” He admits, turning his body to face you, sitting gently against the edge of the table, “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day—everyone is always around, though.”

You hadn’t considered that, honestly—not realizing how often Dustin or Mike trailed behind Eddie, or Gareth badgering you about some homework from the day prior as you walked to your next class, you were never truly alone, not until times like this. 

Your lips pull together in a thin line, that nagging feeling of guilt eating away at you—maybe you had been too harsh on him. 

“You seemed mad this morning when you gave me the dice.” He adds, idle fingers twisting his rings back into place accordingly, “I thought maybe you were upset about last night.”

“You did interrupt me,” You point out, “over something you could’ve just bothered me about at school the next morning—I was a little annoyed, don’t get me wrong.” 

“But, if I hadn’t, maybe—“ Eddie starts, heading in a direction you were already well aware of.

“You’re making it awkward when it doesn’t have to be.” You remind him. 

There was too much space between you both, Eddie feeling like he was on the other side of the planet, staring down meekly at his torn up Reebok’s. 

“I know, I know,” He murmurs, chewing at his bottom lip, “I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“With anyone?” You ask, like Eddie gave up his free orgasm advice to anyone—it was a stupid question, but it slips out regardless. 

“With a friend.” He corrects, eyes glancing up to lock with yours. “But, yeah–never with anyone else either.”

Friends. Just friends.

A friend who’s dick you pictured an awful lot, even before having him describe it to you—and even that feels dangerous to think about, knowing that you craved the idea of seeing your friend that way, stripped down and wanting.

“So, do we just forget about it then?” You ask again, more insistent this time as you approach him in small steps, “Like it never happened, right?”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly, “God, no.”

You tilt your head, pressing for more. Why? Why no?

“I can’t just forget shit like that.” He admits, his hand uncurling at his side, palm resting against the table. It’s a subconscious move, like he’s reaching toward you. “Can you?”

“I can lie and say yes, if that makes you feel better.” You tell him, soft laugh escaping your chest. “But, no—I don’t think there’s any way to just forget about it. Ignore it? Maybe. It doesn’t have to be weird, Eddie.”

“I know,” He agrees, nodding slightly, “Just—can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

And you sigh a silent breath of relief, because the sentiment was shared. Your cunt buzzed at the admission, feeling something stir inside of you. You blamed it on the lack of sexual interaction; it was a natural, after sharing something so intimate, that you couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking about—still, you were definitely thinking about it.

Eventually you arrived at his side, taking a careful seat on the side of the table beside him, feet perched up in a chair. He was silent again, thinking, following you closely with his eyes. 

“That’s fair,” You shrug, deciding to not clue him in on your own selfish thoughts, his hands, his mouth, all of him; all over you, “Did you think I was going to make fun of you for it or something?”

“Maybe,” He says softly, eyes glancing from your face to the small gap between you both, hands pressed against the table, pinkies only a few inches apart. “I feel like I pressured you or something, which wasn’t my intention at all, I just—“

You don’t feel regret—shame maybe, at the idea that you couldn’t get the memory out of your mind, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret to be felt. “Eddie, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want to—it’s okay.”

You swallow your words for a moment, debating carefully on how to switch the conversation to something less debilitating.

“Besides, you’re pretty good at it.”

It isn’t what you mean to say, but it comes out anyway.

“Helping you come?” And the words are so crass to hear coming from his mouth, inches away from you, but you can’t help the way your stomach turns, fluttering pleasantly. “Really?”

He’s laughing and you can both agree that it’s a ridiculous topic to discuss, but neither of you bothers to stop. 

You shrug, head tilted up to look at him, “Like I said, I don’t have anything to compare it to—but it was pretty good.”

“You’re so difficult to understand,” Eddie responded with fondness, a small smile spreading across his face, deep smile lines in his cheek making you blush, face warm with embarrassment. 

“All you have to do is ask questions, Eddie—I don’t bite.”

Eddie gives you an unsure look, almost mocking in the way that he doesn’t fully believe you. 

“Was everything you said true?” He finally asks, curiosity racking his brain. Part of him can’t believe you, it doesn’t seem real. Ruin me, Eddie. I want you to ruin me. It was the single most earth shattering thing he’s ever heard someone say to him. 

You nod feebly, maintaining a comfortable eye contact, admiring the way Eddie looked at you freely now, less restricted and apprehensive—his eyes looked warm under the theater room lighting, pools of dark honey, dangerously inviting. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve really never done anything.”

“What about the time you had to kiss Gareth on that dare?”

You snort softly, remembering how mortified Gareth looked in the moment, having no courage to actually go through with it. “You were there! He kissed my cheek, remember? He was terrified.”

“Oh, yeah,” It dawned on him, a burst of laughter bellowing from his mouth—and the thing about Eddie, he always laughed with his full body, the sound vibrating throughout him. He was as physical with his actions as you’ve ever seen among anybody; so distinct to him, “well, sorry.”

“Sorry?” You’re confused, eyebrows pinching together. “For me not being kissed? It’s not that big of a deal, you know.”

“Everyone should get to experience it once,” He defends, hands shoved deep into his front pockets as he shrugs, his head leaned down far enough that his bangs almost obscured his eyes—still, he was looking at you, “it’s important.”

“I’m eighteen—I still have time.” You remind him, “Plus, not everyone has their first kiss at fourteen, Eddie. Some of us are late bloomers.” 

Eddie huffs a laugh, seeing the rightful argument you were making—despite that, he couldn’t shake the fact of the matter and what you’d said to him. Had it been true? Was it just a heat of the moment thing? Ruin me. It rang through his head again. 

“If it bothers you that much—kiss me.” 

The boldness is sudden, but you were over the harping about it—get it out of the way; easily taken care of. Eddie wasn’t a stranger, he was someone you genuinely trusted.

“You sure?” You admire that care he has, leaning away from you slightly to get a full view of your face, noticing just how serious you were. 

“If you don’t do it, I will.” You challenge him, feeling your inside burn with anticipation. 

Despite Eddie’s unconstrained confidence, he’s second guessing himself during, possibly, the most crucial moment he’s had so far in his young life. He watches the way your eyebrows draw up, almost a—well, what are you waiting for?—type of expression washing over your face. 

He shuts everything off; his mind, his thoughts, his anxiety, and leans forward.

His palm is really warm, burning against the already hot skin of your cheek, blushed red with how easily he gave in—you half expected him to back out, stutter his way out of another conversation with you today. And his lips, they’re soft; not like you would expect, still cracked from his constant habit of licking his lips, but they’re plush and warm and perfect as they glide against your own in a careful dance—a balance of sincerity and care.

You make a small noise, a tiny little gasp, feeling the back of Eddie’s hand—the one not holding your face, creeping around to the small of your back, pulling you toward him as he moves to stand between your legs, leaving you crowded back against the table. It’s hard to process while Eddie is kissing you so thoughtfully.

It’s innocent and explorative, but he’s desperately trying not to cross any boundaries, only ghosting the top of his tongue across your top lip by accident when he kisses back too enthusiastically, feeling the way your chest arches toward him, wanting to feel closer to him. You’ve never made out with anyone—if you could call this that, but it’s glorious. 

Your hands are still planted against the table, chair holding your legs forgotten, resting lazily against the table, the feeling of denim against denim as your inner thighs rubbed against the rough line of his jeans.

“Well, that’s another box to check off.” You say lightly, taking the opportunity to breathe as Eddie leans away, looking smug at the admission despite his early hesitation. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

It��s meant to sound playful, but it strikes a cord deep inside of Eddie. 

“Only if you want me to.” He supplies, taking a small step back, still close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him, 

You smile so hard your eyes squint, eyelashes touching at the corners. There was always something about Eddie that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but maybe this was it. He was a solid reminder that you could enjoy yourself; indulge in what you wanted and not take everything so seriously. He was a needed distraction in your life and you were welcoming it with open arms. 

“Give me a ride home?” You ask shyly, poking at his hipbone playfully. Eddie chuckles, grabbing the tender spot like you’d wounded him.

“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Eddie bows, fishing for the keys in his pocket as his arm extends out in waiting.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s humming along to the beginnings of another Dio song, kept at a comfortably low volume so it doesn’t burst your eardrums—he knows how much you hate the loud music, despite actually enjoying most of his song choices. 

The drive is slow, peaceful—the sticky and warm humid of the air leaking through the half cracked windows; nights like these make you hate the end of summer, the heat nearly unbearable some days.

“The windows still busted,” He tells you, “Otherwise I’d roll it down more.”

“It’s okay, Eddie.” You assure him, pulling at the loose shirt you had on, slipping it over your head—luckily you spare some of your modesty for him, a thin strapped tank top underneath.

It bared a small bit of your midriff—though, Eddie didn’t seem like he was bothered, not from your perspective anyways. 

“Any plans tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping to break the silence that had fallen, glancing over at you sparingly. 

You smirk to yourself, reading around the context of the question without Eddie realizing. He wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was, clearly.

“You can call me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You reply smugly, legs crossed over the other, hands resting against your thighs, fingers looped together loosely. 

“You—you want me to call?” 

“Sure,” You shrug indifferently, “We are still friends, Eddie—we’ve talked on the phone before; if it leads to more…well—“ You shrug again, offering a small, reserved smile. 

His brain is not capable of processing this shit. Eddie always had the worst luck in the world, plans always turning upside down on him, things never working out—but this, he couldn’t let this one go. He’s got an idea swirling in his head, but he’s too afraid to say it outright. 

“What’s your curfew again?” Eddie asks casually, fingers tapping against the worn steering wheel, the lack of luminosity from the street lights makes it hard to examine his expression, his heart thrumming in his chest like a jackrabbit—it felt like it was going to burst out any second. 

“Uh, ten,” You respond, offering a puzzled expression. You quickly grab his wrist, glancing at his watch, “It’s only eight, so I’ve got a couple hours.”

Eddie nods silently, turning down a street that definitely did not lead to your home. His mischievous nature gives him away immediately.

“Eddie,” You speak carefully, drawing out his name, “If this is going to get us arrested you better turn around.”

“Hey, last time was a fluke—“ He defends, quickly skipping past the topic, “besides, you’re safe with me.”

“I know.”

Eddie smiles, turning around a long bend, leading to a closed off wooded area, large lake off in the distance.

“Lover’s Lake?” Confusion hits you, watching Eddie’s eager hands twist the keys from the ignition, bouncing out of his seat and toward your side, opening the door. 

“Gotta start your rebellion at some point, right?” He grins, nodding toward the lake. 

Your face pulls up, nose scrunched in confusion. Eddie laughs loudly, slipping off the jacket—which despite the heat, he still wore; it was true dedication. But, it doesn’t take you long to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that Eddie was conveniently leaving out.

“Skinny dipping?” Eyes wide, they follow Eddie’s departing figure, jacket tossed haphazardly on the hood of his van. “Eddie—I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You’re kidding me?” He was so infuriating.

Yet, you still followed him, eagerly. 

“What? I won’t look.” Eddie shrugs, toeing off his shoes when you reach the point where water meets muddy foliage. “You’re always talking about how you want to experience more—well, why not this?”

“What if someone comes out here?” 

No one ever came out to Lover’s Lake anymore, you both knew that. It was a weak attempt to feign your disinterest, but really, you were a giant bundle of nerves. 

“Look—it’s hot as shit, I’m jumping in. You can watch or join, I’m leaving that up to you.” Eddie pulled his shirt over his head, skin stretching over his back—you’ve never realized how beautiful shoulders could be until you’ve seen Eddie’s.

But really, everything was beautiful on him. 

“Dammit.” You mumble to yourself, Eddie reaching for the button of his jeans—and you want to avert your eyes, you do, but he’s doing it on purpose; hoping for you to steal a look, a glance—hell, even a peak. It wasn’t like you didn’t already have a vivid picture in your head.

“Last chance, princess.” He calls out, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one fluid movement.

“Eddie!” You gasp, somehow still shocked by his boldness; part of you couldn’t help not being able to grasp what was happening.

He turns to you, hands grasped over the part of himself that you were most intrigued about, your eyes stay locked on his, despite how hard you fight the urge to glance down. Eddie’s looking at you, almost expectantly. You hated how right he was; how badly you wanted to experience as much as possible, yet terrified at the idea.

“Shit—fine, I’ll do it.” You finally cave, Eddie grins wide, turning on his heels to skitter towards the water; the glance you steal of his ass is purely indulgence. 

☆.｡.:*

Eddie is underneath the water as you tread through, the cold water against your skin feeling foreign, heart racing in your chest as you dip far enough beneath the surface that enough of your breasts are covered, your hair sticking against your skin from the water splashing back in your face. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks suddenly, heading popping above the surface, pushing his wet hair away from his face.

It’s strange, not having half of his hair obscuring his face. You smile, though your tone is still entirely deadpan and serious.

“Cold.”

“Not the water,” He laughs, flicking a droplet at your face, “your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”

You nod sheepishly, eyes wandering toward the shore. It was dead, dark, not a car or person in sight. You had nothing to worry about, yet somehow, you couldn’t help but worry—though, it was all mostly harmless. 

“We’re safe.” He assures you, wading closer. “Here,” He takes a handful of water and pours it over your hair, wetting the rest of what wasn’t submerged in the lake, “that’s better.”

Your lips purse at the water that drips down your face, eyes squinting at Eddie’s expression; the smugness was evident.

“You’re enjoying yourself too much.” You point out, shoving his hand away gently. “How often do you do this?”

Five, ten, maybe a hundred times, no doubt. 

“Never,” Eddie admits, “this is the first time.”

Your hands surface to push his shoulder, a little rougher than you intended. “Then how do you know this is safe?”

He senses your panic, grasping your elbow, his fingers settling in the dip of it, adjusting you to look toward his now abandoned van. “Look,” He points out a particular bend in the forest, a place that looks clear enough but still gives a decent view of the water, “I come out here at least once a week, just to smoke—Wayne hates the smell in the trailer, so, I try to improvise. Either way—no one ever comes out here anymore. Well, aside from me and a few homeless people, but I promise. We’re completely safe.”

You sigh, that small tinge of doubt in your stomach starting to dissipate, still hyper aware of his burning touch, even through the bitter cold of the water. 

“You’re corrupting me, you know.” You confess, face turned away from him as you moved away, swimming further from the shore, feet barely touching the lake floor. “Is this all a part of your master plan, Eddie?” 

You’re joking, he knows that. He can hear it in your voice, but the idea has something twisting inside of him. Eddie smiles, unbeknownst to you. 

“You caught me.”

“You called me the other night with a plan, huh?” You press. 

No, he hadn’t.

“Maybe,” He agrees with you, the splash of the waves against your back indicating that he was moving closer, you could hear him, almost predatorily slow. “Does that bother you?”

You shrug. It didn’t, not in the slightest.

“So, what’s your plan now?” You push, feeling the tip of his chest brush against your shoulder blades, just hovering. 

And truly, he didn’t have one. It was an idea born out of spontaneity and Eddie flowed from one step to the next, not sure what he was expecting to happen. But, he feels it—the sense of tension that was building, lingering between you both like it had during the call from the previous night. 

“Well,” His fingers brush the hair away from your shoulder, touch ghosting over your skin. You can feel his breath, his lips, right against the shell of your ear. You try desperately to hold back the full body shiver that runs through you, “want to check another box off your list?”

His forwardness is an act, a mask to cover how fucking nervous he was. His hands shook as they curled around the back of your neck, but you couldn’t see it—only feeling the dip of his thumb at the start of your spine. 

Your head leans back on its own accord, his lips coming into full contact with the side of your face—and he chuckles, you can’t help the way your cunt clenches at the sound, not daring to make any sort of eye contact with your friend, who was pressing himself up against you so openly—feeling every point of him, despite the hindrance of the water. You gulped softly, too quiet for Eddie to hear. 

“What do you have in mind?” You finally speak, voice sounding pathetically weak. 

“You trust me, right?” He speaks softly, his unoccupied hand reaching around to cover the expanse of your stomach, turning you gently until you face him, “I just want to hear you say it.”

It’s the only thing he cares about—despite the weird mess you’ve both tangled yourself in, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, the idea of pushing you into something you didn’t want was the last thing he needed. 

You nod slowly, his hand creeping around to caress the side of your face, thumb pressed against your jaw as he angles your face to look at him. Say it, his eyes speak, making contact with yours. “Yes, I trust you.”

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s deliberate in the way he kisses you this time, no fear of having to hold back, it’s full and pleasant and everything you had always expected it to be—albeit, not with Eddie, but you weren’t complaining. His hands are buried in your hair, angling your head up to reach his lips, leaving you to chase them desperately every time he pulls away, adjusting you until you’re pressed up against, nothing but bare skin against bare skin, the peaks of your breasts surface just above the water. The water ripples against your already sensitive nipples, gasping openly into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie laughs lowly, pulling back to make eye contact with you, his gaze burning into your own. “Sensitive?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes in casual annoyance, the smirk on his face growing by the second.

“Cold. It’s cold, Eddie.” And truly, it was. Even with the kiss of summer heat and humidity against your skin, the water was nearly freezing. “Want to tell me what you have planned so we can move this along—maybe somewhere out of the water?”

“How do you feel about me going down on you?” He asks sweetly, almost sickening. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

Did he think you were scared? Suddenly faced with the reality of everything, staring him down face to face, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride run through your body, realizing just how badly Eddie wanted you. He’s never been this sweet—to anyone. 

Eddie knew you were special; different from all the rest, in all the best ways. He knew that from the moment he’d met you, set you up in Hellfire and neatly tucked you under his wing, along with the rest of his friends—but you, you were the one who he thought about when he was most vulnerable, the only person who really knew who he was. 

“Gotta see if there’s any truth to those claims, right?” You counter, his face twitching up in amusement.

He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s hauling your legs up and over his hips, wading through water until he’s back on land. He ignores the haphazard pile of clothes, despite your protests, swinging open the door to his van with a free hand, other gripping tightly around your waist. You want to protest, complain and force him to put you down, but made some excuse about not wanting you to get dirty—despite how dirty you felt now, being settled down onto the base of his van, blanket already spread out from Eddie’s frequent use of the space for his own hotbox sessions, he even has a couple of thread-worn pillows shoved in the corner.

And it’s not until you’re finally settled that you realize how intensely Eddie is watching you, hands settled at the base of your ankles. His naked, completely bare—and you can’t remember any other time you’ve seen it before; someone so unashamed of their body, taking time to admire your own just as much. You’ve seen his tattoos up close before, but not like this–the small flurry of bats over his arm, or the few that lingered over his chest, now flushed a light pink from how deeply he was indebted in this.

“Sorry—“ He finally says, noting the small glide of his hands up your shins, then back down, like he’s caressing your legs, “just trying to take a mental note, in case I’m a disappointment and this never happens again.”

You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a small giggle, shoving him gently in the stomach. You were guilty, doing almost the exact same. 

He’s toned, which isn’t a surprise—he didn’t try to hide it, those occasionally too tight shirts giving him away. His skin is milky, alabaster white and muddled with light freckles, the trail of hair at the top of his chest leading down to his lower abdomen, just at the base of his dick—which, seriously? He had enough to be proud about, but you half expected him to lie during the call, boost himself up; it was all true. Every single bit. 

He’s not fully hard, but it’s still enough to intimidate you—Eddie clears his throat unnecessarily, left eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Are you still with me?” He asks, arms crawling forward to lean over you slightly, body like a curtain against your own. You try not to think about the proximity, how easily you could reach up and pull him to you, feel that glide of his cock against you—just to put you both out of your misery. 

“Hey, you get to see mine, it’s only fair I get to see yours.” 

He laughs at that, brushing hair away from your face, lips settling against the line of your jaw, a small chaste peck, then switching to the other side to repeat the process. “Any judgments to be made?” He asks curiously, almost teasing.

“I’m not giving you anymore unnecessary ego boosts, sweetheart.” You say with a saccharine type of sweetness. 

Eddie doesn’t need you to elaborate, that was already enough of an ego boost in itself. He tries to ignore the way you’re looking at him, so intently; not that he didn’t want you present in the situation, but he felt like you were looking right through him, sensing every bit of anxiety and nerves that riddled his body like a sickness. It wasn’t his first go at this, but with you—he was too afraid to fuck up. 

You see the gears in his brain working overtime, trying to jump that initial hurdle of awkwardness—thankfully, you knew just what to do. 

“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to where your hand grazed against his stomach, just above the line of his groin. 

“Uh—yeahyeah, of course.” He rushes out, watching your timid fingers graze the tip of his dick, gently grabbing the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what to expect, but the way Eddie’s leaning into your touch is a good enough indication that you weren’t totally fucking things up. 

“What feels good?” You ask shyly, your hand at a slow, graceful pace as you tug at him, watching the way he’s forcing himself to breath slower, through his nose.

He rocks his hips gently in time with your hand, “Tighter—a little—yeah, that’s good.” He says, feeling your hand tighten around his cock, the groan he forced back down has you lighting up, almost smiling at the revelation of how easily worked up Eddie could get; it wasn’t a wonder why he had a hard time holding himself off. 

“Is this better?” You ask softly, “then—you know, your own hands?” 

He chuckles at your curiosity, eyes glancing up to look at you, hair already partly dry, his bangs curtaining his eyes. He had such a timid innocence to him, under this light, in the belly of what could be something dangerous for your friendship—but, neither of you could seem to care anymore. 

“So much better.” He nods gently, groaning outwardly at the movement of your thumb sliding over the head of his cock, a small pearl of precum wetting your finger; so you do it again. A few times, until he’s rocking up into your hand in earnest.

“Fuck—we gotta stop.” He warns, swatting your hand away kindly, fingers wrapping around the length of your wrist. 

You want to pout, like some spoiled child—but instead you sigh, letting him guide your hands back toward your chest. He doesn’t give much warning before he leans in, capturing the bud of your nipple between his teeth, gently, but the sting is still there—quickly soothed away by the flat of his tongue. 

“So pretty–just like I imagined.” He admits pathetically, speech muffled against your skin. That was something to unpack for another day.

You gasped, feeling his mouth capture the other, repeating the process before leaving small, open mouthed caresses against your breasts—you weren’t even sure if you would call them kisses, but they felt good. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, suddenly it was hot again, stuffy in the small containment of the back of his van. 

You moan, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d hear it. But, of course he does, pulling back with a salacious and satisfied smile, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss that can only be described as breathtaking.

Friends definitely didn’t kiss like this. Absolutely not.

“Eddie—Eddie, I still have a curfew.” You force through his assailant of kisses, his tongue a small tease as it traces your bottom lip. You warn him again, this time forcing him to look at you. 

And friends definitely didn’t look at each other like that. 

☆.｡.:*

He settles between your thighs soon after, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, spreading you open wide, leaving you almost no place to hide.

You take a long, deep breath—reminding yourself that you had nothing to worry about, you were safe here.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, a bouncy eagerness to his voice, feeling the heat of his breath against your cunt, what once was a dull buzz now a steady pulse inside you, deep and needy. 

You nod eagerly, Eddie’s hang reaching up to spread your folds apart, finger dragging through jestingly. 

“Eddie.” You warn, or beg—you're not sure which, but he understands. You weren't ready for him to sink his fingers inside you, afraid this would all be over quicker than you both wanted.

“I won’t.” He assures you, just applying the small bit of pressure you need to keen forward, grind against the flat of his palm. It was a lot like your own hand, in a way—but also completely foreign. “Just wanna ease you into it.”

And he does, letting you chase the gentle glide of his fingers against your folds, occasionally dragging over the swell of your clit, your hips chasing his hand, over and over again, desperately. 

“Need it,” You beg, propped up on your elbows to look down at him, “wanna know.”

You were dying; dying to know. 

He bites at the inside of your thigh, soothing the skin with his tongue, trailing a line of quick nips up the sensitive skin. You make a small noise of complaint, begging him to put you out of your misery.

Eddie doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe up the seam of your cunt—even the first touch has you reeling, hand immediately tangled in the damp mess of curls at the top of his head.

You hear the messy, embarrassingly loud shlick of your wetness as he laps it, small kitten licks as he leans forward to focus on the soft buttony point of pleasure, sucking experimentally.

It should be a criminal how fucking good Eddie is with his mouth. 

“Ohoh—okay, huh,” You ramble breathlessly, moaning out a sensical plethora of nonsense, noises that has Eddie groaning against you, vibrations like a wave of euphoria crashing down on you, “fuck, that feels really good.”

“Keep talking,” He urges, pulling away for half a second before he’s diving back in, face buried so deep into your cunt that you can’t even breath, tongue dipping inside of you carefully. 

It caught you off guard completely, gasping out loudly into the air. 

“Fuck, Eddie.” And friends definitely don’t say each other’s names like that.

“Too much?” He asks, his expression worried.

You shake your head fervently, “No—good. It’s so good,” You tell him, feeling the lack of motivation to form words now, despite his prior urges. “Keep going, please.”

And he does, openly groaning against your pussy, the sight of him grinding his hips down into blanket; it was something you couldn’t believe with your own eyes, but had you fighting off the urge to turn him over and sink down onto him, no more harping on the big red sign that said ‘I’m a virgin’—you wanted Eddie to consume that part of you completely. 

“Come on, baby, wanna hear those pretty little noises.” 

You could disintegrate into nothing at those words, letting the soft, wanton moans that you’d been holding back out, spurring him deeper and deeper into his own chase for pleasure, his mouth less controlled—more distracted, but still fucking incredible. He’s so desperate to come with you, reaching down to grab ahold of his cock, pulling idly as he kept up his lazy pace against the inner folds of your cunt, moaning out as his thumb slides over the tip of his cock, precum coating his fingers, making a mess of his own hand. 

He speeds up the movement of his tongue, dragging over your clit relentlessly, using his hand to wrap around yours, still buried in his hair, forcing you to pull tighter. And it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise—but it is, how easily it turns Eddie on by it. You pull roughly, enough to have him moving away from you, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes; pupils blown out. 

“Use my face,” He urges, “I want you to.”

You do, chasing exactly what you want—Eddie eagerly slurping up your wetness, grinding your cunt selfishly into him, the tip of nose dragging over your clit sends you toppling over over the edge. He grips both of your thighs, pulling you as wide as your hips allowed—and he’s still going, overstimulating you past the point of what you can handle. He’s drunk on the sounds you’re making, forgetting where he is for the moment. You yank at his hair, hard enough that he groans out, pulling away from your cunt as you rode through your orgasm, you pulse over and over again, nothing there to satiate that need—leaving a dull ache where you were desperate for Eddie to be, fill you up completely; it doesn’t stop you from sobbing out a broken, “Fuck!” as you start to come down, eyes closing from the intensity of your own orgasm.

When you finally come to, Eddie’s face is scrunched up, nose wrinkled at the bridge. His tone is soft, but forced.

“Shitshit—“ He curses, head still held up by the grip you had in his hair, his face tightening as he came, mouth hung open in a silent plea. 

You take a second to catch your breath, “What the fuck?” You ask, the ‘was that?’ on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too tired to finish. 

Eddie laughs, face riddled with his own exhaustion. “Good, isn’t it?” You nod, loosening the death grip you had on his curls, smoothing out the hair to soothe the sore spot, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I’ve never come that hard before.” You laugh, falling back against the bed of the van.

“I told you, princess—“ Seeing him from this angle should be a sin, face covered in your wetness, “there’s so much you’re missing out on.”

“No shit.” You smile softly, lifting yourself up to sit, following Eddie as he leaned away, reaching blindly for a discarded shirt in the back of the van, watching as he wiped at the front of his abdomen, covered in his own come.

His eyes flick up, noticing your intense stare, “Enjoying yourself?” He asks, challenging you to look away. 

You shrug casually, eyes tracking his movements—“Wait, what time is it?” You ask, the watch on his wrist bringing you back to reality.

Eddie takes a glance at his watch, eyes widening in shared panic, “Fuck—five past ten.”

“Eddie!” You exclaim, “I’m dead—go grab our clothes.”

Eddie scrambled, racing to grab the discarded fabrics, tossing them into the space between you both, dressing quickly. 

“If I get caught, you’re dead.” You warn, nearly knocking him over at the grin that spreads across his face.

He was clearly too proud of himself.

☆.｡.:*

“You’re lucky I’m a good climber.” You mention to him, eyeing the dimmed lights through the window of your home. 

It was either, a.) walk through the door and risk an earful from a pair of worried parents, or b.) find a way into your second story bedroom and guilt your parents in the morning when they ask why you never came home—reminding them that, yes you did; how could they not notice? 

Rebellion was becoming a normal theme in your life and you couldn’t hate how good it felt to feel—Eddie laughs softly behind you, parked across the street.

“Oh, are you?” He teases, arm sling loosely over the back of your seat.

You wish you could hate everything about him, but it was impossible, not with the way he was looking at you. 

You scoff in faux disgust, shoving his face in the other direction. “You’re so gross, Eddie.”

He does watch you climb the lattice wall to your window, embarrassingly so, flipping him off in full when you’re finally able to slip through the threshold of your room, quiet enough that the only noise you make is a soft thud on the fuzzy carpet floor.

The high hits you later, curled under the sheets of your bed. It wasn’t Eddie who was influencing you, it wasn’t that easy—it’s because you wanted it. You didn’t want the idea of rebelling and doing everything that your parents tried to scare you out of, you wanted Eddie.

You wanted him as the friend he’d always been, but so much more than that. Eddie was always good at forcing you out of your comfort zone, for good, and you couldn’t help that love you had for that fear; of unknown and new experiences. 

And he does call you that night, but not for any other ludicrous reason than to talk—hear you, listen to the tiny inflictions in your voice when he makes some stupid joke. He was in love with you, he already knew that—he was just waiting for you to catch up, dawn on the feeling that you had buried for so long, too afraid of rejection. 

Eddie could absolutely ruin you; he already was.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

[purple-plum-petals]

⊱ TWST Dorm Leaders’ Reactions to Overhearing Yuu call them “Hot” ⊰ || Multiple Character Scenario

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮      Character(s): Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover (mentioned), Cater Diamond (mentioned), Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper (mentioned), Vil Schoeinheit, Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud (mentioned), Malleus Draconia      Reader Type: Human, Ramshackle Prefect (Gender-Neutral Pronouns)      Warning(s): Nothing! I also always use the Japanese TWST Terms (Dorm Leader instead of Housewarden, Madols instead of Thaumarks, etc.) in my writing.      Genre: Scenario, Fluff, Slight Angst (?), Mutual Pining (Romantic Relationship)      Word Count: ~850 words      Scenario: When you had asked your companion out loud, “Man, why does your dorm leader have to be so hot?”, you had no idea that said dorm leader was nearby and overheard everything you just said.      Author’s Note: This is a small sequel piece to my TWST Characters’ Reactions to Yuu Calling Their Dorm Leader “Hot” simply because I thought it would be cute to do a follow-up on how each of the dorm leaders would react to Yuu admitting they found them attractive. I decided to keep this fluffy and make it so the dorm leaders in turn also found you attractive just to keep things fairly simple. I hope you all like it – thank you so much for your support! 🥰

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Becomes a flustered mess at your words, deciding against walking into the room and interrupting your conversation with the person they had been looking for. Their face is red and they feel as though they’re going to implode as their mind replays what you said over and over again. You… really think they’re that attractive? Well, at least they know the feeling is mutual.

·       Riddle, Azul, Idia

Well, now isn’t that interesting… He smirks slightly when he overhears the conversation you were having with the dorm mate he had been looking for. He was in a bad mood before, unhappy he had to painstakingly walk around campus to find the person he was looking for, but your words help with boosting his mood (and his ego). Waits for a moment before making himself known, acting as though he didn’t just overhear you call him hot.

·       Leona

Immediately starts smiling when he overhears your conversation and, with no hesitation and absolutely no shame, rushes into the room and gives you the biggest hug you’ve gotten in quite some time. Was it rude to eavesdrop and interrupt your conversation? Maybe… but he just couldn’t wait to tell you how much he likes you, too!

·       Kalim

Is fully aware of how good-looking he is and wishes you would have said so with a bit more tact, but still finds his heart skipping a beat slightly at your words despite himself. Takes a moment to compose himself before making himself known, acting as though he hadn’t overheard everything you had said. He’d certainly bring up what you said in the future when you two are able to have a… private discussion together. He’s not one to bring up such things in public since he knows that the pressure of other people involved could ruin what would usually be a nice moment.

·       Vil

Oh? He doesn’t quite understand what “hot” means in this context but, from your tone alone, he believes that it is most likely a compliment. He’ll need to ask someone later about what exactly that word refers to when referencing someone. Perhaps you were talking about his iconic green-flamed magic? That would be what made the most sense, at least in his eyes.

·       Malleus

Even despite knowing how you feel about him and that you at least find him visually appealing, he still doesn’t try to ask you out. He doesn’t feel as though he’s enough for you; his problems with his self-worth put a slight hindrance on your potential relationship with one another. You’ll definitely have to be the one to make the first move; that or Ortho might have to step in which probably isn’t what either of you two want.

·       Idia

Doesn’t make a move, not because of self-worth issues, but rather because he has no clue what to do. He’s never really experienced having a crush on someone, let alone someone having a crush on him in return. Tries to discreetly gather information on what to do from Cater and Trey, but they very quickly catch on (poor guy lmao). Thankfully, they give him pretty good advice on what to do; you’ll probably be invited to a private tea party soon so you two can talk about potentially changing your relationship with one another.

·       Riddle

Doesn’t make a move because making the first move would leave him in a vulnerable position and, well... he doesn’t like the thought of that possibility. What if you just thought he was attractive and that was it? Plenty of people have complimented his appearance while not necessarily finding his company enjoyable (not that he entirely blamed them). He’ll just step up his flirting game and hope you eventually break and ask him out to which he, after some of his usual teasing, would agree to give the relationship a shot.

·       Leona

Easily makes the first move knowing his feelings will be reciprocated. Why wait around when he knows how you feel about him? They would ask you out on a date, each with varying levels of formality. Azul would have an entire three-course, candle-lit dinner prepared for the two of you at Monstro Lounge, being his usual gentlemanly self. Kalim would try his hand at cooking dinner for the both of you (only to be kicked out of the kitchen by Jamil) before taking you for a ride on his magic carpet. Vil would do something a bit low-key and private considering his career as a model and actor, most likely deciding to have dinner and a nice little self-care date at Pomfiore.

·       Azul, Kalim, Vil

Instead of asking someone else about the meaning of your words, he would decide to ask you directly what you meant when you said he was “hot” as well as apologize for unintentionally eavesdropping on your conversation. Oh, so you weren’t referring to his fire magic but rather his appearance? He can’t help but smirk at your bold declaration and tell you that he, too, finds you to be quite attractive. He’ll definitely start properly courting you now that he knows your feelings toward each other are mutual.

Malleus

#🌸 . Plum Writes #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst yuu #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al-asim #kalim al-asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenario #twst imagines #twst scenarios #trey clover #cater diamond #jamil viper #ortho shroud

[farfromstrange]

Unicorns Need Love Too | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your hormones make existing a living hell sometimes. Thankfully, Matt is there to help

Warnings: Fluff, self-indulgent, suggestive language, heavy allusions to smut (MINORS DNI), attempt at humor, not proof-read

Word Count: 2k

A/n: This is a brain fart because I, myself, have a pimple in the middle of my forehead and I feel like a fucking unicorn. I don't even know if it's any good. Just have at it & enjoy!

The few weeks leading up to your period are always the most chaotic and the most draining, but over the years, you have gotten used to only having a few days out of four weeks every month where you feel somewhat normal.

The days between ovulation and the actual start of a new period are probably the worst though—together with the week of hell that follows, of course.

Matt loves it when you ovulate. Your boyfriend’s heightened senses make it possible for him to smell the change in your pheromones, and they drive him borderline insane. It doesn’t help that you always seem to need him more than air when you’re in that fertile window of your cycle, and even though you’re not interested in having a family, he always has to fill you to the brim until you’re overflowing with his cum. Alone the thought of that makes his cock painfully hard.

Unfortunately, though, your body’s desperate need for pleasure isn’t the only side of you that comes out during that week. Every month, Matt discovers something new about you. Every month, he finds something new to love, and he finds strange quirks of yours that may seem odd to him at first, but he still adores them as much as he adores the rest of you.

 “Why does it smell like a chemical plant here?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, his chiseled body dressed in the red leather of his Daredevil suit, minus the cowl and his gloves. 

You turn to him from the sink. Your eyes roam over his body before they land on his face, meeting his unfocused gaze. “It’s my skincare,” you answer.

What did he think you were doing? Building a chemical weapon? Cooking meth? He would have been able to smell that much more clearly than your skincare products.

“What are you using?” Matt asks, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory as he slides those beautifully thick fingers of his into his leather gloves.

Your eyebrow quips. “Salicylic acid. Why?”

The way he looks at you, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowns, reminds you of a concerned parent when their child has found a sharp object to play with. 

“That smells dangerous.”

You shrug, continuing to rub the solution into your skin. “It pulls the gunk out of my pores.”

“And that works?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. His expression remains wary. “Just don’t inhale it.” 

“Matt, this isn’t the first time I’ve used it. I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,” you remind him.

A small smile plays on his lips, mirroring yours. “I know. Just want you to be careful, that's all.”

You put the tube down, turning your whole body to him. “I have never heard of death by skincare,” you say, “but I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The answer, albeit a bit sarcastic, satisfies him. Matt fastens his gloves with a happy little nod. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be back in a few hours,” he says, coming over to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. “Don’t wait up. You’re drained.”

You open your mouth to protest, “I can wait for you.”

“Not at this point of your cycle. You’re going to be cranky tomorrow.”

You’re aware that Matt knows your body inside and out. He knows you better than you could ever know yourself. He can sense things that even you can’t pick up on. At first, it was something you had to get used to, but you have grown accustomed to his heightened senses and the perks they bring with them. 

Tipping your chin in his direction, you retort, “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

“Don’t,” Matt says nonchalantly. “If I had an organ lose its shit every month because it wants to be fertilized, putting you through the works to prepare you for it, and then cause me to bleed and cramp uncontrollably for a week straight as revenge when I refuse to let a myriad of sperm play tag you’re it inside me, I’d get cranky too.”

That description sounds almost too perfect. You lean forward to capture his plump lips in another passionate kiss. “Fair point. Be safe, please.”

“Always.”

“That’s a lie,” you say. 

“I promise, I’ll be safe.”

“That’s better.”

He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Love you,” he says, and he kisses you one last time.

Whenever he goes out at night, Matt kisses you as if you are never going to see him again. It’s a possibility you have often cried over. You’ve obsessed over everything that could go wrong. 

He has had way too many close calls for you to take anything he does for granted, and when he kisses you like that, like he is afraid of losing you as well, you at least know that he will try his everything to make it back to you in one piece—even if it’s a mangled piece. 

“I love you too,” you murmur. 

That’s another thing about his kisses: they have the ability to render you speechless.

A slight gust of wind brushes through your hair when the door to the rooftop exit opens, and when you open your eyes, Matt is gone. The living room is lulled in darkness. 10:13 pm. You start counting down the hours, praying once again to all Gods above that he will be okay tonight.

• • •

When Matt comes home a few hours later, he finds you passed out on your shared bed, your limbs tangled in the silk sheets that smell of him and you, and even more you.

He isn’t injured, more ramped up with adrenaline than anything, but he doesn’t want to disturb your peaceful slumber, so he settles down on the couch instead. It doesn’t take long for the night to crash into him, and he collapses. He doesn’t even have it in him to make it back to bed.

You wake up in a cold sweat when your alarm goes off the next morning, but the open bedroom door and Matt’s snoring figure on the couch tell you that he is alive and well. That’s a good sign. If he’s asleep and not injured, you have nothing to worry about. 

That is what you think until you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Matt wakes to the sound of a loud groan. Suddenly awake and alert, he takes a look around the apartment. Nothing is out of place, except—you’re missing. 

He gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. It’s locked. “Sweetheart,” he calls out softly. “You okay in there? Can you open the door?”

“No,” you reply. Your voice is slightly muffled through the wood, but he can still hear your labored breathing and your elevated heartbeat loud and clear.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I look hideous.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “I don’t know if you‘ve heard, but I’m blind.”

You groan again, more defeated this time. You seem to plop down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh, shut up!” you snap. “This is as much a visual as it is a textural issue.”

“As in what? You’ve grown fur and a tail overnight?” Matt can’t help but muse a little. “Because even if you turned into a wolf or a worm, I would still love you. You know that.”

“Matt, this isn’t funny. My acne is escalating.”

Now you sound sad, and he starts feeling bad. 

He touches his palm against the door. “But you used those acids last night,” his words land much softer. “I thought they were supposed to help with your acne.”

“Apparently fucking not ‘cause my fertile window is pretty much still wide open, and I think I felt myself ovulate this morning.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just some pimples, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

Matt realizes too late that he may have chosen his words poorly. You take a deep breath, and for a moment he believes you’re just going to say, but then you shout at him, “EASY OF YOU TO SAY, MISTER I-ALWAYS-HAVE-FLAWLESS-SKIN!”

He winces, dropping his forehead next to his palm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks. “Get you a paper bag?”

You must have smoke coming out of your ears by now. “Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear to God–”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He knocks again. “Can you please let me in? I want to hug you. You sound sad.”

A pregnant pause follows. The silence settles deep into his bones. He can still hear your heartbeat, but he can’t judge what you’re thinking. Then, he hears your bare feet pat against the floor. The lock clicks, and you finally open the door. 

“I look like the last fucking unicorn, Matt,” you say. “I’m an endangered species.”

Matt’s arms find your waist, and he pulls you against him. You don’t protest. “You don’t feel like a unicorn. You don’t even have the body of a horse.”

The beginning of a smile that was growing on your face vanishes within seconds, and you stare up at him. He can feel your gaze burning through his skull, a look of utter astonishment on your face. That is how he imagines you, anyway. 

“Just a pimple on your forehead,” he adds because he realizes his words are failing to get his point across in all possible ways.

You bury your face in his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What? Pimples are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when your body is full of hormones that are making your day a living hell.”

“I feel ashamed because I look like a very fucking ugly unicorn!”

“You’re not ugly,” he insists, patiently so, knowing that this is just another side of you that comes out when you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of your hormonal cycle. “If anything,” Matt says, “you’re a cute unicorn.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m a pissed-off unicorn who’s ovulating, which makes her sad and horny with a fucking stuffed and inflamed pore on her freaking forehead!”

“I can do something about the horniness, but I can’t make the pimple go away. I’m sorry.”

“UGH!” For a moment, he thinks you’re going to hit his chest with your balled fist, but instead, you tangle your fingers in his shirt.

He rubs his large hand along your spine. “Come here.” Almost naturally, his nose buries itself in your hair. “Do you have those patch thingies you always use when you break out?” he asks. 

“I ran out,” you say. 

“Should I get them for you on my way home from work?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he says.

Your smile is unmistakable. “I want the heart-shaped ones.”

“Because they make you feel cute?”

“Yeah.”

Matt chuckles anew. “Okay. I’ll get you those.”

“Thank you.” Sniff.

He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just sniff me?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you shamelessly admit as you suck in a breath again, inhaling his distinctive scent. “You smell good.”

“I didn’t even shower last night. I passed out on the couch.”

“Oh God, that makes it worse!” You shove him away. “I’m getting turned on by the smell of your sweat.”

His giggles turn into laughter. “How about I shower first and then you can sniff me again?” Matt opens his arms as if he just made an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse. 

But you can. Because Matt showering and washing the scent of danger off his beautiful skin is the last thing you want, and if your body is satisfied, maybe the storm in your mind will finally calm down, too. 

You stop him. “No. Don’t shower.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say. “You said you can help me with my horniness, right? That was part of the deal?”

The brown of his irises gets overtaken by the black of his pupils. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Uh-huh. So, no shower. And I could really use a hand. Or two. And quite possibly your cock, too.”

Matt smirks. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. “I’m all yours.”

You’re about to kiss him when you realize, “The unicorn pimple–”

“Don’t care. I've heard somewhere that unicorns need love too.” He cradles your face in his hands. “And I intend to do that shamelessly for the next hour and a half.”

The bathroom door falls closed behind the two of you as he uses his strength to guide you back inside, and a kiss is all it takes for you to shut up and surrender yourself to him completely.

Unicorn pimple be damned!

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