#checks their blind spots when opening doors or when making right turns? right?

[aflame4goinghome]

Illicit Affairs

d.r.w x reader

chapter v

Word Count: 15.6k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! swearing, flirting, fluff, power dynamic; SMUT: kissing, touching, fingering, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), unprotected sexual intercourse, choking, a touch of exhibitionism, a little bit of a praise kink

A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! Thanks for reading! :)

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chapter iv

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Your eyes flutter open, but quickly close shut as they’re blinded by the light coming from the window on the far side of Daniel’s bedroom. God, why didn’t we close the curtains? You think to yourself, then begin to remember how rushed and clumsy the end of your night had been. There wasn’t much time to worry about the curtains. 

Once you’re done thinking about the brightness of the morning sun, you turn over in the bed to look for Daniel and find that the spot where he used to be is empty. Typical. Not wanting to think about it, with the fear of reading too much into it, you slowly rise from the bed, grab your phone, and stumble toward the bathroom. Your slight hangover finally hits you as you trip over your feet slightly and you feel your head start to pound. 

“I’m never letting Rose talk me into doing shots of cheap vodka ever again,” you mumble to yourself as you turn on the faucet and rinse your face with the cold water. You check your phone to see the time: 9:15 am. What in God’s name possessed him to get up this early on the weekend? 

Having not planned to spend the night, you didn’t have much to get ready with, so you decide just water will do for now. After using the bathroom, you finally feel prepared to face the day, whatever it may hold. You open the bedroom door and step out into the living room, following the distant sounds that you hear coming from the kitchen. 

As you round the corner, you see Daniel standing in front of the stove, seemingly making something on the stovetop. He’s wearing a tight, white tank top that clings to his skin, and you can see his back muscles flex as he cooks. God, he just looks unbelievable. He paired it with a pair of gray sweatpants, sitting loosely just right above his waist. How a man is allowed to look that good this early in the morning is a crime. 

“Good morning,” you hum, finally breaking the silence to alert him of your presence. He turns over his shoulder to look at you, the corner of his mouth turning upward slightly as he sees you there behind him. You feel like you look pretty disheveled, but it seems like the sight of you looking groggy in his old band tee was exactly what he wanted to see at that moment. 

“Good morning,” he says with a smile. “I was making some eggs, if you want some. I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.” You nod and walk over to stand at his side, leaning against the counter as he finishes up. He cuts up the eggs a bit with his spatula before lifting them off the pan and onto a plate sitting on the counter. 

“Here, you can have this one. I’ll make myself another,” he mutters, handing you the plate of scrambled eggs. You give him a shy smile as you take the plate, slightly taken aback by the hospitality. It makes you happy though, it almost feels natural. 

“Thanks… do you have ketchup?” you ask. 

“You’re one of those people, huh?” he laughs, walking over to the fridge. He opens the door and grabs a bottle of ketchup, setting it on the counter before reaching back in to get a few more eggs. With the eggs in one hand, he shuts the fridge door and then uses his other hand to hand you the bottle. “Here. There’s coffee in that pot over there, too, if you want a cup. There’s mugs in the cupboard above it.”

You smile and nod, turning around to walk to the other side of the kitchen. You put the plate down and open the lid of the ketchup bottle, squeezing some ketchup onto your plate. You reach up to open the cupboard above to get a mug and your eyes scan for the perfect one, finding a cute marbled one and grabbing it. You pour some coffee into the mug, opting for no cream because you honestly didn’t want to ask for anything else, then pick up the sugar next to the coffee maker and pour some into the cup. 

You find a seat at one of the barstools on the other side of the wall, since he had a tall counter in between the kitchen and living room, like a kind of kitchen island. You take a sip of your coffee then have a bite of your eggs, looking up at him as he makes his own on the frying pan across from you. 

“This is really good,” you remark, smiling lightly as he turns around to look at you. “It was really nice of you. You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You add, feeling slightly bad that he put in all this effort just for you. You almost don’t feel worthy of it, it isn’t like he’s your boyfriend or anything. It’s casual, and you know he doesn’t owe you breakfast. 

“It’s nothing, really,” he says casually, turning back to the stove. “I was going to make myself something anyway, it would be rude not to make something for you too.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you relent, shrugging as you take another sip of your coffee. “Well, thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he says, finishing up his eggs and plating them. He grabs his own coffee and comes to sit across the island from you. The two of you eat in comfortable silence until you finish up your food, standing up to take your dishes to the sink. 

“No, let me do it,” he says, reaching out to take them from you. You shake your head, insisting as you walk back into the kitchen. 

“Daniel, you made me breakfast. The least I can do is put my own dishes in the sink,” you scoff teasingly, placing your dishes down and then approaching him. He rolls his eyes affectionately and then wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. He’s seated in the stool and somehow, he’s still taller than you. 

“I had a good time last night,” he smirks, placing soft kisses along the underside of your neck. Shivers shoot down your spine as your arms fall to his waist and you tilt your head back slightly.

“Did you? ‘Cause at the club, it seemed like it wasn’t really your type of scene,” you reply with a laugh. 

“Wasn’t talking about the club,” he mutters against your skin. Fuck, the effect he has on you is overwhelming. The feeling of his lips ghosting along your skin felt intoxicating, but you really couldn’t stay any longer. 

“As much as I would love to continue this, I do have to go home…” you answer, leaning up to place a short kiss on his cheek before backing away, not trusting yourself to stand your ground if his hands were still on you. “I have a quiz in my philosophy class tomorrow morning that I still haven’t studied for.”

“As if you actually need to study,” he remarks with a laugh. You roll your eyes and walk out to the living room, with Daniel following closely behind. 

“Believe it or not, I do,” you say, trying to hide your smile and keep your serious demeanor. “I also have to do the reading for your class, if you don’t recall.” He chuckles and you hear him mutter “Whatever” as you walk toward the bedroom. As you gather your costume, you look down and realize that you’re still wearing his shirt and are only in your underwear. 

“Oh, shit, I forgot. I should give this back, I can just put my costume back on really quick,” you mumble, reaching down to grab the hem of the shirt to pull it over your head, but Daniel’s strong hand stops you. 

“No, you keep it,” he says, pulling your hand away. He walks over to his dresser, grabs another pair of sweatpants, and hands them to you. “Take these too. No reason for you to put that sweaty costume back on, baby.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna take this stuff if you need it,” you say suspiciously. 

“I’m sure. That shirt doesn’t even fit me anymore,” he answers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You look better in it, anyway.” Your cheeks flush and you nod, slipping the sweatpants on. He walks you to the door and you slide on your shoes. He calls you an Uber and he walks you downstairs to the front of his building, placing a soft kiss on your lips before you walk out the door and enter the car. 

On your short ride home, you start to wonder what November will have in store for you. You already know that it’s going to be extremely busy– the deadlines have already begun to pile up. A lot of your professors made papers due before Thanksgiving break, wanting to give you that time off. While you appreciate the time off, it also adds to your stress by having all these assignments due all at once. You weren’t looking forward to it.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

When you walk into Daniel’s class on Monday morning, you get yourself situated and then look around the classroom, noticing one glaring difference. Stephen didn’t show up. Not that you expected him to, but you were almost nervous that he’d make a bigger scene. You breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that he’ll keep his knowledge of your relationship, if you can even call it that, to himself.

The rest of your week goes rather smoothly, with you being too busy writing papers to think about much else. This is how the next week goes too, completely swamped with work and studying. You knew that this is how November always goes, but it doesn’t change the fact that you dreaded it. 

You barely got to see Daniel at all, only able to pop into his office every once in a while to say hi. You could tell that he was drowning in work himself, always having things to grade whenever you would visit his office. You understand that you were both busy, but you have to admit that you miss him. You wouldn’t necessarily tell him that, though, not wanting to scare him off. 

He’s given you mixed signals lately on what you are to him, and it’s honestly starting to drive you crazy. You both started this arrangement with the idea of it being just sex, but you find yourself wanting to just spend time with him more and more, without a hookup. Sometimes, you wonder if he feels the same way. He’ll invite you to sit in his office and study, just being in each others’ presence. That isn’t exactly what you would call casual. But you didn’t want to push too hard, preferring to have questions than have nothing at all, so you just let it go. 

You’ve finally finished all your assignments, turning them in at the beginning of the week. You leave on Saturday to go home to your mom’s house for the Thanksgiving break, so you’re trying to get your work in early.  Your mom’s job had gifted her a 4-night stay in a beach resort in Fort Lauderdale for the holiday, so the two of you were leaving on Monday morning for Florida. Your family never got to go on many vacations after your mom became a single mom, let alone a beach vacation, so this gift from her job was a lovely surprise. 

You’ve avoided telling Daniel about it, partially due to your busyness, but also because he had been under the impression that he’d see you over the break. Being from neighboring towns, he had mentioned in passing about possibly visiting Frankenmuth and seeing the holiday decorations. 

The idea sounded nice to you at first, but you realized that it would complicate things. How would you explain to your mom why you’re going there? You guys haven’t visited there in years, so why would you go now? You were in no position to try and explain your relationship with your professor to your mother. So when she brought up the trip plans, it was almost the perfect excuse. But now you had to break the news to Daniel.

On Friday, you knock on his office door apprehensively, unsure if he’s there. When you hear his voice tell you to come in, you take a deep breath and crack the door open, shutting it behind you. You approach his desk and he puts down the papers he’s reading to look up at you. 

“Y/N, what can I do for you?” he says deeply, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. You look down at your feet and fidget with your hands briefly. 

“Well… I wanted to tell you that I’m actually going away with my family for the break, not going back home. I know you thought we might spend some time together so… I’m sorry,” you spit out nervously, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t give you one though, but just nods his head. 

“I see. That’s fine, I understand,” he answers. “Where are you going?” 

“Florida. It’s some sort of beach resort,” you say, trying to still seem casual about it all.

“Sounds nice,” he remarks, standing up and placing his palms on the desk, leaning forward so that his face is only inches from yours. “Send a few pictures of you looking gorgeous in a bikini and come back with a tan, and I think we can call it even…” God, he always manages to make you flustered without even trying. You breathe out a quick breath as his lips turn upward into a smirk. 

“Deal,” you say, biting your lip slightly as you see his eyes glance down at them. One of his hands shoots up to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you into his lips. His tongue grazes your bottom lip as he pulls you closer, your body flush against the front of the desk. Before it can go too far, he pulls back, flashing you a cheeky smile. “Something to remember me by.”

At that, you compose yourself and pull away from him to turn around and walk out the door. As you twist the knob and pull the door open, you’re startled by Danie’s voice once more.

“Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart,” he says cheekily, shooting you a wink as you turn round to face him. You roll your eyes with a soft smile.

“No promises,” you tease, turning back around to walk out the door. You hear a chuckle fall from his lips as you shut the door behind you.

Finally, you head home to pack for your trip. You throw a variety of clothes into your suitcase, some warmer stuff for when you’re still in Michigan, and then your summer clothes for Florida. The next morning, you wake up, pack the car, and drive you and Rose back to your hometown. She’s just staying at her parent’s house for the break, so the two of you go home together. 

“So… how did sexy professor feel when you told him you were leaving for break?” Rose asks with a teasing tone. You roll your eyes, keeping your eyes on the road as you drive down the highway. 

“He was fine,” you scoff. “It’s barely even two weeks, he doesn’t care. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything,” you add. 

“Right,” she answers sarcastically. “So, you’re saying you’re not gonna miss him?”

“Well, I–” you start, looking over at her with a glare. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” you mutter, turning back to the road. You hear her giggle behind you and you take your right hand off the steering wheel to smack her arm playfully. 

“You’re down bad,” she laughs, turning to look out the window. 

“You’re insufferable,” you say, shaking your head as you try to hide your smile. 

Whether what Rose said held any truth or not, you would never admit it. You don’t feel that it mattered that much, anyway. Even if you felt that way about him, you wouldn’t even think of telling him about it. It’s clear that he has no interest in being serious with anyone, especially his student. You’re sure that if you were to want something more, he’d laugh in your face. So, you’ve subconsciously decided to shove it down as far as you could, in hopes that the butterflies would go away. 

You can be honest with yourself and say that you’ll miss him, however, in more ways than one. Sure, your sexual chemistry together is deeper than anything else you’d ever experienced before, but it goes a bit further than that. You just find yourself wanting to spend time with him, to be around him. 

Over these past three months, you’ve gotten to know each other so well that it almost feels like he’s your best friend. You’ve shared so many of your deepest secrets together, and you’re vulnerable with each other in a way that you wouldn’t dare to be with someone else. It’s hard not to miss a person who’s there for you in that way. You can admit that the arrangement between you two has far transcended the bounds of a casual hookup, but you’d never delude yourself into thinking that you could ever be together publicly. So, you’re just happy with what you have now. 

The two of you finally exit the highway into your hometown and you drop Rose off at her parents’ house, then pull into your driveway a few minutes down the road. You quickly greet your mom then head upstairs to start packing for your trip, since you’re leaving in the morning. As you open up your suitcase, you pull out your phone and are surprised to see a text pop up on your lock screen. 

From: Daniel🥁

Make it back okay?

Fuck. You smile down at your phone widely as you look at the message for a moment before responding. 

To: Daniel🥁

Got home not too long ago, just packing up my things now.

You press send, still smiling at your phone like an idiot. If Rose saw how easily he affected you, you knew you’d never hear the end of it. You didn’t expect him to reach out so soon after you left, but you can’t deny that it made your heart swell. A guy never cared enough to check in on you like this before, now that you think about it. You try not to read into it too deeply, though. 

From: Daniel🥁

Glad to hear that. 

From: Daniel🥁

Don’t forget the bikinis ;)

You smirk to yourself and throw your phone down on the bed, turning around to dig through your top drawer to find the swimsuits you plan to bring. After a few moments of searching, you finally find them, pulling them out and putting them on the bed. You take a quick picture of them on your bed and attach it to your message.

To: Daniel🥁

You mean these? 

You don’t even have to wait more than ten seconds before your phone pings again with another text. You knew he was eager, but you didn’t think he was that eager.

From: Daniel🥁

Yes, those…

From: Daniel🥁

Do I get a sneak peek?

You giggle to yourself as you pick up the bathing suits and toss them into your suitcase along with the rest of your clothes. 

To: Daniel🥁

Oh, no. I think I’ll save that for the beach. 

To: Daniel🥁

You’ll just have to be patient :) 

You smirk to yourself as you put your phone down on the floor and pile some more things into your bag. As you sort through your clothes to pick out what to bring, a certain t-shirt catches your eye. It’s the Foo Fighters shirt that Daniel lent you after Halloween. Almost instinctively, you toss the shirt into your suitcase. After a minute or so, you’re startled by the sound of your phone vibrating on the floor. You pick it up to see Daniel’s contact taking up the screen as his call continues to ring. You know you’re in for it now.

“Hello?” you answer innocently, sitting cross-legged as you hold the phone up to your ear.

“There are a lot of words to describe me, sweetheart, but patient is not one of them,” he says on the other line, his voice low and raspy. Fuck, his voice just sent shivers down your spine. You don’t even care if you’re in trouble or not, just getting this reaction out of him was worth it. 

“It’s never too late to learn,” you say cheekily, smirking to yourself as you wait in silence for his response. Even after all this time, he made you so nervous, but you can’t help but test your luck to see how much you can get away with. 

“We both know that’s not how this works,” he answers. You can practically hear the arrogance dripping from his voice, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. “You’re not forgetting who’s in control already, are you? You’ve only been away mere hours.” 

“No, I remember, professor,” you say, your smirk widening. 

“I thought so,” he says, pausing for a moment. The line is silent, but you could cut the tension with a knife. “You wanna be a good girl and try one of those on for me, baby?”

Fuck, it’s getting harder and harder to resist. He had the ability to make you want to do anything he asked, and he knew that. He has you right where he wants you. But you intend to still have the upper hand, no matter how hard it is to maintain. 

“Can’t,” you say casually. “They’re already all packed away, probably buried at the bottom of the suitcase by now. Sorry.” You almost wish he could see the smug look you have on your face right now. You hear him let out a short laugh on the other end, almost sounding like a scoff, but still somewhat lighthearted.  

“Okay, Y/N. If you want to play this game, then so be it,” he says softly. You can practically hear the smirk across his lips. “I suppose you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“That can be arranged,” you say with a smile. After a brief moment of comfortable silence, you look at how late it's gotten. “Hey, I gotta go. We have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Ah, alright,” he answers, clearing his throat. “Safe travels, then. I hope to see you and your beach photos soon,” he says with a soft laugh at the end of his sentence. Even when he was trying to sound nonchalant, he was still charming. You really don’t understand how he does it. 

“You certainly will,” you say softly. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.”

You sigh to yourself as you end the call, falling back onto your bed and looking up at the ceiling. You hate how much his use of nicknames makes your stomach flutter. Your cheeks are a deep shade of pink as you turn over in bed, turn off your lamp, and plug your phone in before bed. 

If this is how he acts after a few hours apart, how will it be by the end of the week? You smile to yourself as you think about it. The attention that he paid you was above and beyond what you expected this relationship to go. It’s gotten to the point where you’d do almost anything to keep it. You close your eyes, feeling excited for your short getaway with your mother, as well as the prospect of a possibly attentive Daniel texting you daily. This was about to be the longest week of your life. 

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You shove the last few books into your bag before slipping it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment for the first day back to class after break. Much to your dismay, it’s also the last full week of class before finals are in full swing, which you’re absolutely dreading. Your philosophy professors have all slammed you with long essays, all to be turned in by the end of next week. It’s all you’ll be able to focus on.

Luckily for you, your art history exam is the least of your worries. You know all the content well, and whether you like to admit it or not, you may have a bit of an advantage when it comes to the class. You have easy access to the most direct study tool for the test, not like you’d need it. But you wouldn’t admit that to anyone out loud for fear of anyone thinking you get special treatment (a.k.a Stephen… fuck that guy). 

At the end of your last class, you decide to pop into Daniel’s office to see if you could study there for a little while. You get stuff done better with company, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. As the elevator opens to the third floor, you turn the corner and see that his office door is already cracked open. You knock softly on it before opening it up and find him sitting at his desk, seemingly grading essays. His head lifts up as he hears the knock, you can see his expression soften as he sees it’s you. 

“Y/N,” he says, putting his papers down on his desk to give you his full attention. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You roll your eyes at him, already feeling slightly flustered at his flirtatious tone.

“Well, I have some work to do and was thinking maybe you’d want some company?” you ask hopefully, entering the room and leaving the door cracked the way you found it. “Unless you’re too busy, of course. I don’t wanna impose.”

“Don’t be silly. Go on, sit,” he answers, his lips tugging upward into a small smile as he adjusts his posture and picks his red pen back up to continue working. You can’t help but feel the warmth grow across your face as you walk over to sit on the couch across from him, leaning against the arm and stretching out before taking out your laptop. Your eyes flicker toward him once more before you open your laptop and pull up your draft for one of your classes.

You try for a while to get your thoughts together enough to continue writing, but your mind has completely drawn a blank. You thought you had your argument down on this paper for your moral philosophy class, but now you feel as though you’ve completely lost it. You’re meant to propose a thesis about decision-making and what different ways of decision-making can tell us about ourselves. It’s all rather deep and introspective, which you typically enjoyed, but now it just made your brain feel like mush. You have an outline of what you want to discuss, but you don’t know where to start. 

Your eyes leave your laptop to look over at Daniel again. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he writes a note furiously on someone’s paper. How he managed to look so handsome while doing such mundane tasks genuinely drives you crazy. 

Now that you think about it, Daniel must know some things about philosophy. He has several philosophy books on his shelves behind you, including a book by Kant, which is one of the many sources that you have to pull from for this essay. You wonder if he may be able to help– at the very least you could bounce ideas off of him, as a scholar. God, he’s intelligent. Hot and smart, completely unfair. 

Suddenly, his eyes lock with yours and you realize that you’ve been caught. Shit. He raises an eyebrow at you as you nervously look back at your computer, pretending like you were doing something. You knew he wouldn’t be convinced, though. 

“What is it?” he asks, putting his pen down to look over at you. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing, I just got distracted–” you answer swiftly, looking at the cursor blinking on your laptop to avoid his gaze. He clicks his tongue before cutting you off. 

“Alright, bring it here,” he says, with a smirk appearing across his lips. You hesitate at first, but he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, as if to say ‘come on’. Reluctantly, you peel yourself off the couch and walk over to his desk, bringing your laptop with you.

You go around the desk to stand on his right behind it, placing the computer in front of him and then leaning your arm on the top of the desk. You wait as his eyes scan the assignment and the small amount of introductory text that you’ve written so far. 

“Why don’t you focus more on consequentialism rather than deontology? It’s more easily explained, considering it relies more on feeling than it does on theory,” he starts, turning over his shoulder to look up at you.

“And here I thought you were a Kantian,” you say teasingly, He lets out a small laugh before continuing, his lips curled up into a smile.

“I can both be a scholar of Kantian ethics while also believing that consequentialism makes the most sense in practice,” he says smugly. “Given our little arrangement, I would think that you would be most familiar with consequentialism.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, crossing your arms as you lean back to rest your back against the desk. Another laugh leaves his mouth, sending jolts throughout your body. He stands up from his chair, placing his arms on the desk on either side of you, almost trapping you in. His face is mere centimeters away from yours and you can feel his breath against your cheeks. 

“Well… I’d say that our relationship is rather hedonistic… wouldn’t you?” Daniel answers with a smirk. 

Fuck. He even makes philosophy sexy. And he isn’t entirely wrong, either. The two of you certainly disregarded a number of morals in favor of your… “arrangement” in order to pursue pleasure. You often think to yourself that it’s part of the reason you like it so much as if you pursue it because it’s wrong. You both knew that the entire thing was incredibly morally compromising, in more ways than one, but chose to pursue it anyway.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answer, in almost a whisper. His face is too close for you to even think straight. What were you doing over here again? You can’t even remember. 

“We both know that it is, sweetheart,” he says, his nose brushing against yours. “You like this little forbidden love affair, don’t you?” 

A quiet sigh escapes your lips as your head starts to spin. Before you even have the chance to respond, his lips crash into yours. It’s messy and rushed, his hands tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer to him. Your arms wrap around his waist and your fingers hold onto his belt tightly as the kiss intensifies, his tongue gliding against your bottom lip swiftly before finding its way into your mouth, tangling with yours. 

All of a sudden, reality crashes into you head-on. You left the door cracked open. In between kisses, you pull away from his lips, and they start to descend down your neck toward your collarbone. 

“Daniel,” you say quietly, attempting to control your breathing as he sucks harshly on your neck. “The door. I didn’t close it.” His eyes flick upward toward the door briefly before he continues his assault on your neck, kissing softly onto your collarbone.

“I don’t care. I don’t think you do either,” he growls against your skin, holding your waist tightly in one hand as the other tugs on your hair, eliciting a quiet whine out of your mouth.

“Someone could walk in and–” you start, your mind reeling as you try to stay focused, but he interrupts your rambling immediately. 

“Let them,” he whispers, sending goosebumps throughout your body. “Don’t act so innocent… Deep down, you know you’d like it,” he says with a smirk before his lips return to yours. He pulls on your hair again and you moan quietly into his mouth, which luckily muffles the sound. 

As he lowers your back to lie down on the desk and holds your waist still with one hand as the other pops open the button of your jeans, your mind has completely forgotten about the door. He was right. You don’t care if someone walks in. Something deep inside you almost wants somebody to, just so that they know that you were his. 

Before you can question what this thought means, your thoughts are pulled back to the present as he slides your jeans past your waist and lets them drop to the floor. He kneels behind the desk, his face level with your core. His thumb starts to rub slow circles against your clit, still covered by the fabric of your panties. You knew you were already soaked, feeling the tension of the wet fabric move against your folds. Without a moment of hesitation, Daniel dips his fingers into the sides of your underwear, yanking them down to sit with your jeans. 

It isn’t even a second later that his lips wrap tightly around your clit, sucking harshly as his hands hold you still by your hips. He held you so tightly that you were sure that it would leave marks, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how his mouth felt against you, his tongue swirling harshly around your swollen bud. It was like he was starved, as though he couldn’t survive another moment without tasting you. 

One of his hands leaves your waist and you feel his finger glide through your folds before it enters you completely. Your body jolts, and his other arm moves to hold you down, stretching completely over your torso. His eyes drift upward to look into yours, burning into you.

“Stay,” he commands before dipping his face back down into you, licking a stripe up to your clit before inserting a second finger into you. His fingers worked fast and harsh, curling up into you so much that your eyes nearly rolled back into your head. You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you fast, so much so that you can hardly even control it. You knew you couldn’t control it, actually. He controlled it. 

“Shit, Daniel, I’m close,” you whine quietly, still conscious that any noise too loud would certainly echo through the hallways. He smirks against you as his pace quickens, helping you chase your high.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let me have it, fuck,” he mumbles against you, sending shockwaves throughout your body as you finally let go. 

It was almost euphoric, you hadn’t realized how much you had craved him during your time off from school, but it was clear now. His touch was intoxicating, every hint of it made your head spin. He helps you through it, slowing his fingers down and then finally pulling them out. He stands up, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and slowly sucking your release off of his fingers with a low hum.

“So sweet,” he says, his voice low and dripping with lust. You sit up, still sitting on the desk as he brings his lips down to yours. You can still taste yourself on them, which was surely his goal. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on even more. Your hands reach down to his belt and attempt to undo it before his strong hands stop you.

“Uh-uh,” he says sternly. “You’ve got work to do.” Damn him for always being right. You would never say that to his face. 

“Ugh, fine. Whatever,” you answer stubbornly, reaching for your computer and retreating back to your spot on the couch. You pout as you sit down, hoping it’d persuade him.

“Finish the paper. If you’re good, then maybe we’ll pick up where we left off,” he says with a smirk, adjusting his very obvious boner inside his pants before sitting back down at his desk and returning to his task. God, this man was going to be the death of you. 

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You lay your pencil down and flex your hand, trying to relieve yourself from the cramp in your fingers from writing the last answer on your final. After skimming over what you’ve written, you let out a satisfied sigh. You lower your desk before you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way to the desk at the front of the room. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as Daniel looks up to watch you lay your exam down on the pile and a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. 

You open your mouth to say something, but you stop yourself as you hear another student lower their desk, followed by footsteps down the aisle behind you. With a smile and a nod, you turn and leave the classroom. As you step into the hall, your watch lights up with a message and you glance down at it, a new smile playing on your lips.

From: Daniel🥁

Test period is almost over, go wait outside my office.

Your cheeks flush and you glance over at your shoulder to see Daniel staring at you from behind his desk, a smirk on his face. He winks at you and you roll your eyes playfully before turning and leaving. You glance towards the elevators as the doors open to let a few other students in and you flag down the last person to hold the door.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping in and tapping the button for the third floor. You slip your phone out of your packet and swipe through your notifications as you lean your shoulder against the wall. The elevator stops at the second floor and, not paying attention, you move to step out, your body colliding with another student stepping in.

“Shit, sor-” you trail off as you realize it’s Stephen. You fight to not have a visible reaction as you step back to let him in and continue, “Sorry.”

Stephen scoffs and rolls his eyes, stepping in and standing off your shoulder behind you. “Did you even have to show up for the final?” He says under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. 

“Probably not, but I did anyway,” you say, not bothering to look at him. “Believe it or not, I earn my grade.” 

Stephen laughs and you see him shake his head in the reflection on the door. “Oh, I’m sure you work really hard for it,” he says as the doors open to the third floor.

“I do,” you say simply, adjusting your posture and shooting him a look over your shoulder as you step into the hallway. You don’t bother with a goodbye, you don’t owe him politeness. As the doors close you hear him scoff, but you don’t glance back, you just head to the bench outside of Daniel’s office and plop down.

You let out a sigh and rub your temples, leaning back against the wall behind the bench. You’re exhausted, having not had a good night’s sleep all of finals week, but this was your last one and you couldn’t be more relieved to be done. 

You pull your AirPods out of your bag, putting one in as you slip your phone out of your pocket. “Hmm,” you hum, scrolling through your playlists. You pick a random one, not really sure of what you’re in the mood to listen to, and tap shuffle. Heaven by Niall Horan and you let your eyelids fall shut, your head resting on the wall. 

“Let’s not get complicated, let’s just enjoy the view.” You shake your head at the words and scoff a laugh through your nose. Sounds easy when you put it that way, you think to yourself as you tap the skip button. You’re not ready to unpack those thoughts right now. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear the familiar click of Daniel’s shoes on the tiled floor, the sound prompting you to open your eyes. You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face when he rounds the corner, his lips tugging up when he sees you waiting.

“Good girl,” he says as he approaches you, running his finger along your jaw quickly before unlocking his door and holding it open for you. You stand and slip your bag over your shoulder, stepping past him into the doorway. He lightly swats your ass as you pass him, a soft gasp escaping you. You spin around as he closes the door behind him, his shoulders moving as he laughs to himself.

“Pleased with yourself?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest and raising an eyebrow. 

“Hmm, very,” Daniel says, dipping down to press a kiss to your temple as he walks past you to his desk. He leans back against the edge, glancing between you and the chair in front of him.

You roll your eyes playfully and sit down, putting your bag at your feet and letting your hands rest in your lap as you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?” You ask, your voice sweet.

He glances at the papers on his desk and picks one up, holding it out to you. “Sam is playing a solo gig tomorrow night, starts at 9,” he explains as you take the flier and skim it. “Figured you and Rose could use a laid-back night out.” He shrugs casually, the poster boy of calm, cool, and collected. Your cheeks flush lightly as you realize he’s inviting you to go out with him. You can’t help the beat your heart skips as you flick your eyes up from the paper to meet his. 

“I’ll be there a couple hours before he starts,” he continues. “I told him I’d help him get set up and soundcheck.”

“Okay,” you say simply, not daring to allude to him asking you out. You weren’t sure whether it was for his sake or yours. You’ve been trying to cling to casual as tightly as you can, to not let yourself indulge in any sort of delusion that tells you he could be interested in you the same way you’re interested in him. “I’ll talk to Rose when I get home.” 

There’s a moment of silence between you and you swear you can see something like disappointment that you didn’t give a straight-up yes. Your heart flutters at the idea of him wanting you there, but you push the thought away before it can overwhelm you.

“I’ll be there,” you add finally, “I just have to see if Rose is free to come along.”

His shoulders relax slightly, barely perceivable, and a small smile graces his lips. “No big deal if she can’t,” he says, the tone of his voice causing the flush in your cheeks to spread down your neck. The thought of spending a night out with just him driving you to your feet as you slip your bag over your shoulder.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow night then,” you say, smiling up at him briefly before turning towards the door. 

Before you can take a step, Daniel catches your wrist and pulls you into him, his free hand pressing into your lower back as your hand splays across his chest to catch yourself. His lips capture yours before a word can leave them, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You part your lips for him and his tongue strokes against yours. He kisses you until you’re breathless and lifts his head, smirking down at you.

“See you tomorrow night, baby,” he says, his hand sliding over your ass and squeezing as he dips his head again to press a kiss to the sweet spot below your ear. “Congrats on finishing finals,” he murmurs against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Could’ve been done on Wednesday, if it wasn’t for your Friday final,” you challenge, fighting to keep your voice even as you let your head roll to the side to give him easier access. His lips trail down the slope of your neck and he pulls the collar of your sweater to the side to continue towards your shoulder. 

“Not my fault,” he hums against your skin before lifting his head. You fight back a disappointed groan at the lost contact and look up at him. “Now, as much as I’d like to lay you out over the desk, I have exams to grade.”

You roll your eyes and push against his chest, but he doesn’t release his grip on you. “Well, then you should probably let go, professor,” you say sweetly, blinking up at him. This time when you push against him he lets go, allowing you to step back from him as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. 

“Tomorrow,” you say, turning and walking towards the door. “Enjoy grading,” you add before you open the door and leave, starting your trek back to your apartment. As you approach the bus stop, you tug your phone out of your pocket and open your texts with Rose.

To: Rose🌹

What are you doing tomorrow?

Three dots pop up as the bus pulls up and you step on when the doors open, tapping your phone to the card reader to pay for the ride before sliding into a seat.

From: Rose🌹

Just packing for break. Why?

To: Rose🌹

Daniel invited us out to go see a solo gig that Sam is playing

You lock your phone and let your head fall back against the seat, letting out a long sigh as thoughts swarm your head. Though you tried to keep them at bay, they are persistent thoughts and you can’t have your guard up 24/7. Daniel invited you out. Sure he invited Rose out too, but he made it clear he only cared if you show up. 

From: Rose🌹

SEXY PROFESSOR!

You smile at the message, assuming that means she’ll go with you, and shake your head.

To: Rose🌹

You’ll get to see Sam👀

From: Rose🌹

I bet he told sexy professor to invite me😌

You sit up and slip your phone into your pocket as the bus pulls up to your stop, grabbing your bag and stepping down onto the sidewalk. Thank god your building is right around the corner from the stop. You make your way inside and up to your apartment, opening the door to a grinning Rose. 

“Let me get a little packing done and then we can debrief,” you giggle as you walk to your room, crouching in front of your record crate and thumbing through your jazz compilations. You settle on one and put it on to spin, turning and hauling your suitcase onto your bed. As you rifle through your sweaters, tossing the ones you want to take with you onto your bed, you let your mind wander to Daniel. 

The thoughts that you’d been pushing away since Thanksgiving threatened to overwhelm you. You’re down bad. Rose’s words fill your head as you fold a pair of leggings and tuck them into your bag. You let out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over your face. It was supposed to be casual. No strings attached. You weren’t supposed to feel like this. 

But you couldn’t deny the way the hint of disappointment in his eyes earlier had made you feel. The way his shoulders relaxed when you assured him you’d be there. The way you could feel him watching you while you took your exam. You finish arranging clothes in your bag and zip your suitcase closed, leaving only your toiletries and electronics to be packed before you leave on Sunday. 

When you finally emerge from your room, you spot Rose on the couch curled up on her phone with a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. You smile and plop down next to her, pointing to the glasses and saying, “I hope one of those is for me.”

“I figured you could use something to unwind from all the frustrated sighing I heard coming from your room,” she says as she looks up from her phone. Your cheeks flush and you grab the bottle, filling both glasses and handing one to Rose. You clink your glasses together and take a sip, sighing and leaning back against the couch. 

“Yeah, those sighs,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow. You glance sidelong at her and roll your eyes as you start recounting what happened with Daniel, telling her how you’ve been feeling since you got back from break.

“Rose, he actually looked disappointed when he thought I might not go tomorrow,” you say, emptying your glass and leaning forward to pour yourself another.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” She asks, holding her glass out for you to top her off. You blow a laugh through your nose and fill her glass before returning the bottle to the coffee table.

“Is it?” You ask as you tuck one leg underneath you and turn to face her, propping your elbow on the back of the couch and resting your head on your hand. “I mean, I’m the one who said this could only be physical.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, continuing, “And he very plainly said no falling in love, which I laughed at at the time. And here I am…”

You trail off, staring into your wine for a moment before drinking half of it in one gulp. Another deep sigh leaves you and you let your head fall dramatically against your arm.

“Here you are, what?” Rose prods, peering at you over her glass as she takes a sip.

“I’m not saying it, I’m not putting it into the universe,” you say, shaking your head, and setting your glass on the table. “I’m not gonna lose him because I’m reading into things that may or may not even be there.” 

Rose raises her eyebrows at your last statement and her lips twitch into a smirk for a second before she curbs her reaction. You grab one of the throw pillows behind you and bury your face in it, muffling the groan that comes out. 

“If you having feelings is something that scares him off, do you really want him?” She asks, stretching her legs out in front of her, one ankle crossed over the other. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you mumble, face still buried in the pillow.

“But you want more than what you have right now?”

“I don’t know what I want,” you say, lifting your head and finding her staring at you with an eyebrow quirked. “I just know that I want him, so if this is what I have to do to have him, then fine.”

Rose opens her mouth to say something, probably to ask another prying question, but you cut her off, saying, “Rose, I don’t think I can keep talking about this without crying. And I don’t want to cry about this.”

“Wanna order food and watch a movie?” She says brightly, knowing it would cheer you up and keep you distracted. You thank her with a look and pull out your phone to open Doordash, the two of you sitting side by side to look together. After you settle on pizza and place the order, you turn the TV on and scroll through Netflix, picking a thriller neither of you had seen or heard of.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Afternoon sunlight streams through your windows, forcing you to squint as you open your eyes. You and Rose had both fallen asleep on the couch, your best friend waking you at some point when she got up to go to her bed. A glance at the clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 2 pm and the quiet hum of music and the slide of a drawer across the hall tell you Rose is awake. You sit up and stretch your arms over your head, a slight twinge of pain from falling asleep on the couch making you wince slightly as you get out of bed and walk over to Rose’s room.

“What time did we go to bed last night?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lower yourself into her desk chair.

“Like 2 am,” she says, glancing over at you as she packs a pair of sweatpants. “The movie wasn’t thrilling enough to keep either of us awake, apparently,” she adds with a laugh.

“Clearly,” you say, laughing with her. Your eyes drift to her suitcase and you sigh, remembering that her family is going away for Christmas this year. “This is the first Christmas Eve our families won’t be together,” you comment as she folds a bikini up.

“I know,” she says, a hint of sadness in her voice. “We’ll be home for New Year’s though!” You smile at this, already excited for the party at her family’s lake house.

“Oh, I hope it blizzards again like the first year,” you say, fond memories of the weekend your families spent snowed in together drifting through your mind.

“That was the best year,” she agrees, zipping her suitcase up and setting an empty duffle bag next to it. “Hopefully all the festivities keep your mind off you-know-who. You need a distraction.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and standing up. “I’m gonna go dissociate in the shower now.” Rose giggles as you walk away, stopping in your room to grab your robe before you walk down the hall to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. 

You strip out of your shorts and the Foo Fighters shirt you still haven’t given back yet, tossing your clothes into a pile by the door. Daniel had told you to keep the shirt, but something felt wrong about that. He isn’t your boyfriend, so there’s no reason to have his clothes, but you have to admit you’ve been enjoying sleeping in it. It’s just a shirt, right?

You do a decent job distracting yourself for a few hours before you have to get ready, but now you’re standing in your mirror staring at yourself, thinking about what Daniel might be wearing. “I am pathetic,” you mumble, shaking your head at yourself despite the smile on your lips. Your eyes drift over your reflection and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling good about your look. You had gone with a pair of black wide-leg jeans, a black bodysuit, and a green knit cardigan. Once you added your tan Chelsea boots, the outfit came together. 

“Don’t you look academic,” Rose says, leaning in the doorway smiling. You giggle and shake your head, stepping away from the mirror. 

“It’s winter and we’re going to a jazz club,” you remind her, grabbing your phone from your bed and slipping your crossbody around you. You glance at your phone, checking to see when the Uber would be there. 

“If you let me finish I was gonna say in a hot way,” she laughs as you nudge her out into the living room. “In a hurry to see your man?”

“The Uber is almost here,” you say, drawing out the last syllable as you walk out into the hallway, pausing for Rose to join you. “You look good too by the way, red is your color,” you add as you turn to lock the door, nodding to the red sweater she has on. 

“We look very festive,” she points out and giggles as the two of you step into the elevator. You walk out to the front of your building as your driver pulls up and you hop in, confirming your name with him and opening your texts with Daniel.

To: Daniel🥁

On our way!

You tuck your phone into your pocket and sit back, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “Gonna try to go home with Sam tonight?” You tease, glancing at Rose out of the corner of your eye. She grins and shrugs innocently.

“We’ll see,” she says, “You gonna try and bring Daniel back here?”

You stare at her for a moment, her staring back with an eyebrow raised. “Even if I tried,” you begin, shrugging as you add, “He wouldn’t.” You try to act like that doesn’t bother you, sure that Rose sees through it. But if she does, she doesn’t say it, she just gives you a sympathetic smile.

The driver pulls up to the curb outside of the club and you and Rose climb out, thanking him as you close the door. You and Rose walk inside and you spot Daniel immediately. 

He’s standing on stage with his back to you, leaning on the piano and talking to Sam, who is sitting on the piano bench. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up to his elbows and, as your eyes trail over the rest of him, you swear you can see a line of another tattoo on the back of his ankle. As if he can tell you walked in, he glances over his shoulder, making eye contact with you and smiling. 

Rose nudges you in the side with her elbow and you break your stare with Daniel to glance at her. “Well, go on,” she says, nodding her head towards the tables at the front of the stage. You take a deep breath and walk further into the space, stopping when you get to one of the front tables. Daniel hops down off the stage and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him as he drops his head to kiss your cheek.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says as he straightens. “Hi Rose,” he says, lifting his free hand in greeting.

“Hey Daniel,” she returns, sitting down at the table, her eyes flicking to yours for a second.

“Sam!” He calls over the sound of Sam practicing, looking over his shoulder and waving his friend over. Sam stops and gets up, dropping to sit on the edge of the stage. 

“Yes?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow at Daniel.

“Sam, this is Y/N,” Daniel says, gesturing to you and then to your best friend, “And this is Rose.” 

You and Rose both raise a hand to wave, both of you chirping, “Hi Sam.”

Sam smiles at you both, but his eyes linger on Rose for a beat too long. You smirk to yourself as you watch them try not to stare at each other. “Nice to meet you both,” he says, his eyes wandering back to Rose. “My dog’s name is Rosebud, but we call her Rose.”

Your best friend smiles and laughs, “It’s a great name, what can I say?”

Daniel glances back and forth between Sam and Rose, his own lips twitching into a smirk that matches yours as he squeezes his arm around you lightly. You look up at him and meet his eyes for a moment before he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. He pulls back and studies your eyes briefly before straightening and saying to you and Rose, “We have to check a couple more things and then I’ll be down to sit with you guys.”

With that Sam returns to the piano and Daniel hops back up on the stage, kneeling down to check some wires. You take the seat to Rose’s left, leaving a seat on her right as well as one on your left. 

“Yeah,” Rose says as you sit down. “I’m trying to go home with him tonight.”

You smack her leg playfully and laugh, “I don’t blame you considering he still can’t keep his eyes off you.” You point subtly to Sam, whose eyes drift to Rose again as Daniel says something to him.

“Sam,” Daniel says, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat. Sam’s attention snaps back to Daniel as he repeats what he said, Sam nodding in agreement.

“Look what you did,” you tease Rose. “You got him yelled at.” Rose’s cheeks flush lightly and she smiles.

Once they’re finished setting up and sound-checking, Daniel hops back down off the stage and walks over to your table. “I’m gonna go grab drinks. Rose?” He says, looking at her.

“Oh,” she says, caught off guard. “Just a vodka soda.”

“Okay,” Daniel says, turning his eyes to you and raising an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Gin and tonic for me,” you say, suppressing the shiver that threatens at the base of your spine every time he says your name. 

He nods and your eyes follow him as he walks to the bar, a soft smile on your lips. You can see him making friendly conversation with the bartender and you find yourself wondering what he’s saying as he gestures towards your table and glances back at you. He winks as he catches your gaze and you feel your face and chest flush, turning your attention to your hands in your lap.

“So he calls you pet names and kisses you on the cheek and introduces you to his best friend and you’re just supposed to not have feelings for him?” Rose asks, her tone hushed as she raises an eyebrow at you. You wave your hand as if you could swat her words out of the air.

“Rose,” you warn, shaking your head and rolling your shoulders to release some of the tension. 

“Fine,” she says, drawing the word into a whine and holding her hands up in surrender. She lowers her hands as Daniel walks back to the table, setting your drinks down before taking the seat to your left. Your heart skips as he drops his hand to rest on your thigh, tracing slow circles with his thumb. 

You and Rose chat casually as you sip your drinks. Rose talks about her directing final and how her group got the best notes from their professor out of their whole class. You explain your thesis for your moral philosophy paper, Daniel squeezing your thigh lightly when you mention pivoting from deontology to consequentialism.

“Smart choice,” he says, winking at you when you look up at him. You watch as he brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip of his whiskey, his tongue darting across his lips as he lowers the glass again. You breathe out a sigh of relief as Sam steps onto the stage and sits behind the piano, flashing a bright smile to the crowd before his fingers start to dance over the keys, his eyes drifting closed. 

The opening to Smoke Gets In Your Eyes fills the space, mixing with the soft chatter coming from other tables, and Daniel’s hand stills on your leg as you both glance at Rose to find her eyes fixed on Sam. A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips and you turn your attention back to Sam as the song comes to an end, the music replaced with applause. His eyes open, a soft smile on his lips as he brings them to the microphone.

“Hi everyone, thanks for coming out tonight,” he says, looking down at your table and smiling. “And thanks to my friend, Daniel, for helping me get set up tonight.”

Daniel smiles and lifts his glass towards Sam, who returns the gesture with the drink he has sitting on the piano. They both take a sip and smile.

“Anyways, you all know I like to play more than I like to talk,” he continues. “So sit back, relax, and enjoy.” And with that, his fingers return to the keys, sound filling the room once more. 

About an hour goes by and Sam smiles as he brings another song to a close, this time Skating In Central Park. His eyes drift to Rose and you catch her shy from his gaze out of the corner of your eye.

“Alright, I’m gonna take a little break here, but I’ll be back,” Sam says, grabbing his glass from the piano and walking off the stage. He appears at your table and leans on the back of the empty seat next to Rose. 

“I’m gonna go fill up,” he says, raising the empty glass and glancing around the table. “Can I get anyone a refill?” You and Daniel both shake your heads, but Rose smiles and pushes her seat back. 

“I was gonna get another, I’ll come with you,” she says, standing up and winking at you quickly before she and Sam walk to the bar together.

“I think if I hadn’t disappeared with you that night,” you start, your eyes drifting towards the hallway where you and Daniel had gone back in August. “She would have disappeared with him.” 

He blows a laugh through his nose and squeezes your thigh firmly, drawing a soft sigh from your lips. He leans over to speak in your ear, putting his arm around you and keeping his voice low as he says, “Careful angel, I might have to take you back there for a little reminiscing.”

You shiver as his lips brush the shell of your ear, squeezing your thighs together as his words course through you. You would hate the power he has over you if it didn’t make you feel like the only person in the room. 

He smirks and sits back in his seat as Sam and Rose return and you look up at them, noting how Sam has his hand on Rose’s lower back as she walks a step ahead of him. She beams at you as she sits down, taking a sip of her drink and letting her eyes follow Sam back to the stage.

“He asked me to get a drink with him after the show,” she says, leaning over to whisper to you as Sam steps onto the stage and the crowd applauds. You grin and squeeze her arm, excited for her to get her moment with Sam.

“Told ya I’d be back,” he says into the microphone as he sits down, smiling and winking at Rose. You look between the two of them and then at Daniel, who smirks at you before turning his attention to Sam as he starts another song. 

You try to follow his lead and pay attention, but Daniel’s hand is on your leg again, his fingers pressing into your inner thigh. You let your eyes flutter closed for a brief moment and look at Daniel when you open them, only to find him casually watching Sam play. As you turn your eyes back to the stage, Daniel’s hand drifts further up your thigh. You whip your head to look at him and, while he still doesn’t look at you, you catch his lips twitch into a smirk.

You huff and roll your eyes, turning back to watch Sam bring the song to a close and roll right into another. Daniel brushes his fingers along the center seam of your jeans. It’s just the ghost of a touch, but it still forces a shaky breath from you as arousal tightens your abdomen. And as soon as it’s there, it’s gone as he lifts his hand and traces one finger along the crease where your leg joins your hip. His hand doesn’t return to your thigh again, instead resting on the back of your chair as he puts his arm around your shoulders casually.

Sam plays through a few more songs without addressing the crowd, but as what seems to be the last of the medley closes, he brings his lips to the mic and says, “I want to thank you all for coming out again.”

“I’m gonna wrap things up here, but if you’ve seen me before you know I never leave a show without playing this next song,” he says as he begins the opening of Rhapsody In Blue.

You watch Sam’s eyes close, his fingers knowing where each key is on their own, and let your eyes do the same. Your lips tug into a soft smile as each note washes over you, as you lose yourself in the song, and before you know it the song ends and the crowd applauds. Sam stands and gives an exaggerated bow before leaving the stage.

“That was incredible,” Rose gushes as Sam returns to your table. “You didn’t even have to look.”

“I’ve been playing that song for a long time,” Sam laughs and runs a hand through his hair. Rose’s cheeks flush and she smiles, glancing at you and Daniel.

“Great show, Sam,” you say with a smile.

“Sounded great, bud,” Daniel adds, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Let’s get this torn down so we can get out of here.”

“So,” Rose says, turning to you as Sam and Daniel hop up on the stage. “How are you getting Daniel back to our apartment?”

You glance towards him as he works on wrapping a cord back up and sigh. “I’ll just remind him that we won’t see each other for a month,” you say, shrugging casually and smiling. “And how are you getting Sam to take you back to his place?”

“Well I can’t exactly go back to our place with you and sexy professor there,” she says, winking at you and glancing up at the stage as Sam looks over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think I’ll have to do much convincing.”

You fall into a fit of giggles and continue chatting as you both steal glances up at Sam and Daniel. Since most of the equipment is the clubs, it doesn’t take them long to reset the stage and return to your table.

“So, how about that drink, Rose?” Sam asks, offering her his hand.

“Lead the way, Sam,” she says, taking his hand and leaving the table with him. She casts a look over her shoulder at you and winks, smiling as she turns back and they head for the door together.

“And then there were two,” Daniel says from behind you, grabbing your hand to pull you into him. You turn to face him as his hand falls to rest on your lower back and you look up at him, a smile on your lips. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi Daniel,” you say softly, pushing onto your toes to press your lips to his. His arm tightens around your waist as he kisses you back, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip before he lifts his head and smiles down at you. “Thanks for inviting us, we had a good time.”

“Anytime,” he says, his gaze darting to your lips and back to your eyes. “Come on, let me drive you home.”

You grin and nod, turning to walk towards the door. Daniel’s hand wraps around yours as you leave together, rounding the corner to where his car is parked. You slip into the passenger seat, smiling to yourself as he gets in and starts it up. 

“It’s a left at the li-” you start, but you’re cut off.

“I remember,” he says simply, the implication of him remembering how to get to your apartment after one time making your head spin.

“Okay,” you whisper as you force away the thoughts that pop into your head. It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s not like the directions are difficult. He lives here year-round, he’s familiar with the city. It’s not that big of a deal.

Daniel pulls into a parking spot in front of your building and you both sit silently for a moment, the soft mumbling of the radio the only sound. You glance up at your building before you turn to look at Daniel, biting your lip.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest. Before the last word could fully leave your lips, Daniel takes the key out of the ignition.

“I was just waiting for you to invite me,” he says casually, opening his door and getting out. You blow out a breath and smile to yourself for a moment before you climb out. He pauses on the sidewalk to wait for you and lets you walk a step in front of him as you swipe into the building. 

As you wait for the elevator in silence, Daniel lets his hand rest on your lower back, stroking his thumb absentmindedly. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. As they slide closed with the two of you inside, Daniel turns to face you and guides you back against the wall, his hand gripping your waist. You gasp as your shoulders bump the wall and you look up at him through your lashes.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” he says, bringing his hand up to brush your hair back from your face and cup your cheek. You feel your face heat and your heart pound as he stares down at you, his lips curved into a smirk. You open your mouth to speak, but the doors open and Daniel pushes away from you to let you lead. Slipping your key into the lock, you open the door to your apartment and flick the lights on. 

“Sorry, it’s a little messy,” you say, looking around the living room. “We’ve been packing for break.”

Daniel waves dismissively as he slips his shoes off, leaving them near the door, and wraps his hand around yours. He pulls you in and presses his lips to yours, the kiss slow and gentle as you part your lips for him and he brushes his tongue over yours. 

“You gonna miss me?” He asks when he pulls away, his hand sliding over your ass and squeezing firmly. He holds your body against his and you can feel him, already hard.

“I think you’re gonna miss me,” you muse, smiling up at him innocently. You sigh softly as he drops his head to bring his lips to your neck. He brushes your hair off of your shoulder and you feel his teeth nip the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Daniel,” you say softly, the sound half sigh, half moan. He hums against your skin as his hands slide your cardigan off your shoulders, the garment falling to your feet. His lips continue down to your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin lightly and sending a chill down your spine.

“I’m gonna miss that,” he says, his breath ghosting over your skin as he brings his lips to your ear. “The way you say my name.”

You fight the shiver that builds at the base of your spine and you bring your fingers to rest under Daniel’s chin, pressing your fingers up to make him meet your eyes.

“Make me do more than say it,” you say softly, taking his hand and leading him back to your bedroom. As you cross the threshold of the room, Daniel tugs on your hand, bringing you back against him. He leads you into the room until the back of your legs hits the edge of your bed, forcing you to sit. He lays his phone on your nightstand and you stare down at him as he kneels down to take your boots off for you, followed by your socks.

“What are you-” you start, but he cuts you off with simply a look. You close your mouth and watch as he rises, his fingers dragging up your legs until they reach the button on your jeans. He pops the button and draws the zipper down, motioning for you to stand, which you do without a word.

Daniel sinks to his knees again as he hooks his thumbs in your belt loops, dragging your jeans down your legs and pausing for you to step out of them. He looks up at you and smirks, his hands roaming from your calves and up the backs of your thighs. You let out a quiet moan as his fingertips dig into your flesh, a wave of arousal pulsing through you.

When Daniel stands again, he guides you to the center of the bed and lays you down, hovering over you as his hand drifts between your legs. He pops the snaps of your body suit one by one, holding your gaze until the third snap pops open. You whine when he doesn’t touch you, but brings his hand up to drag each strap down your arms, revealing you inch by inch until he drags the body suit down your legs and tosses it on the floor.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, taking in the deep plum-colored set you’re left lying in. “I’m definitely gonna miss this,” he adds, his finger hooking under the strap of your bra and letting it snap against your skin. The feeling draws a whine from you and you try not to squirm under his intense gaze. 

“Sit up,” Daniel instructs, hunger dancing in his eyes. You do as he says and he reaches behind you, making quick work of the clasp of your bra and clicking his tongue as it slides down your arms. He tosses it on the floor with your other clothing and guides you back down onto the bed, hovering over you and kissing you for just a second before he begins to trail kisses down your throat. Across your collarbones. Between your breasts.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says before pinching your nipple between his teeth, dragging his tongue over it a second later. Your back arches in response and you gasp, and Daniel blows a laugh through his nose, the rush of air making you shiver. 

“Daniel,” you whisper as he sucks a mark into the skin just below your breast. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asks as he kisses down your abdomen, goosebumps following where his lips brush.

“Touch me,” you plead, pushing up on your elbows to meet his eyes just before he sucks a mark onto your inner thigh.

“I will, don’t worry,” he says, pressing a kiss over the already purpling spot. He makes a twin mark on your other thigh and you fight the urge to brush his curls out of his face, the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him to where you need him. As if he can sense your growing frustration, he drags a finger over the lace covering your core. You can almost hear the smirk as he groans, “Always so fucking wet for me.”

Daniel hooks his fingers in the waistband of your thong and slides it down your legs, leaving you fully bare to him. He sits up for a moment, taking in the sight of you before he tugs his sweater off, leaving him in a tight-fitted black t-shirt. He lowers himself back between your legs and slowly drags his tongue through your core, his lips wrapping around your clit as you gasp and clutch the sheets in your fist.

“As sweet as ever,” he says, lifting his head only long enough to praise you. His arms wrap under your legs, pulling you to his mouth as his tongue attacks your bundle of nerves. A brief pause, a tap on your outer thigh. “Up,” he says, guiding your hips up and slipping a pillow under you before sinking back between your legs.

“Daniel,” you moan as he buries his face in your pussy, his nose brushing your clit as your hips jerk involuntarily. Your head falls back, your hand slipping into Daniel’s hair as he devours you like you’re his last meal. The familiar tension in your abdomen builds as he works you closer and closer to the edge, his lips returning to your clit, teeth grazing the spot lightly as he slowly presses a finger into you and curls it forward. 

“Daniel, I’m-” you pant, your thighs trembling as your control starts to slip.

“Let it go, baby,” he whispers, adding a second finger with the first. “Give it to me.”

Your orgasm crashes over you, your toes curling as your walls flutter around his fingers. You cry out as your back arches off the bed and your vision blurs as he works you through it, his fingers curling inside of you slowly. “Good girl,” he whispers, pressing feather-light kisses to the inside of your thigh. 

As you start to come down, Daniel kisses his way back up your body, stopping when he’s over you and pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. He reaches behind his head and grabs his shirt to tug it off but you stop him with a hand planted on his chest. Your fingers move to the hem of his shirt and you tug it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor and returning your hand to the center of his chest. 

He raises an eyebrow at you as you push him gently, staring up at him with a smirk on your face. Begrudgingly he moves to lay on his back and you move to hover over him, capturing his lips in another slow, deep kiss. Your tongues tangle and you feel him grip your waist. You lift your head and meet his eyes, smiling sweetly.

“My turn,” you whisper, your lips brushing soft kisses to his jaw and down his neck. You drag your teeth over his collarbone, smiling to yourself as Daniel drags in a breath, his fingers twitching where they grip your waist. Your fingers trail down his chest and abdomen as you sit back on your knees between his legs, just wanting to look at him spread out on your bed. You smirk and bite your lip as your fingers undo his belt and pants, sliding them down over his hips as he lifts up slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

You drop his pants to the floor and slide back over him, your lips wandering down his chest. Your fingers trace along the waistband of his boxer briefs as you drop kisses lower and lower. You brush your hand over his cock, hard and throbbing beneath the black fabric, and smirk as his hips buck up.

“Y/N,” Daniel warns. You look up at him through your eyelashes and smile sweetly, bringing your lips to the spot just below his navel. He groans and lets his head fall back, his eyes closing. 

“Such a tease,” he growls. You bite your lip and drag your tongue along the line of muscle that disappears beneath his waistband as you push his briefs down, letting them fall to the floor before you settle between his legs.

He lifts his head, meeting your eyes the moment before your tongue glides up his length, and his mouth falls open as he drops his head back down, his fingers darting into your hair. You blow a laugh through your nose and smirk, flicking your tongue at his tip and drawing a moan from his chest. 

You wrap your hand around the base of him, slowly sinking your mouth over his cock, taking each inch of him until his tip brushes the back of your throat. With a glance up, you find him propped on his elbows again, watching his length slide past your lips.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he says, gathering your hair into a ponytail in his hand. “So fucking pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You hum around him and slowly draw back, your tongue dragging along the vein that runs his length. Your hand replaces your mouth as you pull all the way back, swirling your tongue around the tip and smiling up at him.

“A picture lasts,” you say, lowering your mouth back onto him and winking. Daniel raises an eyebrow at you, a silent question. You hum around him in confirmation and draw your head back again before sinking back down. 

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growls, reaching to the nightstand for his phone and opening the camera. He focuses it on you and snaps a photo as you glide your tongue flat along the underside of his cock. You feel your cheeks heat and you lower your mouth over him again, taking his full length into your mouth and moaning around him.

“Fuck,” Daniel moans as he hits the back of your throat again. “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last, sweetheart.”

You ignore him and continue, setting a slow pace, taking every inch of him every time you slide your lips over him. The next time you lift your mouth from him, his hand drops your hair and wraps around your throat, his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck gently.

“Something wrong?” You ask, your voice dripping with lust as you look at him through hooded eyes. 

“Lay down,” he says, his fingers moving to grip your chin.

“I wasn’t done,” you challenge, meeting his eyes defiantly. He smirks and clicks his tongue before easily guiding you onto your back, leaving you breathless as he hitches your leg over his hip. Daniel leans forward, hovering over you with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he whispers as he rolls his hips, his cock gliding over your sensitive clit. You gasp softly, the sound cut off as Daniel captures your lips again, this kiss frenzied and hungry, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. 

You break the kiss, your head falling back as Daniel pushes into you slowly, feeling every inch of his cock stretch you in the best way. His head falls into the crook of your neck and he buries himself to the hilt, his breath ragged against your skin as your walls flutter around him. 

“I’m gonna miss this,” Daniel whispers as he sets a slow pace, his hips rolling into yours. One hand grips your waist while the other grasps your breast, kneading your flesh as he fucks you slow and deep, every stroke drawing a moan from your lips. “You are so fucking soft.”

“Daniel,” you moan out, your voice breathy. He sucks at the sweet spot beneath your ear and groans against your skin as you squeeze around his cock. You whine softly as he pulls out of you and taps your hip.

“On your stomach,” he says, stroking his cock slowly as he stares down at you, your chest and face flushed as you turn over, dragging a pillow into your arms. He draws you up onto your knees with a hand under your hip and you bury your face into the pillow as his cock glides through your folds before slipping back into you.

“So fucking sexy,” he moans, brushing his hand down your back as he resumes a slow pace. “So pretty and perfect.”

You cry out into the pillow as his tip brushes your cervix, the new angle making your thighs tremble. He slides his hand under you and lifts you up so you’re on your knees, your back pressed firmly to his chest as he continues fucking into you. One hand drifts down to circle your clit slowly, his palm pressing into your lower abdomen, and his other hand snakes between your breasts to wrap around your throat.

“You told me you didn’t just want to say my name,” he whispers, nipping at the shell of your ear. “So fucking scream it.” 

Daniel’s hips snap forward harshly, his fingers attacking your swollen bud. It’s all you can do not to crumble right there in his arms, feeling your second orgasm hurtling towards you, and you toss your head back against his shoulder, his hand tightening around your throat. This new angle drags the tip of his cock against your sweet spot and his quick pace makes your head spin as you try to focus on every sensation at the same time.

“Fuck, Daniel!” You cry out, your eyes squeezing shut, as your orgasm wrecks you. Daniel holds you firmly against his chest, never slowing his pace as he fucks you through your climax. Curses mingle with his name in the air as you shudder against him, your entire body feeling like a live wire.

“Just like that, baby,” he whispers into your hair, bringing his hand from your clit and resting it on your abdomen. He strokes your skin gently, lowering you back down to the bed and pulling out just long enough to put you on your back again. “Wanna see that pretty face when I finish,” he says, smirking as he pushes back into you. You see his eyes trail over you, pausing for a beat longer at where your bodies are joined and he smirks, grabbing his phone and snapping another photo of you.

“A picture lasts,” he teases, repeating your words from before as he runs his hand up your thigh and grips your hip, pulling you into each thrust.

You hook a leg around him as his rhythm starts to stutter and his face twists in pleasure. He drops his head to suck your nipple into his mouth as he fucks you, his teeth clamping around the bud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, savoring every single sensation as if this was the last time, and you tug on his curls gently, bringing his lips to yours.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans against your lips as his hips stutter again, his orgasm crashing over him. With a hand on your hips, he thrusts into you harshly, his cock twitching as his release coats your walls. He buries his face between your breasts and pants heavily, his warm breath tickling your skin as you stroke his hair. 

“You,” Daniel mumbles against your skin. “Are so fucking perfect.” He rolls to lay next to you, catching his breath for a moment before he turns onto his side and props his head on his hand, studying you quietly. 

“Come on,” you say finally, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you meet his eyes, his free hand tracing slow patterns on your skin. You take his hand and get up, steadying yourself on shaky legs before leading him down the hall to the bathroom. 

After the water heats up, you pull him into the shower with you, letting the water wash over your shoulders and sighing deeply. You clean each other up, Daniel’s hand drifting between your legs gently, sending a chill down your spine. 

As you turn to rinse the suds from your hair, Daniel dips his head, capturing your lips for a brief, soft moment. You look up at him, your heart skipping a beat as you think about how gentle he’d been with you all night. Even at Sam’s show. Before you have too much time to think, Daniel steps out and holds the curtain back for you as you step out as well, grabbing a towel and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself. 

“I kinda wish I could just stay here for break,” you admit quietly as you slip into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and slide under your covers. Daniel’s lips curve into a smile for a brief moment before it’s gone and he bends down to pick up his boxer briefs, sliding the black fabric up over his hips.

“What’s this?” He asks, studying one of the pictures on your dresser. You sit up in bed, squinting at the picture, and smile fondly.

“That’s me and Rose when we were kids,” you explain. You tell him about the New Year’s party her family hosts at their lake house as he lifts the covers and slides into bed next to you. 

“The first year they invited my family we got snowed in at the house for an extra 3 days,” you sigh, smiling at the picture of you and Rose in the fort you’d built one afternoon. 

When your gaze drifts back to meet Daniel’s, you find him watching you thoughtfully and you tilt your head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He blows a laugh through his nose and shakes his head, pulling you into him, your back to his chest. “It’s late,” he says as he slips an arm under your head, his other arm wrapped around your waist, fingers drifting under the hem of your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“It’s late,” you parrot, wiggling into a more comfortable position and letting out a deep sigh. It’s not long before you hear Daniel’s breathing slow and even out as he drifts off, leaving you awake in his arms. In your bed.

You hadn’t even asked him to spend the night, he’d just slipped into bed with you. Like it was an instinct. Your head spins with dangerous thoughts. Maybe he does want more with you. He’d been so willing to break rules lately. There’s no way he’d be acting this way if he didn’t at least feel a little bit of what you had been feeling, right?

Fuck, you think. Maybe you’re in over your head. Maybe you’re delusional and this is just how he is when he’s comfortable with someone. Maybe this all means nothing. But what if it doesn’t?

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Taglist:

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#Spotify #greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fic #danny wagner #danny gvf #danny wagner fic #danny wagner x reader #danny wagner gvf #danny wagner smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van fic #gretavanfleet #greta van smut #illicit affairs

[helicarrier]

Just saw some enormously ignorant memes about people on bicycles and how they have to take full lanes sometimes, and don't go through stop signs every time. Nothing acknowledging the dangers or the road rage they face in other circumstances, or how all of these memes are built on vehicle bias from car-dependent municipalities.

Oh boy. People are so clueless.

I'm writing another essay.

#commentaries #car dependence #this is going to be the written equivalent of throwing hands. #five people have died in my city over the last two years due to collisions with vehicles. #there are 'ghost bikes' everywhere. some of them did what these people wanted. #one of them stayed in the bike lane. was doored. went under a semi truck's wheels. #so this kind of meme bullshit? no. no. #this cyclist did what the people reblogging these memes wanted them to do. they died for it. #that is why (part of the reason why) people on bicycles take the lane in many situations. #what more can you do to be visible on a bicycle if you're in a painted roadside 'bike gutter' and nobody #checks their blind spots when opening doors or when making right turns? right? #which means you have to negate that risk and stay in the middle of a lane. which at least limits issues to the driver behind you. #death mention cw

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Badboy!Miguel O’Hara x Goodgirl!Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff, Nervous Miguel, Penetrative Sex, Car Sex, Mentions of Jerking Off, Praise

Summary: Milkshakes and shaking cars

A/N: It has been long awaited… Part 2!!

Word Count: 3K (Barely Edited)

Part 1

Shit, maybe he fucked up. 

His heart is practically racing as he pulls into your driveway, your pretty little smile turning towards him promising to only take a minute. He throws a weak smirk your way, watching the sway of your skirt as you run up the drive and through the front door. The second it closes, his smile drops and he’s tearing up his car. The stickiness in his boxers is starting to be uncomfortable, and he pops open the glove department, rummaging around until he finds old paper napkins. He looks up and around, checking all his blind spots, before wincing and pushing his legs up, hurriedly unzipping his pants and stuffing the napkins past the waistband of his boxers. They come back with random dark patches from the crinkled rush, and he cringes as he looks around his front seat. Fuck! He really doesn’t think things through! 

His head is on a swivel as he tries to find a place to put the soiled napkins, eventually popping open the coin holder on the left side of the steering wheel and shoving them in there. It takes a few slams and rapid stuffing to get it to close, and Miguel lets out a deep sigh as he readjusts himself in his seat. His eyes turn to the rearview mirror, his hand rapidly coming up to face it towards him as best as he can. His red eyes stare back at him, and he leans further back, turning his head either way to get a look at his hair. He curses when he sees its disheveled state. He looks like a fucking clown. Fuck him and his need to defend a pretty girl’s honor and then fuck her stupid after. He runs both his hands through his hair, ruffling it up and then smoothing it down again into its perfectly styled look. 

Movement in his peripheral makes him look past his rearview mirror, his eyes focusing on the good little thing walking down her front door steps and towards his car. He can’t help himself when he lets out a low groan, shifting in his seat as he takes in an eyeful. She’s going to be the death of him, with her innocent little smile and her pretty little dress. All for him. God, what did he do to get so fucking lucky. When you make it to the hood of his car, you give him a bashful smile, eyes going to the ground as you round the car and get into the passenger seat. You fix the dress over yourself once you sit down, trying your best to look pretty and proper. His eyes fall to your legs, the sticky trail that was there before gone. While he’s slightly disappointed the mark he has on you is gone, he’s more than happy to do it again when the time is right. His eyes come back up to your face, your doe eyes blinking up at him. He can’t help the slow smile that comes across his face, his hand grabbing one of yours off your lap and bringing it up to his mouth. 

Your hand is warm as he presses his lips to your knuckle, the sweet scent of vanilla drifting into his senses. A fire lights your cheeks as you watch him, and Miguel smirks against your skin despite the fluttering in his stomach. He clears his throat as he leans back up, hands returning to the wheel as he begins pulling out of your driveway. Once he’s made it to the main road, one of his hands comes back to your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“How do you feel about milkshakes?”

___________

It’s not really busy. 

A cute, obviously family-owned place. It’s made to look retro, something he hopes you appreciate. It’s a decent diner, somewhere nice to hangout and get cheap food. A classic date spot. Maybe a bit too classic or unspecial. Maybe the wrong place to take someone like you. Maybe he fucked up. His hands tighten around the steering wheel, prepared to take you somewhere else when you squeal. His eyes cut to you, and his breath leaves him the moment he catches sight of your wide smile and glistening eyes. You’re rambling on about how cute the place looks, saying something about how happy you are that you chose a dress that is on theme with the small diner’s color scheme. He just can’t help it. Miguel leans over the center console and reaches out his hand to rest under your chin, your head turns away from the windshield and you let out the cutest squeak the second his lips press against yours. 

When he pulls away, he’s met with your dopey eyes. He smiles down at you, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip before he leans further away and pulls his keys from the ignition. You’re still giving him those pretty doe eyes when he opens his car door, throwing a lazy smile your way. You’re jolted out of your haze when he closes the door, blinking rapidly to clear the glaze covering your eyes. Your head turns rapidly at the sound of your door opening, finding Miguel holding the edge of the door with a single hand as he rests his other arm against the roof of the car. He’s bent down, smirking at you still. “You coming, princesa?”

That familiar blush still colors your cheeks and you nod shyly, watching as Miguel moves over to make room for your exit. You step out quickly, looking up at him once you’ve fully exited the car. Miguel smiles down at you, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before looking past you and closing the car door. His arm comes around the back of your neck, hanging on your shoulders and keeping you to his side. The smell of him surrounds you, causing you to go slightly dizzy. He always smells good, but mixed into his usual cologne is the smell of sex, making your cheeks darken and for you to face away from him. He catches the movement from the corner of his eye, chuckling as he squeezes you tighter against his side and placing a small kiss to the top of your head. He swears he could feel the exact moment your knees buckled before you get ahold of yourself.

Once you step inside the small place, the light ringing of a silver bell greets the two of you. The place smells strongly of coffee and ice cream, a pleasant combination. He can feel the way your head moves as you take in the interior, focusing on the vintage-like posters decorating the walls as he leads you towards a corner booth. He lets you slide in first, following right after you and practically smashing you against the wall and his side. His arm finds its place over the top of your seat again, resting comfortable over the even-leveled top of the booth seat. A waitress comes up soon after, an older woman in the classic waitress outfit. You give her a kind smile, and Miguel takes one of the menus she offers, giving it to you to browse over. With a promise to come back in a bit, the waitress leaves the two of you. 

Miguel just sits and stares, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as you look over the menu. It’s silent between the two of you, not that he minds. He likes studying your face as you contemplate what you want, watching as you bite your bottom lip or your fingers come to play with it. Every now and then you ask him his opinion on some of the things on the menu, causing Miguel to lean in and speak against your ear like he’s telling a secret. It’s obvious that you don’t really listen to what he’s telling you, he can see it on your face as it heats up and your eyes glaze over. He finds it cute, reminding him to go back to his usual teasing. Eventually, you decide to stick to a simple milkshake and a serving of fries and Miguel calls over the waitress to give her the two orders and the menu. 

It won’t take long for the order to come to the table, so Miguel entertains you through simple conversation. He comments on your dress, showering you in compliments that eventually has you burying your head into his side out of embarrassment. Miguel chuckles at your natural cuteness, his arm coming down from the top of the booth and wrapping around your shoulders so he can place a kiss to your head once again. By the time the blush on your cheeks has died down, the waitress comes back with two milkshakes and a basket of fries. She leaves the two of you with a smile, promising to be nearby if the two of you need anything. You’re obviously thankful for the cold treat, taking a sip of it in hopes of cooling you down more. Miguel smiles as he watches you, ignoring the way his cock stirs as your throat bobs with every quick swallow. Miguel clears his throat once again, turning to his own milkshake and taking sips from it. He starts up conversation again, something more tame that won’t make your cheeks heat up. He enjoys the small giggles you let out as he talks to you, laughing along when you can’t eat a fry in fear that you’ll choke on it from all your giggling. It’s nice and calm, almost distracts him entirely from the hard on he’s sporting because anything you do is insanely hot to him. But then, you’re cutting him off mid-sentence as you swipe your thumb over his bottom lip, a drop of his milkshake on your finger that disappears as you hesitantly look up at him and lick at it. Yup, the death of him. 

Miguel curses, looking away from you and fishing in his back pocket for his wallet. He pulls it out quickly, slapping two 20s on the table before getting out of the booth. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, yelping when he grabs your hand and drags you with him towards the door. You let out a stuttering protest that falls on deaf ears, the sound of the silver bell ringing behind you as the door closes. In seconds, Miguel brings the both of you to his car, pining you to the side of it as he smashes his lips against yours. His hands hold tight to your waist as yours clutch his shoulders. A small whimper leaves you as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and he groans the second your mouth opens. You taste sweet, like whipped cream and ice cream and a bit of salt. Fuck, isn’t it just addicting. Miguel pulls away from you once he starts going light-headed, his eyes still drawn to your lips as you take deep breaths. 

“Get in the backseat, please.” Miguel mumbles, his hands tightening at your waist. You blink, not quite hearing what he said. Miguel groans, resting his forehead against your own as he tries to tame his raging hormones. He repeats it, just loud enough for you to hear, sighing in relief when you nod your head slowly and he hears the slight click of the door handle. He follows after you, sitting in the center seat before pulling you into his lap. You let out another yelp, your legs spreading to fit on either side of his lap. The noise you make when his lips meet yours again is calmer, more expectant as your hands go to his hair. He moans against your lips as you tug slightly, pulling him closer to you and making him curse. When he pulls away, his face goes to your neck, his own hands going to your hair to pull your head back to give him more access. 

“Miguel!” You call out when he sucks slightly on the column of your throat, “D-did I do something? What-” You’re cut off by your own gasp as Miguel bites lightly at the junction between your shoulder and neck, soothing it over with a few licks. 

“Yes?”, he mumbles against your skin, his fingers moving the straps of your dress down your shoulders, leaving them hanging against your upper arm, allowing him more room to kiss your soft skin. “No?” He retraces his steps back up your neck, coming face to face with you again. “Does it matter?”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off again by Miguel’s lips. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning against him. Miguel hisses when your body shifts, rubbing against the front of his jeans. He pulls away from the kiss, his hand cradling your head as he slowly begins to lean you back. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, letting him guide you until your back hits the center console. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but you quickly forget about it the second Miguel lifts up the bottom of your dress and starts kissing the exposed skin of your stomach. A soft noise leaves you as his slightly cold lips glide over your skin, causing you to squirm slightly. Miguel drinks up those sweet noises, his hand going to the zipper of his pants, dragging it down until he’s able to free his aching cock. His kisses go further down your body as he gives himself slow tugs, groaning the second his mouth is pressed against the growing damp spot in your panties. 

They’re a different pair from the ones you had on earlier, but just as easy to move to the side as he leans back. You whimper once you feel the air against your wet folds, cheeks blushing as you're exposed to him again. Your cunt is still puffy from what he has done to you earlier, but all signs of his seed are gone. He’ll just have to fix that. His eyes come up to you, studying the way you bite your lip in anticipation, eyes cloudy with need. “You’re going to be the death of me, y’know that, pretty girl?”

You reply with a moan, head leaning forward as Miguel begins to push into you. You’re already so fucking wet, walls eagerly tightening around him, welcoming him home. Miguel lets out a curse the second he bottoms out, a wet click sounding. Miguel’s hands come up to your waist, your dress bunching around his fingers as he begins to pull you back off and on his dick. He can get drunk on the wet noises that greet his ears the second he slides in and out of your slick walls. Only second to the pleading tone of your voice as you beg him to go faster. 

Miguel can’t deny his sweet little baby anything, moving his hips faster. You both moan out, breathy little squeals leaving your mouth as Miguel throws his head back against the seat. He can hear the car groaning slightly as it begins to shake, and Miguel grits his teeth when he feels your walls fluttering. “Fuck, that’s it. Good girl, taking it so well, yeah?”

You babble something back, nodding your head along to him as he thrusts into you. His hand comes down to your clit, watching the way you thrash and your legs kick out. Miguel can’t help but smirk, watching the way your legs shake at a few rubs. “Oh baby, don’t tell me you’re still sensitive, my sweet girl.”

You only whimper, back arching off the console as the similar burning sensation begins to form in your stomach. Your hips begin moving, grinding against his lap as he feeds your greedy cunt more of his cock. Miguel moans out, mouth dropping open as his lashes flutter. He presses harder against your bud, giving it a few rough flicks before you cry out and your body collapses back onto the console. He’s hypnotized as he watches you convulse around his cock, your walls pulsating rapidly against him. He fucks you through your orgasm, cursing as you milk him for all he’s worth. “Fuck, yes. So goddamn tight for me, baby. Got me addicted to you.”

You moan out his name, your hands grabbing at the seats on their side of your body. You try to pull yourself off of him, sensitivity prickling your bones. Miguel is quick to see it, his hands reaching up to pull your hands up and into him, forcing the rest of your body to come and fall against his chest. You cry out at the new angle, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Miguel grunts, hands returning to your waist and rubbing soothing circles through your dress. 

“Sh, sh, come back to me sweet girl,” Miguel coos at you as your walls clench around him again, signaling the approach of a second orgasm. You pant heavily, whimpering as you loll your head forward, resting it against Miguel’s. Miguel gives you a breathless smile, his hold tightening on your waist. “Good girl, there she is. Knew that you could do it.”

You whine at the praise, eyes fluttering closed slowly. Miguel tilts his head up, moaning the moment your lips instantly start moving with his. His hips thrust into you faster, drowning out your moans. Miguel’s brows furrow, ignoring the car’s loud squeaking. He’s so close, can fill it about to explode. He pulls his mouth away from yours, one of his hands coming up to pull your hair away from your face. Your eyes are glassy as you stare at him, lips swollen and covered in spit. You look like a fucking goddess. 

“Miguel, please.” Sound just like one, too

“Fuck, okay. Okay, I got you, just…fuck” Miguel groans out, jackhammering into you desperately. 

You squeal, arms coming to wrap around his neck before you pull him into a kiss. Miguel’s eyes shut tight as his thrusts get sloppy, whimpering against your lips as the rope inside his stomach snaps. You whine against his lips as warmth fills you, squirming in his lap even as he’s stopped thrusting. You both pull away, Miguel resting his head on your shoulder as he breathes deeply. He places a delicate kiss to your skin, his hand rubbing you back to help you calm down. Eventually you pull away, a shy smile on your face. Miguel smiles back at you, watching as you look around. “The windows are foggy.”

Miguel chuckles, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. 

“Date me?”

@opalwitchart @peachey-pie @9rfa

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel atsv #miguel x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 smut

[marvelfilth]

Heaven in hiding (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: smut, bottom!Natasha, top! Reader, mention of human trafficking, typical red room stuff

Summary: when it's time for Natasha to go through the final training course you're the one she comes to.

Masterlist

You walk down the dark halls, concrete walls seemingly closing in on you with each step. Today is one of the bad days. Although one could argue that in a place like this all days are bad, you know better. Bad days are a norm, days like this make you want to dig up a hole in the ground and disappear in its depths.

Heavy footsteps following you down the hall promise to make the day even worse.

"Dreykova."

You stop and wait for the man to reach you. Surprisingly, the man isn't alone. You let your eyes wander for a second, taking in Natasha's slumped form. She hides it well from the guard beside her, but there's a slight shakiness to her breath that tells you she's in pain, and the way she favors her right leg makes you worry. You can't help but be proud of her though, even injured, she managed to keep her footsteps silent.

"Today she's assigned to you." He roughly pushes Natasha to you, and turns around without any other words.

You wait until he is out of sight before continuing your way to your room, not sparing another glance to the woman trailing behind you.

"Slower," she breathes out.

You hesitate for a second, but after a short look in her direction you slow down significantly, eyes darting to check for the cameras. You pull her to your side, taking most of her weight when you realize you're in a blind spot. "What happened?"

"Bucky," she hisses and it's all you need to know.

You two are the only ones to know the Winter Soldier by name, brief moments of sudden clarity in his butchered mind allowed you a glimpse into the man he once was. But no matter how bad you felt him, you were ready to shred the man limb by limb every time he hurt Natasha while training.

"I'll have a word with him." You squeeze her side and take a step forward, untangling yourself before rounding the corner. The cameras on the upper part of the wall blink red.

She sends you a look, barely keeping up with your stride. "Don't. He won't remember anything the next day and you'll just get in trouble." Her words are almost inaudible, but to your enhanced hearing they sound clear as day.

You barely manage to hold in a scoff, but don't refrain from rolling your eyes.

You'll get in trouble either way.

After rounding another corner you finally reach a deserted part of the building, right where your room is. Your eyes dart both ways and your ears strain to hear anyone approaching, thankfully, there's no one there.

With one last look down the hall you open the door to your room, holding it for Natasha to come through first. She does so very slowly, finally letting the pain she felt all this time show on her face. Your jaw clenches and you let go of the door, scooping Natasha up in your arms and letting it fall close behind you. You take a second to make sure it's locked before settling her on the bed.

"You didn't have to do that." She mutters, but there's a spark in her eyes that tells you she enjoyed it.

You chuckle and walk around the room collecting everything you might need to treat her injury, from ice to the chocolate bar you hid in your dresser, reserved for moments like this.

Her eyes widen at the sight of it and she doesn't pay attention to what you're doing with her ankle, happily chewing on her guilty pleasure. "Thank you." She manages to say between bites, just as you finish wrapping up her injury, putting the bag of ice on top.

"Anytime," you whisper, falling back against the bedsheets.

It's quiet, only interrupted by occasional crunch of the wrapper and Natasha's contented little sighs and your mind wanders to the plan the two of you formed in the past months.

The plan to get out.

It's easier said than done, to be honest it would be much easier to just jump off a clip, but you'd never let Natasha get hurt, so you're stuck with the harder option.

Bucky helps. You don't know how, but he's been gaining more and more consciousness with every passing week. The last time they wiped him was almost six months ago and you can't help but worry they'll do it again soon, causing your plan to crumble. The sight of Natasha's sprained ankle makes your worry increase tenfold.

You stew in your thoughts, failing to pay attention to the way the redhead slowly turns serious, a solemn expression on her face.

With a nudge to your side she has your full attention and you feel a sense of dread fill your stomach at the haunted look she sends you.

She takes a deep breath. "I saw Dreykov this morning." Her eyes are welled up with tears and suddenly you start to realize the reason why her mood changed so drastically. "It's time."

You sit up, gripping the fabric below you hard enough for it to tear. For a long moment you don't move, simply breathing in and out to try and calm your racing heart. You're overwhelmed by panic and you can't even imagine what Natasha feels like, so you push your feelings aside and turn to face her.

"I'll get you out before it happens." You manage to whisper before jumping to your feet, ready to put your plan in motion months earlier. She catches your arm before you take a step away, pulling you back on the bed.

"If we do this now we're both dead." She punctuates her words with another tug at your hand. Your eyes lock on hers and even though you know she's right you still shake your head, easily escaping the grip she has on you, ready to jump back on your feet. "Stop it," she huffs, and climbs on your lap, wincing in pain.

This time you comply, not wanting to hurt her even more. You lean back on your hands, giving her space.

"Then what do we do? Do you want me to kill them all?" You ask, looking away when a single tear trails down her cheek.

The sound that escapes her throat sounds more like a choke than a laugh. "Then we'll die even sooner."

Her arms circle your shoulders and suddenly she's pulling you snug against her, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. Your hands wrap around her waist instinctively, keeping her from falling over.

"I want to ask you something." Her lips brush against your heated skin. "Something very important."

Your grip on her tightens. "Anything."

She exhales against your collarbone, her eyelashes flutter against your skin while she works up the courage. You tense up, slightly worried about what it might be, but you know you'll agree to anything she says.

She pulls away, putting some distance between you, one of her hands trails up your body to cup your clenched jaw.

"They took everything from me. I can't let them take away this part of me too." Her voice is shaking and her lips tremble. Tears stream down her face freely now, overflowing her vision.

You nod, gears in your mind already turning to formulate another plan, one that would save her from being taken apart by some man.

You're the only woman in this facility allowed to forgo the teachings and only because you're not a Black Widow. If your father had his way, he would've turned you into one and eventually sold your body to some billionaire, but before he could even think about getting his hands on you, Madame B. already had serum running through your veins, making you a much more useful asset. You hate what she's done to you, knowing she did so with no good intent, but at the same time you're grateful she saved you from what Natasha is about to be faced with.

You don't dare ask who your father chose to teach her what he calls the art of seduction. You have a feeling it's Bucky.

Your brows knit in concentration as you struggle to remember tomorrow's patrol schedule, the plan of underground passages leading to the helicopter pad already burned on the back of your mind. The only missing piece is Bucky. You can't do this without his help.

"No." She cuts off your train of thought. You blink rapidly, confused. "That's not what I meant." She adds, closing her eyes. What she says next makes you choke on your breath.

"I want you to have it. I want you to have me," she whispers, her cheeks flaming red.

You sit there, stiff as a board, your mouth slacked and your heart galloping, as she licks her lips nervously, glancing away. Her arm tightens around your shoulder, nails diggings half moons on the burning skin below your training shirt. She patiently awaits your answer while you struggle to form a thought, your eyes fixated on her glistening lips.

"Y/n?" She breathes out. "I understand if you're uncomfortable. I just… I had to ask." Suddenly she's too small, folding in on herself, head falling down in shame and embarrassment and all you can do is stare.

Stare at the way her chest rises with each ragged breath she takes, stare at her flaming red hair, so pretty and soft even in the dim light of your room, stare at the way her green eyes seem brighter than they ever were before, shining with a flurry of emotions. You think you see a flicker of hope.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat awkwardly.

There's a smile forming on her lips, a gentle pull at the corners of her mouth, so beautiful that it takes your breath away. "Yes. You're the only one I've ever wanted."

You nod, fixated one the way her smile widens, lighting up her face. "Okay."

Suddenly she's moving fast enough to make you dizzy, pushing against your lips with so much force it makes you tumble back on the bed, pulling her down with you. You kiss her back with just as much vigor, tugging at her bottom lip in a silent question. She gasps, allowing you to slide your tongue in the warmth of her mouth, meeting her tongue in a heated dance.

Her nimble fingers work through your clothes quickly, pulling them one by one in a span of seconds. You follow her lead, taking your time getting her naked, making sure to pay attention to each revealed patch of flawless pale skin, kissing and licking every inch.

You rise to your elbows and push her back on the bed, claiming the spot between her bent knees as you kiss down her stomach to the waistband of her pants. You make sure to be extra gentle in taking them off, paying attention to her swollen ankle. You exhale when you finally have her only in her underwear, patiently laying against your sheets, lips swollen, her hair a tangled mess.

"Are you sure?" You ask again, tracing circles on her hip bone, your other hand sneaking behind her back to rest on her bra clasp.

She barely manages to utter a quiet yes before she's pulling you down to claim your lips in a desperate kiss, her nails digging at the skin of your back when you finally take off her bra, palming her full breasts. She moans, arching her back into your touch, her head falling back against the pillow to reveal her throat. You pull away just for a moment, admiring her lean body, before diving back to leave marks on her throat, gently rolling the skin of her jugular between your teeth before sucking it in, your tongue leaping out to soothe the burn.

Her hand tangles in your hair in a desperate attempt to pull you down to her breasts and you comply, leaving a trail of hickeys in your wake.

The cry she lets out when you finally suck on her hardened nub is almost heavenly. She writhes below you, panting hard as you take your time playing with her peaks, alternating your mouth and fingers, twisting and biting, licking and tugging. Her legs are snug around your waist now, trying to relieve the tension with futile humps against your crotch.

You hum against her chest, rising just enough to make sure she heard you. "I'll give you whatever you want, pretty girl."

Her eyes squeeze shut. "I want everything, please. Everything."

You nod and hook your fingers on the waistband of her panties, tugging them down, watching in fascination how her wetness clings to the fabric. She makes a move to rub her thighs, but you beat her to it, palming her heated center, your fingers teasing her entrance. She cries out and clamps her thigh around your hand, restricting your movement.

You bend over her, holding your weight on one arm. "You have to spread your legs for me, baby." You cup her face, your thumb disappearing between her lips as she sucks it in eagerly.

Her legs spread wide open and you let out a sharp breath, sliding down her body. She's absolutely breathtaking, so wet and puffy, ready for you to take. You place a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then another one and another, your finger still teasing her entrance. She's shaking from tension, her knuckles white from how hard she's pressing her hails in the soft skin of her palms. Your movements are excruciatingly slow as you map the trail leading to her gushing center, sharply inhaling her sweet scent.

She whines and sneaks a hand down, fisting your hair, tugging you to where she needs you most. You go along with the movement, finally placing your lips on her swollen clit, gently pushing a single finger inside her at the same time. She lets out a loud cry, pressing you hard against her and begs you to continue, barely coherent in her words.

You hum in delight, thrusting in her slick pussy and lapping at her nub, sucking it in with each push of your finger, she moves her hips to meet you halfway, tugging at your hair. You try your luck and slowly push another finger in, paying extra attention to her pulsing bud of nerves. She welcomes you with a loud moan, throwing her good leg over your shoulder, her heel digging into your back.

"Harder, please," she whimpers. "I'm so close."

You chuckle against her, and curl your fingers inside her, thrusting against a spongy spot hard enough to make her legs shake. One last lick on her clit and she moans, her whole body tensing up, her grip on your hair ironclad, as she clenches around your fingers, her wetness coating your chin.

You ease out gently, placing gentle pecks to her folds, doing your best to clean her up, avoiding her sensitive bud. She tugs you up, eyes closed, and pulls you in a slow kiss, tasting herself on your lips.

Her eyes sparkle when you pull away, her lip trapped between her teeth. "More?" She asks shyly, trailing a finger down your jaw.

"More," you say, before pulling her in for another bruising kiss.

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow smut #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #natasha romanoff #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x you #heaven in hiding

[candycandy00]

Can you do a Suguru and Satoru fic with them being horny bullies to a shy curvaceous nerdy girl? I love the bully stories!

Hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Rape/Noncon. Fem Reader. College AU. Bullying. First time sex. Oral sex. Coercion. Gojo and Geto are cruel scumbags. This is a mean-spirited little fanfic! And before anyone wonders, I did discuss details with the requester before writing this. 

You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the empty campus library, peacefully reading your book, when you hear the heavy wooden door open. That alone is unusual enough. At this time of day, an hour after all classes have ended, the library is always deserted, not even a librarian or custodian in sight. But then you hear a pair of loud voices, laughing, talking, and you feel panic rising in your heart. 

With only one way in or out of the library, you know you can’t simply flee to an exit. Those two are near the door. Your only option is to hide and hope they don’t spot you. Maybe you could even circle back around to the door once they move further in. So you grab your book and your bag, so they won’t see any signs of your presence, and move quietly but quickly to the row of shelves nearby, ducking low to try to stay out of sight. 

You can hear them walking around, making no attempt to be quiet. They don’t care if you hear them approaching. Hell, maybe they want you to, maybe it’s part of their plan to terrorize you. 

“You sure she’s in here?” a voice asks as they move toward the tables. 

“I’ve seen her come in here every day this week. This is definitely her new hideout,” the other replies. 

They’re getting closer to the shelves. You’re not an idiot. You know they’ll check them, but if you can time it just right, you might be able to move between the shelves to avoid them. 

Suddenly they go silent. You can’t hear their voices or their footsteps. Fuck. They know you’re hiding between the shelves, and they don’t want you to know which direction they’re coming from. You try to watch both ends of the aisle you’re in, your plan now being to flee in the opposite direction the moment you catch sight of them. 

You stand there, ready to run, your heart pounding, when you finally see it. On the back end, a glimpse of white hair as the tall young man moves around the corner. You immediately make a run for it, sprinting toward the front, toward the library door. But just as you reach the end of the aisle, two strong arms reach out from the side and grab you.

“Got you,” a smooth voice says as you’re dragged back into the aisle, between the tall shelves that now feel like the walls of a cage. 

You struggle and kick, yelling, “Let me go!”

In the aisle, Gojo Satoru is waiting for his best friend, Geto Suguru, to bring you to him. They’ve been bullying you relentlessly all year, gradually getting worse as the months rolled by. It started simple, with them occasionally knocking your books out of your hands and laughing as they gave fake apologies, then shoving you against the wall and pretending they didn’t see you. Lately, their tactics had taken a decidedly sexual turn, as they’d taken to flipping up your skirt and commenting on your panties and even copping feels of your chest or ass when they caught you alone. 

You were an easy target for them. Quiet, reserved, and having few friends to surround yourself with, it was obvious why they chose you. Despite the growing intensity of their harassment, you haven’t reported them. Doing so would make the entire school hate you, and no one would believe you. Gojo and Geto were the school’s golden boys. They were beloved by everyone, and could do no wrong. They were easily the hottest guys in school, got perfect grades despite never seeming to study, and had both won various awards for their performances in several different sports. 

They were perfect, and you hated them. The universe was cruel indeed, to make the two biggest scumbags on the planet also be so gorgeous that everyone was blinded by their beauty. Everyone but you. 

Geto’s grip on you loosens just a bit, but at this point you’re trapped between them. If you try to run again, they’ll easily catch you. They’re both track team stars, for fuck’s sake. 

You try to calm down, to talk to them rationally and pray they’re feeling merciful today. “What do you two even want? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Geto is behind you, his hands around your waist. It’s the kind of position you’ve seen couples in. Gojo is standing in front of you, uncomfortably close, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We just wanna play with you,” Gojo says, his eyes hidden behind the dark sunglasses he wears when not in class. 

“Why were you running away?” Geto’s voice asks into your ear. “That hurts our feelings.”

You turn your head to look at Geto. Of the two of them, he’s definitely the most likely to listen to reason. “I-I don’t feel well today. Please, just let me go.”

Geto looks to Gojo. “She doesn’t feel well, Satoru. What should we do?”

It doesn’t sound like he’s asking a serious question. It sounds like he’s mocking you. 

Gojo gives you a look of fake concern. “Poor thing. What’s wrong? You on the rag?”

Before you can even answer, Gojo’s hand shoots out and moves under your skirt, squeezing your crotch through your panties. You gasp and freeze up in terror. He’s never been this bold before.

“I don’t feel a pad,” he says, withdrawing his hand. 

“Maybe she uses tampons,” Geto suggests, his grip on your waist seeming to tighten. 

Gojo snaps his fingers loudly. “That’s probably it! Let’s find out!”

“No, stop!” you cry, wriggling out of Geto’s grasp as Gojo’s hand moves toward your skirt again. “I’m not on the rag!”

Gojo stops, lowering his hand. “Then what’s wrong with you?”

You look back and forth between them, trying to think up a convincing lie. Would they have pity on you if you made up a sob story? You could say your dad died yesterday, or that you just found out you have cancer. But lying about things like that, even to escape danger, just doesn’t feel right. And besides, these two sadistic assholes probably wouldn’t care. 

“I think I’m coming down with the flu,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might want to avoid possibly catching it from you. 

“Oh, that’s all?” Geto asks. 

“Should have gotten your flu shot like we did,” Gojo adds with a laugh. 

Your heart sinks as you watch Gojo pull something from his pocket. Geto is no longer holding you but he’s so close against your back that you can feel his body heat. 

Gojo holds up some sort of pen. “I ordered this the other day. It’s a super strong permanent marker. The ink is guaranteed to stay on skin for at least seven days, no matter how much you scrub it.”

He pulls the cap off and points the marker at you. “Why don’t we test it out? I could write, ‘This dumb cunt belongs to Gojo and Geto’ across your forehead!”

You shrink back away from him, but that only results in you pressing your back into Geto’s toned chest. 

“Satoru, I don’t think that many words will fit on her forehead,” Geto says. 

“Oh, right. Well, we can just scribble it all over her face then,” Gojo replies. 

“Please, don’t! Just leave me alone!” you cry out, your voice breaking into a sob. 

They watch you shake and tremble, then look at each other. Gojo nods, as if they had already agreed to something beforehand, and Geto suddenly steps back away from you, giving you space. 

“Okay, we’ll leave you alone today,” Geto tells you. 

You look up at him with teary eyes. “You will?”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, as if he’s suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah. We didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Gojo pats your shoulder in what he probably thinks is a comforting manner. “The truth is we kinda like you. We didn’t realize we were taking things too far.”

You look at both of them with wide eyes. You don’t trust them at all, so you just want to get out of here as fast as you can. “So… I can go?”

“Sure,” Geto says, smiling at you. 

Without waiting for them to change their minds, you grab your fallen bag and book from the floor and walk down the aisle, toward the door. Just before you get to the end, you hear Gojo’s voice. 

“Hey, Suguru, who’s that nerdy little guy she always sits with at lunch? Mori-something…”

“Moriyama,” Geto corrects him. “He’s always in the chemistry room around this time, with his little club of fellow nerds.”

“Yeah, that’s him! Since she can’t play with us today, let’s go play with Moriyama!”

You stop dead in your tracks and look back at them, a deep, engulfing dread building in the pit of your stomach. “What did you say?” you ask them, your voice weak and quiet but echoing in the mostly empty library. 

They both look at you. “Never mind us,” Geto says with a charming smile. “Go on home and take care of yourself.”

Gojo looks back to Geto, as if he’s ignoring you now. “Hey, let’s drag Moriyama out of the chemistry room, strip him naked, and write all kinds of hilarious shit all over him! Then we can make him walk back into the room like that so all his friends can see!”

You feel your heart pounding again. Moriyama is a sweet, kind, happy young man who has made your miserable life at this school just a little bit bearable. You’ve never told him about the bullying you suffer through, but you think he suspects something is troubling you. He’s always trying to cheer you up and offering to listen if you need to talk. In truth, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, but you haven’t had the courage to tell him yet. 

You can’t let these two monsters hurt him, especially not because of you. 

“Leave Moriyama alone!” you say, more firmly than you’ve ever said anything to them before. “He has nothing to do with this!”

They look at you again, and they both grin. “We’re going to play with someone today,” Geto says. “Will it be you, or Moriyama?”

Your hands are shaking at your sides. There’s something different about them today. They’re more aggressive, more cruel, more terrifying. But you have to protect Moriyama, so you slowly walk back down the aisle to stand near them as you say, “Y-you can play with me.”

“That’s great,” Gojo says happily, then he looks at Geto behind you. “Did you lock the door?”

“Of course.”

You look between the two of them, your eyes frantic. Lock the door? What were they going to do to you?!

All of a sudden, Gojo leans down and picks you up, practically slinging you over his shoulder as he carries your panicked, squirming form to the cluster of tables near the back. He flops you down onto one of the tables, on your back, and starts unbuttoning your shirt. You scream and try to push his hands away, but Geto is at the other end of the table, and he grabs your wrists to pin them down. 

Completely helpless to stop him, you whimper in shame as Gojo pushes your unbuttoned shirt open and shoves your bra up above your ample breasts, exposing you. He lets out a whistle as he pulls his sunglasses down to get a good look. You’ve never seen his eyes up close before, and wish you never had. They’re deceptive, far too beautiful to belong to someone so twisted. 

One of Gojo’s hands squeezes your breast, way too roughly. If the rumors are true, he’s slept with a ton of different girls. He should know how to touch a woman, which means he’s intentionally hurting you. He laughs when you wince under his touch. 

“She’s got decent tits,” he says to his friend. 

Geto releases one of your hands and reaches down to grope your other breast. His touch is softer, but equally unwelcome. You jerk your free arm down and try to push the offending hands away, but Geto pinches your nipple harshly and says, “If you keep struggling, we’ll assume you’d rather we play with Moriyama.”

You freeze up again, dropping your arm beside you. Geto releases your other wrist and looks at Gojo. “So who’s going to fuck her first?”

The words send a spike of panic through your whole body, but you realize fighting will do you no good. They’re way stronger and faster than you, there are two of them, and they effectively have a hostage. The deck is stacked against you so badly, you don’t have a prayer. 

You close your eyes for a moment as tears begin to leak out. You don’t want your first time to be with these assholes. They’ll hurt you on purpose, make it as unpleasant as possible. All you can do is hope they might not notice you’re a virgin. 

“I want to,” Gojo says, unbuckling his belt. “I’ve been hard for like twenty minutes now.”

Geto frowns. “I hate going in after you. You always leave them all stretched out.”

Hearing this terrifies you, but you try not to show any reaction. 

“Okay, fine,” Gojo says. “You can fuck her pussy first. But I’m taking her mouth right now.”

You watch in stunned horror as Gojo pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sits down, spreading his legs far apart and reaching into his open pants. He pulls out his dick, and you can only think to yourself, “That can’t be right.”

They’re not supposed to be that big, are they? How is that supposed to fit inside you? You look at it with terror as Geto pulls you up from the table and pushes you to your knees in front of Gojo. 

“Get busy,” Gojo tells you. “My dick’s not gonna suck itself.”

Thinking only of protecting Moriyama, you scoot closer to Gojo and lean your face forward. You’ve never done this before, but you just have to put it in your mouth and move your head back and forth, right? So you open your lips and let his cock slide in. It feels gross, but you try to ignore that as you make shallow motions, your lips sliding partway down his shaft and then back. 

After a few seconds, Gojo sighs and says, “Use your fucking tongue, sheesh. If this is the kinda head Moriyama’s getting, I feel sorry for the guy.”

You feel your face burning with embarrassment, and you start running your tongue over his tip, hoping it will satisfy him. The sooner he finishes, the sooner you can get his dick out of your mouth. 

Geto moves behind you and pulls your open shirt off your shoulders, then unhooks your bra and pulls it off. Even though your tits have been out for a while now, you still somehow feel even more exposed. You feel Geto’s warm hands on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, then his fingers playing with your nipples. You keep your hands stiffly at your sides, resisting the unbearable urge to pry Geto’s hands off you and shove Gojo away. 

It feels like an eternity of this torment passes before Gojo’s cock suddenly seems to get harder in your mouth. Then all at once, there’s a flood of gooey cum filling you, coating your tongue and throat. You draw back reflexively, letting some of it spill out over your lips. 

“Hey, don’t waste it,” Gojo says, using his fingers to scoop up some from your chin and then shoving it back into your mouth. You gag and heave, but he forcibly holds your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” he says. 

You have no choice but to obey, letting it glide down your throat as tears stream down your face. 

When it’s over, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before the boys pick you up and sit you on the table again. This time Gojo is behind you. He’s climbed onto the table and has his legs on either side of you, his arms around your torso. Geto is in front of you, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs and then tossing them onto the floor. When he pushes your legs apart, you close your eyes, trying to block this all out. 

You feel his fingers on you, opening your folds, feeling around. 

“She’s dry as a desert,” Geto says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

“So let’s get her wet,” Gojo replies, one of his hands snaking down to fondle your pussy. You jerk in his grasp, trying and failing to shrink away from his fingers that are now stroking your clit. 

“S-stop!” you cry weakly.

Geto is between your legs, leaning forward. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you feel his tongue glide over your spread open pussy. 

Gojo jerks his hand away. “Dude, you almost licked my fingers. Gross.”

They both laugh as Geto takes over stroking you with his thumb. Soon you can feel it, a slickness you can’t believe. You hate them! Why is your body betraying you like this?

“She’s ready,” Geto says before opening his own pants. 

“That was easy,” you hear Gojo’s voice at your ear. “Guess we were right. She is a little slut. I bet Moriyama would cry if he found out his girlfriend’s getting wet for other guys!”

They have an entirely wrong idea about your relationship with Moriyama, but at this point there’s no point in trying to correct them. 

You raise up as far as you can to look down. Geto’s cock is already out, and it’s almost as big as Gojo’s. He runs his hand up and down it a few times, then he closes in on you. He positions himself just right, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath. 

Then you feel it, his cock ripping into you. You grit your teeth and hold back any sound from escaping your mouth. You won’t let them hear you scream. 

After a few deep, hard thrusts, Geto pauses. “Satoru?”

“Yes, Suguru?”

“You won’t believe this.”

You open your eyes to see Geto staring down at where your bodies meet. Gojo leans forward to look, then says, “Holy shit! She’s a virgin?!”

They both look to your face for confirmation, but you can only look away without speaking. 

Gojo laughs loudly. “Oh wow, that’s hilarious! You’re losing your virginity to a guy you hate!” 

“Satoru,” Geto says, his voice somewhat strained as he thrusts back into you, “shut the fuck up.”

He’s not going as deep or as hard as before. Is he trying to be gentle with you? Now? He doesn’t need to bother. It doesn’t change what he’s doing to you, what he’s been doing to you for months now. He’s just trying to ease what tiny shred of conscience he has left. 

Gojo is watching your face, seeming amused. “Wait, was that your first blowjob just now? That explains why you were so lousy at it! No offense.”

You turn away from him, just wanting this to be over. All you want is to go home and take a bath, to scrub their touch away, to wash off the smell of their expensive cologne. 

Geto pumps in and out of you for a while longer, then grunts as he suddenly pulls out. Then you feel his hot cum splatter on your stomach. 

“You should’ve given her a creampie,” Gojo tells him. 

Geto rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because getting her pregnant would be a great idea. Idiot.”

Gojo gets off the table and leaves your limp body lying prone, your legs still spread apart, blood trickling out of you. He gets the marker, the one he’d threatened you with earlier, and starts writing on your body. At this point you don’t even have the energy to care. You think you hear Geto telling him to stick to places that would be covered up by your clothes. He’s probably afraid someone will find out what they did. 

Before they leave, Geto throws your shirt over you and says, “I’ll leave the door locked on our way out so no one comes in.” You look at him blankly, not responding. Are you supposed to thank him for this tiny speck of decency amidst a sea of abuse? 

Gojo grins at you as he puts his sunglasses back on. “We’ll see you tomorrow! And if you open your dumb slut mouth about this to anyone, we’ll make Moriyama’s life hell.” Then he blows you a kiss as the two of them disappear out the door. 

For a while, you just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, not thinking or feeling. Then you sit up and look down. The words are upside down for you, but still easy enough to read. Written across your chest is the word “WHORE” in all capital letters. On you lower stomach, Gojo has scrawled, “We popped this cherry!” along with an arrow pointing at your crotch. He even doodled a couple of cherries on a stem. 

With trembling hands, you pull your clothes back on and pick up your bag and book. You’re already sobbing by the time you make it to the door. 

Worst of all is the unsettling realization that you’re only halfway through the year, and now you’re stuck being the fucktoy of your bullies. This was going to be one hell of a year. 

#gojo x reader x geto #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #gojo satoru #geto suguru #Jjk x reader #Jjk smut #x reader #tw: rape

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 950 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post time-skip Akaashi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: one person being casually rude about your weight (it’s quick tho)

____________________________________________

The taiyaki were still hot in the white paper bag, the smell reminding you it was almost lunch time.

Looking the street up and down for a bus stop or a waiting taxi you turned on the spot. A little ways up the pathway you could make out the typical black boxy shape of a Tokyo taxi and readjusting your handbag you headed towards it, only for a busy looking person in a suit to snatch it up before you could reach it, muttering something about how you would be better off walking for some exercise.

In disbelief about such rudeness you shook your head, pulling your coat a little closer around your chubby form.

You were sure another taxi would take its place soon enough and got on tiptoes to examine the traffic, on the lookout for one.

A mischievous breeze blew up your coat collar, making you wish you would have worn a scarf after all. Although April was right around the corner, the weather today was icy cold.

Giving up for the time being you headed towards a little flower shop you had passed just a few meters back to warm yourself.

A bell chimed when you opened the door. Pots with regular and more exotic house plants stacked on shelves along the wall, one display case behind the counter held the fresh cut flowers while another showed already bound bouquets in varying sizes and color schemes.

The woman standing behind the cash register called a friendly greeting and held the beginnings of a new arrangement at arm's length to check for possible improvements.

"What can I do for you?", she asked, putting the flowers down and folding her hands over a small pregnant belly.

"I would like a bouquet with peonies and… some eucalyptus, please."

The woman smiled and got to work, asking here and there for specifics in color or fullness.

She was about to come to an end with the simple coral and cream bouquet when the doorbell rang again and a young man looking remarkably like a substitute literature teacher entered the shop, a phone to his ear.

"Yes, father, I am getting flowers. I’ll be there soon. Oh, actually, I might be a while, there are quite a lot of people waiting."

You heard an angry voice yelling something unintelligible from the phone, when he simply hung up and sighed. He reached to tug at his collar like it was too tight and closed his eyes for a second, then, remembering he was in public, gave a bow to you and the saleswoman and apologized.

"Please take as long as you want.", he said, almost pleadingly.

He looked like he had a headache, grabbing his collar again.

"O-on second thought,", you began, turning to the owner that was just about to add the last eucalyptus branch, "I forgot I wanted more. Silly me. Uhm, could you make one with… hmm, those blue ones, some of the small greens, those white tulips, and lots of those light blues there, please? And then another one… with those yellow ones there, there and those, too, please." Your best friends would be delighted.

"Oh", the owner caught on immediately, "that was quite a lot. I don’t think I could memorize which ones you wanted all at once."

"No problem. I can tell you one by one."

The young man gave a small grateful smile at the stage-play-like interaction, letting out a “Thank you very much” under his breath.

As the shop owner wrapped up the first bundle of flowers at snail speed, you turned to the young man, wanting to cheer him up.

"So, where do you not want to go?"

Seemingly too exasperated to care about talking to a perfect stranger he said, "A blind date. Which, by the way, isn't actually blind but with a woman I have absolutely no interest in talking to about anything."

"Oh fun.", you said and trying to lighten the mood added, "Why not bring some flowers that say Thanks for coming, I don’t wanna be here?"

Everyone laughed, but the guy stopped after a second or two, looking at you for the first time, then turned to the florist.

"Can I do that?"

She thought for a moment, then slowly nodded, "I can add some candytuft, for sure and… hm, something really neutral for… and then… maybe I still have some butterweed. Yeah, I think I can do that."

You stayed even after your third bouquet was done, keeping the conversation going, joking around and glad when the young man gave a genuine laugh.

"Let me.", he said, sounding tired, when you drew out your wallet to pay for your flowers.

You shook your head, smiled and handed your card to the owner. Then you reached into the paper bag.

The buns in the meantime had turned lukewarm, but still smelled heavenly when you fished one out in a napkin and handed it to the woman - the other still in the bag you placed on the counter for a moment, grabbing a pen from your pocket. You quickly jotted down your name and number on the paper and handed it to him.

“And here. If you need rescuing from your blind date, send me a text and I’ll call you right away with some made-up emergency.”

Then you raised your free hand that wasn’t busy balancing the flowers with a “You got this.” and after a final wave you left.

Akaashi was still staring at the door for a few long moments after you had gone.

“You’d make a cute couple.”, the saleswoman mused and grinned when the young man blushed profusely, holding tighter to the paper bag.

____________________________________________

#akaashi x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi x you #hq akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket (Part 5)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,541

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Notes: ugh. i don't like this one.

_________________________________________

“What?”

There’s no way she just said what you think she said. You wouldn’t be able to hear it with the pounding of your heart and your blood rushing through your ears, you can’t even decipher her next words as the floor falls from your feet.

How would she know that? You pride Mor on her innate ability to find out most information about almost anyone, she’s like a secret agent sometimes. Once, when Feyre had had told you and Mor that her sister Elain was to be engaged to a man no one in her family liked, Mor spent two nights digging into his socials and finding out everything she could about the bastard. To this day, Elain still doesn’t know who it was that sent her those anonymous screenshots and photos of him with another woman.

But right now, you don’t think it’s possible for Mor to have found something out like this. You and Cassian have been so careful, to the extend where you’d been a little paranoid even, always checking your surrounding and planning the times you and him meet up down to the second. You’re anal as fuck about it, but it’s worked for eight months. So why isn’t it working right now?

“I know you don’t want me to repeat myself,” Mor huffs down the line, but her voice is all static, your ears ringing. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your fingers and your arm is numb with it. You’re terrified to pull the device from your ear, not knowing who or what kind of messages you’re receiving right now.

The elevator rings, signaling its arrival to your floor, and the doors sliding open almost feel like a death sentence. On numb legs, you step forward and off the elevator, Mor’s voice still echoing in your head. You’re dating Cassian Bailey?

Bright flashes jolt you from your thoughts. Whipping your head to where the front entrance is located, you quint, holding your hand up to block some of the glare. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight. A crowd of paparazzi wait outside, snapping pictures of you through the lobby’s clear windows.

Holy shit. This is real. This is really fucking happening.

You’re not prepared in the slightest. You don’t know what to do, your mind is racing with a thousand thoughts a second and the strobes coming from the front of your building blind you, leaving white spots in your vision, taking out another one of your senses. Mor is rambling on in your ear, shrill sounding, and if you could make out the words through your muddled mind, you figure she’s scolding you and feeling a bit betrayed by you keeping this a secret from one of your closest friends.

Outside, the people shout. Their words are muffled by the thick glass, but it only adds to the anxiety scorching your veins. The collar of your shirt tightens around your throat and your breathing turns shakey. You’re frozen to the spot, halfway out of the elevator, the doors trying to slide closed but your body against the sensor keeps them angrily pulling back open.

The people waiting for the elevator upstairs are probably pissed.

“Mor?” you ask, and she falls silent. You must not sound like yourself because Mor never lets anyone interrupt her. Ever.

“Yeah?” Her tone is cautious, obviously picking up the emotion—or lack thereof—in your tone.

“What’s going on?”

It’s the only thing you can think to say. Your mind is being hammered with thoughts and the bright lights trying to blind you aren’t helping in the slightest but your feet are frozen to the ground. You know you look like a deer in headlights and that you should move, force yourself to do anything besides stand here like a fool for them to get all of the pictures they want—

Your body surges into action, striding out of the elevator and turning down the hall, giving them your back. You can hear their pathetic pleas for you to turn around and walk their way, but you know better than that. They’re here for one thing and one thing only—to see exactly who Cassian Bailey is sticking his dick into.

Rumors and stories will be swirling by tonight. Your phone buzzes in your hand again and you’re sure these pictures are already up in the tabloids, social media, every inch of the internet they can reach. You wonder if Cassian’s seen any of it and then remember that he’s finishing up practice, so he won’t be by his phone to see all of this for at least another hour.

You’re all alone in this.

Mor sighs your name sadly, and your chest squeezes tight as you round a corner, putting a wall between you and the paparazzi. What she’s about to say isn’t going to be something that you want to hear, but maybe it will make it all the more real.

“There was a picture of you in the Morning Mail,” she explains, and your throat tightens. The Morning Mail is a stupid tabloid online that updates every morning. Most of the time it’s filled with silly stories of random acts of kindness or pranks gone wrong with the occasional post about the current celebrity gossip. You didn’t even know that many people followed the account. Mor does because she’s been on their feed a few times and it gained her thousands of followers overnight. “You’re wearing his shirt.”

You want to choke. You never leave the house in Cassian’s clothes; you make sure of that. You’ve been so careful all this time, parking down the street from his place when you visit, forcing him to take a car and get dropped off since people are surely tracking his personal license plates. You don’t sit with the other families in the stadium at the home games, and Cassian doesn’t even follow you on social media.

You’re wearing his shirt, you echo, wracking your brain for any chance you may have slipped up. Nothing comes to mind, and when you hang your head, it hits you full force; the t-shirt you’d stolen of his in your rush to avoid his more than cheeky attitude this morning. Distracted by his wandering hands, his charming smile, you’d shoved one of his on, tucking it into your slacks before rushing out the door.

“Fuck,” your voice wobbles, tears pricking your eyes and emotion thickening your throat. It’s a black fucking cotton t-shirt, and apart from the sheer size of it and how it hangs loosely from your body, you haven’t the slightest idea of how they know it’s his. But it is, and they know.

A quick glance around the corner has your heart stammering in your chest. The photographers look like a bunch of wild animals, climbing over each other trying to catch a glimpse of you. You pray that their flashes are reflecting off of the glass and ruining their photos, but surely, your luck has completely run out if this is how your Monday is going.

You need to get out of here, now.

“I’ve already called Feyre,” Mor says down the line, and you’re confused on why you weren’t the first call she’d made when she continues. “My attempts went right to voicemail, and I called you right back as soon as I let her know. We’re already on our way to your place but we can swing by if you want a ride?”

“Yeah, I—”

“(Y/N)?” Tarquin’s voice startles you as he peeks around the corner. His bleached brows are furrowed deeply, a frown painting his face when he catches the frazzled look on your face. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Ah, so he’s also seen the mass of crazies outside trying to capture a front cover photo of you.

You have a choice right now, to lie to your coworker and say that you have no idea what’s going on or who they’re trying to take pictures of, or confide in your best work friend who’s been with you since the start. Literally, you both started on the same day and have been inseparable since.

You choose the latter.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” you ask, holding your hand over the speaker of your phone while you talk to Tarquin. “It seems as though my car is surrounded by strangers.”

With a quick glance back in the direction to the front doors of the building, Tarquin agrees, tone hesitant and a little confused, but he’s gracious nonetheless. “Sure, I can do that. Let me bring my car around the back and I’ll pick you up there?”

You nod, thankful. “Yes, please. Thanks, Tarq, you’re the best.”

He smirks genuinely and you’d roll your eyes at his antics if you weren’t shaking down to the bone. With a wink, Tarquin makes his way through the crowd, and you can hear his cheerful voice as he shoved through the doors, obviously loving all of the attention.

“Mor?” you ask into your phone once he’s gone, “I’ve got a ride, just meet me at my place.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“So…are we going to talk about why all of those people were asking me about you and trying to get pictures?” Tarquin asks once you’ve successfully made it out into the busy traffic and away from the fleet of paparazzi surrounding your place of work.

Tarquin had picked you up at the back of the building and you all but dove into his car before any of the photographers could catch a glimpse of you. Your coworker had shoved a baseball cap in your direction, one with the Sealion’s logo on it that you reluctantly shoved on your head, slumping down in your seat so you weren’t seen.

Your phone has been buzzing constantly, and you’re worried you might actually have to get a new number with the onslaught of texts, calls, and notifications threatening to send your phone into the same shock you’re currently experiencing. Your parents have even been trying to get through, but you haven’t had the guts to answer any of them or even dare to look on any social media platform. You’ve just been staring at the screen, constantly lit with incoming messages, buzzing fervently in your lap.

You glance at the clock on the radio, blinking 5:32. How could your entire world have turned upside down in the matter of thirty-two minutes? You’ve gone from normal girl working a nine to five at a graphic design firm to Cassian Bailey’s girlfriend all because of a fucking plain t-shirt.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get over that, the fact that an oversized, black cotton t-shirt is your downfall in all of this. It’s mind-boggling to believe that someone had connected the dots that quickly, but there are some avid fans of Cassian’s that you wouldn’t dare to go head-to-head with.

“What’s there to talk about?” you speak softly, defeated. With a sigh, you shut your phone off. It’s the best way to avoid what’s going on on the internet until you can wrap your head around everything and what you plan to do about it. You’re exhausted already, just attempting to think about it. You let your head fall to the side, the leather squeaking against your head as you look over at your friend. “You heard them, Tarq.”

Everything that you’ve worked for, your privacy, your art, might all be ruined. Gaining your own following in the graphic design community had been hard, and now that you’re about to be known by the world doesn’t sit right with you. How are you supposed to make really work-related connections when people might only be seeking you out to get closer to Cassian? The thought of being used like that makes your stomach roil. Your trust issues are about to be through the roof.

You stare back out at the traffic and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your brain hurts and you just want to be in the safety of your home.

“So, you’re dating Cassian Bailey,” Tarquin says, like if he almost can’t believe it himself. A sharp pinch to your shoulder has your eyes shooting open and your body bolting upright, only for the seatbelt to lock and nearly choke you.

Yelping, you glare at your friend, but his ice blue eyes are focused on the road. “Hey! What was that for?”

“For not telling me, obviously,” Tarquin scoffs, glancing over his shoulder and flicking on his turn-signal to switch lanes. You peek out of the passenger mirror, anxious that one of the photographers caught a glimpse of you leaving and has somehow followed you thus far.

“I didn’t tell anyone, if it makes you feel better.”

You’re answered with a roll of his eyes.

You don’t know what to say, how to respond to Tarquin, how to respond to any of this. All you want to do is crawl in a hole and hide away for the next few years. How are you supposed to go about your day normally when everything is anything but normal? You’ll be expected to show up with Cassian now, be there in the crowd for the home matches, you know people will be looking for you.

A headache splits your skull at the thoughts running rampant in your mind. There are so many things to think about now, each and every move you make is going to have to be calculated. You’ll have to think about what you’re going to wear, how you’ll present yourself, thinking about what to say before you speak. Anything you do now will reflect on Cassian’s career, and fans will be blaming you for his mistakes.

It's all too much.

“How long has this been going on?” Tarquin asks softly, as if sensing you’re stuck in your head and need help getting out. You don’t really want to talk about you and Cassian at all right now, but you shove those impending thoughts aside with a sigh, and talk to your friend.

“A little over eight months, now.”

“Is he hung?”

You splutter, choking on your saliva, and Tarquin laughs. This, this is why he’s your favorite coworker. Tarquin isn’t afraid of saying what’s on his mind, no matter how HR unfriendly the question may be.

“I’m not answering that,” you laugh, craning your neck to look out the window, hiding your hot face. The blush staining your cheeks is answer enough.

Tarquin tuts, turning down your street. It’s empty, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls up to your building and there isn’t a crowd of people shouting your name and trying to take your picture. A little of the tension eases from your shoulders.

“Do you want me to pick you up for work in the morning?” Tarquin asks, pulling over to let you out.

You shake your head, gathering your things. “I’m going to call in sick tomorrow. Don’t know what I’m going to do after that. Do you think Alis will let me work from home permanently?” You ask. Alis, your boss, is a strict woman who you can’t seem to figure out if she likes or dislikes anyone that works for her.

Tarquin huffs, “I doubt it. She’s tough as nails, that one.”

“Might just have to quit then, I suppose.”

Your friend’s jaw drops and he looks at you with eyes of betrayal. “You are not going to leave me with the wolves like that! I’ll come drag your ass out of this apartment everyday if I need to.”

“But if I quit, you’ll get to take over Tamlin’s project,” you tease, and his eyes widen comically. He hadn’t thought about that one, apparently. Unlatching the lock, you slide out of the vehicle. You lean down, looking back at your coworker. “Thanks for the ride, Tarq. I’ll text you later.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Feyre and Mor meet you at the door to your apartment, their arms packed with grocery bags filled with candles, ice cream, frozen pizzas, and a lot of alcohol.

“You look like you need it,” Feyre had said when you eyed the bottle of vodka she’d unloaded on your counter.

You do.

You have no appetite, picking at the crust of your slice of pizza. Your stomach stirs sickly, the never-ending thoughts consuming you as you fill your two best friends in on the last eight months you’ve spent with Cassian, from when you’d accidentally run into him at the grocery store late one night after a horrible date gone wrong, to this morning, when you’d slipped into his shirt and hastily left for work. You’d left out the part about Cassian trying to seduce you back into bed, but your friends got most of the story.

“This is insane,” you groan, shoving your plate away from yourself with a sigh. “What the hell am I going to do?”

You hadn’t turned your phone back on, you hadn’t wanted to. You left it in your room when you’d gotten home and changed into your most comforting clothes, stuffing that fucking shirt that got you caught to the bottom of your hamper in rage.

Snuggling deeper into your hoodie, you drag the bottle of vodka closer to yourself, pouring a heavy-handed shot. The alcohol burns your throat on the way down and you grimace, focusing on the burn instead of the pricking at the back of your eyes that hadn’t gone away since you’d all but fallen into your best friends’ arms.

“First, we’re going to need to start brainstorming how to get you out of this. Thankfully, I have a little bit of experience with this sort of thing.”

And she does. Mor has been in the tabloids more than a few times, and most of the time it’s a semi-true story with made-up aspects to really make it seem juicier than it is. She was once photographed coming out of a popular restaurant at the same time actor Harry Hybern was headed in to meet with some friends, and the media had a field day with it. As much as she liked the actor, Mor was upset with the fact that he is thrice her age. You would’ve hated being on the other side of that phone call when she’d dialed the magazine that printed the article, demanding a retraction.

“What’s the first thing you usually do when this sort of thing happens?” you ask. Maybe talking to Mor about her experiences in the public eye will make you feel a little better, if not offer an idea of what you can do yourself.

“See how cute I look in the pictures,” Mor answers, unabashed.

You huff out a laugh in response, Feyre giggling into her glass. “That’s the first thing I do when I see you in the media too, Mor,” she says with a grin, “That vomit green look from the other day? Not your best work, and (Y/N)’s plain black t-shirt tucked into her slacks was so cute! I’m totally stealing that look.”

“Go ahead,” you wave her off because you’re never wearing it again.

Mor glares a little, pouting. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Helping our friend and her sudden fame. I’m thinking Cassian’s dick will take care of most of the emotional turmoil,” she says and Feyre laughs a little too hard. Mor reaches into the bag and pulls out a notebook, flipping it to the first page. “We’ll start with some brainstorming—"

A knock at the door startles you from your wallowing. Back straightening, you glance at your friends taking up the other side of the kitchen island, eyes wide and heart hammering in your chest.

“What if it’s more photographers?” you whisper, and your fingers tremble a little so you clench them instead.

Mor and Feyre share a glance, a flash of worry crossing their features as if they hadn’t thought about it.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre decides, placing her half-drunk glass on the counter as she stands. The blanket droops from her shoulders, flopping onto the back of her stool like you want to be right now, a puddle of fabric and emotions. “If it’s them, I’ll say that this is my place and I don’t know who you are.”

“Good idea,” Mor compliments, nudging your glass with the beck of her hand. She gives you a soft, encouraging smile. “Drink up, (Y/N). It’s probably not the paps, but we’ve got to get you less paranoid so you can think better.”

“Not sure getting wasted is going to help with my thinking,” you mutter, tipping your glass back anyway, “But whatever.” Mor is ready when you remove the empty cup from your lips, already pouring you more. You’re glad to have such amazing friends to drop what they’re doing and come over in your time of turmoil, and they haven’t even laid into you yet about keeping this huge secret from them.

Small victories, and all that.

“(Y/N)?” Feyre calls from the other room. She sounds shocked, almost, and the sound of it makes you want to throw the blanket over your head and cower like a fool. “It’s definitely not the paparazzi.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash @kennedy-brooke @tothestarsandwhateverend @azsteris @obsessivereaderchick @aalxrose @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover @bookishbroadwaybish @itsinherited @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @vellichor01

#cassian x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #cassian #rugby!cassian #cassian au #change your ticket #acotar au

[yoonzinuhh]

RUN TO YOU

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : reader x seungcheol,reader x mingyu (NOT A POLY !)

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : office au. boss x worker,co workers,fluff,smut,comfort,hurt,angst.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : SMUT minors dni !! reader has fem descriptions. drunk sex if you squint but are sobered up and is done with consent.

𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 : this is purely fiction. i have no intentions in sexualising any artist. just for entertainment purposes. let me know if you want to be tagged !

series list , episode 2

episode1.

party lights blinding your eyes,stuffy,almost no room for anyone else to enter. if you weren’t so drunk right now you probably would be crying to leave this moment. but this was nice,the party was nice and what’s more nicer is you finally got into your dream company and here you are partying with your few friends who probably went out to fuck with someone while you were grinding onto some man and in your defence,you’re little drunk.

you feel a deep and hot breath against your neck,probably the man you were grinding your ass on for like the past 10 minutes.

you turn back putting your hands over his neck only to earn a smirk.

“if you weren’t going to stop this moment i probably would’ve fucked you right here” god he’s hot.

“well what’s stopping you” is all you had to say and he is already rushing you into one of the rooms upstairs,kissing you even before the door was locked.

pushing you against the wall,his kisses travels from your lips to your jaw to your neck.,all that while his knees were moving between your hot core. you were literally humping on his knee.

“you sure you’re sober for this ? you want this..right?” he whispered in between the kisses.

“y-yeah just be gentle..i’m fine” you moan out when he sucks behind your ear.

taking you to the bed without breaking the kiss the tall man hovers over you while his hands are at the hem of your pink satin dress that tightly hugged your body.

“beautiful” he smiled and started sucking off your nipples slowly. his other hand finds your chest,slowly massaging it making your bud hard. going down and down he stops at your core,slowly opening up your legs. looking up making sure you were okay he just pecks onto your underwear only to snatch it away the very moment.

your panties which is probably in some dark corner,all wet and stinky while he’s eating your out like no tomorrow. sucking,licking,kissing,tapping. GOD you’re going crazy over a man you have no idea about.

sticking two fingers inside of you,slowly moving making sure you loosen up he increases the speed. keeping his fingers go in and out,little faster and then deeper. you feel your stomach heat up,almost flipping you out.

“f-fuck im c-“ he just stops the contact. you can’t help but whine at the loss of touch only for him to put his tip on your entrance.

“tell me if you want to stop” he enters you. so slow as if the time stopped. the feeling of being full when you’re so sensitive from earlier. eyes shut so tightly,this felt like heaven. the pain was soon replaced with pleasure as he focused on moving while massaging your hips.

“f-faster” you moan,not holding back any of it. you just want a good fuck before starting your 9-5 from tomorrow. and this guy fucks you so good,better than any of your exes,hitting your spot and making you a screaming mess.

“shit im cumming” and you let it out. so does he,pulling out he rolls over next to you.

it feels dirty. sweaty from all the partying and fucking. smell of alcohol and cum that’s literally dripping out of you. all of that when you’re sleeping naked with a stranger who probably has killed people or has a wife. so dirty,so ugly.

———————————————————————

you woke up to the sound of your alarm ringing right into your brain. the stranger who you slept with behind you,strangling your waist so tightly,checking the time

8:10 FUCK. FUCK YOU’RE SO FUCKED UP.

you just stand up too quick not caring about the man behind you.

“you’re leaving already?” his deep hoarse voice startling you but you can’t care more because you might actually lose your job the very right moment.

picking up your clothes and phone,putting them over you messily you practically run out of this place not caring at all.

tags : @thepoopdokyeomtouched @leah-rose03 @wonwootakemyheart @fragmentof-indifference

#seventeen #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fanfic #mingyu #mingyu x reader #scoups #scoups x reader #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #svt seungcheol #svt series #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #svt smut

[multifandommilfs]

Our Last Hundred Years

Pairing: Andy x reader

Wc: 2377

Angst, fluff ps sorry Nile

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It had been long since Andy took off to the pharmacy, way too long. It caused worry to brew in your chest. It was usually after a battle that Andy would stay as close as possible to the team to check in on everyone time and time again. Damn it, you buried your face in your palms, paranoia gnawing at the pit of your stomach. What if another wave of army storms in right now? You grit your teeth in frustration, forcing your mind to listen to Nile and Booker's faint conversation. 

 

The door to the old mine creaked open, natural light pouring in. You leapt up instantaneously, giving your teammates an open palm telling them to wait. One step, two steps, you made sure your gait was light as you unsheathed a knife. Yeah, it could very well be Andy, but at this point, you weren't ready to take any risks. 

 

The door to the open space was a narrow flight of stairs and a blind spot just off to the sight where you hid. Thump, thump, thump came in quick succession. In the darkness, your heart sped, the grip on your blade tightened. 

 

The brown coat was what you saw first which was enough to make you launch at her, encasing her in an embrace with relief. She yelped at the blitz attack, body tensing when your arms wrapped around her neck. "Ow shit." She swore softly when your elbows hit her shoulder and you pulled back quickly. Ow? You hadn't heard that since forever. 

 

"Hey, I'm taking Andy out! Just outside!" You hollered while scrutinizing the woman before you. 

 

"Sounds like a bad date!" A round of snickers came from them, and you rolled your eyes. "Says the person who doesn't have a date." 

 

"Ooh! Burnt!" Nile said, but you were dragging Andy upstairs by her arm, hearing her sharp inhalation was more concerning than her absence. Though it might be undetected when it came to others, you had been with her since the birth of everything, you knew her, you could have her tell you what she held back with a look. That's why your glance at her wasn't returned.

 

You chose a shrouded spot where greenery thrived. 

 

"You have something to tell me." You said with arms akimbo, but let your features remain lax, so she wouldn't feel so asphyxiated by your demand. Nevertheless, she chewed on her lower lip, eyes meeting yours momentarily before they darted back to the grassy ground. She couldn't tell you about it. 

 

You let out a breath, dropping your hands from your waist. "Andy..." Your fingers tipped her chin up softly, her gaze remained everywhere but you. "Look at me please?" You manoeuvred into her line of sight, luring her eyes to you. It was then that you noticed a sheen of tears gleaming in her irises, the downcast of her lips. "I'm worried, I have been worried, will you please tell me what's wrong?" 

 

She let out a bitter laugh, brows furrowing as the tears thickened, threatening to fall. You had always been her weakness and her strength, but most importantly, you were the one she trusted to ravage her mind after Qunyh. 

 

She had to tell you but her lower lip wobbled in fear even when she was mentally preparing herself. A glance to the entrance of the old mine and around it proved that there were no traces of eavesdroppers, so her gaze trailed back to you. 

 

"I went to get medicine for my wounds." She winced at how indirect she was being but you were listening intently. 

 

"What are you saying?" 

 

"My wounds, i- they-" She squeezed her eyes shut. How could something she had desired for so long become something so dreadful? "They won't heal." Her voice turned into a whisper because even she couldn't believe the fact. Six thousand years she lived, and suddenly her immortality was stripped away by the stab of a knife. 

 

When she peeled open her eyelids, she was met with a deep furrow cutting in between your brows. "T- that's ridiculous, no, no, that's not supposed to happen, Andy, are you sure you're not misreading it?" 

 

"I'm sure." She saw how tears prickled your eyes, with red rims already forming around your eyes.

 

"Let me see it." You said firmly and scuffed your foot as if you were losing balance. Before she could even reply, you tore the coat off her shoulder, immediately sensing the faint scent of metallic. Your eyes were next to see the damage, red seeping out of the fresh bandage. 

 

"Okay?" She asked, shrugging the coat back up as you staggered back in disbelief. 

 

"No." Your exhale was shaky, and your knees dropped you onto the ground. Six thousand years together and you were left with less than a hundred with her. It was laughable but your mind could only connect to the newest member of the team. Shit has been falling ever since her arrival. 

 

"Is it the girl? Is it Nile? It was yesterday- yesterday when she really accepted herself and today- " Tears gathered in your eyes as you dared a look at her.

 

"I don't know, darling." Her arms wrapped tightly around her midriff. She paused before her eyes drew to you. "We'll figure it out." 

 

"It's her and you know it! Ever since she came, shit's been going down the fucking hill!" Your voice rose, and Andy glanced at the basement door in nervousness. "Stop it!" She hissed.

 

"She's leaving." Your demand made Andy's gaze flit to you in shock. "No, that's- she has nowhere to turn to, y/n!" Her voice turned into a yell because you were slamming the door open to the mine, heading straight for Nile with Andy on your tail, shouting something. But you were mad, heart pounding, seeing red, mad. 

 

In a quick motion, you dragged the girl up by her shoulders, slamming her against the wall and yelling something you couldn't hear yourself say. All you could remember was Andy telling you, "It won't heal," and the look in her eyes: fright. It was enough to kick up your defence. 

 

"You did this! You did this!" The words mustn't be yours, your voice was never that raw.

 

Then you were flying back too fast for your legs to catch up. There was pressure around your shoulders. A sharp pain jabbed the crook of your knee and you kneeled. Andy held you in a vice grip on the ground as you thrashed until you ran out of strength. With wetness on your face, you sobbed as Andy hoisted you into her lap. 

 

"I can't live without you, I don't know how to live without you." You pushed your face into the crook of her neck, breathing raggedly. 

 

"You'll live-" she started softly but you cut her off. "I'll exist! I- I don't live without y- you. I won't have a fucking life, I won't have anything, I can't d-do anything!" Your hands gripped her coat. It was an old coat you got for her, it was one of the first coats that were made, but it was still too new to preserve the memory of Andy when you had thousands of years left to live. 

 

Booker could only comfort Nile and stare at the both of you. He was never really a witness to your emotions, having avoided them after he left his family. But here Andy was whispering something in your ear as you held on as if your life were vanishing before your eyes. 

 

The following weeks were never the same, even after the 'experiment for the greater good fiasco', and Booker's hundred year excommunication. You were pulling Andy out of Nile's proximity in hopes that she'd regain her immortality. Joe and Nicky were well-informed of your feud with Nile. They were all adamant it would blow over, but there came a day when enough was enough. 

 

Today was that day. 

 

"You've got to stop this." Nicky leant against the kitchen counter, a small smile on his lips as you busied yourself with dinner. 

 

You made no sound, moving from the stew to put dirty dishes into the sink. "Am I getting the silent treatment too?" Nicky spun you over by your waist when you passed him so that you couldn't avoid him anymore. 

 

You huffed. "You want me to stop cooking? Fine, you take over." You shoved a ladle in his hands, but he crushed you into a hug. "You shouldn't hurt others because you're hurting." 

 

Your fingers balled up his shirt as your chin adjusted to a more comfortable position. He swayed a little, arms tied around your waist. "It isn't Nile's fault that Andy is now a mortal." 

 

"It is, I think it is. You would do the same if it were Joe." 

 

"For a while, yes, I would presume. But you cannot create an answer to an unanswerable question. Nile is not the answer y/n. There is no answer to why we lose our immortality." 

 

He heard you sniffle. "The stew is boiling." You pulled away slowly, putting out the flame and moving to wash the dirty dishes.

 

"Okay?" He asked when he joined you, pulling you in to kiss your cheek before taking his fair share of dishes. You looked at him, teary-eyed, letting yourself work automatically. "What happens if I don't know? Andy, she's out there right now, with Nile and Joe, and-" you grabbed the kitchen knife, slathering it with dish soap.

 

 "And- I can't function. It's not like I will die but how do you function with the knowledge that you'll lose everything in the next few decades? Not even a century, just five or six decades and she'll-" The blade slipped, cutting your finger as you hissed in pain, garnering Nicky's attention to your wound. Blood seeped out of it, a sight you've seen a thousand times.

 

Just then, the house bustled with energy as they barged in. Andy and Nile laughing at Joe's joke as they dumped groceries onto the table. Your attention was diverted, and the pain subsided when you had to catch rolling apples and oranges before they hit the ground from the toppled paper bags. 

 

"Watch your head." Andy said softly, resting her hand on the edge of the table when you ducked out from beneath the table. 

 

And you had to savour her affections when there was not enough time to accept them absentmindedly. She saw the exhaustion on your features, the worry that was wordlessly telling her to stop caring about you so that you wouldn't have to miss her that much. 

 

Frustration built up in her, she wanted to care with the time she had left. "Come here for a second?" She requested. 

 

You wasted no time in avoiding her, heading in Nile's direction. God knows you owed her some clarity even if you didn't forgive her. 

 

It was a split second touch, Andy's fingers slipped to yours and you winced in pain. "Fuck!"Your hand was now cradled in another, close to your chest. 

 

The chit-chatter dropped in an instant, everyone's heads creaked in your direction like a nightmare, their widened eyes hovering. "Fuck." You whispered under your breath when you understood the situation. 

 

Then, unexpected to yourself, a sliver of happiness curled up your lips just when everyone started panicking and crowding around you. 

 

Andy was gripping your hand as blood slipped from your finger to touch the back of her palm, leaving a trail of red. Nile, in shock, was left behind when Nicky and Joe, with worry present in their expressions, mumbled something, then closed their eyes, praying and begging for your wound to heal. But it wasn't healing, not in the least when Andy's grip tightened and more blood seeped from the cut. 

 

You were smiling, lipless, as your eyes drifted to Andy's frustrated ones, and you wondered if that was the expression you were wearing when she became mortal. 

 

"I'm sorry." Nile said aloud but it only caught your attention. You turned to her, remembering her pariah because of your doing. "I mean, it's me, isn't it? I'm doing this, I'm causing all your... immortality, I'm..." Tears surfaced in her eyes. "I'm killing you guys." 

 

"No- no. No, Nile, you're not killing us, and you shouldn't be sorry." You paused, glancing at Nicky for affirmation he granted. "I am the one who should be sorry for making you the answer to an unanswerable question. So I'm, I'm so sorry, Nile, for casting you out of our family." You breathed, ignoring the tickle of pain on your finger, and continued. "Being a grownup, I expected more of myself than to outcast a fellow soldier, and I know you do too. I was emotional and irrational during the unexpected. So I owe everyone an apology." You let your gaze linger on each member of your family, your troop, "I'm sorry, Nile, for not treating you the way I should've. Nicky, Joe, I'm sorry for having both of you in the middle of my problems. I'm sorry, sweetheart, for not being more accepting of your change." 

 

Tears dripped down Nile's cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you for that apology." She gritted out through her emotions, wiping away her tears on her sleeve. Nicky and Joe gave you a watery laugh of relief while Andy's nails dug lightly into your wrist, reminding you of your wound. "So, um, I'm mortal." You shook your head in disbelief. "What do I do?" 

 

"Well, first of all, don't outcast me again." Nile said, and you broke into watery laughs. 

 

"No, I won't." You assured her, then turned to Andy, her sad eyes desperately searched yours, tears filling up. "What do we do?" 

 

"We die." You gave her a soft smile. "We get our dream, and we die, together. And when we do," you swivelled over to the rest of your team momentarily. "You make sure to bury us together in the same grave, six feet deep, or I swear I'll haunt your asses until you die. And god knows how long that'll take." 

 

Wet laughter filled the room. Andy took her bottom lip in, nodding in acceptance. "That's the best plan I've heard in six thousand years." 

#charlize theron x reader #charlize theron #the old guard #andy #andromache of scythia x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #andromache the scythian #andy x reader

[lovelyiida]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

TODOROKI X READER

SYNOPSIS: after all these years…

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, AGED UP! TODOROKI (28), swearing, slight-sexual themes, mentions of manipulation/mental abuse, crying, mentions of cheating, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, humiliation, angst, NO SPELL/GRAMMAR CHECK LOL

JOIN TAG-LIST

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 2.053k

today was the day you thought would never come. a day you thought would only be a figment of your worst dreams. a dream that would never dare phase through reality.

“what happened to when you used to love me?”

you loathed today.

the fear of I hate you, replaces I love you.

you sit across from your ex-lover, teary-eyed and tired. voice hoarse from the screaming argument the two of you just had. the rage and booming of voices became a still quietness, the stillness of acceptance, the stillness of grief.

the grief of losing love, seeing love die.

today, you saw love—die.

“was it me? was it my body? the way I act?”

you sit across from your ex-lover, distraught, trying to make sense of the situation unfolding. You got no response, being met with silence and an absent gaze.

you let out a shaky sigh, nose twitching as tears flooded your eyes.

“if you’re going to cheat on me, I deserve a fucking answer.”

a beat goes by, two beats, three beats, and another.

“No.”

No?

“there is nothing wrong with you, y/n.”

“so why did you cheat?”

silence…

“I…I don’t know.”

he doesn’t know.

“you don’t know?” you spat with venom, voice shaky, yet timid. the tears that brimmed against your eyes fell with one swift movement.

you hung your head low, quiet sobs turns into a broken, somber laughter.

You quickly slam your fists onto the table.

“I gave my everything to you!”

Todoroki looks at you, eyes filled with a dark void, unresponsive.

you didn't want to believe it in the beginning, you thought his little slip-ups were for a valid reason, from never picking up the phone, not answering your voicemails, coming home late into the night, and leaving early in the day.

the smells of her perfume, the hickeys on his chest. even though the two of you would regularly have sex, you never gave him hickeys...

"you sound delusional y/n," he said.

"why would I ever cheat on you? you're the only woman in my life," he said.

"I love you," he lied.

and maybe you were acting delusional, maybe it was just a figment of your imagination. Todoroki was a loving husband and an incredible father, he was also your best friend. nothing could have made you think otherwise.

but, love is blind.

the first time you caught him, you were visiting his agency, wanting to surprise him with some homemade lunch and some cookies the kids made.

your heels click-clacked onto the polished floors. a smile on your face as you greeted the staff with a respective bow.

today was supposed to be a good day.

Walking into the office area, you spot one of your close friends, Todoroki's comrade, and also a close friend, Iida. smiling his way you walk towards him, he turns your way with a smile but for some reason, his smile falters.

"y/n! I didn't know you'd be in today? why didn't you call?" he says, you detected a slight waiver in his words. tilting your head you scoff, "why would I need to call in to see my husband at his own agency, Iida?"

"no reason! it's just he's super busy with something right now so you might want to come back later--"

"listen, Iida, I just want to drop off some lunch me and the kids made for him. can I do that without you patronizing me? cut your old friend some slack, class president."

you begin to walk away until Iida takes grasp of your shoulder, "y/n!"

"yes?" you shout with irritance, Iida begins to stammer a little. "what is it?" you grow irritated with his antics.

"um, I just walked in to say–"

The both of you hear a door open, snapping your heads to the sound you see a woman walking out of your husband's office adjusting her clothes, and fixing her hair.

eyeing the girl down, you shrug Iida's hand off your shoulder and storm into his office. "hang in there, y/n!" he yells.

walking into your husband's office you see him adjust his tie, "who the hell was that, Shoto?" your voice catches Todoroki off guard. But not enough for him to show it.

"what're you doing here? I thought you took off work to be with the kids?" he says. "I was...me and the kids made lunch for you." you throw the bento box onto his desk, "don't bother coming home tonight."

you start to walk out until Todoroki grips your waist and slams you into the door, slamming it shut. you try to struggle out of his grasp, but he was stronger than you by a landslide.

"stop fighting me, y/n"

"let go of me, you bastard." you curse under your breath as your eyes begin to water, Todoroki leans down and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

you were so mad at him, so angry, yet you melted into his touch.

kissing him back, you tangle your fingers into his red-white locks. Todoroki lifts your legs up around his waist, walking over he softly sets you on top of his desk. Deepening the kiss, you let out a moan.

Todoroki starts to kiss your neck, throwing your head back, you allow him more access. opening your legs wider you feel his bulge grind against your entrance, he groans at the feeling.

before you could let things get any further, you push him away from you. breathing heavily, you stare at him, his eyes seem darker than usual. "who is she?" you spat. Todoroki lets out a displeased sigh, "she's no one you need to worry about--"

"who. is. she." you angrily whispered.

rubbing his face, he backs up from your figure, hands still wrapped around your waist. "she's an intern, transferring from Midoriya's agency. she... doesn't like the position she's currently stationed at. so she walked into my office and began to strip and flung herself onto me."

you curl your lips into a thin line as your eyes water, "but, I stopped her as soon as she started it. and I fired her, blacklisting her from any other UA-affiliated agencies."

you let out a relieved sigh, smashing your lips into his, you smile. being thankful you had such a wonderful, loyal, husband.

"I love you, Shoto."

you loved him...

Then, these little appearances between him and "interns," were more frequent than you thought.

you and Todoroki attended a yearly banquet for all of the UA hero course alumni, tonight you were able to catch up with so many of your old friends, it felt like old times back when you were a teenager.

"you and todoroki have been a thing for how long, now?"

"8 years! our fifth-year wedding anniversary will be in October, actually." people could tell by the way you gushed whenever you talked about your husband and kids. they were your pride and joy, obviously.

"wow, that's amazing y/n, y'know maybe if Mina would stop partying around like a drunk pansy, we would actually be able to settle down and have some kids." you laugh at Kirishima's complaint.

"you, Mina, and the words 'have some kids,' don't quite match, sadly" you laughed.

Kirishima chuckles, turning his head he frowns. "oh god, here comes this narc." turning your head you scoff at the sight before you, "oh, Monoma!' you "happily" shout.

Monoma walks over, trapping his arm around Kirishima, he slurs over his words. "look what we have here, more shitty 1-A students."

he's obviously drunk.

"how've you been Monoma?" you smile.

"I've just been busy being successful, having the 5th-ranked best hero agency in the country. having multiple successful businesses, and I'll be putting out a book soon. can't say I haven't been blessed."

Kirishima rolls his eyes, "you'd think with all those 'blessings' you'd be blessed with a better personality." you can't help but let out a quiet chuckle.

"and you'd think after all these years, you'd be more successful than me. all you have to your name is a sidekick title and a failing marriage, too bad though." Monoma gulps the rest of the wine, letting out a burp he blows it into Kirishima's face.

"oh, fuck you!" Kirishima pushes Monoma off him in anger, slamming him into the floor. you could see his spikes start to ripple off his skin. You lay a hand on Kirishima's back and frown, trying to console him.

"y'know what Monoma, I think you need some water," you say.

Monoma, looks into your eyes and shows a sinister smile. Stumbling back up he walks towards you. pointing his finger in your face, you scowl.

"do you know what you need?" he chuckles.

"hm?" you anticipate his answer, sipping slowly from your glass of wine.

"you need to figure out that your husband has been sleeping around with my secretary and all the interns in the fucking city." he laughs loudly, your eyes widen in shock.

"excuse me?"

"not fucking cool bro!" Kirishima yells.

"oh please, stop with the act, you know too! everyone knows! and you would know too y/n, only if you weren't so busy playing mommy-maid you'd figure it out!"

You didn't know what to say, honestly. Your eyes water, "everyone knows this?" you look at Kirishima. He frowns, giving you all the answers you needed.

"sorry you had to learn about it this way, I'm the last person who wanted you to figure it out like this--"

Monoma's mantra was cut short with a sharp splash of white wine (and the glass) to the face.

"go to hell!" you screamed.

so you were right all along...

all eyes shoot towards the three of you, Kirishima looks around and tries to calm you down. but you turn into a cursing frenzy, some of your classmates came to your aid.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"are you alright?"

denki, mina, shoji, and ojiro come towards you. circling around and shielding you from the other's gaze.

"I thought you guys were my friends!" you cried, dropping to your knees you cry harder.

"we are your friends! what would make you think otherwise?" Ojiro asks.

"she knows..." Kirishima adds.

everyone backs up from your figure, looking around frantically. Mina speeds off to find Todoroki.

to summarize, you were oblivious to the cheating.

it was already embarrassing enough that some sponsors recorded the interaction and posted it on the internet.

After that night, things changed forever.

You moved out of the house, taking the kids with you. You resined your position with your agency and started to stay at home with your kids permanently, at least until your funds couldn't support that option anymore.

Todoroki was never at home anymore, he was always out. Either out patrolling, sleeping around, or getting drunk.

and here you are today, sitting across from your ex-husband, finalizing your divorce.

"I gave you my heart, my soul, my body, two beautiful children..."

"I gave you something you never had, I gave you love."

you sat, with your head down, licking the inside of your cheek. you let out an exasperated sob before quickly composing yourself once more.

"I gave you a family"

Todoroki's eyes shed a single tear.

"I-I'm so sorry, please forgive me...please y/n"

shaking your head, cry even harder.

"a-and to even think...to even think that I would be with you forever. to be at fault for thinking we would grow old together, to be at fault for thinking we would both finally have a healthy family, to be at fault for thinking that I was happy!"

Todoroki cries harder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" falling onto his needs and crawling over to your legs, bowing his head down he rubs his hands together, begging for forgiveness.

You look down at him in disgust, you feel bad for him, you shouldn't, but you do. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you get up from your seat.

"get up."

Todoroki scrambles and gathers himself to his feet.

Gazing up at his eyes, one icy and one golden, your lips tremble.

Leaning into him, you rest your hands on his face. Todoroki slips his hands onto your waist.

"please..." he trembles.

lifting his hair from his head, you plant a soft kiss on his forehead. Softly, you push yourself away from his embrace. Digging into your purse you pull out the final documents for your divorce.

Looking at the calendar you read the date, October 22nd...

"happy anniversary."

kinda ass I KNOW… this was one of my older works before I started to write better, so I might go back and fix this up if I might make a whole new version, tell if I should down below PLEASE!

I know I said I would update more, but life got to me. Almost at 1k followers tho! Fuck it we ball.

nah because past me ate with his one y'all!!!

⎯ lovelyiida ♥︎

❥: @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @sad0ni0n , @whore-for-anime, @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz, @zukowantshishonourback, @ilovedenk-i ,@ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls, @kennshifts, @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids, @sunyrose, @thekookiecorner, @winterv-black, @rubymha, @katsukisxslut,

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha imagines #bnha insert #mha #my hero academia #mha headcanons #mha x you #bnha headcanons #mha x reader #mha shouto todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #mha todoroki #mha fanfiction #bnha angst #todoroki fanfiction #todoroki angst #mha angst

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret Chapter 1

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

When a new translation position opened up at your dream job, you were quick to apply. You met all the qualifications, had glowing reviews, and knew you were a perfect fit. There was only one problem. JYP only hired beta's. And you were not a beta.

Story Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Eventual Smut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Heats/Ruts, Discrimination, Angst, Slow Burn

Masterlist | Part 2

You looked up at the towering glass building with your heart in your throat. There were people walking in and out of the building with ease, likely workers or personal for JYP who didn’t think twice about their positions, about how much you longed to be a part of them.

You had been gunning for this opportunity for years, but now that you were finally there, your feet refused to move. You turned your focus away from the building and spotted a group of three girls all huddled together with their eyes laser focused on the entrance, whispering to each other.

No doubt fans trying to catch a glimpse of their favorite idols.

You let out a sigh. “Okay, it’s okay. You can do this. It’s fine, you got this.”

With a nod to yourself, you dragged your feet forward and practically stumbled through the front doors. The girls from before giggled loudly behind you, and you refused to look back. You hoped nobody else noticed.

You walked over to the reception desk quickly, giving the receptionist a blinding smile to hide your nervousness. His scent reminded you of sugared candy and smelled of beta, but you of all people knew how deceiving scents could be. After all, it was the entire reason you were here to begin with.

“Ah, hello,” You said. “I’m here for a job interview? For the translator position?”

He nodded his head in understanding. You gave him your name and he pulled out a lanyard with the words ‘VISITOR’ printed on it, handing it over along with a quick explanation of where you had to go. You thanked him with a bow, and made your way to the elevators, repeating the direction to yourself.

Second floor, third door to the left. Second floor, third door to the left.

It wouldn’t do you any good to get lost before you even had a chance to get the job. The elevator was quick, the doors opening smoothly with a ding. There was a mirror at the back of the elevator, and taking advantage of nobody else being in there with you, you quickly adjusted your clothes and fixed a stray strand of hair that was sticking out, making sure your face didn’t give away your panic.

You also made sure to quickly smell your wrists, relieved that the perfume you had put on before leaving the house was still strong. The scent blockers would block out your own scent to the rest of the world, and it would draw too many questions from the company you were trying to interview for. The specific perfume you had on was a lovely jasmine scent, and clearly a beta scent.

It was essential for you, considering you weren’t a beta.

You were an omega.

The elevator doors opened onto the second floor and even though you knew where you had to go -Second floor, third door to the left-, you still took a moment to stop in front of the desk to double check you were heading in the right direction. The beta receptionist up here showed a lot more expressions than the one downstairs, giving you a blinding smile and wishing you luck. You thanked her with a small nod, and made your way to the third door to the left.

You paused right outside the door, taking another deep breath.

“You got this,” You whispered to yourself again.

You knew you were qualified. You had a recommendation from your last company, glowing reviews from your manager who had been disappointed to see you go, but knowing that you had bigger dreams than translating for a legal firm. Working in the entertainment industry was your dream job, and JYP was one of the top entertainment companies in the business. This was a big opportunity.

But you knew the one thing you had going against you, was your presentation.

JYP only hired betas. They had for years, and even as the world pushed for equal rights among Omega’s and Alpha’s, the truth was that so many companies hesitated to hire them due to their stereotypes and requirements. And while JYP openly accepted trainees of all presentations, their staff were held to a higher standard.

Omega’s were too emotional. Omega’s needed protection, staff members were expected to protect. Omega’s had heats and would take time off work. Omega’s would want to start families. Omega’s were more likely to develop romantic feelings.

Omega’s were a liability.

You frowned at your reflection in the mirror. All those harsh words that had been thrown at you every time you complained about all the jobs that turned you down. Words said by strangers, friends, even family. Every person who tried to excuse their own biases and refusing to change anything. You wanted to prove them wrong.

“You got this,” You repeated, nodding to yourself.

You were going to prove them wrong. You had to.

Even if you had to lie to do it.

You knocked on the door, and the woman on the other side called you in after only a moment. You made sure to bow to the three people in the conference room as you entered, sitting down at the opposite end of the table from them. You knew how this was supposed to go, since you had done it many times before.

‘I see here you speak 5 languages. Where did you learn them?’

‘You have traveled and worked in other countries? What was that experience like?’

‘We received a glowing recommendation. Why did you decide to leave your last job?’

And just like always, the questions began to get a little too predictable.

‘Are you married, or in a relationship?’

‘Why not?’

‘Are you interested in a relationship?’

And then came the dreadful question.

‘What’s your presentation?’

They always asked you that. Every time, even though you knew full well that they had your resume right in front of them, that they could see it for themselves. It frustrated you, because it had nothing to do with your work. Because you were still obligated to put down your presentation on your resume by law. Because employers would still discriminate against you because of it.

You forced a smile on your face. “I’m a beta, as you can see.”

It wasn’t a crime to lie about your presentation anymore than it was to lie about your gender. Your old boss made sure of it. He was one of the few employers who fought to have you on his team, even when so many other companies and workplaces advised against it, tried to tell him about the downsides to working with an omega.

He had scoffed at them. “Bunch of old fashions dumbasses.”

You loved your old boss.

So unless the company had access to your medical records (which they didn’t), or somehow found a copy of your birth certificate (which you hoped they didn’t, that wouldn’t make any sense), they had no way of doubting your lie.

Which is why you wore the fake scented perfume you had gotten from a lovely little store near your apartment that specifically targeted trans-presentations. You weren’t unhappy with being an omega (just unhappy at the way the world treated them), but the false scents they sold to help those who were had been a god send in making sure you appeared to the words as what you wanted them to think of you as.

If it helped you get the job, you would be a beta for as long as it took.

And with the forced smile still pulling at your cheeks, you were complimented on your outstanding qualifications and experience, and told that they would call you back soon with more information. You thanked them for their time with another bow, and although you weren’t in the clear just yet, let out a sigh of relief the moment you made it back out into the halls.

The young beta girl behind the desk gave you another smile as you passed, and you made sure to thank her for her hard work as you made your ways to the elevator. The beta from the front desk didn’t even look at you twice as you walked through the lobby, but you didn’t mind him, knowing he was busy and had work to do.

The girls from before were gone, and the doors to the building opened and closed as people entered and existed. Birds chirped from somewhere above you.

You crossed your fingers, and prayed.

-0-0-

“Oh my god! OH MY GOD!” You screeched.

“What?! WHAT?!”

Sooyoung, your roommate, looked up from her phone with wide eyes in a panic at your shouts of excitement. You held out your phone to her, but before she could even make out the words on the screen, you were already pulling it back to stare at it in awe.

“I got accepted!” You squealed.

Sooyoung gasped. “You got the job?!”

“I GOT THE JOB!”

“Ahhhh!” Sooyoung screamed in excitement, throwing her own phone to the side and jumping up next to you, both of you hopping around the room. “Oh my god, do you know what this means?”

“That I’m going to need a whole lot more scent blocker?”

“No- well, yes.” Sooyoung stopped hopping, looking up in thought. “Actually, yeah. You’re going to need a shit ton of that stuff. And more of the perfume, now that I think about it.”

You visibly drooped. “Man, it’s a good thing I’m going to be making bank at this job, because that stuff is expensive.”

“Not the point. I was going to say, we need to celebrate,” Sooyoung concluded with her hands in the air.

You laughed at her. “Celebrate lying to my employers?”

“Celebrate sticking it to the man! You are braver than I am, that’s for sure.”

You shook you head in amusement, but her words did make you want to throttle someone momentarily. Sooyoung had been dealing with the exact same discrimination you had, but as an alpha, her battle was targeted more towards those who questioned her aggression and instability, especially ‘as a woman alpha’, as one employer had put it. Seeing as Sooyoung was desperate to work in education, those harmful stereotypes made it impossible to get anyone to trust her around children.

She was making do working at a community college at the moment, but you knew her real dream was to work with preschool aged children.

“It doesn’t make much of a difference,” She had explained to you once. “I swear most of my students act like children anyways, the only difference is they don’t have the excuse of being literally 5.”

You had encouraged her to keep trying, that there was going to be a school out there somewhere that would see past her presentation, but she had already lost hope. You hoped that your own success might encourage her to do something similar, but you knew that wouldn’t fix the real problem. The deep-rooted issues and the systemic injustice.

But that was a can of worms you didn’t want to open at the moment.

Instead, you agreed to a night out on the town (as Sooyoung put it), and with her encouragement, went to go get ready. She had clicked her tongue at your first outfit, scoffed at the second, and rolled her eyes at the third.

“Babe, are you even trying?”

“What’s wrong with this?” You said with a pout, looking down at yourself.

You had chosen a pair of tight jeans that made your ass look good, and a cute white shirt that had a crisscrossing pattern that hugged your waist. If you threw your hair up in a ponytail and added some dark makeup, you would look like you were straight off the set of a kpop music video. But apparently that wasn’t the vibe Sooyoung was looking for.

“Don’t get me wrong, you look good,” She assured as she dug through your closet. “But we want you to look better than good. I want every man and woman to do a double take when you pass by. I want you to be the best dish at the table.”

You laughed. “I thought we were just going out for some fun. Some drinks, hit up a club or something … you sound like you’re trying to get me laid.”

She winked at you. “Who says we can’t do both?”

Typical of Sooyoung. She had been trying to hook you up with someone since you broke up with your ex a few months ago, but you had been so busy with work and then planning out your interview, so you hadn’t had time to think about sex.

Now having a new job and unknown responsibilities for the foreseeable future, getting one last hoorah before you had to be at work in two days sounded like a great opportunity.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well okay then. Let’s see what you got for me.”

Turns out that while Sooyoung loved teaching kids, she could very well get a job as a professional stylist. You hadn’t even been aware that you had a black dress, but she had pulled it out of somewhere. It was … tight. It looked amazing on you, you would admit that, but it was so short and so tight that you felt like you were going to flash someone if you bent over. Thankfully, Sooyoung managed to pair it off with a slightly longer skirt that blended seamlessly with the dress, giving the illusion that it was longer than it actually was.

“Got to leave something up to the imagination,” She had told you.

With the way that the guys at the club were eyeing you, you weren’t sure that really mattered. You hadn’t cared at first, the drinks you had doing wonders in making you not care about the rest of the world and what they thought, but you had reached a point in the night where you didn’t want to drink anymore, but it didn’t seem like Sooyoung was ready to go home just yet.

Unlike you, she didn’t have a limit. She was still going at it strong on the dance floor, pulling some poor omega guy against her and stinking up the area with horny pheromones.

Although, its was a club. There was a lot of that going around.

The stares your were receiving combined with the heavy scents that were being released was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. It didn’t help that you were free of scent blockers tonight, and you were undoubtedly an omega to anyone who got a little too close. You hated their predatory looks turned downright sinister when they thought you would be easy.

“What’s a pretty little omega like you doing all by themselves?” One Alpha tried, and you bared your teeth at him when he released his heavy scent on you.

Your omega cried out at the thought of an alpha, but you were not controlled by your secondary gender. He obviously wasn’t expecting you to fight back, probably wanting some submissive and breed able omega that would let him do whatever he wanted to them. When you told him to fuck off, he gave you a nasty look, but thankfully did as he was told.

You were grateful he didn’t try to push It farther.

Sooyoung caught your eye from across the room, eyebrow raised in question.

You good?

You gave her a thumbs up.

All good.

Satisfied, Sooyoung went back to dancing with … you weren’t sure. It was a girl this time, but you couldn’t tell her presentation from this far away. Whoever it was, they looked like they were having fun. You downed the rest of your drink, and making sure Sooyoung saw you gesture towards the bathrooms, you went to get a break from all the lights and noises.

The hallway leading to the bathroom had a few patrons loitering around away from the loud music and chatting, but it was far less crowded than the main room. The bathroom itself was empty, and you just took a second to breathe.

After two hours out, you were starting to get tired. Sooyoung had a lot more stamina than you did, and she wouldn’t hesitate to end the night right now if you asked her too. But although she had used your new job position as an excuse to go out and have some fun, you knew that this was a night off for her just as much as it was for you. She needed this, and you didn’t want to end her fun just yet.

Besides, you had a plan of your own.

You had downed enough glasses of water and spent enough time off to the side that you had sobered up, and with your mind and thoughts clear, you decided it was time to go get some. You pushed your dress down a little to where your cleavage was on display, fixed your hair, and gave yourself a wink in the mirror.

“You got this.”

You exited the bathroom with the full intention of heading out to the dance floor and looking for someone to have a good time with, but you practically ran out and straight into someone else who was leaning against the wall right next to the door. You nearly knocked them over, and immediately reached out to steady them.

“Shit. I’m am so sorry.”

“Ah, it’s okay,” They reassured you, mouth muffled by the mask they were wearing. “I should have realized standing next to the bathroom door was a bad idea.”

“Oh no, that was all me,” You said, giving the guy a look over.

He wasn’t very tall, but not that short either. His mouth was covered by a black surgical mask, the kind most people in Korea wore when flu season made its rounds, or when the air quality wasn’t very good. It was odd to see someone wearing that kind of mask in a club, but not entirely unheard of.

Besides his black mask, he also wore an entirely black outfit. A black shirt, black sweatpants, and a black hoodie that his most of his hair, although a couple of dark strands could be seen from the sides. He looked more like a college student on their way back home from long hours of studying than someone who was out for a night on the town, like he would be more comfortable at home with friends than a club in the middle of the city.

“Ah, no worries. I guess you can say I fell for you.”

The guy chuckled at his own words, an awkward laugh to a stupid pick-up line that normally would have you rolling your eyes, but the way he said it, like an offhanded joke, had you giggling along with him. His scent wafted over to you in the narrow hallway, a mix of floral and fruity. It reminded you of the beach.

You bit your lip, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Well, what can I say. I guess I just have that effect on people.”

His scent grew stronger at your words, and though his eyebrows raised in surprise, there was a pleased hint to his scent. It smelled like alpha, and your omega perked up her metaphorical ears in interest.

“Ah, I don’t doubt that,” He mused, leaning against the wall and tilting his head at you, eyes darting down your figure.

Your stomach flipped under his gaze, your own scent undoubtedly giving away your interest, so there was no reason to play coy. Instead, you gave him a flirtatious smile, deciding to shoot your shot.

“So, what are you doing hanging out outside the woman’s bathroom?”

It was only once you had spoken that you realized how accusatory your words sounded, and you wanted to wince in embarrassment. The men’s bathroom door was directly in front of the woman’s bathroom. For all you knew, he was waiting for a friend, or maybe the stalls were all occupied, and he was waiting for someone to leave, or literally any other reason.

He let out a laugh. “That does look a little bad, huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” You tried to explain, feeling like you had just completely vanished any energy that had started to build.

“No, it’s okay.” He giggled to himself. “I guess I was just waiting for a beautiful lady to fall into my arms.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep waiting, because I’m not exactly in your arms,” You shot back.

“Well that can be arranged.” It was your turn to raise your eyebrows, and the guy backed down immediately with an embarrassed laugh, hands reaching up to hide his face. “I’m sorry, that was a little much.”

Your legs moved forward on instinct, hands reaching up to grab his own in a soft grip. You pulled them away from his face until you could see him clearly, the small expanse of skin that you could see behind the mask turning red, dark eyes staring into yours. You swallowed, giving him a nervous smile of your own.

“Not at all,” You said, softer than before. Your eyes darted down to his masked face, and you wished you could see beneath it. “I … I wouldn’t mind.”

“Being in my arms?”

“Or anything else you offered,” You said.

The energy way back as if it had never left, a heavy haze falling over the two of you. His skin was warm, pupils dilating, and his scent became heavy with arousal, your body immediately reacting by pushing out your own vanilla scent in hopes that it would attract the perfect mate. From in your head, your omega was practically begging for you to make this man your own.

You were finding it hard to argue.

He flipped your grips around so that your hands were now in his. One of your hands was pulled up to his face, your arm twisted so that your wrist was now next to his mask, and you wondered just how much of your scent he was able to pick up from behind the mask. It must have been enough for him to understand because his eyes crinkled as if he was smiling.

“Anything I offered, huh?”

“I mean, if you’re offering,” You said shyly, batting your eyelashes at him.

He let out a huff of laughter, and you used the position of your arms to wrap them around his neck, pulling your body close to his. His grip dropped from your hands and to your waist, stopping you from moving closer.

“And if I said I wasn’t interested?” He asked.

You froze. “Well then this would be very awkward.”

“Ah, don’t worry.” He pulled you up against him completely, one of your knees hitting the wall behind him, a thigh slotting perfectly in between your legs, your chests pressed together. Your face was so close to his that you could feel the cloth of his mask brushing up against your nose. “I’m interested.”

“Great,” You replied, voice breathy.

“There is a bit of a hiccup, however-“

“Is it the mask?” You interrupted.

His eyes crinkled again. “Ah, am I that obvious?”

“I don’t mind,” You reassured him.

You didn’t care why he had the mask on. There were tons of reasons for it, from privacy to insecurities, that were none of your business. You told him as much, and his body seemed to relax slightly against your own, the tropical mix of his scent showing he was relieved at your acceptance. You found your nose drifting close to his neck, to the scent gland in front of you.

This close to him, his scent was thick enough you could practically taste it.

“We can make it work,” You told him, head feeling fuzzy from the sudden onslaught of alpha pheromones. Your omega was embarrassingly close. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours.” He didn’t even hesitate.

And that was how you found yourself pushing yourself into the crowd to get to Sooyoung, letting the alpha stranger that you just needed to give a heads up to your roommate. It wasn’t until she spotted you, letting out a yell of excitement and pulling you towards her, that you realized you didn’t even know the alpha’s name.

Whatever. I wasn’t like you were planning on marrying the guy.

You didn’t even need to explain much to your roommate, the face she made when she got a whiff of you telling her everything she needed to know. She yelled at you to wear protection and you flushed when the eyes of everyone around you turned in your direction, so you made a quick retreat shortly after.

It wouldn’t be until later the next day that you would explain the entire interaction to Sooyoung over a late afternoon brunch. She congratulated you for finally getting out of your rut (pun intended), and you found out that Sooyoung had managed to snag not just the omega she had been dancing with for half of the night, but also the cute beta girl who had joined them later on.

All in all, it felt like a successful night out.

-0-0-

It was only your first day, and you were already feeling a little overwhelmed at the sudden change in your environment. It wasn’t your first time translating in an official business setting, but law firms were much different than a kpop agency, and all the new rules and regulations made your head spin. Thankfully, you were used to doing paperwork, so the sheer number of NDAs you had to read through was familiar for you. It took nearly three hours of your time just to finish signing things, going through an orientation of sorts, and to be introduced to the office where you would be working. You understood why you had been called in so early.

Park Jeonhui, the head translator for JYP entertainment, sat you down around noon to explain the situation to you.

“The past few years, we’ve kept up pretty well with having only a few translators, only hiring extra when necessary, but recently we’ve had more groups to manage, which means more material, more opportunities, and unfortunately, more demand. Specifically, it’s no longer possible for the few translators we have to constantly be jumping from group to group when they are needed.”

You nodded in understanding, and she handed over a folder to you.

“Due to this increase in demand and the multiple world tours that are planned for the near future, it was the companies decision to hire translators who would focus on a specific group. Due to the languages you speak and your experience, we have decided to place you on the team for Stray Kids. Have you heard of them?”

You had, indeed, heard of them. While you weren’t a huge fan (you were much more of a Once than a Stay), you had heard their music and watched their music videos. You probably wouldn’t be able to recognize any of the members if you saw them on the street, however.

“You’ll be meeting with Stray Kids manager and their leader today to go over their current projects and your work expectations.”

“Sounds good.”

“Before that, however, I was wondering if you had any questions?”

It seemed like the perfect opportunity. You physically had to bite your tongue to keep from asking her why the company didn’t hire omega’s or alphas, knowing it was neither the time for that kind of question (you didn’t need to put yourself under scrutiny so soon), nor was it the person you should be questioning. Jeonhui was just the translation head, she didn’t decide company policy.

Even if it was a stupid policy.

“Well in that case, I’ll let them know we’ll be finishing up soon.”

When an older man knocked on the conference door to ask for Jeonhui’s help with something, you took the opportunity to pull out your phone and quickly check out yourself in the front camera, making sure you looked presentable. Your old boss had drilled into you enough time the importance of looking professional in front of clients, and while neither the manager nor leader of Stray Kids were your clients (if anything, they were your bosses), those old habits were kicking in. You were thankful that you decided to at least wear your best professional shirt, a casual white button down.

Jeonhui thanked the guy, and while the first man bowed and left the doorway, Jeonhui remained at the door. She stepped forward and bowed to someone else you couldn’t see, and after a quick exchange of words, she moved to the side.

Two men walked in.

The first one was a dark-haired guy who seemed young, but older than you. His beta scent was stronger than most people, but calm enough that it didn’t bother you. He seemed laid back and easy-going, wearing comfortable clothes as opposed to the professional outfit you had seen other managers use. He bowed at you, introducing himself as the Stray Kids manager, and as you stood up to bow at him in return, he took his seat at the head of the table.

And from behind him appeared a younger man, closer to your age. He was handsome with dark hair and soft eyes, his smile revealing dimples as he chatted briefly with Jeonhui. The normally stoic and polite beta woman seemed to melt in the stranger’s presence, a soft smile on her face. It was jarring. The young man then turned to you, and you once again bowed, but when you raised your head, all you could see on his face was shock.

You were confused, worried if you had accidentally done something you shouldn’t have, but then his scent reached you.

Floral and fruity, like sunscreen and pina colada and the hot sun on sand.

You froze, sharing the wide-eyed gaze with this complete stranger, who wasn’t actually a complete stranger.

Soft moans, fingers brushing up against your thighs as you were filled deliciously from behind, another moan forced out of your mouth as he wrapped his fingers gently around your throat, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear.

“God, you’re so tight.”

You nearly chocked on your spit.

The man you had unintentionally had a one night stand with two nights ago was the leader of Stray Kids.

Your boss.

“Alpha, please!”

“Just a little longer,. You can hold on just a little longer, cant you? Hmm? Don’t you want to be good for your Alpha?”

You were so close. Your body felt like it was on fire and your head spun, the darkness that seemed to engulf you left your nerve endings so sensitive, and you couldn’t see him, could think, couldn’t do anything more than accept the pleasure he was giving you. He seemed to know that you were at your breaking point, because as a whine began to build in your throat, he pulled away.

His fingers pressed right where you needed them most, and you found yourself spiraling.

“Cum for me, Omega.”

And he knew your secret.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #changbin x reader #changbin x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #minho x reader #minho x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #han x you #han x reader #jisung x reader #jisung x you #felix x you #felix x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #in x you #in x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin x you #stray kids fanfic #abo au

[ihrtlix]

Angel Baby ☁️

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Fem!Reader

W/c: 733 (baby numbers)

Warnings: Car crash, Hospital, angst, Fluff.

Song rec:

It was a rainy tuesday night when you’d decided to take your dog Lucky out for a walk. You’d never really been a fan of the rain but as a pet owner, you knew that it was your responsibility to make sure that Lucky was kept fit and healthy. “Lucky come here buddy” you said as you slid his collar on. Lucky had sat himself by the door patiently waiting for you to finish sorting out what you were going to wear. You made sure to put on your most comfortable pair of trainers and threw on some joggers and a hoodie. Although you hate the rain, it was only going to be a quick walk… right?

🎶play me the classics.. something romantic🎶

Once you had made it to the exit of your apartment complex, you slid your headphones on and pressed play. The music sent shivers down your spine as the soft beats flew through the air around your head mixing in with the soft sound of rain in the distance. The walk was only 15 minutes in until the decision of heading back home had struck you. Lucky seemed tired and happily agreed when you both turned around and headed back in the direction you had previously walked from.

🎶you came out the blue on a rainy night🎶

You were quite tired due to the long day you had causing you to not check the road properly before crossing. A man runs over from across the road, luckily he was trained in first aid. He feels for a heartbeat and his body freezes.. where was your pulse? He does chest compressions until he hears a small breath leave your cold lips. As you regain consciousness, you feel a sharp pain shooting around your body as you open your eyes to find yourself on the wet, concrete floor. You hear shouting from beside you as you try to comprehend what’s just happened. As you slowly gather your surroundings, you see with tears staining his eyes, the most ethereal man you’ve ever seen and his name? Kim Seungmin.

🎶while your bringing me back to life🎶

He screams at his friends for help whilst he takes off his warm, thick jacket and places it delicately under your head. Tears slowly prick at his eyes. He holds you tightly while you hear him tell his friend ‘chan’ to call an ambulance. He tells you reassuring words such as: “shhh.. it’s alright i’m here” and “hold on for me love.. okay?” whilst he strokes your hair and wipes your stray tears off your frozen, rosy cheeks.

🎶now i’m in pieces, barely believe it..🎶

Panic strikes you suddenly. You start trying to get up whilst sobbing as you remember your dog Lucky. Seungmin looks around quickly trying to pinpoint where his other friends were until he spots them. He beckons them over and you take a breath of relief, allowing Seungmin to lay you back down in his lap, when you see the others giving attention to Lucky, who managed to come out with no injury whatsoever.

🎶starting to feel like you’ve lost all feeling🎶

Blinding lights and wailing sirens flood your mind when the ambulance appeared. The paramedics talk to Seungmin due to the fact that you were in and out of consciousness. The paramedics try to tell you that you were about to leave to go to the hospital when you started to mumble, “Seungmin.. where is he?”. He realised that you wanted him to accompany you to the hospital and he sat down next to you, keeping a hand on your arm all the way until you finished the journey there.

*time skip*

🎶until you gave up heaven so we could be together🎶

You wake up, body sore, limbs aching and you have the worst migraine ever. You hear soft snores coming from beside you. There he is, head on the edge of the bed, closest to your hand whilst he is in dreamland. You slowly reach your hand up and stroke his hair eventually making your way down to his soft cheek. He stirs in his sleep and opens his sleepy eyes to find you looking at him with adoration. Once he has fully woken up, he checks over you (as if the doctors wouldn’t have already). He tears up realising that he, Kim Seungmin, saved your life. “your my angel..” he said, voice laced with relief. “angel?” you said confused, “baby, angel.” he reassured you.

Thank you guys for interacting with my previous post!! This is the first time i’ve ever written anything like this and hope you guys like it! (this randomly came to mind whilst i was walking my dog) 🫶🏻

TAGLIST: @jinnie-ret @kaiso-woo @kaciidubs @surfinminho @seungminssangel @astayinwonderland @helloimnini @got-me-seein-stars @queen-in-the-shadows 💞

#spotify #stray kids x reader #kpop #skz x reader #seungmin x reader #light angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #kim seungmin #female reader

[clusterbuck]

keep the ones who want me

6x05 coda

buck drives them home, and the jeep is silent as eddie spends the whole time trying to decide whether or not to bring it up. when he finally opens his mouth, they’re just three blocks away from his house.

“anything you want to tell me?” he asks buck, tipping his head back against the seat and letting it roll to the side.

buck seems to—flinch, almost, but it’s brief and barely there and eddie’s taken advantage of the fact that buck agreed to drive tonight, so he’s not entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it. he blinks and it’s gone, blinks and buck’s in the driver’s seat just like he always is, one hand on the wheel and his elbow propped against the window. any tension eddie thought he’d seen is gone, nowhere to be found in the languid lines of his long—

“what do you mean?” buck asks, interrupting eddie’s disintegrating thought process with a slight frown.

“just—back there,” eddie says, waving a hand in the vague direction they’d come from. “you’re not planning on trying to transfer again, are you?”

“first of all,” buck says, quirking an eyebrow at him as he turns to check his blind spot before turning into the driveway. “you’re one to talk about leaving the 118.”

eddie holds his hands up. “that’s true,” he says. “but i was always going to come back.”

“second,” buck says, turning the car off but making no move to get out. “why would i be trying to transfer?”

“i don’t know,” eddie says on a sigh. he doesn’t reach for the car door, doesn’t even unbuckle his seatbelt. they could easily continue this conversation inside, but—some things are easier to talk about in the dark, when you don’t have to look directly at them. eddie has a nagging feeling this might be one of those things.

“i was just thinking about—you said it might be the last time we’re all together,” he continues, his eyes flicking to buck and away again. “why would it, unless—”

“i’m not going anywhere, eddie,” buck says, low. “hen’s leaving, and i know she says she’s not going to disappear but we all know what doctor schedules are like, so i just thought—i don’t know, it seems unlikely that we cold just—keep things the way they’ve been.”

eddie hums. “unlikely, maybe,” he says. “but not impossible.”

“sure,” buck says. “not impossible. we’ll do it once, maybe twice, then hen has to miss one or one of us has to cover a shift or someone will be injured and then suddenly it’s christmas and we’re sending hen holiday cards thinking about how we haven’t seen her in sixth months.”

“christmas is two months away, buck,” eddie says, and buck rolls his eyes.

“but you get what i mean,” he says. “right? we’re all hopeful and optimistic now, but this is how it starts.”

and there it is, the thing that’s too fragile to examine under the bright artificial lights of his kitchen, the thing that can’t take shape in the same space as something as mundane as a cup of coffee.

“how what starts?” eddie asks.

“hen leaves first, and then—what, a couple of years from now bobby retires, and then—”

“and then what?” eddie asks. “where exactly am i going? where’s chimney going?”

“i don’t know,” buck mumbles, dropping his head back and staring at the roof of the car. “but that’s just life, isn’t it? people move on.”

“is that life?” eddie asks.

“isn’t it?” buck counters. “everyone leaves eventually.”

“not everyone,” eddie says.

“everyone dies.”

“who’s dying?” eddie asks. “buck. you’re spiralling.”

“am i?” buck asks. “i know what happens to guys like—guys like me. i’ve seen it.”

it takes a second, then eddie remembers the old firefighter buck met years ago. the one who’d died alone, who’d lived out his final days alone, who’d had buck somehow convinced that was his future, too.

“buck,” eddie says, softer now. “you’re not red. you’re nothing like him.”

“yeah?” buck asks. “nothing like the guy who ended up alone when everyone else got busy with marriage and family and kids? i couldn’t even keep the damn dog, eddie.”

“that wasn’t a dog,” eddie mutters. “that was a chaos demon with fur and a tail.”

buck huffs a laugh and eddie grins, shifting in his seat to face him.

“buck, you’re nothing like red,” eddie says again. “red didn’t have a sister, for one thing. maddie wouldn’t—”

“no,” buck agrees, soft. “she wouldn’t.”

“and for another thing,” eddie says, “red didn’t have me, or an eleven-year-old who hangs onto his every word.”

“i thought you said he was growing up,” buck says, dubious.

“he’s growing up on me,” eddie says. “dad isn’t cool anymore. but i’ll bet you anything buck still is, hm? you want to come in and see?”

buck had planned on just dropping eddie off, on going to the loft for the night, but eddie’s not letting him off without an object lesson in exactly how much evan buckley is nothing like red delacroix.

“i should—” buck starts, and eddie rolls his eyes.

“you should crash here for the night,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. “and in the morning you should teach chris your french toast recipe, because he says mine isn’t half as good.”

buck hesitates for a moment, still, but eddie sees the moment his resolve cracks and he softens, like he’s finally allowing himself to relax. “well, then,” he says, flashing his first genuine smile since they’d climbed into the car. “if it’s about the french toast.”

#911 spoilers  #911 6x05 #911fic #buddie #buddie fic #emma writes #shush emma

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Haunted

“Something's gone terribly wrong,

Won't finish what you started

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this”.

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Reader escapes her abusive ex and moves to the alps. Bucky is in denial about some things, like what the year is, and if he’s dead. Part 2/6

Warnings: ghosts, death.

Masterlist Pt.One Pt.Three

“Steve!”

Bucky is falling, eyes locked with his best friend, it all happens in an instant. One second he’s reaching out, watching Steve disappear in-front of him. Falling from the train feels like time froze, but it ends when he hits the frozen earth. He’s gone on impact. His spirit won’t accept it, it won’t accept that he failed.

Bucky rolls in pain, screaming Steve’s name. Steve is long gone, Bucky has no chance of catching up with the train. He stands, grabbing his riffle that landed near him. He lets out a yelp of pain when he tries to move his left arm but it’s dead weight. He throws the gun strap over his head, tightly gripping his arm to his body.

His mind races as he runs through the trees, one boot after the other. Bucky never backs down, he never gives up. Even when every muscle in his body is screaming to stop, go back, slow down. He runs for miles. He can’t feel any part of his body now. He’s almost frozen solid. But still, Bucky keeps taking one more stride. He spots a light in the distance and has a burst of energy.

A small cabin comes into view. He’s bumbles through the door without notice. He prays no one’s here, he only speaks English and doesn’t know how to explain. It’s empty when he does a quick check. That’s enough for Bucky to throw the gun on the coffee table. He peels the blue jacket from his body, his chest puffs out with every jagged breath.

He lays down on the couch, letting his feet hang off the side. He doesn’t know how he got himself into this position, but he just wants to go home. This was Steve’s territory. Bucky never wanted to be a hero. What he does know is that he’s fucked. There is a snow storm passing through, and no one would make it here in time.

He falls asleep, nightmares of being frozen in the ground flash in-front of his eyes. His arm torn off, bones and flesh exposed. He screams for help, he begs for Steve to come back. He replays falling, over and over again. He just wants it to stop. He shoots up on the couch, being awoken by the sound of the door opening.

He looks up wildly as the bright sun blinds him, he sees the outline of two old ladies come through the door, paper bags in arms. He quickly stands, about to excuse himself for intruding in their home. But he notices the way they don’t stop talking when walking in. One keeps going to the kitchen and one turns around to set a fancy new tv on the coffee table.

The women can’t see him, Bucky walks over to the kitchen, waving his hand in front of the senior citizen. She just mindlessly puts away groceries. He scoffs, turning to the taller lady of the two. “Can you really not hear me?” He laughs. The woman jerks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at the empty living room, his eyes grow, knowing she heard him.

He goes to say something to the woman with the groceries but when he turns around she’s not there, and he can’t find the taller woman now either. They’re gone. He sits down on the couch, pulling his left arm to his chest. He closes his eyes and suddenly he’s back on the train with Steve, the events of falling replay. Then he’s being awoken again by the sound of the key turning.

He sees you walk through the door, the sight of you causing him to jet up. You look so cold in only a sweater. He says “Hello?” But you just stare past him. He can’t wrap his head around why no one can see or hear him. Maybe he’s invisible, he got pumped with some kind of super power just like Steve.

Bucky is sat with his head in his right hand, when your legs come into view. He looks up and your stood there with a feather duster and an old rag, leather polish already sitting on the table. He stands, swiftly gliding past you. He watches you reach out for the wall. Shaking your head free of something. You look dazed for a moment.

Watching you devour apple pie made Bucky like you more than he’d care to admit, after a certain point, he started to feel like a creep watching you saunter around the cabin. You didn’t know someone was in the room when you decided to strip all the layers of your clothes and curl up on the couch.

Bucky may be a lot of things but a weirdo, he is not. He is starting to feel like he is invading your privacy. He makes his way for the front door, swinging it open, letting the snow hit him in his face. You jolt up behind him, and he instantly feels guilty. You look like a deer caught in headlights.

He stands frozen in place as you make your way in-front of him and close the door. Standing this close to you he can see the color of your eyes more clearly, they shine in the golden lamp light. You’re breathtakingly beautiful to Bucky. Your beauty isn’t like any other girl he saw back home. Almost futuristic in a way.

Before Bucky can disappoint himself any further you walk away, find yourself tucked into bed. He stays in the living room, accepting that of course he gets the couch again tonight. When his eyes close, he is holding on to the side of the train. Begging Steve not to drop him, but he does. He falls, and falls over again. It only ends when he hears glad shatter and you scream.

He watches you as you sweep up the glass, your brows pressed tightly together. He can feel the blood pumping rapidly through your veins. He doesn’t like that you’re afraid. He doesn’t know what to do to make you relax, he follows you up the stairs and sits with you while you sleep. He reaches out, moving your hair from your face, and you take a long deep breath. You produce a smile, causing Bucky to smile, he leans over you and grabs your blanket, pulling it over you.

He quietly steps down the stairs and stands in-front of the couch. Every time he sits on it, he has horrific nightmares, maybe he should try the chair. He sits down, kicking his boots up on the coffee table. Like clock work he’s falling, then limping through the woods, holding his arm. This time he sees you in the distance about to enter the cabin, he yells for help but you don’t hear him, he’s right behind you as you close the door, but he’s too late. He tries the handle but his fingers pass through it, they disappear for a second like a mist. Bucky blinks at his hand as it regenerates in-front of his face.

He hears Steve’s voice echo in the woods “Buck! Come back!”. He turns around and faces the pitch black trees. His left shoulder starts with a searing pain, then it turns into a mind numbing ripping and tearing feeling. Bucky sobs out “help me.” Before he falls to the ground. He jerks awake from his dream, feeling the soreness in his otherwise dead weight limb.

You gasp and Bucky jerks his head in your direction. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, your hand covers your mouth. You’re looking right at him, he swears it’s almost as if you could see him. Then you scream at the top of your lungs and Bucky knows, you really can. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” You yell, you look more terrifying than anyone Bucky had been fighting before all this.

He stutters out a reply “I, I’m a sergeant in the United States military ma’am. I was wounded fighting some Nazis not so far from here. This place isn’t safe. I need your help getting out of here, I need to get to a town and find a phone.” He waits for your reaction. When it doesn’t come he continues, “I’m calling my friend, Captain America. Do you know who that is?”.

You stare at the man who you think broke into your house. He’s obviously completely off his rocker. “I don’t have anything of value, take the rugs, they’re worth the most besides the copper wiring.” You say, backing yourself away from the intruder. Bucky doesn’t say a word, too confused by what’s going on. “I don’t think the nazis are coming for you sir, that was 70 years ago,” you trip going backwards on the steps but catch yourself with your hand “no need to do anything rash.” You finish, completely terrified.

Bucky stands and doesn’t say a word. He just walks out the front door into the daylight. You’re left all alone wondering if any of it really happened. You barely slept all night, due to the nightmares, maybe this was a walking nightmare, something made up by your mind to fill in gaps. You tried to rationalize it as you close the front door. You can’t rationalize the strong scent of pine and mint that fills the whole living room. You lock the door behind yourself, then start searching the cabin for you phone. Once you find it you see that you have no bars. You have to go outside for service.

There is no possible way you’re following outside, what you think is either a serial killer, or an apparition your mind created. You can’t take that chance. You go to the front door, looking out at the rising sun, it was no longer snowing, so the rays were bouncing off the white crystals. You notice there are no foot prints in the snow on the porch. Surely if the man had walked out the door, you would be able to see his tracks. The pristine white coat stared at you through the window. Now you know your mind is playing games.

#avengers fanfiction #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky fanfic #ghost #bucky x you #winter solider x reader #bucky x female reader #supernatural #fanfiction #fanfic #the winter soldier #cabin #mountains

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 18: Traveling with a Friend

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, awkwardness

WC: 9k words, 18/?? chapters

Summary: You and Astarion travel together to Waterdeep. Emotions run high as you reconnect and reestablish your boundaries.

Ao3 | [Ch17][Ch19] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

The next morning, you find yourself up earlier than usual. A mixture of nerves and excitement kept you up later than you’d intended last night, but also ensured that you jolted out of bed before the sun even rose in the sky.

You’d finished packing all of your things yesterday– after all, the fear that Astarion may regret his choice to bring you never quite leaves your mind. Ignoring that fear, you sling your pack full of clothing across your back, tie your Bag of Holding to your robe’s belt, and prepare your spells for the day. You tuck Astarion’s Sending Stone in your pocket, set to return it when you get a chance.

Once you’re more than ready, have triple-checked that you’ve missed nothing, you head down the stairs of the manor to wait for your vampiric companion in the entry hall.

When you arrive, you find the man already there. You also find that Astarion might be just as anxious as you are, if his pacing is any indication. He stops once he hears your footsteps and turns toward you with narrowed eyes. Oh gods, has he changed his mind overnight? Is he going to revoke my invitation?

“There you are,” he says, words clipped. “I thought I told you to be ready by morning.”

You try not to let his attitude get to you, to be grateful that he’s given you this chance. But his lack of planning is something you’ve been dealing with for two lifetimes and you can’t help but feel how thin your patience is this soon after waking. “Astarion,” you start, tone carefully level. “You never told me what time in the morning. It’s practically still dawn!”

He huffs at you in exasperation. “You should have known! It takes hours to get to Baldur’s Gate. If we arrive too late, we won’t make the teleportation circle today.”

“And how was I supposed to know your agenda?” you can’t help but retort, your irritation bleeding into your tone. You knew that the two of you wouldn’t be back to normal, but you certainly hadn’t expected such early morning hostilities.

“I don’t know!” he says, walking toward you in a temper. “Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent?”

“I’m not a mind reader!” you reply. Though strictly speaking, you did prepare Detect Thoughts today. If anything goes wrong with Astarion, you’d rather have a chance to find out why. “Now, if we’re in such a hurry, can we stop bickering and just get going already?”

Astarion is stopped before you, his red eyes inspecting your face carefully. You wish you could cast Detect Thoughts right now without making it abundantly obvious that you’re prying. It seems as if he’s looking for something in you again, and you wish you could know what that something is. He turns away from you, grabs his own pack, and begins to head to the door without looking back. “Let’s go,” he calls before throwing his door open.

The daylight that streams through his doorway is blinding, and your panic is immediate. You’re rushing forward before you can help yourself, mind addled by fear. Astarion! He’ll burn– it’s almost an ingrained instinct in you, one that fizzles out abruptly.

Because of course Astarion is fine. In fact, he stands in the doorway, looking back at you like you’ve gone mad. “What are you doing, darling?” The pet names are back, but not in the tender tone you’d grown accustomed to.

“I…” You look at him more closely, spotting the sunlight ring on his finger. It’s only natural that he would use one for the trip, but your fear had reacted faster than any logic. “I moved on instinct. I suppose I’ve gotten too used to my memories.”

He scoffs, appearing displeased by your worry. “I don’t need you to defend me against the sun. Just focus on making up for lost time.”

He's right, of course. What would you do against the sun? But again, you’d been so ingrained in the past that your body moved on its own. You shake the sensation, watching Astarion turn to leave.

Now's your chance. You could read his mind, figure out if this whole trip is worth it or not– if he invited you out of obligation or affection and, more importantly, if he harbors any hatred for you. Detect Thoughts doesn't have to be invasive, especially if you just need to understand his mindset, but you feel a touch of guilt nonetheless. You rationalize it to yourself, If I don't find out now, he'll likely never tell me. I'll feel the shade of his disdain the entire trip, whether or not it's there. And you also simply can’t ignore the annoyed set of his jaw or the way his eyes had examined you moments ago.

So, once his back is turned and he is heading down the stairs, you quietly, quickly recite the incantation for Detect Thoughts. It only lasts a single minute, and you’d like to save some spells just in case, so you resolve to get your answers as quickly as possible.

A second later, the spell takes effect and you hear the man’s surface level thoughts.

‘Gods below, I can’t believe I’m doing this.’

You follow after him on the stairs, trying to keep up as you listen in. 

‘There’s little to no chance that this will go well.’

As disappointing as his surface level thoughts are, they aren’t much use to you if he's going to keep grumbling to himself. You ask him a question as you chase him. “Say, why did you invite me to join you?”

Astarion looks back at you momentarily, his red eyes shining brilliantly in the sunlight– you’d missed this look in your memories, and it brings you a sense of ease that you don't have time to enjoy. “If you have breath to ask questions, then walk faster,” is all that he replies. In his mind you hear, ‘Hopefully Gale can help nip this ill-fated endeavor in the bud. If not then… I don't know what I'll do.’

Oh good. He hopes to use Gale as a voice of reason. For you. You try not to let your dread show on your face.

Continuing down the steps, nearly reaching the bottom of the long entry staircase, you ask your next question a bit breathlessly, “And why are we in such a rush?”

“We’ll miss the birthday celebration if we don’t hurry,” he replies with a glare, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Internally, you hear, ‘We likely have a few days until the dinner proper, but I don’t think I could spend an entire night alone with them. Not after everything.’

Upon hearing that thought, you want to ask him so very badly about everything that's transpired between you. If he meant his words, if he still wanted you in his life– but you can’t very well just ask that out of the blue. Instead you prod a little more subtly and hope his mind will fill in the rest, “How was your week in the Underdark?”

Astarion shoots you an annoyed look, and his thought comes through before his words. ‘Miserable.’ Aloud he says, “It was fine. We had some lovely family bonding experiences.” His thoughts continue, ‘I had to threaten Petras at least twice a day for being such an oaf, and if Dal gives me one more lecture on the meaning of love, I am liable to murder the entire colony.’

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bubbles out of you, and Astarion rolls his eyes at you– clearly not finding his own words to be worth a laugh. Recovering quickly, you respond, “Sounds nice.” Almost a minute has passed, and you can feel the spell fading as you both begin on the dirt path out of Astarion’s manor. You ask one final question, “Are you excited to see Gale?”

“Very,” he says to you, continuing to walk without looking back. Despite the sarcasm in his voice, his mind seems to agree emphatically, ‘We can't get there fast enough.’

The spell worn out, your curiosity satisfied for now, you keep pace with Astarion as you walk down the dirt path. You didn't learn anything too novel– and you wouldn't want to pry that deeply anyway– but you feel more comfortable knowing that hatred for you isn't at the forefront of his mind. Hopefully the journey ahead doesn't change that.

You’re not sure what time you’d need to make it to the city for the teleportation circle, or how long the two of you will be traveling, but you do know that your own journey from Baldur’s Gate had taken the better part of the day. You’re starting to suspect that the two of you won’t make it in time for the transport from the way Astarion seems to be eyeing the sun in the sky.

As your travel starts in earnest, you fall into a gentle rhythm as you walk. Perhaps it's your excitement or simply his determination to make time, but your shared goal keeps your mind from wandering too far– keeps it from remembering that the man next to you had torn your heart to shreds only a week ago. More likely it was that that man seemed to be hells bent on pretending that nothing had happened.

“How was your week?” he asks, looking at you from the corner of his eye. His tone has a lukewarm, distant affectation, as if he’s back to keeping you at an arm’s length. It reminds you of when you first arrived at his house.

“It was… fine,” you reply, borrowing his own verdict. It had been exhilarating, it had been frustrating, it had been illuminating– but now that you’re walking next to Astarion, reminded of his presence, all you can remember are the moments of loneliness, the longing you felt for him. “Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

Astarion waves your thanks off. “Think nothing of it. Dal insisted.”

Of course she did, she’d said as much. But he does seem to stand a bit straighter at your thanks. “Well, I still appreciate it. While I originally had trouble sleeping in that room, I’ve grown to quite like it.”

His head turns toward you slightly, almost imperceptibly. “You had trouble? You never mentioned it.”

You shrug at his question, having honestly not found it worth mentioning after that first day. “Like I said, I got used to it. And I wasn’t about to put you out for something as trivial as a few bad reveries.”

“Gods,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“I’m just annoyed,” he says. The look on your face must be alarmed, because he continues, “At myself.”

The alarm likely doesn’t leave your face, but you respond calmly enough, “Erm, why is that?”

“Dal said…” he trails off, steps slowing for a moment as he appears to deliberate his words. “Well. Everyone said.” He looks at you before picking up his pace again. “They said that it was obvious who you were. If only I’d been open to seeing it. I see it now.”

The man’s words send a thrill up your spine, but his renewed speed doesn’t give you the chance to see his face, gauge his expression. You rush after him, managing to get out, “What does that mean?”

“It means ‘hurry up’ or I’ll leave you behind.” You consider another use of Detect Thoughts but think better of it. He would hear and see you casting it in the stark daylight and openness of the road.

You pick up your pace a bit, internally debating whether you should continue to press him on the topic, distract him from his half-jogging jaunt. On one hand, you do want to make it to Waterdeep in a timely manner, ask Gale all of the questions that you can think of. On the other hand, you suspect that all of the reasons Astarion wants to hurry up are the same reasons you would like to go more slowly: he doesn’t want to confront the words he levied against you or what you did in your time apart.

Ultimately, you decide that the silence isn’t bearable, and you maintain a steady, unrushed pace. 

The two of you speak as you walk, conversation casual the entire time, as if a thin sheet of ice remains between you. Any words too loud, any emotions too hot, and it’s liable to shatter the ice and any semblance of peace. Your tone light, words equally as shallow, it’s as if you’re nothing more than casual acquaintances.

However, along the way, you do learn a few things.

The journey to Waterdeep would take nearly 45 days by foot, according to Astarion. While you could cut the time to a week by boat, the vampire can’t cross running water anymore, and he doesn’t particularly care to carve out more time ‘just to visit Gale.’

Astarion has never had to make the full trip, as Gale’s connections to both cities gets him an easy Teleport. Through the use of the teleportation circle, the trip is roughly a day or two. They close the Teleport by evening so he typically sets aside two days for travel.

Less than an hour out from Baldur’s Gate, you ask him, “Do you visit Gale often?”

Astarion gives a sigh. Having thawed a bit as you walk, his words and actions sound more like his usual self. “Not as often as Gale insists I should. At least once a year for this silly little birthday dinner though.”

You laugh, imagining how often Gale must bother Astarion, asking him to pay a visit. “What are his birthdays like?”

“Oh you know,” he begins, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Very Gale.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know how I asked you to pack for a few nights?” You nod. “It’s really an excuse to, ugh, spend time together. He never bothers to tell me when the damnable party actually takes place.”

You consider his words, recalling what he’d said just a few hours ago and what you’d heard from his thoughts. “So, we might not miss the celebration?”

“Or we might.” Astarion places a hand to his temple in aggravation. “Though more often than not he drags it out, like one of his rambling tangents.”

I certainly remember those tangents, you think. While you had primarily dreamt of Astarion, your other companions had appeared frequently enough that you felt quite connected to each. You’d actually been very at odds with your previous-self, wanting to listen to everything Gale said, no matter how much of their boredom flowed into you. Much like when you met Halsin, you can’t help the anticipation building in you. The thought of Halsin reminds you to ask, “Does anyone else show up to the dinner? Halsin said he hadn’t seen you in almost a century.”

“Yes, well,” Astarion looks at you briefly, turns back to the road. “When Gale started hosting these, about fifty years back, Halsin and I had already stopped speaking for some time. Some others show. Elminster, Volo. You won’t be surrounded entirely by strangers if that’s what you’re asking.”

While you’re curious to know who all the guests are, this isn’t the first time that you’ve noticed Astarion and Halsin being at odds. “If you don’t mind my asking, why don’t you speak with Halsin anymore?”

Astarion continues to walk, not looking back at you, not answering your question. He clearly minds you asking, but stops in his tracks before you can change the subject. His sharp red eyes meet yours, looking between them a moment before he says, “Let’s just say we don’t see eye to eye on life, death, and whatever it is that lies in between.”

‘If you find Astarion, be sure to remind him that the cycle of rebirth is a blessing, one that he's been lucky enough to receive.’

The druid’s words ring through your ears as you take in Astarion’s pained expression. Understanding dawns on you as you respond, “Did the two of you… fight after I died in my previous life?”

“Something like that,” the vampire responds, lips pressing into a displeased line. “He kept trying to reassure me, to tell me about the ‘natural circle of life.’ I didn’t want his pity or insipid kindness. And now that you’re here…”

Now that I’m here, I'm only proving the druid right. “I–” I’m sorry? You can’t be, because Halsin understood, far more than you or Astarion do. Hundreds of years of experience, of living in nature and surrounding himself in its domain, only improved his perspective. Death isn’t the end for anyone, simply another part of the natural rhythm of life. “I see. Have you considered reconnecting? He said he would love to see you.” You decide not to mention that he’d like you both to visit together.

Astarion finally breaks eye contact with you, turning back to the road. “Maybe someday. First let’s get this yearly misery out of the way, shall we?”

You agree, accepting a ‘maybe’ as the best you’re likely to get from the vampire.

The city isn’t far now, but the sun begins to hang low in the sky. Just as the gates come into view, you ask Astarion another question, unsure of how he might react. “Are we going to make it to the teleportation circle?”

You see his silvery head shake out of the corner of your eye. You’re walking side by side now, his earlier bursts of speed dwindling alongside his ill-humor. “I doubt it. No matter, we’ll get there when we get there.”

A distinct difference from his attitude this morning, but not one that you’ll point out. “So then… what is the plan for tonight?”

He seems to think for a moment and, as he tilts his head toward you, you catch a bit of uncertainty creasing his brow. “I suppose we should find somewhere to stay for the night. Leave bright and early in the morning.”

It sounds as good a plan as any to you, but Astarion’s hesitance has you on edge too. He seems to be pretending not to care that you’re about to spend a night alone together– that act of pretend is far worse for your nerves than simply caring outright. “A simple but effective plan,” you say, only barely holding back your nervous laughter.

It also sounds like you'll have time in the city, at least for a short while, before nightfall. The perfect opportunity to stop by Sorcerous Sundries before they close and look for some materials for the ring. You don't mention this, but resolve to head out once you find lodging.

As the two of you make your way through the dirt roads of Wyrm's Crossing, a silence falls between you, an anticipation that seems to rush you both forward a bit faster.

You approach the South Span Checkpoint with confidence and an odd feeling of familiarity. Not only had you crossed through here a few weeks ago, but your past-self and Astarion did plenty of times as well. It’s strange knowing that you’re all but tracing the footsteps of your former life. 

And, yet again, your body fights you: it takes everything you have not to instinctively grab Astarion’s hand as you walk. It had been a common act for the two of you, holding hands as you walked through crowded plazas and streets– in part for the comfort of having one another, in greater part to avoid having to find each other again every few blocks. You manage to resist though, even as you reach the busy checkpoint.

The guards at the checkpoint regard you both with boredom, and you pass without issue. You still have your writ of passage from weeks ago and Astarion presents his as well. Once you’re out of earshot, you ask a question that had bubbled up when you saw Astarion’s paperwork. 

“Do they ever recognize you as one of the saviors of Baldur’s Gate?”

Astarion looks at you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Darling, surely you jest.”

His mirth confuses you. “I don’t. Why would I jest?”

“Because, my dear,” he says, speaking back to you as you both weave through a crowd milling between street stalls. “So many people have saved this city, only fanatics truly care about one or two in particular.”

His words evoke images of Minsc, Jaheira, the others who came before your past-self and your companions– those that had shown up in history books since then. I suppose that makes sense. Certainly explains why everyone who looks for him seems like a unique type of enthusiast. Lost in thought as you are, you miss the moment when Astarion slips out of your view. 

When you finally look up, you’re faced with the backs of dozens of strangers, no silver-haired head to be seen. “Astarion?” you ask, looking left, right, behind you. Panic begins to bloom in your chest and your heart starts to pound. Of course you’ve lost him almost immediately. 

You’re about to yell his name louder when a hand grabs yours from the crowd. 

You give an appropriately terrified yelp, but the cold fingers and familiar pale skin calm you. Looking up to see an amused set of red eyes staring at you stills the rapid beating of your heart. “Darling, it’s a miracle you made it to me with your head so high up in the clouds,” he says, voice barely carrying over the bustling conversations. “Keep this up and I’ll pickpocket you myself.”

No smart remark reaches your lips, no brilliant defense. Because all you can think of is that his hand is in yours again. You hope he can’t hear the satisfied sigh that escapes your lips.

His hand doesn’t leave yours as he pulls you through the throngs of people. It doesn’t let yours go, even as you both narrowly dodge a man pulling a cart of cabbages. It doesn’t let go even as you walk by the Flaming Fists in Wyrm's Rock Fortress. Maybe in another lifetime, were you someone else, holding his hand like this would make you both look like a couple.

By the time you reach the entrance to Baldur’s Gate, his hand is the same temperature as your own. It’s only when the guards at the gate ask to see your paperwork once more that you break apart.

Once you’re in the city, Astarion turns to look at you. You think you spot a softness to his eyes before they harden once more and he says, "I suppose we should get lodging before it gets too late. It wouldn't do to get the last available room."

You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest. The sleeping arrangements weren't something you'd paid any mind to when it came to missing the teleportation circle, but now that you’re in the city, it's all you can think about.

Astarion doesn't grab your hand again, but you do a fine job of keeping up with him as he makes his way to the Elfsong.

You'd stayed here just weeks ago and reveled in how unchanged it is since being rebuilt, but walking in next to this man brings on a wave of nostalgia far stronger than before. The familiarity doesn't die down as Astarion walks up to the barkeep, asking for a room for two. The memories that flood you are not your own as you see one of his elegant hands slide a few gold coins across the table, his other hand gesturing enthusiastically as he makes a deal with the man at the counter.

When he turns back around toward you, room key in hand, he seems to be just as lost in thought as you are. "Shall we?"

You nod, following behind him in a daze.

Maybe this is why he'd completely redone his house. Memory after memory comes unbidden as you walk after him. The time that you'd all played cards, just at that corner table. The time you'd convinced a drunken stranger that you were visiting royalty. All those times that you both snuck away from everyone, up the stairs for a moment to yourselves.

It feels like one of those moments now, as the din of the Elfsong falls away and you both walk up the creaky, wooden steps to the second floor.

He unlocks the door to your shared room and you both file in in silence. A small sliver of relief shoots through you upon seeing two beds, but the relief is short-lived when you look up to see Astarion's eyes trained on you.

"What?" you ask, worried at the lack of legible emotion on his face.

"It's strange," he replies, sitting down on one of the beds with a slight chuckle. "I wasn't expecting this all to feel so…"

"Familiar?" you offer, taking his lead and dropping onto your own bed in a relieved huff.

"You feel it too, I take it?" After a quick nod from you, he continues to elaborate, "I've stayed here for years since…" Since I died, your mind fills in easily. He continues after a silence with, "It's different this time."

You hum appreciatively, not sure how to put the nostalgia that you're feeling into words. Naturally, you try anyway. "It's– it's almost as if we've just been here. As we climbed the stairs, I was remembering one of the times we snuck up here, away from the rest of the group. You'd been so impatient to get away that we nearly got caught by Shadowheart and…" The rest of your words die on your tongue. You’re afraid that you've gone too far, tread too deep into a now painful memory.

But when you glance at him, Astarion is simply staring at a floorboard between you, a small, melancholy smile on his face. "And I just about broke an ankle trying to scramble up. I remember that time."

Your heart jumps in your chest at his pensive state, wondering how you can preserve the moment, bottle it up like a tonic for your soul. Nothing that beautiful ever lasts though, and he looks up at your awed, frozen stare.

Luckily, the fondness that glazes over his eyes lingers as he says, "Mmm, the lot of us made this place a home of sorts I suppose. Though you may remember as well as I do, darling." 

"Yes," you reply, turning away from his gaze. "I received quite a few memories from that time. Not all fun and games, of course, but it was still nice."

“I’m glad,” he says, with a wistfulness to his tone that makes your heart ache. “It’s somewhat gratifying to know that our adventures live on, in some form or another.”

You laugh a bit, and the two of you sit in silence for a long, lasting moment.

Astarion breaks the silence by clearing his throat and you look up at him as if summoned. “It’s a tad late, but I wanted to thank you. For joining me. I know the last that we spoke…” His eyes narrow in a wince. “I said some hurtful things.”

Oh gods, you think. We need to have this conversation sooner or later, don’t we? And you do, despite all of the muscles in your body clenching instinctively, the fear that courses through you telling you to run. “I recall,” is all that you can manage between breaths. The feeling of loss is encroaching on you, threatening to overtake you.

Then Astarion snaps you back to reality. 

“I know my apologies have been, well, wanting, as my siblings like to say.” He smirks at you, despite the serious set of his eyes. “But should you have room in your heart or soul for another, I am sorry for the words I said. I can’t take them back, nor can I fix the hurt I’ve caused, but I can assure you that I regret every word I said in anger.”

For all of the apologies Astarion has delivered since you arrived on his doorstep, this one feels the most sincere. His eyes don’t waver, his voice is steady and sure. While he’s right, that none of this fixes the pain, nor the feelings left behind, you do feel something relax in you at his words. A tension that had carried you through the day finally eases.

However, one last, persistent issue needs to be addressed. “Thank you. And, though I wish I could apologize myself, for crossing your boundaries, I’m afraid I have no intention of stopping my research to help the spawn.” You’re surprised by the strength of your own voice, the confidence that you feel.

Astarion seems to notice it as well– the lines of his jaw clench, his next breath comes a bit short. “Yes. I suspected as much. And it’s your life– or lives– to do with as you please. I should know better than to try to stop you myself.”

Right, you think. That’s why you’re taking me to Gale. He doesn’t know that you know that though, so you simply say, “In that case, thank you for that as well.”

The vampire tilts his head toward you slightly in response and continues, “That being said, I am not about to attach myself to someone stubbornly set on a mission from the hells.”

“I can understand that,” you reply, bowing your head a bit to hide the disappointment that is surely on your face.

“So,” Astarion starts, clicks his tongue with a ‘tch.’ “Until you’ve either given up on this endeavor or died once more trying, I want to make it clear that we are strictly friends.”

Friends.

The word sounds like a discordant melody crashing into a quiet space. It feels fumbling and childish, incorrect and out of place. How could two people whose histories, bodies, lives have been intertwined for centuries find themselves back at friends, time and time again?

And yet, it’s more than you could ever hope for, the lifeline that will keep you afloat. So, while it feels like a step back, it’s one that you will take each time it’s offered to you. “I will always be happy to be your friend, Astarion.”

Your eyes meet once more, staring across this familiar treading ground, and you find peace in each other’s gaze.

The moment passes, and you decide that it’s time for you to leave if you want to make it to Sorcerous Sundries before it closes. Besides, better to leave now, while you’re both friends, than to muck it all up again by allowing a memory to fog your judgment, instinct to move your body. “Speaking of my endeavors, I need to go to the shop. Perhaps we can reminisce a bit more once I return?”

Astarion seems surprised as you rise from the bed, but he recovers quickly, pursing his lips at you disapprovingly. “Very well. But be careful. Night is about to fall and the city gets rather dangerous after dark.”

“Don’t worry,” you reply, smiling at him as you prepare your coin purse, deposit your pack on your bed. “I happen to know that all of the vampires left the city a while back.”

He snorts and shoos you with his hands. “Gods. Out with you, so that I can lock you out of the room for your poor attempts at humor.”

“Fine, fine,” you say, laughing and walking toward the door. “I do promise that I’ll be as alert as I can be.”

“Knowing you, darling?” he asks, leaning back on his bed. “I’m afraid that doesn’t mean much.”

It's odd but, despite everything, you end up leaving the conversation like a pair of old companions who haven't spoken in a while– falling into a comfortable rhythm that neither of you want to break.

A sense of purpose still drives you forward though. So you leave him in the room, somewhat flustered by the shift in your dynamic, but not unpleased.

You’re familiar enough with the city at this point that you make it to Sorcerous Sundries without too many extra twists and turns– and, despite Astarion’s misgivings, without losing your life or money. You had visited the establishment on your way into the city, grabbing various spell components, refilling your ink, and generally getting a lay of the land. So, when you enter this time, you’re only mildly gobsmacked by the treasure trove of magical goods before you.

In Neverwinter there are plenty of magical shops on the same level as Sorcerous Sundries, but something about a new magical shop provokes a special kind of thrill in you.

You walk up to the counter, finding a simulacrum of a tiefling taking care of the shop.

“Hello and welcome to Sorcerous Sundries! What can I do for you?” it asks.

“Hello,” you reply, quite used to treating simulacrums like their real world counterparts. “Would you happen to have an item that can create water?”

It’s not ten minutes later that you’re leaving the shop with a Decanter of Endless Water, several spell components, a brand new notebook, and a much lighter coin purse. I’m lucky my parents sent me off with so much gold , you think. They would have had no clue that I would end up spending this much already. When I end up back in Neverwinter, I'm afraid I'll have a stern lecture waiting for me.

The night is still fairly young and you debate stopping by a smithy to purchase more metal or perhaps seeking out an old haunt from your prior life. But nothing sounds quite as appealing to you as making your way back to Astarion.

Can I truly spend the rest of the night alone with him? you consider as you make your way back, dragging your feet as you ponder. I know we're ‘friends’ again, but just the thought of being in that room, so close. It may prove to be too much.

You pause outside the Elfsong, staring up at the window to the room you're sharing. A quick movement passes behind the curtains, and you wonder what Astarion was up to while you were out. Perhaps he expected you to be out longer.

Maybe I'll get a meal before I head up, in case he wants a bit more alone time, you decide. 

That's how you spend the next half hour eating alone along the Elfsong's bar, trying out your new decanter in a borrowed cup. By the time you finish your meal, you're certain it will be helpful, but equally certain that any blood you make from it won't satiate a vampire.

Luckily you have one such vampire to test your ideas on. If he is amenable to the tests. You decide to wait until you’re both safely in Waterdeep before you start creating rivers of fake blood.

You make your way upstairs, knock on the door to your shared room, and speak, "May I enter?" The man inside grumbles something, which you take as assent. You find Astarion on his bed where you left him, a book balanced on his lap, a sour expression on his face.

“Are you alright?” you ask him, dreading the possibility that he’s spent the last hour changing his mind once more.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, eyes focused on his book. “Simply enjoying my book. Alone.”

Oh, I suppose he did want more alone time. “I’m sorry, I can leave you be for a bit longer if you’d like–”

“Ever so helpful, aren’t you?” he snaps. Then, realizing what he’s said, wipes a hand over his face and looks up at you. His eyes are conflicted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I suppose I just didn’t realize that my company was that disagreeable. It’s a rather uncomfortable thing to come to terms with.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, closing the door behind you and stepping in now. You set down your spoils and turn toward Astarion. His entire demeanor, his body, looks to be on edge, like something has been chipping away at him.

Astarion closes the book in his lap, and you note that the cover is upside down. “It’s just this damned tavern. I know I can’t eat, but I guess I got used to sharing meals with, erm, you. Them.” He drops his head and mumbles, almost too quiet to hear, “I don’t even know anymore.”

He’d mentioned before how difficult it had been for him, trying to reconcile who you are, who you were, but he’d recused himself every time it got to be too much. Here, sharing a room in the Elfsong, neither of you could run away from the roiling storm of his emotions.

Faced with his hanging head and the hunch of his shoulders, you haven’t a clue how to approach the man you can only call a friend. You almost wish this was a memory, if only for your emotions to come through clearly, your next course of action to be predetermined. But, of course, you are the only one capable of dealing with the consequences of your own actions.

You approach him slowly, cautiously, and call out his name. “Astarion?”

The man lifts his head up to you, and you find torment twisting his fair features. His breathing seems shallow and rushed. The lines around his mouth deepen as he reads your expression and he only replies, “Please don’t.”

“Don’t?” you ask, stopping just short of his bed.

“Don’t look at me like that– With that infernal pity. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine, and you don’t feel pity. It’s hard to parse out your emotions, but you mostly feel bad. The idea that he’d been suffering alone, that he had harbored this turmoil, all without letting you in… it hurts. Whether or not he loves you, he said he cared about you. He claims to be your friend and friends don’t shut each other out like this.

“I know you don’t want to get more attached to me,” you say, taking another step. “But I promise I am only doing this as a friend.”

You don’t give him time to react, to protest your presence, before your arms reach down and envelop his form. It’s an awkward angle, with his body hunched, curled on his bed, yours draping over him like an unwelcome cloak– he stiffens under you at first.

Then his tension melts.

His hands come up, grasping at your elbows and holding you in place. His soft, silver hair tickles your neck as his head leans into your chest. His whole body angles toward yours, as if seeking your warmth desperately.

You cling back, tilting your head into his. Your hands grip his sides tightly. Your presence is firm, your warmth his to take. 

You hold him like that for a time, neither of you wanting to pull away from the simple, beautiful feeling of holding one another. Initially, you’d held him for his sake, but you find that the longer you stand there, the more your own soul settles. If a soul could crave, this is what mine would yearn for.

Eventually, Astarion’s breathing slows. He inhales deeply one last time, gives a soft shuddering breath that ghosts across your skin, and pulls away. “Thank you,” he says, eyes not meeting yours. “You’re… a kind friend.”

Your throat feels tight, whether from disuse or from emotion, you can’t quite tell. You clear it and respond, “You’re welcome. I’m more than happy to help.”

Detaching your limbs from his body, you feel so awkward, so out of place standing before him. Barely more than a week ago you’d been wrapped in his arms, he’d been whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he caressed every inch of you. But this? It feels as if you’re both truly, utterly stripped bare before each other.

“It’s getting late,” he says, looking up at you finally. His eyes are dark in the candle-lit room, and his expression is difficult to read. He’s certainly calmer though, less on edge than he was when you entered the room.

“You’re right,” you say, taking a step back. “We should rest up so that we make it to Gale bright and early tomorrow.”

Astarion gives you a short nod and whispers, “You’ll tell me if your reverie bothers you, won’t you?” His unspoken words are clear to you, You’ll allow me to be there for you, as you’ve been there for me?

“I will,” you respond, turning to your bed. “Promise.”

You get ready for bed in silence, and when the time comes for Astarion to snuff the candle he murmurs into the dark room, “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

Perhaps it was the memories of the day, but that night you dream of the Hero’s life. Much like your real life, you seem to be on a trip to Waterdeep.

Gale Dekarios stands before you, holding an orb of magical light above you. You recognize it as a simple Light cantrip.

“Could you hold that a bit higher?” you hear yourself say. 

“With pleasure,” he responds, adjusting accordingly. 

You seem to be holding a set of tongs, a piece of heated metal bending between them, a careful hand pulling with a pair of pliers. “Thank you. Astarion never sits still long enough to help with these, you know.”

“I am well aware, my friend,” Gale says with a slight chuckle. “It’s a miracle he agreed to join you on this trip.You would think he’s allergic to magic with the way he avoids visiting.”

Your own responding laugh is softer, your hands remain steady as you warp the still warm metal. “He secretly enjoys it,” you reply. “And you know, if anything happens to me on our next journey…”

“Now, now, I have the utmost confidence in you– everything will go swimmingly, just you wait.” His words are warm, confident in you.

“I know,” you say, pressing the two ends of the metal strip together, ensuring that they’re flush to each other. “But if anything were to happen. You’ll make sure he’s okay, right?”

Gale looks a bit offended when you look up at him. “Of course I would! I would be quite the atrocious friend if I did or said otherwise.”

You feel satisfaction at his words, nodding. “Good. Now would you mind a quick flame to weld these ends together?”

The wizard helps you close the loop off, and you’re left with a recognizable ring, one of the prototypes that you’d designed together. It had been one of the ones you’d marked off with the blacksmith’s initials. It’s a clean design, a simple thin band made of silver with room for an inlay along its ridge.

“What do you think?” you ask him, holding it in your palm once the metal cools.

“Why it’s a beautiful little thing, isn’t it?” Gale says, appreciatively. “Silver though, a might bit too much for a vampire perhaps? I know I recommended it, but it may sting.”

“True. But first we’ll have to wait and see how the mage’s magic works. If it even works,” you say with a sigh.

Gale hums thoughtfully, inspecting the ring. “It may be a tall tale, but I’d still say it’s worth a shot. Besides, your intuition has never led us astray before.”

You laugh at that, some guilt coursing through you as you say, “I don’t know about that. Remember the time that you nearly got blown off Ramazith's Tower?”

The wizard shudders at the memory. “Your intuition rarely has led us astray.”

The two of you continue at work, discussing the merits of different shapes of rings. Some are better for integrity, some for holding magic– together, you with your knowledge of metals and metalworking, Gale with his knowledge of enchanting, you refine and iterate through the night. 

The entire dream you pay rapt attention, wishing more than anything that you could interject, ask your own questions. All the while you remind yourself, I will have my chance. For now, I must just listen.

__

You wake from your reverie bright and early. Astarion still slumbers, and you debate heading down to breakfast without disturbing him before deciding that he would very much not like that.

So you read through some of your notes with last night’s dream in mind, waiting for the vampire to wake up.

When the man stirs, sitting up with a slightly tousled head of hair, it’s all you can do to stop yourself from emitting a happy little sigh. After a week without him, waking to his presence is more refreshing than you can put into words.

“Good morning,” you say, smiling at him and tucking your papers back into your bag of holding.

“Morning,” he says, looking at you cautiously. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, assuring him that it was not tossing and turning that woke you early. “I dreamt of Waterdeep actually. I spent the night crafting with Gale.”

Astarion snorts at that, though he does seem relieved. “Sweet hells, those were some dull nights. I swear, it was like the two of you were out to bore me to death.”

Your heart catches in your throat. The two of you… He included you. It feels odd getting worked up over such a small word choice, seeing as almost everyone else treated you as your former self. But he’d always maintained a clear distinction.

However, the man in question did not even seem to notice the slip. He continues, “Well, I’d like to think Gale has matured some since then.” Astarion snickers under his breath. “We can’t all be blessed with eternal beauty I suppose.”

You recover your bearings, registering Astarion’s jabs. The Gale of your dream last night was still quite lively, if lined with a few more wrinkles, hair salted with a few extra streaks of gray. “Is he, erm, well? ” You don’t know how to tactfully ask if he’s on death’s door, but Astarion seems to understand what you’re implying.

“Oh, he’s perfectly healthy,” he says, stretching as he rises from bed. “Much like Elminster, someone as adept at magic as he is knows full well how to extend his life without complications.”

You nod, knowing as much from your own wizardly studies. “I’m glad. I’d love to get to know him better. I think I’ll be able to learn a lot.”

Astarion’s resulting glare is pointed. “I’m going to regret bringing you, aren’t I?”

You shrug, dropping your legs over the edge of the bed and getting up. “I’m afraid it’s too late to rescind the invitation. I think you know as well as I do that I could and would follow you if need be.”

The threat is lighthearted, jovial even, and the vampire’s responding smile is blinding to you in the morning light. “You’re a veritable scourge upon my sanity, you know.”

His tone is surprisingly seductive and you feel a heat building in you. You turn away from the distinctly unfriendly thoughts that come to your mind and say, “I know. Shall we get going?”

Before you leave, the two of you stop downstairs for a quick breakfast. You claimed you could have gone without, but Astarion demands it, saying that, with a self-sacrificing fool like yourself, it was up to him to make sure that his mortal friend gets the sustenance they need.

Mortal meal time out of the way, you find yourselves at the permanent teleport station– the very same one you entered the city through over a month ago. You recognize the mage running the teleport station as the one who’d welcomed you in: Thomas, you recall.

“Good morning, Thomas,” you say with a wave.

“Good morning!” he responds, waving back enthusiastically. He’s an eager man, passionate about his craft. Conjuration magic isn’t your specialty, so you’d asked plenty of questions when you came through. “Why, isn’t this a pleasant surprise! What are you doing back here?”

“I’m actually on–”

“On a trip with me,” Astarion interjects, stepping up to Thomas with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Oh, good morning, sir.” Thomas seems taken aback by Astarion’s sudden appearance, but turns back to address you, “Well, it’s lovely to see you again. It’s not every day you get someone coming in that’s so knowledgeable and interested in your work.”

You smile at Thomas, understanding all too well, but feel the burn of Astarion’s eyes on your face all the while. “I would love to ask some more questions, but I’m afraid we have to get going today. Maybe next time I come through?”

“I am always happy to answer more questions!”

Thomas looks downright joyful at the idea, though his smile dies when Astarion cuts in, “Or maybe we’ll return by boat. Who really knows?”

“I doubt that,” you say, shooting Astarion a warning look. “For today, we’d just like passage to Waterdeep, please.”

Ever the professional, Thomas doesn’t push on your less-than-subtle bickering, merely agrees to set up the circle, takes Astarion’s note of passage from Gale, and goes to prepare the spell.

As the two of you move to get into position, you mutter to Astarion under your breath, “What was that about?”

“What was what?” he replies, smiling at you with false warmth.

“How rude you were to Thomas,” you hiss. “He’s only been utterly polite.”

Astarion scoffs, looking at you in disbelief. “Polite? Oh my dear, I’m so glad you have me as a friend.”

You only give him a confused, concerned look.

“As somewhat of an expert, I know a wretched flirt when I see one. Thomas has anything but innocent intentions,” he explains, glaring at the man who’s hard at work inscribing sigils. “It’s my duty as your friend to protect you from such scoundrels, of course.”

Oh great, you think, rubbing your temple with one of your hands. He’s evoking friendship in the name of jealousy. At least, it seems like jealousy. “He’s just doing his job, Astarion.”

“Darling, no one is that eager to do their job. No, he’s thinking of doing other things,” he says, lowering his voice as he insinuates what exactly Thomas would like to do.

You can’t help the heat that comes over you. While you’d planned on letting the matter drop, you feel the need to defend Thomas. “Hush, Astarion. Stop attributing your lecherous feelings to the poor man.”

The look Astarion gives you is one of sheer shock. Whether at your blunt comeback or at the feelings he may be trying to smother, you’re not sure.

Before he can recover, Thomas calls, “The circle is ready! Safe travels to you both, and, erm, I may or may not see you on your way back!”

You wish you could say something to assuage the mage, but his magic envelops you both a second later– a blinding flash of purples and blues obscures your vision and after a few rapid blinks you find yourself in Waterdeep’s teleport station.

“Oh good,” you say, finding Astarion still staring at you. “I was worried you’d stay behind to keep terrorizing Thomas.”

“Very funny,” he grumbles, turning away from you. “Let’s get to Gale’s before you accidentally woo some other unsuspecting sap.”

He makes me sound like some kind of philanderer, you think as you follow after him. Not that you were capable of philandering. He’d made that abundantly clear. A rage fills you as you think of the things he’s said about you and your attractiveness. Your thoughts darken further as you remember how you’d changed your appearance for him those weeks ago. I suppose he did say he liked my face eventually… 

Now here he was, getting jealous. Which was it? Are you some kind of alluring temptation or a cruel joke sent by the gods? You want to know. No, you need to know.

The man is walking ahead of you, leading you past Waterdeep’s teleport mages, out of the building. Before you both reach the door, you call out, “Astarion.”

“What?” he says, stopping to look back to you. His brows are set in an angry line, but you can tell it’s more frustration than anger.

“Do you truly think that Thomas was flirting with me?” you ask. Astarion’s eyes narrow at you and when he doesn’t answer you immediately, you continue, “I know I’m no monstrosity, but I’m certainly not a catch like some people.”

“Nonsense,” he mutters, opening the door. “How do you manage to be the smartest imbecile I know? I know Gale for gods’ sake.”

“What does that mean– oh my sweet celestial plane.”

With the doors open, the city of Waterdeep lies before you.

Your own city of Neverwinter is beautiful– a bustling city full of crafts and trade. Baldur’s Gate is, well, the Gate– a diverse city, bursting at the seams with people, places, and things to do. But this? This is the City of Splendors.

From your studies, you’re well aware that this city is the pinnacle of many things. They have the best artisans guilds, scholars whose renown extends across the Realms, Archmages like Gale. You can tell from your first look at the city that it’s steeped in history and wealth. 

Astarion looks at you, bemused, his earlier ill humor forgotten as he asks, “You haven’t been here before have you?”

“Only in my memories,” you reply, awestruck as you step out of the building and begin looking around.

“Stay close then,” he says, holding out a hand. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

All of your worries have evaporated in the face of a new, wondrous place. I’ll have to ask again later, you decide, taking Astarion’s hand and beginning your trek through the city of Waterdeep.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

[coleskingdom]

Anti-Hero

Adam Cole x F Reader

Minors DNI 18+ NSFW

@madhatterbri @midwestmade29

GIF by @midwestmade29

“ Adam, I appreciate your concern, but there’s no need to be. I’m happy, all you said you ever wanted was for me to be happy, and I am.” The number of times that he and I had been over my relationship with Cole. “ I’m done talking about this with you. You can either get on board and be my friend and be happy for me or we can just not talk about it.”

“What is your blind spot with him? He’s not a good guy, he’s going to hurt you. You don’t know all of the sides of him.” His voice tinged with frustration.

“ I said I’m done with this conversation Adam. “ opening the door for him to see himself out of the hotel room. I saw Cole walking down to the hall, headed towards us, his face lighting up and then falling when he saw mine. “ Babe, is everything okay?”as he took his place beside me. “Yeah Page is just leaving.” as if turned to go back into our room. Page shook his head as he walked away.

“Y’all okay? “ Cole asked as we walked back inside. “No, he thinks I’m making bad choices, and you’re his focal point right now.”I sat down next to him and leaned into him. “He’s always thought of himself as a hero, the cowboy in the white hat.” I sighed as he pulled me into him. “ I’ll handle it. Instead of coming to the arena, stay here relax take a bath, I won’t be long. I promise.” he kissed me before getting up and heading out.

The bathroom had a tv by the bathtub, I ordered some wine and took Adam’s advice to relax. I almost dozed off then I remembered the end of Dynamite. There were these masked goons putting Page through a car windshield, the sad pathetic little moans that fell from his mouth as the devil appeared again.

I got out of the tub , put on a robe , who else had the goons attacked first Jay now Page, there was a Bullet Club link but not much else. My hand reached to call Adam to see if he was okay if he had been attacked. The phone vibrated in my hand it was Adam “ Hey I’m on my way back. Do you need anything?” his voice chipper “ No I was going to call and check on you I saw the end of Dynamite. Are you okay? “ as I paced texting the bucks and page for a status update. “ I see” his voice changing slightly, “ I’m fine, seems Page interfered with business that wasn’t his. I’ll see you soon. “ and hung up.

The texts back said Page was roughed up but nothing serious. I heard the door open, and Adam had changed from what he had left in, he was in all black and shards of glass glittered the tops of his shoes.

“What did you do? You said you were going to talk to him.” Fury rising in my voice. “No, I said I’d handle it.” Seemingly unbothered by my question as he walked closer to me.

“ The difference between a hero and a villain is, a hero will sacrifice you for the greater good, and a villain will burn everything down to protect who and what they love.” his voice sending a chill down my spine, but his words also thrilled me.

Adam’s fingers lifted my chin bringing my eyes to his , his knuckles grazing my cheek “ My dear I’m no hero.” His hand curves around my neck. In a kiss that is possessive. He parts my lips with his tongue and slides deep.

"How do you do that?" I whisper.

"You say things like that... Things that should terrify me. But instead, they just..."

“ Just what?”He whispered as his hands went to the belt of the robe, untying it as he moves us towards the bed. My legs reach the edge as he trails his lips down my neck , opening the robe as he kisses down to my breasts taking a nipple in his mouth his teeth grazing it, his name falling from my lips. his mouth moving to the other breast sucking and biting. “They make me really really want you“ Pain and pleasure run through my body as his teeth marked me . My hands running through his hair pulling him closer to me . “I know what you want pretty girl, and you know that I’m the only one that can give it to you.” A low growl rumbles through his chest. My body vibrating with need,”I know” I whisper just before he devours me.

His fingers driving deep inside of me he circles my clit with his mouth, lapping the swollen bud until I explode. I arch off the bed and fist the comforter his name lost in my moans. My body twists as he brings me down, groaning along with me.

“ There’s nothing that I won’t do for you, there’s nothing that I won’t become for you.” his kisses trail up my body before pulling away and quickly undressing. He hovers over me “Show me.” I whisper.

His eyes flare just before he lowers his hips and parts me with a slow, persistent push.I scrape my nails down his back and take him. He fills me and fills me until I'm positive I can't take anymore.Then he slips deeper.

"I fucking dream about being right here, buried inside of you." I kiss his shoulder as he thrusts into me, drawing out slowly and driving home again and again.I spread my legs wider. I wrap them around his back, whimpering each thrust. I want to be his princess, his pretty girl, his world.

"Those sounds you make." His teeth scrape over where my pulse pounds in my throat. "I love knowing they're for me. Because of what I do to you." I wrap myself around him and hold. I don't want this moment to end.He pounds me deeper into the mattress, his cock and his words coaxing feelings out of me I don't know what to do with. I seal my mouth against his shoulder and cry out against the heat of his skin.

“ Come for me pretty girl” His words cut off as blinding heat tears through me. I'm writhing and arching off the bed, clawing at his back to bring him closer, to take more. He kisses my throat and empties himself inside of me.

When he rolls me onto my side and curls behind me, I finally ask “Who else?” softly not wanting to break the spell but needing fully to share this secret.“ Max, and collateral damage.” Nibbling my ear “They’ll come for you.” my voice cracking “ I know and I’m counting on it.” His arms pulling me into him.

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