#my sense of time is. a bit skewed n fucked up.

[dizzybizz]

redraw of a galo from last year!!! :3

side-by-side comparison :-)

#i thought this didnt take too long and apperantly it took like 7 hours. i thought it was like 3 or 4. #my sense of time is. a bit skewed n fucked up. #promare #galo thymos #my fav rooster ever #my art #i kinda rlly love how this one turned out :D i think ive improved a lot too DJAHGSHG i love doing redraws sm #like the pose is way closer to what i was imagining and mmm yeah its also just more dynamic n his body doesnt cut off awkwardly #i like the colors and face better #i do think the og has a lot of charm. i dont hate it or anything. i just like seeing how far ive come :) #this time around i also had a way easier time identifying what was bugging me while i was working on it and actually addressing those thing #like i resized his head a lot n tilted his whole upper body etc #idk ive just been getting more comfortable and confident with my art :))) #ok enough. ENOUGHHHHH. anyways i love galo so much ok thats all

[hes-writer]

Confessions: A ‘Favourite’ Extra

Summary: beatrice graduates and dad!harry is not invited

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 3305 words

A/N: this is part of the ‘Favourite’ universe :D this scene takes place sometime between the first and second part! please read them before reading this.

Part One | Part Two

_____

Graduation.

Through Beatrice’s 18-years of living, she did not think that the celebration of liberation would be so sour. The day started off like any normal day. That is, except, she did not have to deliberately avoid the areas of the house that her dad, Harry, was in. It was strange that she had to feel uncomfortable in her own home.

For this special event, Beatrice had initially bought only three tickets for Ruby, Caleb and her mum, Y/N. Her dad had a packed schedule of promoting his newest album anyway so Beatrice thought that it wouldn’t even matter. She didn’t think he would want to come anyway. If Beatrice knew anything about her father is that he never really cared much about what went on in her life.

Beatrice supposes that it was okay. She had a whole lifetime to get used to it. A full lifestyle living on the edge because she didn’t know when her dad would clap-back with an insult for no reason. However, it didn’t mean that the spike in pain hurt any less. Don’t get her wrong; she was grateful for Y/N being around and involved. But Beatrice sometimes wondered how it would feel like to be wrapped in a fatherly embrace or be guided with wisdom and courage.

She really couldn’t remember the last time Harry did anything that made Beatrice feel like his daughter. Aside from the family photos they took on during the holidays or when celebrating whatever work achievement he managed to snag--that was the only time where Beatrice would feel Harry’s hand resting on her shoulder.

___

“Can I get one?” Ruby asked, tugging on the coloured strings of Beatrice’s cap. Her small body was being held by her older sister while Y/N took photos of the three siblings.

“Caleb, put your phone away please,” Y/N requested, shaking her head at the way the young boy groaned. Nonetheless, he followed the instruction.

"You’re lucky I love you or I would not have shown up,” Caleb grumbled, offering a sweet smile afterwards to suggest that he was joking. The three siblings posed for the camera, Beatrice trying hard not to let Ruby tilt her square cap.

Between a plastered smile, Beatrice replied, “Probably why dad isn’t here,”

Caleb widened his eyes significantly. Though, it seemed conspicuous to Y/N who was busy figuring out how to brighten the screen.

“That’s not true, sissy. He’s just busy,”

Beatrice chuckled, shrugging off the comforting hand of her younger brother, “Always busy but never when one of you have something going on,”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Caleb frowned at her response, focusing her attention on Ruby’s babbles. He almost spilled the surprise that their dad was going to watch Beatrice cross the stage. Caleb knew how his sisters felt about Harry and he hoped that his appearance would help patch things up between them.

Caleb walked over to Y/N, “Are you sure that Dad’s coming?”

Y/N nodded, “Yes, he said he’s looking for parking now,”

Caleb bit his lip nervously, “Do you think she’ll be surprised?”

——

“Graduate with honours, Beatrice Y/LN,”

Applause filled the venue as Beatrice walked up the steep steps of the stage. A shy smile was placed on her lips when she caught sight of the projector screen showcasing her achievements for her senior year.

In the audience, both Harry and Y/N were confused as to why Beatrice used her mother's name to be announced. The cinch in Y/N’s brow smoothed out when the principal continued speaking. Harry, however, couldn’t help the questioning frown.

“Top Chemistry. Top Biology. Overall Best Science Student. Gold Volunteer Badge. Level 4 Music Theory. Beatrice has been excelling both academically and musically while serving the community,”

Beatrice squinted at the bright lights, placing her diploma and speech on the podium. She had never been good at public speaking. However, her announced name gave Beatrice newfound confidence. It’s just her. All her achievements wouldn’t be credited to her father just because he was Harry Styles.

“Hi, uh,” She cleared her throat, “I’m Beatrice Y/LN and I’m very honoured to be standing in front of you today,”

Her speech was short and to the point; thanking her fellow classmates even though there were very few to thank personally. There were a few jokes in between and some nostalgic memories about various school events throughout the year. Beatrice mentioned remarks to her teachers who helped her achieve high grades. Lastly, she thanked her family for supporting  her

“I’d like to thank my family. My brother, Caleb. My sister, Ruby and my Mum. You guys have been so wonderful to me and I hope that I made you proud,”

Y/N was tearing up with a hand clasped over her mouth. She could not believe that her oldest daughter was off to university in a few weeks. Beatrice’s work ethic was unmatched and it showed in her getting the recognition that she deserved.

There was a pregnant pause before applause filled the space again. Despite switching her name last minute, everyone in her school knew that Beatrice was a Styles kid. They were probably waiting for her to mention him in her speech. But Beatrice felt no need to mention the man that had done nothing for her. He wasn’t even here.

“Thank you and congratulations, everyone!”

Harry slumped lower in his seat. He could feel Y/N’s worried eyes and Caleb’s observant gaze inspecting his face.

____

Beatrice stood beside her family, watching Harry a few metres away who was currently busy attending to the fans that recognized him. Even with his graying hair, many parents greeted him with a reminiscing statement about how they ‘saw him in concert back in the day’, to which he would chuckle at and proceed to converse for a few minutes until their child--Beatrice’s age--tugged them away.

All that Beatrice wanted to do was to get home and interact with her online friends. She had mentioned that she was graduating today and they were all very proud of her. Beatrice would rather take the peace and quiet of her own room than a bustling party.

“You’re invited,” Emma, a popular girl, stated while handing her a piece of paper with all the details of the party. Beatrice mumbled a hushed ‘thanks’, despite knowing that she wouldn’t even attend it in the first place.

“Are you going, Tris?” Y/N asked, holding Ruby’s hand so the youngest child would not get lost in the crowd.

Beatrice shook her head ‘no’, explaining that there was no point.

“I don’t know anyone there anyway,”

She was kind of a loner, but Beatrice was happier by herself anyways. “Besides, I don’t think dad will agree. It’s way past curfew,”

Y/N nodded in understanding. The curfew set for their eldest child was at nine in the evening. Y/N was sure that Harry would be lenient to let Beatrice go; it was her graduation after all. Sooner or later, Beatrice would be leaving for university.

____

Beatrice should be grateful. She should be happy, yet somehow those emotions were non-existent to her brain right now. She should be smiling, eyes brimming with tears because her dad actually cared to throw a party for her. But all she could feel right now was a pure disappointment and agonizing anger because Beatrice knows that he was trying to make up for years of mistreatment.

At this moment, the rowdiness of the party only proved that Harry really did not know anything about Beatrice. She did not know over half the people here, aside from the few relatives they see during the holidays; her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. The rest were recognizable from Harry’s industry. Beatrice swore she saw Lizzo sipping a cup of liquor in their kitchen.

Aside from the initial greeting of ‘congratulations’, paired with the large banister taped on the foyer of the house, this party wasn’t much of a celebration based on Beatrice’s milestone in life. If anything, it looked like a regular get together for celebrities and industry people. Frankly, she had no interest in interacting with them. As rude as it may sound, the swirling turmoil of emotions beginning from her stomach made Beatrice push past the packed crowd with a tight-lipped smile in order to get to her room.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, especially knowing that these people in her house absolutely adored Harry. They saw him as a family man, loved and appreciated by his kids. It wasn’t a complete lie, per se. Beatrice just didn’t have much experience to confirm that he was, in fact, a lovable and caring person.

If she had to put a finger on it, Beatrice was feeling utter disgust. She was disgusted because Harry was the perfect person in their eyes when everything he had shown her was that she was someone that didn’t deserve any of his attention. It felt like this was a celebration of her dad’s façade--he was not actually proud of her. He was just making it seem like he is so he wouldn’t be perceived as the dead-beat dad.

A knock at her door sounded. It was almost as if Beatrice could sense her dad’s presence without turning around to look at who just entered the privacy of her room.

“Tris?” Harry whispered, hesitating on mumbling the nickname. He had never done it willingly before, much less not as bitter as the previous times.

Beatrice swore that she could practically see the venom slithering on his tongue every time he said her name. But maybe that was just her skewed perception.

The chair that she was sitting on creaked as she shifted her weight, leaning her elbows on her desk.

“Why did you even throw a party, dad?”

It was merely a genuine question that held so many underlying meanings. Why now? Why not earlier when there was still hope to fix whatever sort of broken and fucked up relationship they had with each other?

Harry fully stepped into the room, observing the walls decorated with art and artists whom he recognized were his friends. He didn’t realize that she was a fan of Florence Pugh.

He cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth, “I wanted to celebrate your graduation,”

Beatrice internally rolled her eyes, “Did you really? Because you haven’t been there when I needed your help with my homework or assignments or anything. Now,  suddenly you want to act like you were a big part of how I achieved my accomplishments?”

It was a sour realization. It was accurate that Harry refused to help her with schoolwork. He swore that he was busy looking over new options for his upcoming projects. Retrospectively, he might have subconsciously spewed out excuses so that he wouldn’t be able to help his dear daughter.

Beatrice sighed, flattening the balls of her palms against the edge of the sleek wood, pushing the rolling wheels of the chair back. She stood up.

“Just admit it. You threw the party because you felt guilty and you think that somehow, everything will magically be okay between us?” Beatrice shot him a questioning look, chest-puffing when Harry’s lack of words confirmed her theory.

Beatrice propped her feet in the middle of her room, twisting her body so that her back was facing away from the closed-door; from him. She breathed heavily through her nose, lungs rising up and down as she gathered her thoughts.

Unbelievable.

Harry stood with his arms by his sides, staring at his daughter with curious compassion. He did not know what to say, nor did he know how to act because he didn’t take the time to get to know her. He didn’t spend time with Beatrice; nurturing, caring, calming or comforting her because he simply couldn't get over the fact that she was once a person that caused calamity in his life.

“Tris,” Her dad spoke, earning a pinch of her facial expression from the familiarity of the nickname. Yet, it was unfamiliar because Harry used it mundanely.

Beatrice cut him off, “I’ll be leaving for university in a few weeks. You can quit pretending like you care. You say this graduation party is for me but I don’t even know most of the people here!”

The volume of her voice reached a threshold that should warn both of them to keep quiet. However, Beatrice knew that with the hustle and bustle of the celebration going on downstairs—no one would hear her honesty except for her and Harry.

Harry blinked twice, mouth dropping slightly agape. Why did he throw this party? He knew his intentions; he was proud of his daughter. He wanted to show her off to everyone he knew about how intelligent and well-rounded Beatrice was.

The girl continued speaking as if reading Harry’s train of thought.

“This is for you,” She spoke bitterly as if her tongue was left with an odd taste in her mouth. “Showing off a ‘trophy’ daughter who graduated with honours but that doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing I ever do will match what you’ve done.”

The accompanying laugh—albeit, sarcastic— left Harry confused.

“What? No, this is for you. I’m proud of you,” Harry quickly disagreed with Beatrice, gesturing his large hands in a wave to emphasize his words.

She turned around with gentle disbelief; her features were hardened yet Beatrice’s eyes gleamed with hope. She wanted so badly to believe her dad, but his lack of attentiveness to her led Beatrice to roll her eyes at him instead.

“Cut the crap, Dad,”

“Language,” Harry added, pursing his lips when Beatrice scoffed.

“I can’t believe this,” Beatrice muttered, she stared at the ground as if picking out the words to say.

As bad as it sounded, she wanted to hurt her dad the way he did to her. Years of being treated like an unwanted child slowly built up inside of her and Beatrice wanted the pain to end.

“You wanted to be everything so bad that you forgot to be my Dad,”

“I am your dad, Tris,” Harry watched as she walked over to her desk. Fingers cascading the glass picture frame which held a still of their family.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Beatrice turned around, throwing the edged frame on her bed in a fit of anger.

Harry’s brows shot up to his forehead, watching his daughter’s eyes well up with tears.

“You are my dad but you’ve never been one to me! Why is that? Huh?” Beatrice pressed, crossing her arms and digging her fingernails on the skin of her bicep.

“I’m sorry that I took those opportunities away from you. You got movie deals, You had an album coming out. Tours, shows, money—you had everything and I ruined it, didn’t I? As you said, it would’ve been better if I wasn’t born,”

Harry was no stranger to not interrupting someone when they spoke. However, he couldn’t let Beatrice believe the words she spoke.

“Don’t say that! That’s not true,” He stuttered over his words, heart-shattering under the weight of Beatrice’s truthfulness. Sure, he had everything, but it didn’t mean that he was satisfied.

“But you thought about it right? You wondered how different it would be if I wasn’t born at the wrong time. Maybe you would’ve loved me more—like you do Caleb and Ruby,” Beatrice smiled sadly.

She was glad that at least her siblings would not have to experience the searing pain of being unappreciated. They did not deserve to be seen through like a ghost.

“Maybe you would’ve paid more attention to me. Maybe you would have cared that I was hurting every time you showed me nothing but disdain,”

Beatrice used her forearm to wipe away the tears beginning to soak her reddened cheeks. She sighed, plopping down at the foot of her bed, watching Harry look at her with an unreadable emotion on his face.

“You know, It’s not my responsibility to ask why,” Beatrice whispered. Though, she wondered what would have happened if she did question her dad why he looked at her as if she was a burden in his life.

Beatrice’s monologue crescendoed as utter pain cracked her voice every now and then. Her figure slouching as she truly experienced what it was like to let go of the turmoiled affliction soaring through her body.

“I’m your child! You’re the one who’s supposed to be looking out for me. You’re the one who’s supposed to show me what love is supposed to feel like. I’ve always wondered how you’d react if I came home with a boyfriend like all the movies and books talk about. But, all you’ve shown and made me feel was my first heartbreak when you’re supposed to be the one nursing me from it,”

At that point, Harry could not remain the eye contact he shared with his daughter, gazing down at the floorboard in shame.

“You were supposed to scare guys off because I’m your eldest daughter. You’re supposed to protect me from everything that could hurt me, even when it’s irrational because that is what Dads do,”

That same bitter laugh that pierced Harry’s ears earlier echoed again.

“But I guess you never really wanted to become one to begin with. Or maybe just not with me.”

Harry took a few steps back. Her words figuratively churned and twisted his gut. He caught his balance on the doorknob that moved feverishly under his weight. Sure, he didn’t want to be her dad at first. And he had many chances to fix a strained relationship, but he never took them. So really, he had no shield at denying the truth. He was simply a father who failed to be the dad to Beatrice.

“I-I do! I want to be--if you'd let me,” He hated the way his voice became weary.

Despite their differences, Beatrice and Harry both mutually hated the way his tone pinched. The way he had to plead and beg for his daughter’s forgiveness when it seemed to be too late. This could have been avoided if Harry took the chance to become the dad that Beatrice deserved to have. The dad that her siblings--Caleb and Ruby--saw and spent time with while Beatrice watched behind, wondering why she was never treated the way they did.

“For years, I wondered what was wrong with me. I listened to the music that you liked. I asked mum what you enjoyed doing because you never talk to me. I wanted you to see me as a daughter instead of this--this invisible speck that you shrug off your shoulder every time I needed you!” Beatrice cried out, hugging herself for comfort.

The worst part was that she could see Harry’s legs buckle in hesitation to come closer to her or not. He shouldn’t even have to think to comfort his daughter, but he did.

“I wanted you to like me as if I even have to do that in the first place! You’re my dad, don’t you get it? Because I didn’t. I spent so much time being the perfect child in hopes of you giving me an ounce of your attention aside from the face you put on when I walked into the room. Why did you have to treat me this way, huh?”

Tears spilled from her forest-green eyes, identical to Harry’s glazed ones. His mouth parted in retaliation. As if he was plopped in quicksand, Harry had no idea how to defend himself.

“I know that you didn’t want me in the first place but--,” Beatrice sniffled, wiping the salty liquid to her damp temples, “I just wished you treated me like I wasn’t a burden to you,”

_____

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #Harry styles fan fic #Harry styles fanfiction

[bestiesenpai]

Lout - Naoya Zenin

Y’all ever seen that movie bad teacher with cameron diaz that would be me as a teacher lol also Naoya is a third year 18+ all that good jazz fun fact I’m actually allergic to minors so yeah even mentioning them breaks me out into hives, it’s disgusting they’re disgusting, would not recommend. 0/10 stars on google review and yelp also femme reader 3.3k words

Content warnings: noncon + dubcon, age gap(reader is obvi gonna be older than naoya lol), teacher x student shit, degradation, choking, noncon video taking, biting, spanking, not a mindbreak necessarily but there’s hints of that here

There was a problem child in your senior class and you weren’t even the main teacher. Stuck as a teaching aid until you could get full certification, it wasn’t even you that really had to bear the brunt of this student's bad behavior should the principal ask. Yet somehow, it was your duty to get him into line before he graduated in a few months.

Naoya Zenin couldn’t even pretend to care about his highschool reputation. All he focused on was being top of the class and making sure everyone knew who exactly was in charge. At an elite private school where his family had been generous donors for generations, Naoya’s behavior was almost expected.

Until he nearly put another student in the hospital after a fight. That was the final straw for disgruntled parents and students alike, causing a massive uproar and demanding action. And of course that call to action fell on your shoulders.

“Seriously? They stuck me with a fucking aide?” Throwing open the door to the office space assigned to you in the meeting, Naoya glared at you. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked you or anything, but he felt slighted that the school didn’t send a real teacher to talk to him.

“Have a seat, Naoya.” Standing up from the desk, you motioned to the lone armchair in the room. Walking in and slamming the door behind him, Naoya rolled his eyes as he flopped into the chair.

“Let’s make this quick, I’ve got a dive team meeting soon.” Looking out at the courtyard below, Naoya squinted against the harsh afternoon sun coming in through the windows. He wasn’t concerned with this meeting at all, wanting it to be over so he can go and impress some Olympic team scouts.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you rustled the papers on your desk. There were pages of notes on what you were supposed to say, how you were supposed to say it and a few forms Naoya had to sign as well, stating that he’d be on his best behavior until graduation.

“Naoya, you know why you’re here.” You started, unable to meet his pointed gaze as it flicked over to you. “You’re behavior has gotten out of hand and-”

“So what?” Letting his head loll back, Naoya shrugged.

“And you need to be held accountable for your actions.” You pushed through the interruption, feeling your cheeks heat up in indignation.

“Yeah? My family’s had the dean in their pocket since this school was founded, I doubt there’s much I need to be accountable for.”

“You can’t throw money at everything, you know?”

“Why do you think I take judo?”

“Naoya, please.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you mimicked him for a moment and leaned your head back. “We’re supposed to be having this meeting to reform your behavior. You did a really bad thing, you nearly killed that other student.”

“Reform? The board sent you to reform me? That’s a fucking laugh if I’ve ever heard one.” Letting out a boisterous laugh, Naoya slapped his knee. “How are you going to change me when you can’t even look me in the eye?”

“T-that’s not important.” Embarrassed, you forced yourself to make brief eye contact with him before shuffling your papers around again. “Look, can you just let me say what’s on these papers? Then you can sign them and be on your way.”

“I don’t think I will.” Crossing his arms, Naoya had the nerve to stretch his legs out and prop his feet up on the desk.

“Naoya-”

“I still think it’s hilarious that you’re here of all people. I mean, just look at you!” Gesturing vaguely to your form, Naoya laughed again. “Not even a real fucking teacher yet. Why don’t you go back to the little corner office you have and let the grown ups handle the big stuff?”

“I’m older than you!” This was bad. He was trying to rile you up and it was working. The control you already didn’t have on the situation was getting worse by the minute and both you and Naoya knew that the power balance between you was heavily skewed in his favor.

“Really? I couldn’t tell, you’ve got about as much gusto as an infant.” Giving you a once over, he sneered. “The only thing going for you is your looks and honestly, they could use a little work.”

“Hey!” Now your face was really on fire. Chuckling at your reaction, Naoya sat up a little straighter.

“Don’t get so upset, I know a pair of twins that would be more than willing to help you improve.”

“Can we just focus on the reason we’re here?” You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The chances of saving this meeting - and your dignity - were slim to none, but you still had to try.

“Right, right, this nonsense about ‘reforming me’.” Using heavy air quotes, Naoya dragged his feet off the desk and let them land on the ground with a loud thud. Taking another look out the windows, he started to undo the tie around his neck.

“Yes. Now, you’re going to sit there and just listen, okay? It’ll only take a few minutes, then you can go on about your day.” You were foolish to believe that you could possibly do anything to Naoya, let alone change his mind on something like this. All the high hopes you’d scrounged together before this meeting were utterly crushed when Naoya stood up.

“No, you listen.” In one fell swoop, Naoya pushed all the papers off the desk, waiting as they all fell to the ground and drinking in your shocked expression. “It’s almost insulting that you think you have any control over this situation, let alone me.”

“Sit back down, Naoya.” Your voice shook terribly as he rounded the desk. You weren’t able to push your chair away fast enough, and he was able to grab onto the back and spin you to face him.

“But teacher, I don’t want to.” He mocked, wasting no time in grabbing you by the throat and forcing you to stand. Clawing at his hand was no use, Naoya’s strength greatly outmatched yours and in just a few moments he was able to manhandle your arms behind your back and use his tie to bind your wrists together.

“Let me go, Naoya!” Thrashing against the desk you were now leaning on for support, a sense of dread filled you. Even if you managed to undo the tie, there was still the issue of actually getting out of the room and away from Naoya, and if his ease in handling you told you anything it was that that task would be impossible.

“Ya know, (Y/N)- can I call you (Y/N)?” He had a stupid grin on his face, pushing you to lean more on the desk as he stood in front of you. “You’ve talked a lot about reform and changing my behavior, but the only one I see here in need of an attitude adjustment is you.”

“Naoya!” Horror ripped through you as he yanked your top open, popping the buttons on your blouse and letting out a whistle at seeing your bra.

“(Y/N), I think you’re violating dress code right now.” Clicking his tongue, Naoya pulled your bra down as far as it would go. “I’ll have to give you a demerit.” Keeping one hand on your throat, Naoya pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers.

You wouldn’t know it, but Naoya’s heart was beating wildly in his chest. The rush of power he usually got from presiding and dominating the other students was nothing compared to the power he felt now. This wasn’t even something he dreamed about doing, but you’d just given him the golden opportunity to really test his power at this school.

Lurching forward, Naoya sunk his teeth right below your jawline, somewhere he knew you’d have a hard time covering up the mark. The pained squeal you let out went straight to his head and right between his legs, making him bite you in another place and suck harshly on the skin.

Rutting his hips against your thigh, Naoya groaned as he trailed his mouth down your neck, leaving deep teeth marks that he knew would sting when you were alone at night later. Putting one of your nipples in his mouth, Naoya rolled it between his teeth and let drool drip out of his mouth and down your skin.

“Stop it, Naoya! Let me go!” There were strained tears in your eyes that refused to be blinked away. A flurry of slurred protests left your lips as his hand tightened on your neck, enough to have you gasping for air.

“Not until I teach you a little lesson.” He growled, leveling you with a single look. Keeping his grip firm until your eyes rolled back in your head, Naoya let go when he was sure you wouldn’t try to speak again.

Coughing and spluttering, there was little you could do with your fuzzy brain to stop Naoya from turning you around and bending you over the desk. Your face pressed into the hard surface and the wood dug into your face and hips as they were pushed forward.

Grabbing onto your bottoms, Naoya pulled them down until they were at your ankles, unceremoniously ripping off your panties and no doubt shoving them into his pocket. Your heated skin was exposed to the air of the room, making goosebumps pebble on your flesh.

“Ow!” The first slap to your ass was hard and unforgiving, making the tears in your eyes finally fall. “S-stop!” You tried to move your body away from the impending pain but it was no use, Naoya hit your other cheek almost as soon as you started to move.

“What’s wrong, teacher? Never had a bit of corporal punishment?” Laughing haughtily, Naoya grabbed your stinging skin in his hand.

“Ow, ow- N-naoya please, let me go!”

“Not a chance!” Slapping both cheeks in tandem, Naoya could feel the adrenaline going through him. There was no limit to what he could do in this moment, he could walk away and leave you like this, stranded for someone to find. Or, and he liked this option more, he could keep going, and save a few keepsakes for himself.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Naoya opened the camera with no hesitation. Taking a video of your heaving body, groping your ass and hips, spreading your cheeks apart to reveal your asshole, Naoya tried to keep the groan coming forward low.

“W-what’re you doing?” You could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, and your blood ran cold upon realizing what he was doing.

“Say hi.” Shoving the camera in your face, Naoya grabbed your chin to keep you from turning away. “Smile for the camera, (Y/N), don’t cry!”

“No, no, no…” Your career is over. Your life is over. Everything you’d worked so hard for, your education, this job - it was going to be taken away if Naoya decided to share the video. You’d be blacklisted from ever working in a school again and you would definitely face legal trouble for being in this situation with a student.

Leaving you for a moment, Naoya propped his phone up on the windowsill, making sure the camera was capturing the both of you as he went back over. Giving a cheeky little wave to the camera, Naoya turned his attention back to you.

Pushing a hand between your legs, Naoya chuckled darkly at the slick that met the tips of his fingers. It was a miniscule amount, but enough that he could mock you over it. Dragging his fingers through your folds, he presented the fingers to you.

“Who knew Ms. (Y/N) was such a fucking slut?” Rubbing his fingers together, Naoya held his hand up to the camera. “Ms. (Y/N) likes it when I’m rough with her.”

“No...no I don’t.” Sniffling pathetically, you shook your head as best you could.

“Don’t lie, the proof is right here.” Wiping his fingers across your cheek, he made a show of pushing your legs further apart and putting his hand back on your cunt. Pinching your clit, Naoya bit his lip as you let out a high pitch whine.

He knew he’d meet too much resistance if he tried to shove his cock in straight away, so Naoya took it upon himself to prep you a bit. Rubbing your clit in tight circles, he leered over you and watched as you struggled to keep whimpers at bay.

“Don’t be shy, let the camera know how much you like this. We already know how much of a slut you are.”

“I don’t- I don’t like this.”

“Hm? Then why are you getting wet?”

“T-thats-” He had you beat there, the glide of his fingers was getting easier and a distinct wet sound was starting to take shape.

“No need to be shy, teacher. You can tell me you’re just a dumb fucking slut.” Pressing his lips against your ear, Naoya looked at the camera. “I know you see the camera, say it nice and loud for me.”

“No.” Shaking your head, a sharp cry ripped through you as Naoya hit your thigh. From the force of his slap you knew there’d be a hand printed welt on your leg.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m a- a dumb fucking slut!” You sobbed and the strength nearly left your legs entirely. If not for Naoya holding you up you would have tumbled to the floor in shame.

“Now was that so hard?” Standing up straight, Naoya was done stalling. Pushing a finger inside you, he deemed you ready enough to take him and undid the belt on his pants, letting them fall to his ankles.

Taking a second to himself, Naoya ground his clothed cock against your body. This opportunity was something to cherish and he was going to savor every moment of it. Taking a deep breath as pleasure made his spine ripple, Naoya pushed down his underwear and grabbed his cock.

“Teacher, I have a bit of a problem, won’t you fix it?” Naoya teased, rubbing his cock along your slit.

“Wait Naoya, you need protection.”

“Shut up. You’d be lucky to bear a child with Zenin blood, so count this as a gift from me to you.” Putting the tip in, Naoya let his head fall back and gaze down his nose at where your cunt was already sucking him in.

Ignoring your protests, Naoya pushed his cock in all the way, quickly bottoming out and nestling his hips snugly against yours. Planting his hands on the desk to steady himself, he had to take a few deep breaths before beginning to move again.

Putting a hand on the back of your neck to keep you from moving too much, Naoya pulled his hips back, looking at the way his cock glistened with your slick. Breathing hard through his nose, he pushed back in and started a steady rhythm.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He grunted behind clenched teeth, the hold on your neck getting tighter as he focused on moving his body and not cumming too soon. The clap of his hips against your ass was music to his ears, a sound Naoya was sure not to forget any time soon.

The shame of being fucked by a student was heavy enough on your mind but the shame knowing you were starting to enjoy it was even worse. Keeping your eyes tightly closed, there was little you could do as Naoya pounded into you, the full length of his cock hitting places inside you that hadn’t ever been touched before by previous partners.

“Fuck!” The shout that came out of you was unrestrained, you couldn’t contain yourself as Naoya put his fingers back on your clit. Humiliation covered you like a thick blanket, almost choking you as much as Naoya was.

“I knew you’d come around, (Y/N). No one can resist a Zenin.” Smirking at your scrunched up face, Naoya wrapped his hand fully around your throat and pulled you up until your back was nearly flush with him.

The new angle had a loud moan coming from you and Naoya was close to cumming as well, he could feel his toes start to curl and tingle. His mind was starting to get foggy, and the hold he had was starting to slip from the sweat building up between you.

“Make sure not to waste what I give you, okay? It’s special.”

“You have to pull out, Naoya. You have to!” You couldn’t get pregnant by a student, especially one as high profile as him. Humming against your ear, Naoya shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I will. This is the last part of your attitude adjustment, I need to make sure you remember it.”

“N-naoya- pull out-” You stuttered as your orgasm washed over you, making your back arch and angling your ass perfectly for Naoya to cum as well. Making sure his cock was as deep as possible, Naoya let you fall back onto the desk as he rutted into you.

Biting you on the shoulder one last time, Naoya stayed inside you until his breathing went back to normal and his cock went soft. He had sweat clinging to his body and his uniform was wrinkled beyond belief when he stood up.

Fixing his clothes, Naoya undid the tie around your wrists and watched your arms limply fall to the side. There was no doubt you were sore, he’d given you enough marks to last a week. Smoothing a hand over your still stinging thigh, Naoya stepped away from you and laughed as you fell to the floor.

“Ya know, maybe this meeting was beneficial after all. Wouldn’t you say, teach?” Toeing at your spent body curled up on the floor, Naoya drank you in one last time before going to his phone and ending the video.

Gathering his things and answering a few texts, Naoya grinned as you hobbled to your feet. You avoided looking at him, opting instead to try salvage your own clothes and make sense of the world again. The sun was still shining brightly in the sky and if you held your breath you could hear the distant sound of students on a baseball field.

“Well, I’ll be going now.” Naoya threw open the door, startling you.

“Wait.” Reaching out to him, your eyes went straight to the phone in his hands. “That video-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t show it to anyone, I promise!” Crossing his fingers for dramatic effect, Naoya tucked it away into his back pocket. “Stay out of my way for the rest of the school year, and I’ll delete it when I graduate.”

You couldn’t trust his words and you both knew it. There was no way Naoya would let this be a one time thing, now that he’s gotten a taste for it. He would only continue to take what he wanted from you, making your life hell until he left the school - he wouldn’t let you leave before him.

“Fine.” But it was all you had to go on, so you nodded your head and accepted your fate.

“Fine.” Nodding curtly, Naoya stepped out into the hall with a wide smirk on his face. “See you in class later, Ms. (Y/N).”

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: teacher student #tw: choking #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #naoya zenin smut

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.15

Stressed

01/16/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,747

Warnings: angst, jealousy, anxiety, talks of pregnancy, conception troubles

A/N: I’m sorry this came so late and that it’s taking me time to get these out. I’m writing very slowly right now and I only have my brain to blame. I’m finding it so hard to focus right now and I’m not sure why. I’ve gotten away from my usual habit of writing when I wake up and before I go to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll get back to normal soon. I hope y’all like (hate?) this chapter! Things will start to get tough from here on out. I hope y’all will stick with me through it. xoxo

“Well, I’ve got to get back to my girls. Some of them have taken to sneaking out at night in an attempt to earn their wings. If I catch them, I get to make them do whatever I want and I’m not going to lie, it’s the best part of my day.”

Hilde smiles at you, and you try to give her a returning social exchange with the same energy but your mind and eyes keep drifting back to the astronomer across the room currently chatting with Bruce and Tony animatedly about something scientific that you don’t understand.

“Are you seriously stressing about her?” Hilde asks, exasperated with you already.

“No,” you answer with your feathers obviously ruffled. “I’m not.”

Hilde clearly doesn’t believe you as she skews her lips and tilts her head.

“I’m not!”

You say it too loudly and the trio on the other side of the table turn to look at you.

“Not what?” Tony asks, brow furrowed a little with curiosity.

“She’s not tired,” Hilde covers. “How about a tour from Her Majesty?”

“Uh, yeah, I can give you all a tour of the palace. It’s really big.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “No tour for me. As fun as following you around while you brag about how much bigger your house is than mine sounds, I just spent weeks in the trenches and I’m going to try and get some sleep or Pepper will ground me and won’t let me come out and play. So, I think, good night?”

“Right. Of course, yeah. Estrid?” You call out to the two large open doors.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries into view, giving you a quick curtsy before standing with her hands at her front.

“Can you show Mr. Stark-”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Sorry, habit,” you laugh nervously. “Can you show Tony to his room, please? And Bruce?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d love some sleep,” he nods, rubbing his chest with one hand in slow circles.

“And Bruce as well,” you nod to Estrid who gives you another curtsy.

They all begin to stand, shoving their chairs back in under the table and taking a last drink.

“And…” with odd trepidation, you look at your husband’s very recent former lover and try not to feel too overwhelmed. “Jane?”

“No, actually I was hoping I could speak with you?”

She takes a step towards you, hands pulled to her front as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers for a second then drops them at her sides.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you, Estrid. When you’ve escorted the gentlemen to their rooms, come find me so that you can show Jane hers when she’s ready.”

“Very good, Your Majesty,” Estrid nods, another curtsy before she turns to Bruce and Tony who now look nervous too as they give you and then Jane inquisitive looks. “This way, gentlemen.”

As Estrid disappears into the hallway, Tony and Bruce follow slowly leaving you, Hilde, and Jane to stand awkwardly in the smaller of the two dining rooms in the palace.

“Should I stay?” Hilde wonders, inching a little closer to you and reaching out to grab your elbow.

“Hm? No. It’s okay. But if you’re going-?”

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall’s warm voice fills the space strangely washing over you with a soothing calm.

Something about Heimdall always makes you feel at ease and the night suddenly seems very bearable.

“Heimdall will be taking over your care until Thor returns, is that alright?” Hilde checks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Will I do, Your Majesty?” Heimdall asks, his voice a gentle teasing.

“Of course, Heimdall!” your huff of a laugh pulls from him a gentle chuckle and he moves around towards you to draw your hand up to his lips.

It’s a genuine sign of respect and it warms your heart.

“Alright, well, I’m off. I will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty. Jane.” Hilde gives her a nod and quickly slides from the room eager to catch her troops out of bed.

Heimdall makes his way towards Jane and as she turns to him, she smiles wide, “Heimdall, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Jane Foster,” he says her name in full though it doesn’t sound as if he’s being formal.

In fact, they sound pretty close.

“It has been quite a while.” They hug and your heart gives a strange uncertain clench. “How are you?”

“I’m good, all things considered,” Jane says.

All things considered? What things considered?

“Yes, well…” Heimdall leaves his words hanging there, full of meaning that you don’t understand and suddenly the warmth his greeting had left you with is gone and in its place is a sense of intrusion.

Jane was the Queen they had all been expecting. Suddenly feeling dismal, you turn away from their reunion to fill up your fancy silver cup with wine and take a nice long drink.

Without turning back around to look at her because in the moment you can’t really bear it, you address her and hope that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“What was it that you wanted to speak to me about, Jane?”

Hopefully it has nothing to do with Thor or you might just lose your head a little. While a part of you would very much like to bury the hatchet and put everything that happened with her and Thor in the past behind you, in this moment, the last thing you want to do is talk about how she is or was the love of his life.

That you know, right?

This is all so fucked.

“I was actually just wondering if you had a space that I could set up my equipment? Somewhere with clear access to the sky is preferable, and lots of space? I’ll need to set up my equipment to show Thor--and yourself what I’ve been seeing the last few months.”

You can hear it in her voice that she added you as an afterthought. She came to show Thor. To see him?

You hate this sudden insecurity growing inside of you, this second guessing that didn’t even exist until she walked into your home tonight.

Are you thinking too much? Is this wrong of you? Thor is your husband. He loves you. He says it every day. Several times a day because he knows you need to hear it. He physically shows you, also several times a day if he can. Just today, in the hallway downstairs…

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts, pulling you from your thoughts.

You dismiss his concern without acknowledging it because it’s in his all-seeing eyes. Instead, you focus on Jane.

“I have the perfect space. It’s a bit of a walk. I mean, it’s still on palace grounds, just a bit further up the hill behind us. But it’s an observation tower Loki was having built probably for this exact reason.”

“Perfect,” she smiles, then moves to her chair to pick up a large brown bag you hadn’t noticed she’d brought in here with her. “After you?”

Heimdall follows behind the two of you and Jane follows a step behind as you lead her out of the palace back entrance which is hidden behind a smaller room behind the throne room.

The night is chilly and you wrap your arms around yourself and regret the shorter choice of dress.

Jane also seems to shiver for a moment but her own clothes are more tailored to the weather outside than yours is. Her shiver passes.

“Do you enjoy living here?” she asks.

For a moment you don’t realize she’s talking to you, then when no one else answers, you start and quickly clear your throat.

“Yes, I do. I mean, it’s cold a lot. I’ll be glad when Summer’s here. Spring is also kind of on the chillier side.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, as if she’s been here often.

The silence after her affirmation grows tense and your heart begins to pound as your mind goes into a flurry of what she might have gotten up to here in New Asgard before you’d come into the picture.

Warmth suddenly envelops you and you turn to look at Heimdall as he places his dark cloak over your shoulders.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” you gasp, reaching up to pull the cloak around yourself more tightly.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Heimdall nods, “It’s my honor.”

The terrain suddenly grows more rugged and Heimdall is quick to offer you his arm as you adjust your steps to accommodate the rockier path.

You make a mental note to have this pathway fixed. Smoothed out and maybe even given a railing as it gets steeper.

The only thing you can hear is the sound of three pairs of feet trudging along shifting stone and dirt then a softer step as the hill evens out a bit more and becomes covered in grass.

When you don’t have to look down at where you’re stepping anymore, you look up at the tower that looms ahead.

The base is made of heavy stone, each placed with precision and reinforced with steel supports. Wooden beams line each of the corners, decorated with carved images of what you can only assume are Asgardian moments in history.

When you’d come to see its progress at the beginning of its creation, you’d recognized the images of Thor and Odin in battle just above the beam that lines the doorway.

The rest of the tower is a mix of wood, stone, and iron. The aesthetic is very much like the palace, Asgardian curves and shapes fit into more modern Norse lines.

The three of you stop as you reach it and Heimdall hurries forward to throw the large door open.

As you step through, you see that the inside of the tower has not changed much since the last time you came to inspect it.

The bottom floor is a large empty room with only a fireplace against the back wall, exposed rafters up above before the height is cut short by the ceiling.

“Wow,” Jane does sound impressed, “This is great. Is there a-?”

“Upstairs,” you point towards the staircase to the right that rises up around the side of the room. “There’s another room, smaller, but it has a lot of balcony space.”

“Great! Thanks,” she sighs with relief as if she really didn’t expect you to give her some space to work, then heads towards the staircase.

“Um, there’s no furniture in here yet. I’ll have someone bring you some tables and chairs, is there anything more specific that you need?”

Jane stops at the foot of the stairs then turns to look at you and then the space of the bottom floor.

“Would it be possible to get a bed in here? You’re right, and it is a long way from the palace. I’m gonna be in here probably all the time so…?”

You know that she isn’t asking for the impossible or anything out of the question, but suddenly the idea of making this tower her little space has a whole other life playing out in your head.

A life where you had married Thor and he had been unable to give up Jane. A life of her living here at the palace with you in her own space where Thor can come and be with her in private away from prying eyes while still giving the appearance of being with you, his Queen in name only.

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow again and pull you from the pain and panic you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile, a small shake of your head, “Yes, of course. Sorry, I’ve had a busy day. I’ll have them bring you everything you need within the hour.”

“Thank you. Once I have everything set up I’ll make sure to show you what I’ve found and then Thor can um, plan for what might come?”

“Of course,” you agree, eager to get the hell out of here and back to your room where you can fall apart in private. “Now, I hope you’ll excuse my bad hosting skills, but I really am super tired and I think I’m going to turn in a little early.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! No problem at all,” Jane smiles, “Thank you for all your help. And dinner! Dinner was so good. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’ll let Cook know,” you nod, hoping that your smile isn’t too tense for the moment. “Good night.”

“Night!”

You’re almost grateful for the cold night air as it bites the skin of your cheeks. Anything is better than the stress you just felt in that tower.

You hear the heavy door of the tower close behind you, then Heimdall’s footsteps join your own though your heavy breathing is alone as he walks calmly beside you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Heimdall wonders, gentle and honestly concerned.

“I’m fine,” You lie.

“Does having Jane Foster here bother you? There is no need for you to worry. I have seen Thor be with many women-”

“Oh, my God,” and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Not helping, Heimdall.”

“-and I have never seen him be with anyone the way he is with you. It’s more than just love. It's a partnership. Companionship. It’s friendship. Trust. After their initial reconnection, Thor’s trust in Jane and their courtship dwindled and as you know, by the end, it was completely gone.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s so sure that I love him that he has no reason to worry?”

Which is true, you do and he has no reason to worry about you not loving him or falling for someone else at this point. You can’t even imagine being with anyone the way you’ve been with Thor.

“He’s not afraid to lose me?” You hate giving into these thoughts.

Honestly though, talking about them to someone will help you sleep tonight. Maybe.

“Yes,” Heimdall agrees. “And no. Even now, this very moment, all he can think of is you.”

You stop walking, stunned by his words because you’ve never asked him to look for you. You’ve heard Thor ask him to see things before, to search, and Heimdall always has. It had never crossed your mind to do the same.

Then again, this is the first time you and Thor have been apart since before you were married.

“What-You can see him?” Heimdall looks down at your feet, focuses what must be his mental eyes, and then slowly nods.

“He’s distressed at leaving you here alone, he’s finding it hard to focus on what Fandral is telling him and Fandral is growing more and more upset.”

You smile, completely absorbed by this information.

“Did he ever ask you to look for her? For Jane?”

Your words are quiet, hesitant, though your heart feels slightly more at ease by Heimdall’s reassurance.

“In the very beginning of their courtship, just after he left Earth and the bifrost was destroyed. Their love was new then. It was short-lived. Then Thor came back to Earth and they were able to be together, for a time.

“But their compatibility has always had its trials. After some time together, Thor was called back to the Universe and Jane had her own work to do. Their responsibilities have always pulled them apart and if I’m honest, Thor is the more hopeless romantic between them.”

You think about all of the small things that Thor has done for you since you came back home. The flowers, the baths, surprise dinners, the small presents hidden under your pillow or in drawers he knows you’ll get into. He’s done a lot more to show you he’s thinking about you during the day than you have and you can understand what Heimdall is saying.

You’re not so much a gift giver in love it seems, and instead give him all of the affection he’d seemed so starved for in the beginning.

“Her being here will not damage your marriage. Trust me.” Heimdall finishes.

You lead the walk again, moving slower but calmer after Heimdall’s reassurance.

“Will you come back up and check that Jane gets everything she needs? We really should have had the tower set up a long time ago.”

“As soon as I am certain you are in your quarters safe, with a guard outside your door, yes. I can ensure that she has everything that she requires.”

For a few minutes you walk in silence, at ease. When you reach the back doors of the palace however and he holds the doors open for you, you turn to Heimdall and after a quick bite to your lip, “Is he still with Fandral?”

Heimdall smiles and nods, “Fandral is yelling at him for not paying attention.”

Both of you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s so early when you wake. It’s still dark outside and you’re almost sure that sunrise is still a few hours away.

You’re exhausted. Eyes burning as you push yourself up and the night plays itself over.

So suddenly you’re anxious again, nerves making your fingertips tingle and your stomach do an uncomfortable flip as you turn over onto your back to look at Thor’s side of the bed.

It’s undisturbed. Both pillows are still in their made up position.

He said he’d be back very late at night, early morning at the latest. You’d been hoping for the former.

With a groan, you sit up, sliding slowly down to the end of the bed and the bench where Thor sits to put his boots on.

You’re so groggy. The night was restless and you’ve really only gotten about an hour of sleep. Two at the most.

It’s stuffy in the room, the fire still burning and leaving you a little sticky from being huddled underneath a heavy blanket because you’d missed the weight of Thor’s arms all night.

The large glass doors across from you rattle from the wintry breeze outside, beckoning you forward for relief from this heat.

As you step on the floor, your body is rocked with a shiver that pushes you up onto your toes. As fancy as this palace is, you’ll have to ask Thor if it’s possible to get some heated floors installed.

Moving as quickly as you can, you don’t stop until you’re at the doors and then thrust them open and absolutely inhale the frigid late night air.

You scan the distant ocean as it spreads into the horizon, the sky it touches still an inky black with a breathtaking scattering of stars.

You can hear the Valkyrie below in their barracks and training grounds already working hard to get into shape. Hilde must have really caught them sneaking out.

Heimdall should be waiting close by. You really want to see if he has news about Thor’s schedule and if maybe he’s on his way home and just running late.

As you turn to walk back into the room, you freeze as your eyes scan the tower you’d set Jane up in.

From this angle you have a clear view of the balcony. She’s already set up her equipment. You didn’t know that you could see this well into the tower.

It’s all lit up like a beacon in the dark.

It’s an unpleasant reminder that she’s here and you make a mental note to keep the curtains drawn when you know she’s up there. Which you realize that unfortunately, will probably mean all the time.

Sighing, you move towards the door but then freeze again as Thor moves from the balcony doorway towards a large telescope attached to what looks like heavily modified computers.

He’s still in uniform, smiling. Behind him, Jane follows, arms wrapped around herself before she stops too close to Thor for your liking.

She rushes around him and looks through the eyepiece. You can see her talking away, mouth moving at the speed of light as she explains something to him, her hands flying around her as she talks, apparently the cold is forgotten.

She pulls away from the telescope as Thor chuckles then moves back inside out of sight as Thor sidles up to the eyepiece but doesn’t touch it yet.

The telescope moves, clearly Jane adjusting it from inside where she must have set up her computer equipment.

Thor takes a step back then the telescope stops and Jane flutters back out onto the balcony and gestures for Thor to look through.

He does, Jane moves in beside him, saying something that must be a whisper if she’s standing that close. He says something back.

The two of them having a pleasant conversation.

The clench in your chest feels choking.

Thor pulls back from the eyepiece and turns to look at her.

He’s too far away for you to see his expression, too small. But their faces are so close and he doesn’t pull away.

You sink back into your room, terrified to see something that will ruin the perfect bliss you’ve been in these first three months of your marriage.

Not that it isn’t already ruined. You’ve been a mess since Jane showed her face and now with what you just saw, how can you feel anything but lousy?

You don’t do what you want to do. You don’t slink back into bed and hide under the covers to wallow.

Instead you move to your closet and look for a dignified dress. Something that you can wear that will scream Queen of New Asgard but also be relaxed enough for you to work in.

You choose something with a simple cut. Long sleeves, a deep V in the front, with a loose flowing skirt but a tight bodice to match the equally tight sleeves. The color is an iridescent black that shimmers in teal and startling pink.

The color reminds you of the northern lights with a splash of the hazy pink in the orion nebula. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, and it screams Queen of Asgard in casual formal.

With the dress you move back into the room and hang it on the small stand in front of the full length mirror by your vanity before grabbing some new underwear and moving into the bath.

You ignore the large tub you and Thor have spent hours upon hours in and quickly shower instead. You emerge fresh and clean, though not exactly refreshed.

You’re stepping out of the shower when your bedroom doors open and you freeze, staring at them as they swing forward with your hands pressed to the top of your towel holding it shut.

Your heart drops when Estrid smiles prettily at you, turning around to close the doors as she greets you.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” She moves straight for your vanity to pull out the brush, pins, and makeup she usually uses on you in the morning.

She’s in here much earlier than normal and she can’t have gotten that much sleep herself. She’s so attuned to you now that you’re worried for her but also grateful.

“Good morning, Estrid,” you reply, refusing to answer her question because she’d only worry. “Did Ms. Foster get all of the things she needed in the tower?”

“Yes, m’am. Heimdall made sure that she had everything she would need for her research before he retired to stand guard at your door.”

You have an endless stream of questions about Thor in your head, things you want to ask Estrid but you bite your tongue as Estrid helps you on with your dress then sits you down at your vanity to dry your hair and work on today’s set of braids.

Time passes as she works. Time that feels like seconds to you as your mind works hard to try and reassure your heart that you have nothing to worry about, and yet, it still aches.

“You’re very quiet this morning, Your Majesty,” she observes.

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like talking unless I have to.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she accepts, but then after a few minutes of silence. “Are you not feeling well? Shall I send for the doctor?”

“No, Estrid. I’m not sick. I’m-shit, what’s the date today?”

Reaching around, you look for your phone to check the date.

“‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty,” Estrid informs you.

“Did you forget about me already?” A deep smooth voice slides in from your doorway and you turn in search of the comfort the tone gives you.

“David!”

On your feet and across the room, David greets you with open arms. A small firm hug is what he gives you before kissing the side of your head and then pushing you back to look at you.

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before he frowns playfully.

“Nothing yet? I guess we’ll find out today if we’re to expect anything in the next month.”

“No pressure,” you reply sarcastically.

David chuckles, his fancy four piece navy suit a display of his busy nature. As much as he wants to visit, you know that he’s busier now with so many people wanting his services. The prestige of being the Queen of New Asgard’s lawyer has brought him a windfall.

Not that he needs it, but he appreciates the work.

“I did forget we had a testing today. Something happened yesterday.”

Your voice filters into a whisper at the end, though you’re not even aware of it.

David matches your energy, though he doesn’t whisper, he recognizes your stress and concern saturates his entire person.

“What’s happened?”

“I-” You look towards Estrid, and she’s so good that she’s cleaning your vanity, ignoring your conversation as best she can, but still. “Estrid, were you finished with my hair?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she turns to you and smiles. “Will you be needing anything else? Breakfast in the breakfast room?”

“Are you hungry, David?”

“No, I’m not. Thank you.”

“No breakfast, Estrid. Thank you. When the doctor arrives, can you show him in?”

Estrid curtsies, and without another word, she leaves you and David in the room.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” David tells you as he moves towards the small table in the corner to sit but waits for you to reach your chair first to pull it out for you.

“Thanks, I chose it very carefully,” you admit. “Does it make me look like a real Queen?”

“You are a real Queen,” David assures you, then cocks his head as he registers your stress again. “What happened last night?”

You sigh heavily, using your nails to pick at the woodgrain of the table, shoulders slouched a little as you deflate.

“Jane showed up with Tony and Bruce,” you reveal, a shaky breath accompanying your desperate information.

“Oh? At Thor’s invitation?” David wonders, which honestly sobers you up a little from your depression.

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, Tony and Bruce were supposed to come to install a security system for the palace and I guess maybe she just tagged along?”

“And you are upset that your husband’s former lover has forced her way into your new home.”

It’s not a question. David has always been very observant and he sucks for it. Jerk.

“Well...yeah. But that’s not why-”

“Something else happened?”

David leans towards you and places his hand over yours, a soft knowing look on your surrogate father’s face.

With a quick little sigh you tell him about your stress over not getting pregnant and the pressures from the ambassadors to do that before more time goes by to secure the ties between the Asgardians to Earth. You tell him about your worries about Jane that have died down a little since you and Thor got married but have never truly gone away. Lastly, you tell him about what you saw this morning and how you’d been expecting Thor to come directly to you when he got back but clearly that’s not happening.

“Maybe I’m being too sensitive? But I mean, it’s been what? An hour and a half since you got here and he still hasn’t come to look for me?”

You reach over and rub your arm, the soft fabric of your dress pleasing but only in the back of your mind where you’re not thinking about Thor and Jane.

“If that is how you feel, then that is how you feel. The important part now is talking to Thor about it. Couples lose out when they feel about something the way that they do and then keep it to themselves. Even Gods are not mind readers.”

David tilts his head, eyes looking across the room for a moment before he looks right back at you.

“At least not to my knowledge.”

You almost smile, but the stress of talking to Thor about this is giving your anxiety a nice boost.

“What if I don’t like what he says?”

“Then you don’t like it. You cannot avoid the confrontation because you might not hear what you want to hear. That is not how a marriage, or any relationship works. In big moments like these, honesty I think is the best policy.”

He’s right of course. You know he is. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You close your eyes and try to see Thor’s handsome face smiling sweetly at you, just as he had yesterday before he left. Instead you see him smiling down at Jane next to that stupid telescope, him chuckling at whatever she’s saying as she talks away about her work.

Two knocks to your door pull you from your stupid thoughts and drop your heart into the pit of your stomach, but Estrid peeks in to make sure that you’re okay to see her.

Suddenly, you’re dreading seeing Thor.

“Come in, Estrid.”

She moves in, behind her follows two doctors. One is a woman with a lovely heart shaped face and long full dark brown hair that compliments her olive skin. She’s wearing a sleek gray pantsuit, pink camisole underneath, and a thick black coat draped over her arm.

Her name is Amana Wilson and she has been your gynecologist since David gave you your inheritance and you were able to afford better healthcare.

The second doctor is an older man with a thick black beard streaked through with bits of gray. He glows an almost ethereal way. Clearly Asgardian. Your general caregiver since you moved to New Asgard, Doctor Alric Orvinson smiles eagerly, kindly, a pure excitement radiating off of him.

He’s always so eager to put everything he’s learning into practice.

Doctor Wilson curtsies and Doctor Alric bows before they both greet you in unison.

“Your Majesty,” they say.

David waits until you’re standing before he stands too, but then he moves towards the doors.

“I think I’ll go have some of that breakfast you offered me,” he tells you then makes his way towards the large doors. “Doctors, I know you will give Her Majesty the best care you can offer?”

“Of course,” Doctor Wilson assures him and he leaves you with a quick wink of his eye.

“Thank you, Estrid. Make sure David gets a proper meal? No pop tarts!”

“Party pooper!” David shouts back.

Estrid curtsies, “Right away, Your Majesty.”

She leaves you quickly with a chuckle in her throat at your exchange with David.

As the door closes, you take a step towards your doctors and slowly release a held breath.

“So, what will it be today? Should I go strip or…?”

“No. Not today. Since we did a physical on you last time, we won’t worry about that during this visit,” Doctor Wilson assures you.

“Today, Doctor Wilson will be watching me take some blood and perform a pregnancy test to see if you are expecting our heir!”

Our heir?

New Asgard sees the future prince or princess to come as their own. It’s not just your and Thor’s baby. This baby, if and when there is a baby, is an entire people’s baby.

You feel your anxiety rise again. Clenching your hands, you nod and force a smile as Doctor Alric moves towards you with a large metallic box that he places down and opens.

Inside comes a rush of cold air and what looks like medical equipment used to test blood. You don’t know what it’s called and it’s super high tech. Nothing that you’ve ever seen before.

Your two tests before had been sent to labs and then you’d received the results a few days later, if they’re testing the blood here, does that mean faster results?

“So, how long will I have to wait this time then? To know whether I’m doing my job or not?”

Doctor Alric looks up at you with slight surprise and worry.

There must be something in your voice since he seems to realize what he’s said is putting pressure on you because he stands up straight and fixes his own suit jacket before speaking.

“Your Majesty,” he begins, but Doctor Wilson moves to stand beside you and places her hand on your shoulder.

“Within the hour. This is Stark tech, so it’ll be quick and accurate. Have you been stressing about getting pregnant?” She’s so much softer than Doctor Alric, but not because she’s a woman.

She just knows you better.

“Kinda hard not to with an entire planet waiting for it,” you admit. “Do you think that if-if it’s negative, should Thor and I stop trying so hard? We’re trying daily. No breaks.”

“I think the stress more than the trying will probably make it harder but you’re both healthy. It will happen. If you are tired and you think the stress is too much, then take a break. It won’t do any harm if you lose a couple nights of sleeping with your husband.”

You feel a swell of relief for this human woman who knows just what to say. You give her a sly smirk.

“Have you seen my husband? It’ll hurt.”

She laughs a quick knowing chuckle, “Trust me, you don’t gotta tell me how fine he is, Your Majesty.”

Both of you laugh a few seconds then you take the seat that Doctor Alric sets beside you and while you roll up your sleeve, he and Doctor Wilson fly off into medical jargon that you don’t understand and consequently zone out into thoughts of Thor and why the fuck he still hasn’t come to see you.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #a wife for thor #arranged marriage au #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #royal au #thor odinson x you

[lazarus-lazuli]

Loki and Sylvie aren’t endgame and here’s why:

(SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 4 OBVIOUSLY)

The TL;DR version: The director herself confirmed that their relationship is not going to be romantic. I could literally just leave it at that. Please calm down and stop clogging the tag with outraged posts about something that’s not even happening, thank you.

But I also want to argue that the episode itself makes it ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that they’re not gonna be a couple. Hit the read more to learn why I think that. Or don’t, honestly the fact the director confirmed this should be enough to assuage you, I’m just actively choosing to be annoying at this point.

If you pay attention to the text of the episode, it’s pretty clear that no, Loki and Sylvie aren’t getting together. Heteronormativity in media may have corrupted us enough to jump to that conclusion (because in most shows a man and woman interacting for five or more minutes in a meaningful way = romance), but I don’t think that was the writers’ intention. Hell, if anything, the episode makes a stronger argument for Mobius and Loki getting together which I’ll touch on a bit as well. And while I do ship them I don’t think they’ll be endgame either since Disney is incredibly fucking homophobic and we’re lucky we even got bi Loki; the Pacific Ocean will be a desert before we get to see him with another man. 

So a few ways the episode told us that Sylvie and Loki aren’t gonna get together:

1) Ravonna and Mobius have a VERY important conversation in her office, not just in the sense of Mobius realizing “Oh shit I’ve been lied to”, but in the sense that she talks about their relationship. She makes a point to define their relationship as a friendship several times, while also making it clear that they have a deep emotional connection to each other - one that transcends time and space. It’s a type of relationship that often gets skewed as romantic when we’re talking about tropes, but no, in their case it’s set in stone that their relationship is completely platonic. Character wise the whole thing gets thrown away since she was very much onto him and proceeds to stab him in the back minutes later, but writing wise it was a very important point they were trying to make to the audience. Like, it was important both in universe and for the audience but for different reasons, if that makes sense. Since they established this strong connection between Loki and Sylvie at the very beginning of the episode - strong enough to cause a fucking Nexus Event - they also wanted to sprinkle in the idea that a strong connection does not necessarily equal a romantic one.

2) The main thing people took away from the conversation between Loki and Mobius was that Mobius was jealous - which, yeah, that’s valid and I agree. I mean he was deadass acting like a scorned boyfriend who just caught his partner cheating on him. But another big takeaway that people need was not only did the show itself confirm that Sylvie x Loki is gross (I mean for God’s sake they’re the exact same person; Sylvie was literally confirmed to just be the AFAB version of him IN THE COLD OPENING), but the whole idea of them being together all came from Mobius. All we know is that Loki cares for her - the feelings he’s experiencing are confusing for him because he’s a loner who hasn’t had any friends at all until Mobius and her came along. The one who’s defining those feelings by insisting they must be romantic is Mobius. This is to get under Loki’s skin because he is jealous. Loki never once gives into the idea of their relationship being romantic, even when Mobius lies about Sylvie being pruned just to get a reaction. Loki may not know EXACTLY how he feels since it’s all new to him, but even he’s not obtuse enough to think that he’s actually falling in love with himself. Mobius is just angry at Loki in this scene for multiple reasons, thus all of the romantic interpretation falls on his shoulders. He’s literally just jumping to conclusions. 

Also when he says Sylvie got pruned Loki just gets visibly upset for a moment, but when Mobius himself gets pruned Loki CRIES and is fucked up about it to the point that even Sylvie picks up on it. So make of that what you will (I will make of that that Loki and Mobius are IN LOVE). 

3) Final point: people got REALLY IN THEIR FEELINGS about the scene where Loki tries to confess to Sylvie. And yeah at first glance, it is somewhat set up like a romantic scene - someone actually posted “what in the Y/N x Loki is this” and honestly I had to laugh at that one because I agree it kind of has that vibe, especially since he starts the whole thing off by saying he’s new to feeling the way he does. But based on everything we know about them and everything that happened up until that point of the episode, LOKI IS VERY MUCH NOT ABOUT TO CONFESS HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR HER. His feelings for sure, but not necessarily romantic ones. He even has his hands on her shoulders - a gesture of affection, but not one that can be read as exclusively romantic. He’s just grabbing her attention, holding her there (since she does seem freaked out - maybe in her mind she thinks he’s about to confess his love, which is actually pretty funny). While there may be a misunderstanding on the part of the characters, I think the text itself makes it pretty clear that no, Loki is not in love with this woman. He ultimately just wants to tell her he cares about her and wants to stick with her through whatever happens; that they’ll make it through together. If you’re cynical you can be like “It was at the very least set up to LOOK romantic to bait the audience” and yeah, I see it too. That’s completely possible. Granted, instead of baiting people with a “OOO, what’s he gonna say?!”, it more so rubbed salt in the wounds of the people who have been queerbaited by TV shows in the past because all they could see was “Bi Man Falls for His Female Self Then Dies” which is bad so I can’t blame them for being upset. But given the context of the show it’s also very much not what happened. 

And hey, I’m just as affected by queerbaiting - I was a Magician’s fan for fuck’s sake. I know queerbaiting when I see it and as far as I’m concerned, if there’s any queerbaiting in this show, it is NOT coming from the interpretation of Loki literally wanting to fuck himself. We will be donning our clown wigs and big red noses for a different reason (that reason involving Disney being Disney). If you’re choosing to be optimistic about the possibility of Loki and Mobius getting together, I fucking commend you and hope you’re right. It would be really amazing and satisfying if they did. I’m not holding my breath, though. Sadly just because Loki x Sylvie won’t be a thing doesn’t mean Loki x Mobius will be, either.

Anyway, I hope this explanation helped to clear up the fact that no, Marvel is not advocating for selfcest and never was. This isn’t Johnny Test. I think it’s good to be critical of Disney and Marvel because they’re both very flawed, but that requires actually watching the content instead of making surface level assumptions based on what you saw at first glance, you know?

#loki #loki spoilers

[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 - Part 4 (Finale)

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST BRI GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!!

I absolutely despise how Tumblr formats these on mobile. If anybody knows how to fix this, let me know PLEASE

thnx for waiting

—

You assumed it was around high noon when you woke up, judging by the thick layer of sweat that replaced your sleeping bag in hugging your entire body. It was now sprawled across the canvas floor, forgotten, and your hair clung to the skin of your forehead. And between the heat and the events of the prior night, you felt almost feverish and sick.

It was a nice surprise that nobody had disturbed you, though — and you silently hoped that theme continued throughout the remainder of the day as you begrudgingly emerged and reveled in the cool fresh air that greeted you on the outside of the sauna that was simply a tent in the Georgia summer heat. Judging by that sun... it was going to be another miserably hot day.

Before, you had never been one for swimming in any body of water that wasn’t a clean and chlorinated pool. Maybe it was the small part of you that had been spoiled, but ponds and creeks weren’t your favorite means of cooling off until you, quite literally, had no other choice; but you would always fondly reminisce of the in-ground swimming pool at your moms house growing up as you waded into the cloudy pond water. You were only ever there one week a month, so it was a damn luxury even then, and a far-fetched dream now.

The suns reflection shimmered on the water ripples you caused as you waded in and you sighed contently, actively trying to ignore the constant lingering scent of fish and mud and algae as you scrubbed your filthy fingernails against the soap bar in your hands, lathering it up enough so that, maybe after one or two rounds, your skin might begin to feel relatively clean again. Your now-soaked tank top clung to your skin — you think maybe it was white at one point, but decided not to question the faded stains that decorated it now.

Dunking beneath the surface you rubbed your fingertips vigorously against your scalp, silently wishing you hadn’t spent years taking advantage of all of the luxurious products and fancy soaps always at your disposal. Fuck — even a new, cheap 50¢ soap bar would be like gold right now compared to the slimy old bar in your hands. Your hair was dry and coarse, and admittedly you’d be mortified at the current condition of it if you had any time to worry about anything other than not starving or getting eaten alive. You scrubbed your eyes free of the murky water and stretched, content to take your time and daydream for the moment until you had to start your day. You’d been left alone, and figured it was intentional.

Good. You could get some shit done.

So you hadn’t expected to turn towards the shore and find Daryl standing there, frozen like a deer in headlights when your eyes met — yeah, modesty had gone out the door for you months ago, but you couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on your face when Daryl instantly whipped around and threw a hand up to shield his eyes as if he had really anticipated finding you pond bathing, what, fully clothed? What was he expecting to see?

“Shit,” he stammered, “uh, ‘m sorry, I just —“

“I do have some clothes on,” you replied as you fully emerged onto dry land and doubled over to pick up your dirty towel tossed carelessly into the grass. Even in the skew of the sunlight and shadows you could see the flush creep up his neck and cheeks and turn the tips of his ears pink. But you found yourself wanting to squash any sort of relief or joy you’d first experienced upon noticing him there when last nights fiasco began to run through your mind. You had no idea what he possibly wanted with you — was he going to chew you out again? The mere notion had your stomach twisting in knots as you rung out your soaking wet hair and cast your eyes back down to the ground and away from his own piercing gaze that had returned upon hearing you weren’t completely nude.

“I thought.. I thought you were doin’ laundry,” he explained, again turning away as he spoke, quickly and sheepishly. Like a child caught red-handed, he was always fleeting and nervous and ready to escape. “Nevermind, ‘m sorry, I’ll — “

You didn’t allow him to finish because, when you saw him start to take a step forward and leave, you lunged your hand on to his shoulder. Where the sudden balls came from, you had no fucking idea. Daryl was the one notorious for his bravery when everyone else needed the strength, but situations like this? He would turn tail and run away at the very first opportunity you even hinted at that might give him some sort of escape. But the way you saw it, he had obviously sought you out for a reason; and the way that things had ended last night left a bad taste in your mouth that you, whether you admitted it to yourself or not, we’re desperate to alleviate.

“Stop.” It was a bit more forceful than you’d intended but you were so positive that he would break into a sprint just to get away from you at that moment that you didn’t try to soften it. To your surprise, he stiffened, but nonetheless halted in his tracks. “Do you need something?”

Almost as if to prove to you that you knew nothing about him the way you thought you did, he spun toward you abruptly: “M’sorry — for last night.”

The apology took you by surprise in the best way, uncoiling the anxiety that had slowly begin to twist around in your gut. He had a way of keeping you on your fucking toes, it sure seemed. Quite literally speechless, he’d blindsided you, and you shook your head to clear the swarm of thoughts and prioritize your next words knowing that you didn’t have a lot of time to voice them before he would inevitably shut you out again or take off running. “Wait,” you tried, feeling him start to pull away at your lack of an immediate response; you could see the uneasiness etched in his features and even feel it in his stance. “Wait —“

But he cut you off, just like he did when he was chewing you out back in the woods the night before. This time, however, was far different, and you couldn’t quite decide what exactly had changed.

“Jus’ listen to me for a second, alright?”

He was breathing heavily and rapidly through his nose — not from overexhetion, but in an unreliable attempt to keep his voice steady and confident. You nodded in response.

The tensity in his body, the stiffness in his muscles, it was tangible — his legs were actively trying so hard to move him away from the situation, to let him pace like the caged animal he always reminded you of, desperate to run and hide. He wanted so desperately to speak, but seemed unable to form the words.

“I didn’t... I never meant to...”

Seeing him so vulnerable and helpless, it absolutely broke your heart as you stood there watching. Waiting. Waiting for some other words to come to you because the ones that you kept drumming up inside your head just weren’t good enough to fall on his ears.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Daryl’s head dropped, and he choked out a sob.

You felt strangled. The breath was knocked from your lungs at the sound. The guilt that followed was crippling and seized your entire body within its white-knuckled grip, but was almost instantly overshadowed with fear; fear and regret and shame and you thought you might be sick with the overwhelming emotions before you just decided to throw your arms around his broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes, pressing your still damp body so close to his that maybe you could meld the two of your souls together.

“I’m sorry, Daryl.” Face pressed into his chest, your words were muffled and wavered unsteadily as you struggled yourself not to break down. “I never shoulda said what I said. It was fucked up, but it was a lie. I swear I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to piss you off.”

“That don’t make it okay to hurt you!”

Admittedly, you faltered at his reasoning, but your mouth kept rolling on autopilot because you knew how Daryl would take to your silence as a reply. “No, but —“

“No, it ain’t ever okay to do what I did.”

He shook you off with a violent shrug of his shoulders, your arms falling limply to your sides.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” you offered, not surprised when he shook his head in response and gestured wildly with his hands on either side of your head, hands clenched in fists, almost as if he was fighting some internal battle and, by the looks of it, losing miserably.

“Ya don’t get it, Y/N!” He spun on his his heels, abruptly turning away from you and replacing that distance between the two of you that you were growing to detest. “Ya don’t get it. Ya were right.”

You raised your eyebrows at him though you weren’t sure if it mattered with how he faced away from you, and you weren’t sure if you could just see his own features particularly well today or if it’d come from hours of staring at him, watching him, studying him while you simply tried to figure him the fuck out.

“I dunno why, but ya get me so.... fuckin’ mad sometimes. It’s like, ya know how to get right under my fuckin’ skin.” His voice was low now, rough with exhaustion and the scent of lingering alcohol. And while you could feel your heart drop at his admission, you had to fight the sense of pride and joy you were feeling that he even fucking admitted it.

This is what you’d been working so hard to get from him; it’s also exactly what got him so mad in the first place, and therefore the mess you were currently in that ensued. Whether or not the alcohol coursing through both your systems had anything to do with it didn’t matter to you anymore.

“When ya said that, it just...I dunno. I didn’t wanna fuckin’ believe it,” he ran an exasperated hand down his face before turning away from you, fueling your unconscious need to step forward after him again, softly, like you were trying to catch a wild animal, fearing that he would turn and break away from you at any second. “But what I did — Merle woulda done the same damn thing! He woulda done it without a second fuckin’ thought!”

His hands raked through his hair, distressed and frantic, and you reached out to grasp his wrists and steady him, your hands comically small next to his, strong and secure and familiar. At first, he flinched; tugging away from you half-heartedly before giving up and allowing you to gingerly lower his hands down in front of him, in between you, where they remained trapped in your grip.

“That’s exactly what I mean, Daryl,” you said softly, choosing your words carefully as if any wrong one would scare him off and send him fleeing again. As firmly as you held his wrists before you, one foot remained turned as you anticipated him doing just that. And the fear of watching him run again had, at some point, outweighed the fleeting fear that Daryl might actually want to hurt you — and you felt disgusted in yourself when you realized it. “You aren’t like Merle. You’re so much better.”

It was almost worth celebrating when he didn’t reply, and instead remained still as a statue, towering over you in the blazing mid-afternoon sun. The same type of heat, you thought, that burned inside of his very being; one that he’d spent so many shadowed years trying to extinguish. Thinking it was wrong. Thinking it was weak to simply care about somebody. All because of one single person.

You hated Merle Dixon, and if you ever saw him again, you swore you’d make sure he’d hate you just as much.

“You said Merle would’ve done that without a second thought — but you? Look at yourself, Daryl. You obviously feel so bad, so... guilty. Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here. Do you think Merle ever felt this way about anything he’d ever done before? Do you think he ever apologized to anyone?”

Once again, his silence was reassuring. He was listening, considering your words... you only hoped that you wouldn’t say the wrong thing this time.

“The fact that you have so much remorse just shows that you are nothing like your brother. You are so, so much better. You are worlds away from ever being anything like him, Daryl.”

You could almost hear the gears turning behind his ocean blue eyes as he took in your words, deep and powerful though they were short. You couldn’t deny you were just content that he had stopped his angry outburst although now it was clear he was far more mad at himself instead of you.

“And I... I’m so sorry for the things that I said. I hope you can forgive me. I was drunk and angry. But I want you to know that... you can trust me. And I’m here for you.”

Now, you could almost feel his stare boring through you, the intensity behind his eyes unable to be ignored as it rose the hairs on the back of your neck and sparked goosebumps that trickled down your spine with a shiver you tried to stifle.

Now what? Daryl was unpredictable. Especially when it came to raw emotions like this, you thought to yourself. Can you stop him from turning tail and running, should that be his next move? Did he believe anything you were saying?

With one swift motion, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, warm and familiar, quick enough as to not be able to stop himself from doing so once he decided it was what he wanted to do, it seemed.

Though it was forceful, it was good. It was much more natural than the last time he’d moved that quickly toward you, you recalled. Much better actually, you realized, as you silently acknowledged that, this time, you sure as fuck didn’t flinch away and instead, hugged him back.

You looked down at the ground, sighing contently — oh. Despite your minimal clothing and every excuse to be totally naked in the cool water of your pond bath, your boots were still strapped on tight. You know... just in case.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon drabble #the walking dead drabbles #twd imagine #twd drabble #the walking dead imagine

[sunsetsover]

I’m not sure what has upset you so much but I think you do need to call people out. If people are being offensive then they need to know. Tell them so they can learn. Otherwise it just carries on and on.

i know i'm all mouth but honestly i genuinely don't like being mean or bitchy or confrontational..... esp when i'm in a bad mood bc i can uh..... go a bit far bc of my bpd and i'm always trying to control my shit bc that's MY problem not anyone elses n yesterday was a bad day for me so i had less control of my shit than usual BUT i still stand by what i said bc tbh im right lmao some ppl really need some sense slapping into them bc it's like there were over 20,000 new covid cases in the uk yesterday like we're still v much in a fucking pandemic and yet they're constantly complaining that ben and callum haven't had non distanced scenes and there's apparently some grand conspiracy that ee actually hates ballum and is doing it on purpose .... like i want to shake these ppl by the shoulders and ask them if they hear themselves bc it's fucking absurd and it's frustrating how skewed their priorities are and how spoilt they sound esp when they say shit like 'they need to give us a specific date for when sd ends' like ??? no the fuck they don't ???? are you for real ???? it's acc laughable tbh

the thing is idk if me calling these ppl out would acc do anything bc there seems to be this echo chamber of ppl agreeing w each other so they've all convinced themselves and each other they're right and that the way they're behaving and the things they're saying is right and fair and understandable when it's not and you're right someone does need to say something and tbh i even feel like atp it's only a matter of time before i lose my shit but it's hard bc when i'm stable i just don't have the desire or energy to waste my time on this bs but when i do have the energy and desire im usually having a harder time regulating my emotions therefore i have less control than usual therefore i will almost certainly end up being a cunt abt it n i don't want that lmao

honestly can everyone just do me a favour and call ppl out when they see ppl bitching abt social distancing and making demands abt ending it and saying shit like 'social distancing is ruining the show' like that's more important than ppls safety and comfort bc it's really doing me in and i feel like im the only one who sees that the way some ppl talk abt this whole thing is not normal ? thanks <3

#anon #question

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My name

Part Seven Title: Pretty

Characters: Negan, Reader, A stupid little prick named Rick Grimes, Garbage pail kid Daryl Dixon, Tanya and Frankie, Gregory, Mentions of Simon, Dwight,Sherri, Amber, Ezekiel, Maggie Rhee, Wives: Tanya and Frankie, and Lucille.

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Canon Typical Violence, A bit of gore, Angst.

Word Count: 3,557

“What did I miss?” Negan inquired as the door shut behind him.

"I dunno what you mean.” You struggled to remove your panties.

“Sin-since when do you get into cat fights?” His eyebrows raised as he watched you hop around clumsily. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking off my bra and panties.” You huffed pulling one arm into your dress to work open the clasps.

“Stop it.Here let me.”Negan shook his head in exasperation as he came to stand in front of you.

His long fingers gathered the soft material of your dress.He lifted it up over your head and slid it down your arm.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are you gettin’ undressed?”

“I’m too hot for clothes.”

Negan grinned. “You sure are.”

“No.That’s not what I mean.Meant?Mean?”

“How much did you have to drink?” With one deft movement, he unclasped your bra.

He made it seem so easy.You pouted, glaring down at your exposed tummy pensively.

“I should be able to do that. I’m the one with boobs!” You complained.

Negan chuckled a smooth melodic sound.His warm hands slipped the bra straps off of your shoulders, freeing your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Panties too.” You reminded.

The hint of a smile played around his lips as he slipped the waistband of your slightly skewed underpants off of your hips.He knelt down.Something occurred to you as you watched him slide the thin fabric to your ankles.

“How come you’re home so early?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” His index finger tapped the top of your foot. “Lift.”

You leaned forward to sturdy yourself, hanging onto his leather clad shoulder as you raised your foot.

Negan unhooked your underpants from around one ankle, guided your foot back to the floor, and repeated the process with your left foot.

“Are you trying to start a mutiny of the wives or did you get bored enough in there to start shit for no reason?”

Knowing eyes looked up at you.

“I didn’t start it! Sherri did!”

“Did she now?”

“She could start an argument in an empty house.”

“You act pretty high and mighty for someone who sucks the same cock we do.” Negan quoted watching for your reaction.

“Well she does! She was being a-a-a judgey mcjudgerson!”

“A what?”

“A jerk.” You amended.

“Sherri is always “a jerk”.What was different about today?”

You frowned. “The vodka?”

“No.” He replied standing slowly back up.

“...the me?” You mumbled guiltily.

Negan cupped his hand behind his ear gazing at you expectantly.

“Me, I was different, because I got mad.”

“Mhmm.”

“I was angry so I egged her on.”

“That’s not the Y/n I know.” He admonished, taking your chin in his hand.

He tilted your face up and looked you in the eye.

“She said somethin’ mean.”

His brow furrowed. “Mean?”

“We were playing Never have I ever...”

“Mhmm...”

“And Amber said ‘Never have I ever wanted to sleep with Simon.’ Obviously I took a shot.” You recognized the spark of jealousy in his eyes.

“It’s the way the game works!”You defended. “Then Sherri said “Simon?” And I was like 'What’re you surprised?' And she said 'Not even a little.'”

Negan took a deep angry breath.

You jumped back into your case to keep him from yelling at you.

“It was the way she said it.” You emphasized.”Like like I was dirty like I was below her.”

The corner of his lip pulled back in a near snarl.

You could already see how his needless anger would play out.

“And not just me.”You back tracked, “Tanya and Frankie too! I mean how can you blame me?Honestly, she freaking implied that we were sluts or whores or-or worse just cause we’re married to you.She forgets that we’re equals and talks down to us. What was I supposed to do, let her??No no no.”

Negan ran a hand through his hair.His anger had gone down from a boil to a simmer.He struggled to adjust.

“Ugh, I knew it!You’re stuck on the Simon part.You just don’t get it.”

“You were fightin’ over another man! How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

“It wasn’t about Simon.I was giving you context so you would know how I went from putting up with her to wanting to kick her ass.” You explained, annoyed with his one track mind.

“What the fuck is so great about that scumbag anyway? What’s got y’all so obsessed?”

You sighed loudly.

“Nobody is obsessed! Amber was making fun, cause she thinks he’s ugly.”

“At least one of my wives is smart.”

You rankled at the bitterness in his voice.

“Well I can’t tell you why Tanya and Frankie wanted to sleep with Simon! I can only tell you why I did!”

“Why did you?” He wore a guarded expression.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mostly to piss you off. He’s got the whole second man in charge thing going for him and that works for some people, but for me, it was about how mad I was at you.”

Negan blinked, processing your words.

“You wanting to sleep with Simon was about Me?”

“That’s ... one hell of an over simplification, but yes. It was.You acted like a total dickwad from the second we met to the night I almost slept with him.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you put your finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

“Yes, me wanting to sleep with Simon was about you.Ninety-five percent of the time I was talking to him, I thought of you.”

“And the other five percent?”

“You gotta be kidding me! Is ninety-five not enough?”

“Why wasn’t it a hundred percent of the time?"

“I hadn’t had sex in years!”

“Hmm...”

You interrupted his thinking with a slow languid kiss. He kissed you back savoring your affection.

“I don’t like drama,Doll.I’ll forgive you this time.You girls got sauced after all, but don’t you go making trouble again.”

“What about Sherri?”

“Collateral damage.”

You exhaled sharply at the sympathy in his voice.

“Dwight needed to learn his place and the only way to do that without cracking open skulls was to threaten him with Lucille.”His thumb stroked over your jaw lightly.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Sherri offered herself up in exchange for his life.That just so happened to fit my agenda.So, ‘mean’ though she may be she was telling the truth.” Negan looked down and away for a minute.The deceptively charismatic smirk he wore like armor returned to its place.

“Not for nothin’ but not one of us became a wife because we were lookin’ to put our feet up, except for Frankie.” You pointed out.

“Amber went through some really bad shit.She feels indebted to you for saving her.Tanya’s mom was sick, in a lot of pain, and needed morphine.We both know how I ended up here-“

“Sherri doesn’t know that.” He interrupted.

“That’s my point, she shouldn’t talk about what she doesn’t know.Talk shit.Get hit.Just sayin’.”

“You are impossible...Why don’t you go on and get that gorgeous bottom of yours in the shower? It’ll help you cool down.” He suggested.

“Won’t you come with me? You tried, entwining your fingers with his.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a small regretful kiss to it.

Negan’s sigh was bone weary.

“I’d love to, Darlin’ ,but Daddy’s got work to do.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your face heated at the memory of your sarcastic remark.

“It was a joke.” You groaned.

“Not to me. I think Daddy might be my favorite nick name yet.” He taunted, watching you saunter to the bathroom to start your shower.

You heard his easy laughter receding as he left you to your own devices.

Not far from The Sanctuary, a militia made up of rebel misfits made their final preparations to dethrone the self-professed king.

Once upon a pre-apocalypse time, Rick Grimes thought of himself as a simple man.There was right and there was wrong,very seldom was there anything in between.When there was, it simply meant the situation needed resolving. Once resolved it would fall into one of those two basic categories and all was well with his world again.

However, that was before the apocalypse. Before his family’s survival twisted his morality into something neither black nor white, but a stormy weather grey. The many traumatic situations, trials and tribulations he and his chosen family had faced, forced his grey morality to stain a little darker, but no crisis had pushed him so close to the edge as Negan. Abraham and Glenn, along with so many others had lost theirs lives to the violent sociopath and his merry band of murders.He’d sworn vengeance on their oppressor.Now that vengeance was finally coming to fruition.

“...Those people who use, take, and kill, to carve out the world and make it their’s and their’s alone, We end them...” His soulful blue eyes took a moment to gaze meaningfully into the face of each member of his ragtag army.

“There’s only one person that has to die tonight”His gruff voice assured them, “and I will kill him myself.”

He could see his words already taking affect, giving their anger the justification of righteousness and their thirst for savior blood conviction.Rick kept watching, patiently as Ezekiel roused them with brotherhood and as Maggie Rhee gave them hope.Unlike Negan, it gave him no pleasure to manipulate minds like this.The ends he reminded his conscience would justify the means.

For the greater good!

His inner voice declared.He accepted the words as gospel.

The caravan barreled through the fences taking the few saviors, who weren’t out checking the far perimeter, by surprise. Four shots were fired into the air breaking up an impromptu meeting Negan was having with Hilltop’s incompetent leader.He and his men strolled out onto the platform to gauge the situation.

“Well I’m sorry” Negan apologized insincerity in his voice. “I was in a meetin’’.”

Upon laying eyes on Gregory, Rick Grimes snorted.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Negan’s sharp eyes roved over the caravan of misfit warriors, taking in the army, the battle ready vehicles, their many firearms. All of this would not have given him pause, except for one thing, the determination and fury on their faces.

“Now, I don’t see a reason why we should have us a shoot out,” He snarked, wondering anxiously if you were at the window of his bedroom right now.

Hoping you had heard the warning shots and taken cover, he resumed his performance.

“I have to look out for the safety of my people. I can’t let myself get wrapped up in playing cops and robbers just because you want to find out if my dick is really bigger than yours.” He paused like a comedian building suspense before a punchline, “It is.”

He smiled confidently. “We all know it.”

“This isn’t a game.” Rick Grimes intoned, his solemn countenance causing Simon to mutter an epithet under his breath. “This is a reckoning and your time has come.”

The shoot out that followed was a chaos of ricochetting bullets, screams of pain, and shouted orders. Minutes passed like seconds. Simon called out to Negan, they had reinforcements coming.

As it turned out, so did Rick Grimes.Of all the surprises Negan imagined the colonies to have under their sleeves, not being able to count on his silver tongue to buy time or get him out of such an impossible bitch of a situation wasn’t one, the colonies using the entirety of their separate communities, young and old, wasn’t one, and a heard of the dead filtering into his God damn Sanctuary sure as fuck wasn’t one.

Rick the Prick’s first spray of bullets missed Negan by a second.He dove out of the way and down a flight of stairs. When he reached the bottom he was a little worse for the wear, but his body was still in one piece.He was also resourceful enough to pick up the gun of a fallen Savior and stay out of the crosshairs for a bit.

His brain went into survival mode, pushing him to shoot back, pulling him back behind the dumpster before he could get himself shot. Negan’s gun ran out of bullets all too soon.

“Sonuvabitch!” He ground out, running to the nearest port in the shit storm, a rusty old trailer.

His heart beat so damn loud, he’d forgotten how terrifying a herd could be when you had nothing, but your will to live and your flight response to get you out of it.He heard glass breaking.

Y/n

His pulse jumped in his throat.Of all the days for you to drink you had to choose today.He couldn’t bear the thought of them getting to you.They could hate him all they all wanted, he’d done his share of fucked up shit. He deserved it. What he felt he didn’t deserve was for the consequences of his actions to effect you.

Another spine chilling thought circled in his brain.

“Everyone of you go to your rooms!!”

Had he doomed you all? Like he’d doomed her? A memory of bright blue eyes and a very expressive face loomed over him ominously.

Different time.Different situation.Different woman.He told himself pushing her memory away, down deep in the coffin shaped box where he kept his grief.

A newer memory arose unbidden, He took your hand in his, kissed it softly, and looked into your eyes.All trace of bravado and falsehood dissipated as he let you see him. The real Negan and the effect one night with you’d had on him.

"Can I trust you, Y/n?”

“Yes, you can.”You laced your fingers between his.

“How can I be sure you won’t think my love for you is a weakness?”He watched your face cautiously.

“You aren’t weak.Neither am I.We have both put survival above everything else.”

You were resourceful.You were unbelievably resilient. Negan resolved to trust you to keep yourself alive.At least until he could reach you.

The trailer door blew wide open.Negan fisted the black material attached to whatever dickhead had been dumb enough to enter his refuge and pulled the door shut. The wide doe eyes of Alexandria’s creepy bald clergyman found his face in the dark.

The firing of live ammunition sounded from somewhere below you. In nothing, but a bra and a fresh pair of panties you ran to the wall of windows.Simon and a few of the saviors had taken cover and were taking their best shots at hitting something other than the corrugated steel the invaders were using as shields.Your mind went into over drive.You couldn’t see Negan out there.No sign of his black leather clad back anywhere.At least you knew he was alive.He wasn’t lying on the ground or you’d surely have seen him. A borage of bullets hit some of the panes of glass below.You dove to the ground and began crawling behind the nearest piece of furniture you could.Unfortunately, the closest was a sofa.Cushions and plywood wouldn’t be enough to keep you safe.You lay as flat against the floor as you could as the gunfire reached your floor.The cacophony out there went from loud to ear splitting within seconds.

A sharp angry pain caused you to cry out, but you weren’t willing to risk getting shot again to check the wound.Soon afterwards the shooting died down.They’re running out of ammo, you thought.They must need to make every bullet count.Your heart felt so heavy.Please Lord keep him safe.You prayed.You knew he wasn’t perfect by any means nor was he innocent, but you loved him.You couldn’t fathom a world without him.A moment of quiet passed as you reflected on your husbands many sins.You found yourself struggling to maintain your composure.You wanted so badly to fall apart, but there wasn’t time for that.There was no doubt in your mind that he would eventually come for you, but you couldn’t stay here and wait.It wasn’t safe.

You got onto your hands and knees and clambered to the closet.You cursed Negan’s stupid wives club bullshit for robbing you of your jeans.You only owned two outfits.A black dress with spaghetti straps or a white grass stained sundress.You silently fumed as you pulled the dress on.You owned exactly one pair of shoes these days and they were a pair of black flats, not made for trekking through the forest. You decided to take a pair of socks and Negan’s red kerchief from his night stand.The long tube socks you used to stifle the bleeding of your wound.You tied the kerchief around your wrist. As you left your bedroom behind, you quickly began assessing the damage.You found the parlor doors were wide open. Sherri was long gone, but Tanya and Frankie seemed to be waiting around for...something.

“He isn’t coming.” The statement left your mouth reluctantly.

You knew deep inside that he would come back, eventually. However, seeing the girls fall apart spurred you to action. “We have to go.”

“We can’t leave! We won’t make it!” Tanya cried, her eyes frantic.

“We will! We can!” They looked unconvinced.

“I’ve led a group before.” You sighed exasperated with their dithering.

Frankie’s eyes darted from the room you had just left to the parlor doors.

They’ll probably drag us out of here if we stay.” She said slowly to Tanya, “and who knows what else they’ll do to us.” She swallowed nervously.

“She’s right.” You told Tanya.”We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with here and we shouldn’t stick around to find out.”

Tanya nodded slowly accepting the dire straits you were in.Trying to ignore the fear and anxiety she was radiating, you lead them to the doors.The empty hallway was not at all inviting, but you had no choice except to slip quietly into it.Frankie and Tanya followed.There was shouting and shooting in the distance.The further you walked the closer the noises sounded.You peaked around the first corner.

An arrow whizzed toward you.You ducked back behind the wall, your breathing sharp and quick with shock.You stayed as still as possible, waiting for another arrow to come, but none did. Instead there were heavy angry footsteps.The face of a man appeared, haggard sweaty and holding a cross bow in front of him.Tanya and Frankie yelped holding each other tight.

“Weapons?” He demanded.

“W-we don’t have any.” Frankie stuttered.

“Bullshit!” He barked and demanded you put your hands up.

You complied, more for the good of the wives than for your own.Stout fingers and a large palm invasively explored any place you might be hiding a gun or knife.

“Get on the ground.”He commanded and moved on to check Frankie, then Tanya.

“Who are you?” He asked suspiciously.

“We’re...wives” Tanya sniffed between sobs.“Negan’s wives.”

He grunted more to himself than to you.Static crackled from the walkie on his belt.

“Darryl, You find anything?”

“I found the wives,”He sounded disappointed. “They’re unarmed."

“Go ahead and bring ‘em with you.”A deep voice intoned.

“Sure.”Darryl replied.

“Anyone else back there?” He nodded toward the direction you came from.

“No.” You stated evenly.

“Get up.” He grabbed onto Frankie’s arm and pushed her ahead of him.

“Ladies first.” He mocked, making you go back the way you came.

Daryl stopped at every room.Checked every space a person could possibly hide.When you got back to the parlor, he tore the place apart looking for any one hidden. He found no one. He checked the other rooms found them empty and called to someone on the walkie.

“All clear.” He informed him.

“Good.Meet us on the first floor.”

#negan x plus sized reader #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan #negan x reader #the walking dead #jeffrey dean morgan #plus sized reader

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 10

Summary: y/n almost murders someone but jake peralta talks her out of it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, the end is nigh

Word Count: 2095

A/N: it’s almost done. 

                                                    //////////

Wong dropped Peter and I off on the roof of my apartment. “Stay safe.” Then he was gone, and we were alone. Well, alone until the calvary could get there. The Avengers were working with the FBI and the Nine-Nine for a perimeter, but I didn’t really think it would matter. This person was clearly determined to get to me, they wouldn’t let a police perimeter get in the way.

“Who do you think it is?” Peter asked quietly, his eyes on the sky. He was decked out in his Spider-Man suit, his first appearance since his name was cleared, and I could feel his leg bouncing with joy. Sam mentioned a suit at some point for me, but we were a bit preoccupied to actually get around to it. I had to make do with my Vans and the comm in my ear.

I kept my eyes on the ground. My apartment building wasn’t exceedingly tall, but it gave me a fairly good vantage point for the happenings of New York City. “Someone from Beck’s crew. I did kind of ruin their lives, someone is bound to be pissed as hell.”

“I didn’t even — do you feel that?”

It started out subtle. Barely a flinch. But then the ground started to shake harder and harder. And then I saw the cause.

Sand. Tons of it. Rolling in from the coast.

And straight toward a person.

The sand piled around him and he just kept getting bigger and bigger until a giant sand man was standing in the middle of Fourth Street.

And all I could think of was Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes.

“Y/N Y/L/N!” he (It? Do we even worry about proper pronouns?) shouted. Peter flinched at how loud his voice was, but that was the least of my concerns. “It is time for you to meet your doom!”

“Good!” I shouted back. “Make it quick, I hear they have unlimited mimosas in heaven!”

Maybe (definitely) my self-preservation skills were skewed, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity. And the longer I had him monologuing, the longer he didn’t kill people.

“You made me become this,” he shouted again, “and now you will pay the price!”

Then he slammed his sand-fist as close to me and Peter as he could reach.

“At least he just got right to the point,” I mumbled. I looked at Peter. “I’m really hoping him being this big makes him slower. I’ll see if I can do something about the sand.”

“I’ll try and web him up, see if we can topple him over.”

“Great.” Peter swung away and I lifted myself between buildings, trying to get close enough without being in hitting distance.

Sand is trickier than rocks because the particles are loose. But if I could compress them, or maybe add some water...

Fuck it, let’s just do it.

I got closer (my first mistake) until I could feel the sand particles whirling around me. I latched onto a few (my second mistake) and tried to pull them away from the Sand Man (my third mistake).

Why are these mistakes, Y/N, this sounds like a foolproof plan.

Well, you see, I thought I was pulling the sand away from the body.

Nope.

I was pulling the Sand Man toward me.

And I realized it a second too late.

His hand swiped me off the roof and sent me crashing into the ground below. “You won’t fool me so easily, Y/N. You’re going to pay for what you did.” I brushed the gravel off my palms and groaned as I stood up, my ribs on fire. Before I could get my bearings, though, sand started to swirl around me and lifted me into the sky. Sand Man tossed me around like a rag doll, trying to give me whiplash, before he threw me up in the air and let me fall, no support.

He wasn’t expecting Peter, though.

“I gotcha,” his voice rang in my ear. We landed a couple blocks away and his hands immediately reached for my shoulders. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I snapped probably a bit too harshly. “Look, if we’re going to be successful at all with this thing, just assume I’m okay, okay? Thanks for catching me.” I leaned forward and kissed him right on his jaw, mask and all, then I ran back into the center of the street.

“You want a piece of me?” I shouted at him (I’ve decided on ‘him’). “Come and get me.”

Then I pulled a Bolin and made the street split with lava.

Peter stayed up top and tried to tie up the Sand Man, but I pushed the lava forward, underneath his feet. I was hoping it would start to melt the sand, but he just compressed the particles and held his ground.

“It’s like he is the sand,” Peter’s voice echoed in my ear.

He is the sand.

“I have an idea! I could really use some back up.”

“What’s up?” Peter, Sam, and Wanda met me on the ground.

“Distract him. Get as many bits of sand away from him as possible. Not enough to notice, but enough to start shaking him down. Got it?”

They nodded. “You’re the boss, Y/N,” Sam said with a wink, then he flew up in the sky.

I stayed low, but close. And I let my senses take over.

This guy, he was literally the sand. The more sand, the bigger he got. So, take away the sand, and he’ll get smaller. I just had to keep the sand away.

I was chucking rocks and balls of fire and gusts of air at the Sand Man, but that was all on autopilot. The main part of my brain was focusing on the sand that fell, and making sure to blow it far enough away to stop him from getting it back so quickly.

And it started to work. Slowly but surely, Sand Man was getting smaller, and he didn’t notice.

But he would eventually, and I needed a plan for that.

Sand castles stick together better when the sand is damp, that’s just how they work. But when sand is too wet, it falls apart.

No sand, no man.

“When you guys see the big wave coming in, get the hell out of here, got it?”

“Y/N, what are you planning?”

“It’s kind of a long shot, but just let me try it. Keep the sand away until the last second, okay?”

I walked out into the middle of the road and reached for the water. There were thousands of gallons rushing beneath me, but those were too damaging to New York City, and it’s been through enough. I reached further and further until I felt the salt of the ocean and I let it take over my senses. There was a huge tug in my gut and the sound of the waves rushed over my ears.

I looked at the Sand Man, the guy responsible for my parents’ disappearance, the guy who had made my life a living hell the past week, and I screamed.

A huge maverick of a wave came through New York City and crashed on the Sand Man. Wanda, Peter, and Sam got out of the way just in time.

The Sand Man toppled over and lost even more sand, but he started to get back up.

“Hell no.” My hand formed a fist and I felt the water following my movements. The huge water fist came up and landed one huge uppercut to his jaw and sent him down all over again. Then I made my own hurricane with him in the middle of it. More and more sand was lost in the water, and once he was down to size...

I dropped him.

But he didn’t have Peter to catch him.

He slammed against the asphalt and finally dissipated into a normal-sized man, even if he was still made out of sand. I unclenched my fists and the water made its way back to the ocean, taking a few park benches and a hot dog stand with it.

I stood over him and shouted, “Who the hell are you?” hoping he would open his eyes at my unrelenting fury. This jackass had my parents, I wasn’t going to show mercy.

And he had the audacity to laugh. “You’ll never find them, Y/N. Over my dead body.”

My hands flickered with lightning. “That can be arranged.”

“No killing, Y/N,” a new voice rang out in my ear.

“Jake? You’re on comms?”

“I know, cool, right? I’m talking directly into Spider-Man’s ear. Whatever, anyway, no killing, we still need information from him.”

I glared at the Sand Man and he just blinked lazily at me. “What’s your name?”

“Like I said, over my—“ I zapped him once, just a little spark, but his body (can we even call it that? it’s literally sand) shuddered. “Bitch.”

“That’s not very nice.” Peter landed softly beside me and glared at him too, his mask eyes narrowed. “If anyone’s a bitch, here, it’s definitely you.” Sam and Wanda joined us on the ground, and eventually the 99 joined us too, Jake at the front.

“Y/N that was awesome! The way you got the huge wave to come through and then you made a hurricane and ohmygoditsspiderman.” Jake couldn’t help but start blushing, just a little bit. “Can — can I have your autograph?”

Peter glanced at me, a smirk on my face, before responding, “Uh, yeah, sure, ‘course. You got a pen and paper?”

“How are we supposed to cuff this guy?” Diaz asked, looking at the Sand Man. “Last I checked sand isn’t the most stable.”

We all just kind of looked at each other for a second before I stepped forward and grabbed Sand Man’s wrists. My concentration was kind of shot, but I had enough left to focus all of my energy into my hands, heating them to a temperature well above comfortable. Slowly, glass started to form from the melted sand, and I slammed his wrists together, bonding them. “You’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

“That seems like cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Tell me where my parents are and maybe I’ll let you out.”

He just grinned and followed the detectives into the squad car, where Detective Diaz may or may not have smashed some sand in the door.

I turned to Peter and wrapped my arm around his waist. “Can we go?”

“I don’t see why not.” His grip tightened around me and we swung out of the wreckage. I completely wrapped my legs around his hips and latched my other arm around his shoulders, but I kept my eyes wide open.

I could get used to this.

I recognized the apartment building we landed on — I’d visited Peter up here plenty of times to remember the small dying plant in the corner of the roof and the twinkle lights that ran out of battery a long time ago. “C’mon,” Peter said as he started for the fire escape, “let’s get cleaned up.”

May washed my jeans while I showered and I airbended them dry, but my shirt was torn to pieces. Peter left out his old band t-shirt, but I could barely get it on. My rib cage was already starting to splotch with blue and purple bruises, and with my adrenaline wearing off, I felt every hit I took today. After a few grunts a multiple hisses of pain I looked over at my jeans then back down at my legs and had one definitive thought: “there’s no way in hell I’m putting those back on.”

I stuck my head out the bathroom door and whispered, “Pst, Peter.”

His own head popped out of his bedroom door. “What?”

“Can I steal some sweats?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” His head disappeared and reappeared a second later. “Here.”

“Thanks.” A couple more grunts later and I was completely dressed in Peter Parker’s wardrobe (no complaints there). I walked back into his room and he was laying on his bed, Gilmore Girls playing on his laptop. “I got you hooked, didn’t I?”

“I just want Luke and Lorelai to end up together, is that too much to ask?”

I snickered. “No.” I laid down beside him and, ignoring the painful protests my ribs screamed at me, I curled into his side. We got ten minutes into an episode before I whispered, “Do you really think we’ll find them?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

His heart was steady.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ @yougottalovefandoms​

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman far from home #marvel #mcu #marvel comics #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #avengers #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #reader insert

[louiserandom]

Of Punishments and Rewards

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: M

Summary: The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. During one such clash, however, Madara suffers an accidental concussion and proceeds to not-so-accidentally flirt with, grope, and expose his secret affair with none other than the white-haired Senju he's supposed to hate.

Now this has the whole village intrigued.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!

The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. So when today the Uchiha Clan Head, foul mood and all, stomps towards an unsuspecting Tobirama (who really isn’t bothering anybody and seems to be busy enough picking out oranges) and starts shrieking at the top of his lungs about some manner of ‘experimental bullshit' crawling out of Tobirama's 'death trap of a lab,' most of the passersby find themselves stifling a yawn.

Another day, another bout of fires and flooding from the two village founders whose hate for each other hasn’t diminished in the slightest in the two years of Konoha’s existence.

Grown stronger, if anything.

“BECAUSE I AM NOT,” Madara bellows at the end of his first public rant of the day (though surely not the last), “GOING TO STAND FOR YOUR BRAZEN INCOMPETENCE ANYMORE, SENJU!”

Of course, Madara accusing Tobirama of incompetence is also nothing new, although it is common knowledge that it’s the latter who often has to get the Hokage and his best friend out of ridiculously foolish debacles.

(Konoha still remembers how the two godlike shinobi somehow stumbled into quite the deep hole intended for garbage disposal and in their drunken stupor ended up forgetting that they could have simply jumped outーwhat with their immense chakra reserves no less. Tobirama, naturally, had been exceptionally cross that day.)

“Incompetence?” Tobirama only scoffs in answer. “Whatever problem you have with how I handle my duties, Uchiha, pales in comparison to the damage your complete lack of logic deals to society.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Madara snaps, fists clenching and chakra becoming visible alreadyーa faintly shimmering fire-cloak upon his form. That really never bodes well for the market’s survival. “And study the logic behind proper fucking sleep so your complete lack of sense and self-restraint doesn’t lead to more dangerous fucking jutsu that spiral out of fucking control!”

This does perk up a few ears; after all, what novelty of Tobirama Senju’s could appear more dangerous than his summoning of an undead army that past Obon Festival?

“I am conducting a perfectly safe study,” Tobirama says, though Madara doesn’t seem like he believes him at all. “And not of a jutsu but a living being. Though it’s unsurprising your handful of brain matter failed to distinguish the two.”

“A living being with nine godsdamned tails made out of enough chakra to wipe out the whole of Fire Country?!”

This perks up a few more ears but seeds no panic; it’s thanks to Tobirama, after all, that most of Konoha has seen much, much worse. 

“It's a perfectly docile and friendly chakra fox,” Tobirama insists, crossing his arms. “Now for the love of all things holy and unholy, stop your shrieking.” He glances at the mostly disinterested crowd. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself, though I doubt there’s any room to sink lower than you have.”

“I will fucking destroy you, you worthless piece of shit!” The crackles of a budding Katon flicker around Madara’s fists. “Now go and take care of your fucking experiment-living-chakraーwhatever bullshit, or I will fight you and there will be no remains left for your brother to cry over.”

Tobirama glares, straightening to his full height which has him towering above Madara’s bristling frame. “How so much fight can fit in so little a man,” he sneers, “I will never understand.”

Three things happen in quick succession.

Naturally, Madara attacks. A massive raging wall of fire sizzles straight at Tobirama, who matches Madara’s wild toothy grin with a smirk as he jumps out of the way with the usual easeーonly for Madara to charge at him, fist coated with white-hot flames, and unsurprisingly, Tobirama dodges yet again.

What does come as a surprise is Madara’s slight... miscalculation, it seems, as his eyes linger a bit too long in the general direction of Tobirama’s thighs for some reason, and he’s just slow enough to miss the giant crate of oranges that falls from a panicking store owner’s shelf.

“Madara-sama!” the salesman cries as the legendary Uchiha collides with the box headfirst and drops limply to the ground. “F-forgive me,” the poor man stutters, appearing quite a bit more worried about Tobirama than Madara’s squirming form.

After all, neither of the two are happy when their fights are interrupted before they can destroy at least one building, and as expected, the Senju in question frowns and visibly deflates.

“Madara?” Tobirama asks, tentative, banishing the spikes of ice he’s conjured with his jutsu.

“Mmm,” Madara articulates from the ground, face scrunched in pain as he squints at the sky as if it’s personally offended him. “Mm-wha?..”

In a yet unseen show of kindness, Tobirama walks up to him and kneels to check on Madara’s condition. Quite a few stares shift in their direction. Shouldn’t Tobirama be inclined to leave the Uchiha to suffer?

Apparently not.

“Madara? Can you hear me?” Receiving no answer, Tobirama coaxes him to sit up as he checks over his head. Though unwounded, it does appear he’s seriously concussed as he starts slurring nonsense and pointing at a part of the crowd mumbling something about ‘fute birdsies.’ “Listen, IーAnija will be really upset if you’re seriously hurt, so can you tell meー”

Madara slaps a gloved hand roughly over Tobirama’s mouth. Another uncharacteristic move that provokes many a frown. The pair usually avoid skin to skin contact religiously, even when fighting.

“Your lips,” Madara slurs, eyes unfocused as he stares dazedly at his supposed enemy, “could putーbe put to... much better use than talking.”

“W-what?” Tobirama stammers, shoving the hand away and scrambling to his feet.

“I said your lips,” Madara tries to clarify, before Tobirama cuts him off, “Shut the fuck up, you moron!” he grits through his teeth, extending a hand to the Uchiha as he flops back down to lie on the ground.

“And get up," Tobirama orders, "now. I’m taking you to Anija. Concussions are tricky to heal and I might not be able to avoid leaving lasting effects.”

Madara smirks, and for some reason that prompts a look of horror to settle on Tobirama’s face. For good reason, as the onlookers discover.

“It’s always up for you, Tobirama,” Madara’s slurring is mixed with a bit of a stupid-sounding drawl as he positively ogles Tobirama, eyes once again lingering a tad lower than appropriate. “The question is if you wanna play.”

“Madara!” Tobirama hisses, casting death glares at the crowds now circled around them as one unified and now definitely intrigued mob. “Stop this foolishness right this instantー”

“Stop isn’t our safe-word, Tobiー”

“ーand take my fucking hand!”

“I’d rather have it wrapped around myー”

“MADARA!” Tobirama is trembling with fury at this point, chakra radiating killing intent enough for shinobi and civilian alike to feel it wash over them. The people gathered only scuffle closer, disappointed that the rest of Madara’s sentence gets drowned out by Tobirama’s shout and their own collective gasp. Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not. Here.”

“I kno-ow,” Madara whines, finally grasping for Tobirama’s hand only to use it to yank him down once he gets ahold of it. “This hand indefーit definitely needs to be reaching a lot lower.”

“Madara, gods fucking dammit,” Tobirama growls as he wrests himself from Madara hold, “people are staring.”

To be fair, the self-proclaimed honorable and pure-hearted citizens of Konoha make an effort to pretend they aren’t gapingーwhich really isn’t an easy task though, because the display is turning out to be more exciting than any of the village-wide festivities to date.

“Oh?” Madara seems to be trying to raise one eyebrow but ends up skewing his face into an awkward frown at best. “If yesterday’s anything to go by, you don’t mind a little voytriloquism yourself, koibito.”

Another round of gasps follows as Tobirama blanches, mouth slightly agape and lips trembling. Someone helpfully shouts, “Do you mean voyeurism, Uchiha-sama?”

“Yes-yes!” Madara pipes up, still squirming helplessly on the ground. “Voyagerism. That.”

“Uchiha,” Tobirama glowers, a sheen of blue energy wrapping around his limbs as his ire escalates, “I am literally begging you toー”

“Didn’t get enough earlier, eh?” Madara leers, finally managing to wriggle into a half-sitting position, sending a few oranges rolling on the ground. Intrigued and unperturbed by Tobirama’s spluttering (and what a strange sight it is, to see the usually composed Senju at such a loss for words), Madara picks up two of the fruits and proceeds to shock the bystanders to the core once more, “You know, they say fresh squeezed oranges are good for you in the morning, but I think your fresh squeezed diー”

“MADARA, NO!” Tobirama roars, this time quite evidently to drown out Madara’s words.

“Madara, yes,” the Uchiha moans, “that’s all I remember you saying to me this morning.” A few desperate “Kai” resound in the area as Madara Uchiha incarnate starts licking the oranges in his hands. He keeps eye contact with Tobirama all the while as he sucks on them, shameless and wanton, swirling his tongue over the fruits with such wanton enthusiasm one might think him a common harlot. “Remind you of anything, To-bi-ra-ma?”

Needless to say, the world plunges into chaos. Choruses of cheers and wolf whistles, sounds of both affront and confusion erupt from the bystanders as quite a few women rush to cover their husbands’ eyes lest they require the same astonishing level of skill from them.

Tobirama, meanwhile, seems to have finally regained his ability to act, if not speak, and proceeds to grab Madara by his collar and drag him into a wobbly stance, slapping a hand bathed in faint green glow against the Uchiha’s forehead.

"Get permanent brain damage for all I care.” Tobirama gives Madara a pretty hard shake. “Now will you stop fucking talking?”

"You don’t tell me what to do, Senju,” Madara grumbles, looking a bit steadier on his feet now even as his voice still sounds a bit shaky. “And how did I get here?”

Tobirama ignores him, directing one last glower at the excited crowd as he commands, “Don’t you dare speak a word of this to the Hokage,” before disappearing into thin air with Madaraーhis secret lover, something Konoha still can’t wrap its collective head aroundーin tow.

Granted, the younger Senju must have sensed his brother’s approach because the next second none other than Hashirama steps into the market with the usual wide grin on his face, flowers sprouting on each patch of ground he steps on. The crowd stills and grows silent but for a few moments as Tobirama’s order rings clear in their minds, and yet,

“What happened here?” Hashirama asks in childlike confusion.

In just a handful of moments, it proves too much of a temptation for Konoha prolific rumor mill to resist.

“Madara was doing what in front of my Otouto?!”

#madatobi #tobimada #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #humor #fanfic #lou writes #idiots in love #naruto

[littlemisskookie]

Learning the Hard Way

Learning the Hard Way Ship: Jungkook | Noona!Reader Description: Jungkook’s determined to prove to you he’s not a kid. Warnings: SO MUCH SMUT TSHDKN, PWP, Oral, Blowjob, Public Sex, Outdoor Sex, DOM!KOOK, NOONA KINK, Slight Nipple Play, Masturbation, Unsafe Driving, Unprotected Sex, Denied Orgasms, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasms, DIRTY TALK, Creampie, Cumplay, Cum Eating, Fingering, Grinding, Deepthroating, Demeaning Names, Light Bondage, Slow Burn?, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Pussy Slapping, Breathplay, Plot if you squint, Fluff if you squint Word Count: 12,200 A/N: WHY

Guy's night at Jimin's every Saturday night was commonplace- a tradition among your group. It consisted of you and seven other boys- all of whom you got along with. You didn't know them as well as they knew each other, but seeing as you had been hanging around them for months now, you grew something of an attachment to them, forming inside jokes and feeling comfortable already. And to think, your closest friend Jimin inviting you to his typical guys' night out, only for them to collectively decide you were a guy in spirit.

You weren't insulted, as some had suspected you'd be. Sure, you found each of them attractive, and more than one you had envisioned sleeping with- but you kept your boundaries. You were just friends with them, and though you could swear once or twice you'd catch one checking you out, none of them made a move on you. Some had girlfriends and some had flings, but you'd often time have to hear of their raunchy depictions of the night before, lewd and kinky acts they'd have no problem confessing. You'd have to drink more than usual in efforts to blur the memory of it, though you couldn't deny the flush of heat to both your cheeks and your core when the boys let sinful words roll off their tongues. Most eyes would be on you instead of the one telling the story, amused by how your cheeks flushed and you called the boy gross for forcing you to listen to how well a girl gagged on his cock.

This was one of those days.

"Dear fucking god, Jin! How long does it take for you to go on about nipple clamps? You've got more description than a fanfiction writer," you hiss, clamping your hands over your ears as Jin went on about his endeavors with some big-racked bimbo he met at the club.

"Sweetheart, just last week Taehyung was going into detail of how good he was at giving head- don't tell me you have double standards now?" Jin smiled, jokingly trying to rile you up.

"I don't! It was just as infuriating. I don't understand why you guys have to go about describing in explicit detail your sexual encounters. You don't hear me talking about how I had a guy nail me ten ways to Sunday," you fume, speaking fast, the buzz from your previous drink starting to fade. You were beginning to sober up, and as much as you'd like to press a bottle to your lips once more, you wanted to at least feel somewhat coherent for the drive back home.

"It's just what guys do, Y/N-ah," Hoseok teased, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

You simply scowled and swatted his hand away, matting your hair down with your palms. "It's not just a guy thing! You don't hear Kookie talking in such a filthy manner."

It was true- Jungkook was the only one who didn't talk like the others. He was more reserved in that sense, and though he seemed more timid than the others, you were perhaps most fond of him. Something about him made you want to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair, baby him to all means necessary. Maybe it was the doe-eyes or that haircut of his, but simply put, Jeon Jungkook was adorable.

He was the one you could never quite picture sexually. You felt guilty whenever you even considered it. You didn't want to picture what was beneath the sweatpants and sweatshirts because simply put, he seemed so naive and didn't have nearly the same sexual confidence as the others did around you. Quite honestly, you suspected him to be a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

At your comment, however, Jimin let out a boisterous laugh. "Are you serious?"

You fume, your cheeks as red as Jungkook's, though his are from embarrassment and yours from false anger. "Yes! In fact, it's even more of a reason- he's innocent and corruptible. I don't want him getting skewed perceptions of sex based on your exaggerated details."

At that, Namjoon simply quirked a brow. "Don't tell me... You think little Kookie is a virgin, don't you?"

Now it's your turn for your cheeks to flush. "I mean- look, there's nothing wrong with being a virgin."

"That's not what I'm saying," Namjoon persisted. "You think Jungkook is a virgin, don't you?"

"I suppose?" You don't even understand what's going on at the moment, but you feel as though you should feel embarrassed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he's adorable and all, and I'm sure that a lot of girls are attracted to him. I would be too but... I dunno, he doesn't really give off the vibe of a sex god."

"What kind of vibe does he give off then?" Taehyung questioned, elbowing Jungkook in the rib, who only scowled in response.

"He's just... cute I guess. Adorable," you say, your mind groggy. "Like a little bunny. He gives off baby boy vibes."

At that the entire room erupts in laughter, the boys taking turns to swat the youngest's back and holler.

"I'm sorry, Kookie, I didn't mean to embarrass you," you say, reaching over to run a hand up and down his arm.

"Y/N- you've got everything wrong," Jin said, his squeaky laughter dying down as he wiped tears from his eyes. "And all this time I thought you knew that he wasn't a kid."

"He just always came off that way! It's hard to see him dominating women the way you guys claim you do," you grumble. "How was I supposed to know?"

"I'm not a virgin, Noona, just so we're clear," Jungkook pipes up.

"Yeah, but you're an adorable baby boy, apparently!" Jimin says ruffling Jungkook's hair. "Gee, Kookie, who'd have thought?"

"Y/N, I'll have you know that if you think we're anything close to freaky, we've got nothing on him," Yoongi says, cocking his head to the youngest. "I overheard him once on the phone with this girl he picked up at the bar- if you think we say filthy things, you should hear him. I could overhear her cumming on the line."

"It's true- our little boy here has a bigger sexual prowess than all of us combined," Taehyung said, cooing as he pinched Jungkook's cheek. "I caught him fucking some girl on the balcony- and I know you like it rough, but I don't think even you can handle him."

You furrow your brows, your cheeks heating. "How the hell do you know I like it rough? Unlike you heathens, I don't boast about what I'm like in bed."

"You don't, but as I said, boys have a horrible habit of oversharing. Jackson may or may not have let it slip on how you like to be manhandled," Hoseok mentions.

"That bastard! After I sucked his cheesedick without him reciprocating- fuck, nevermind, I'm not going to get into it," you huffed. "And I'll have you know I can handle plenty- but personally I believe that you're just pulling these stories out of your ass to frighten me. I can believe Jungkook's not a virgin- but sex god I just don't see."

"Looks like you're gonna have to prove her wrong, Kook," Yoongi grunts, jutting his chin. "That is if she's up for the challenge."

"I'd like to see him try. He's a baby boy and I won't listen to savages like you," you say, rolling your eyes. "He's too young to be freaks like you."

"I'm only a year younger than you are," Jungkook pointed out, though you could tell from his narrowed eyes that he was beginning to get a bit irritated with you.

"Looks like Kook plans on teaching Y/N-ah the hard way," Jimin teased. "You'll eat those words, Y/N, but I warned you."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Look, I've got to get home already,  so if anyone's too drunk to drive and wants to tag along with, I suggest you do so now. I'll see you guys next week."

You're about halfway through the parking lot when you hear your name. You turn to see Jungkook running towards you, his pace quick. Before you knew it, he was by your side, his breathing slightly uneven. "Y/N! I forgot I need a ride home."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" you questioned.

"Forgot- but I'm too buzzed. I don't trust myself to drive and I'm kinda tired. I should get home and sleep," Jungkook explained.

You examined him, curious about any underlying tones, but he seemed honest. You simply shrugged and continued to the car. "Hop in then, kid."

Your ears were probably playing tricks on you, but you could've sworn you heard a low growl.

The ride to his place was longer than it was to yours and for the first five minutes, you sat in silence. You wondered if it was the awkward or the silent kind, but either way, there was some sort of tension building between you two. You just weren't sure what.

"I, um, wanted to apologize," you mumble. "About dragging you into that. I was just trying to get them to shut up for a bit- I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's alright- they'll forget about it sooner or later," Jungkook shrugged.

"So are you mad at me?" you questioned.

"Honestly? A little bit. More frustrated or irritated, to be frank."

"Look, regardless of how experienced you are, it doesn't matter. I only brought it up because you don't really feel the need to brag the way they do, which I appreciate. One of the reasons you're my favorite," you tease, pinching his cheek.

"Did you really think I was that inexperienced?"

"I don't know- as I said, you talk the least about sex. For all I know you're a complete sub- which is fine, though I myself don't have much experience with that. I guess I just never thought about it so much because of the reasons I explained earlier. You don't really give off the same sexual vibe as the others."

"You know what they had said earlier though was true, right?" Jungkook questioned. You feel his gaze pierce at you from the side of your head.

You roll your eyes, but your fists tighten around the steering wheel. "About you being some sort of man whore? Please."

"I'm not a man whore perse, but..." Jungkook licked his lips. "I'm not at all what you think I am."

"A baby boy?" You scoffed at that. "So you're going to try to convince me that you're some sort of sex god or something."

"I just don't want you seeing me as a kid, Noona."

"I can't help it, Kookie. It's just how I see you- even if you're only a little younger."

"What if I could change that? Make you see me as a man?"

You pause at that, looking at him warily. "How exactly would you do that?"

Jungkook paused as well, as though holding his breath. "I've got my ways."

"Prove it."

You don't know exactly what kind of trap you've gotten yourself into, but based on the predatory stare that he gives you, his eyes boring into yours with unsated lust, you have an idea.

His hand comes up to your knee, and you feel yourself get tense. Your eyes quickly dart down to his veiny hand, the small bumps protruding from beneath the skin, the long and slender fingers digging into the skin. You curse yourself for wearing shorts, but to be fair it was a hot summer day.

"Eyes on the road, Noona."

Your eyes quickly dart back up to the road, and you panic in your head. Was this actually happening? Sweet little Kookie, who you babied and teased, now showing the demeanor of some sort of dominant? What sort of an alternate reality were you living in? Despite this, you couldn't help but notice the heat that pooled between your thighs, a side of Jungkook slowly becoming unveiled. You knew if things got cranked up a notch, you'd never be able to go back. You'd never be able to see him the same way.

"I think I'd start by telling you what I had told that girl over the line," Jungkook says, voice low, making you strain to listen in, hanging onto his every word. "Hyung was right when he said I had a filthy mouth- not as filthy as that girl's though when she was sucking on my cock earlier that day."

Your hands now had a vice-like grip on the steering wheel. "Oh my god."

"She was a nasty little thing, you know. Tasting herself on my dick, trying to milk me dry so she could swallow every drop like a good little slut." His hand rose higher up your thigh, and you refused to look at him, keeping your eyes on the road. You could feel his stare drill into your skull, however, and your mouth went dry. "Would you be a good slut for me too, I wonder?"

Your mouth opened and closed, but you were at a loss for words. "I-I..."

"Spread your legs," he growled, his words a command rather than a request. You found yourself functioning on autopilot, your legs opening to make room for his hand as it slid eerily further up your thigh, where you wanted him most. He shives over nuzzling his nose into your neck as he strains to get closer to you. "I talked to her on the phone. She was begging for me to talk to her, her vibrator in hand as she waited for me to tell her what to do. She couldn't cum without my voice, without my words, without my permission. It was as though I made her incapable for settling for less- and even some little toy and her cute little fingers- stuffed inside that tight cunt of hers- it couldn't compare to how I wrecked her for the night."

"K-Kookie, we shouldn't b-be-"

His blunt nails dig possessively over your thigh, however, and he growls against the skin where your neck and collarbone meet. "Don't call me that."

You let out a whimper of submission, your hand shaking as you grip the wheel firmly. You mutter curses to yourself as he cups your heat, hand slowly palming you through your shorts, middle finger going up and down the feel of your slit. "I wonder how wet you are for me already when I've barely touched you. I bet you started getting soaked the minute I talked about that girl milking me good, and I didn't even tell you about the other one on the balcony. She begged for me to wrap my hand around her pretty little neck and squeeze. I squeezed her neck as hard as she squeezed around my cock- she was so tight, I'm getting hard just from remembering it."

Your hole clenched over nothing, as though wanting to wrap itself around Jungkook's cock the same way the other girls had. Sweet little Kookie, who didn't seem sweet or little anymore.

Jungkook slid the part of your shorts to the side, along with your underwear, your bare pussy meeting the cold air. "You smell so sweet, Noona. I bet you taste even better."

You curse, doing your best to concentrate on driving. How had you let this happen?

"Do you want me to touch you, Noona?" He gently taps at your pussy lips, a small string of wetness connecting his finger to your pussy, stretching into a strand before snapping into nothingness. "Want me to touch this drenched little pussy of yours?"

"F-Fuck, Jungkook."

"Use your words, Noona. Be a big girl. Tell me to stop or tell me to finger fuck you as you're driving."

"Yes, p-please," you mutter softly, barely able to hear your own words. You were unbelievably turned on at the moment, your body set aflame. "Please touch me- finger me- I don't care."

"Good girl." Jungkook's tongue poked out from between his lips, the wet muscle gliding from your collarbone up to the patch below your ear. At that moment he sunk a digit into you, pumping it slowly as he crooked it upwards, searching for the rough patch as he dug his palm into your clit.

You jumped, your knee hitting the bottom of the dashboard. "J-Jungkook, I can't drive like this."

"You can and you will," Jungkook mutters, voice a low growl as he finds your g-spot, studying your face as he taps against it. "If you can't take so much as my fingers, what makes you think you'd be able to take my cock? I'd stretch you out so good, fill you to the brim. You'll feel my cock in your throat before I even start pounding into you."

You feel your toes curl at the thought, and Jungkook takes one of your hands to rest on the crotch of his sweatpants, where he's fully erect underneath the fabric. You can tell already that he's impossibly big, and you feel your mouth water at the prospect of having it inside of you.

"Does that feel like a kid to you?" he rasps, lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

"N-No," you stammer. "Fuck, Jungkook, since when were you like this?"

"Since always," he responds, using two fingers now that you've begun to stretch out for him. "You just never noticed. You'd just tease me like the little slut you are, prancing around in those tiny shorts in a room filled with men. You were just begging for this little cunt to get filled, weren't you? Wanted someone to abuse these tiny holes of yours and fuck you nice and good."

"Yes, I-I... Shit, Jungkook, will you fuck me? Stretch me out nice and good with that massive cock of yours?" you question, mind going blank as profanities and lewd words spilled from your mouth.

"Do you think you deserve it, Noona? Do you deserve my cock after you teased me and called me a kid?" Jungkook questioned, fingers delivering a rather brutal and harsh thrust as he buried them deeper. A third slipped inside, and you felt your mind go numb, your hips lifting to grind your swollen clit into his palm. "Look at you- humping my hand like the desperate, pathetic whore you are. You'd do anything to get off, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, Jungkook- I'm so sorry, just please please let me cum," you beg.

You hear him pull out his cock, his other hand pumping it furiously as he nibbles at your earlobe. "You've gotten me so hard, baby. I wish you could see how hard I am for you, just from fingering this tight cunt of yours and seeing you squirming at my words. I want to fuck you in every position and make you cry."

"S-Shit, I want that too," you admit quietly. You want nothing more than to look at him touching himself, but the minute your head turns so much as a centimeter in his direction he slams his fingers back into you, making you gasp and moan at the onslaught of pleasure.

"Who said you get to look at me?" he hissed. "You don't deserve to see my cock yet. Eyes on the road. You can look at the next red light."

You weakly nod, whimpering as a confirmation of submission. You're so tense, your body riled up as you shake with anticipation, counting down until the red light up ahead. You've never wanted to see one so badly in your life, but your mouth watered at the thought of the pulsating red member, leaking with precum, eager to be buried inside of you.

You're squirming in your seat at Jungkook's ministrations, and you feel yourself getting close. "You're leaking all over the seat, Noona. You're making such a mess," Jungkook cooed, feeling how your slick juices dribbled down your cheeks and into your shorts, your panties drenched and sticking to your lips. You wouldn't be surprised if some of it got into the seat, but you couldn't look down to check. "Are you going to cum Noona? Are you going to make a big mess for me?"

"F-Fuck, I'm getting close, Jungkook," you whimpered, hands shaking. You felt as though your whole body was on vibrate. "Please let me cum. I'm so so so close."

"Not yet," he growled, the tone in his voice both carnal and feral. He slipped his fingers out of you much to your dismay. His fingers went around your swollen outer lips, squeezing them between his fingers, rubbing your clit between. "Ride that fucking edge, baby."

You're panting, and you hear his breathing get heavy. He sucks urgent hickeys against your neck, bruising the skin. He growls and groans against you, fingers slipping back in and pumping into you furiously. You only realize at that moment that he's doing it at the same pace he's touching himself, so quickly as though he were trying to hurtle himself to the edge.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm close Noona. I'm gonna cum." His hands slip out of you to touch himself, and you can only assume he's massaging his balls at the moment.

"J-Jungkook-"

It's at that moment you stop at the red light, and as though on instinct, he lets out a loud moan, reaching his climax as he tumbles over the edge. You allow yourself to look, finding yourself mesmerized by the sight. His cock was even bigger than you imagined, despite the fact you got a good feel earlier. The tip was angry and red, with cum leaking profusely down the slit and over the head, sliding down the shaft and over his balls and scrotum. You wanted nothing more than to lick every drop, as though devouring a popsicle stick in the summer heat.

He was a sight to behold, sweaty hair pushed back to reveal his forehead. He was glistening in sweat, his hand still gripped tightly around his cock as he milked out every last drop, cum profusely spilling over him and making a mess of everything it touched. The veins protruded from his arms, showing you that he truly was blessed with a man's body. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth as he let out a low moan, tilting his head back as his hips bucked in the air, letting him thrust into his hand.

You gawk at what you're allowed to see within the lights of the street, but it seems to be over too soon, and you find yourself back on the road to stare ahead, your mind dazed and your body overheated. You never felt so turned on in your life from such lewd acts.

His fingers reach up, the two sticky and coated with cum, glistening in the passing streetlights. "Lick."

You open your mouth obediently, trapping his fingers into your mouth, letting your wet muscle twirl around the digits to get every drop. He pulls them out with a pop, much to your disappointment, and you let out a whine of protest.

Jungkook didn't seem the least bit embarrassed in comparison to earlier, instead letting out a low chuckle as he gives you a lovebite at the base of your neck. "I think Noona liked seeing me cum," he purred. "Do you want me to put my sticky fingers inside of you? Pump you nice and full with my cum?"

Your legs spread enticingly now, desperate and eager for him to touch you again, and he merely laughs. His sticky fingers rub at your pussy lips, swollen and warm from his ministrations, and you buck into his hand.

"You're so eager to have my cum inside of you, aren't you? Even if it's not from my cock, you just want to be filled up like the dirty whore you are, isn't that right? I can't decide if cumslut or cumdumpster suits you better."

"Please please please put them inside me, Jungkook," you whine, begging. You've never heard your voice sound so raw and needy before, but perhaps that's just what Jungkook did to you. His magic effect. "Make me cum all over your cum-coated fingers."

"I think of all the sluts I've fucked, you're the nastiest of them all," he sneered, though let his fingers go back inside of you. You let out a sigh of relief, moaning instantly as he easily finds your g-spot, playing your body like an instrument. The high you had been building up was now approaching once more, and you felt as though your body was a flame.

"I think this is the hottest sight I've seen," Jungkook admitted, nipping at the shell of your ear. "You're milking my fingers dry, baby. You're so tight, I won't be able to squeeze my fat cock inside of you. You couldn't take it."

"Y-Yes I could," you hissed, stammering all the while. "Make me take it."

"I would," he hummed. "You're about to cream on my fingers, huh? Gonna cream all over my filthy fingers with that filthy pussy of yours? Filled with cum but not with cock?"

"Yes, yes, I'm so close! Right there, right- ffffuck-!"

Your orgasm, however, doesn't meet it's tumbling edge. The moment you feel as though you're going to dive off the deep end, Jungkook pulls his fingers out. You're left feeling blank and empty, clenching over nothing as some of the cum he had pushed inside of you dribbles out. You turn to Jungkook, shocked, but he simply shrugs and wipes his wet hand on your thigh.

"We're at my place," he says, grinning the bunny smile you once would've defined as 'cute'. Now it was anything but. Now it was sinister. "Thanks for the ride, Noona."

His tone was sickly sweet and innocent as you would've suspected of him before, but now it simply was used in a mocking manner as he exited your car, leaving you high and dry, gawking at the orgasm that you swore you could practically taste on your tongue before he ripped it away from you. You were furious and frustrated, as well as everything in between.

Game on.

-

The next encounter you had with Jungkook was when Jimin had invited you to go out dancing with him, Jungkook, and Hoseok. There was a popular club that had recently opened, and seeing that your ass could apparently get you past any bouncer, you were their best option.

You agreed- though you had expected to see Jungkook at the usual guy's night, you supposed one day in advance wouldn't hurt.

You knew it was well worth it once Jungkook's gaze fell on you, your skimpiest dress showing the expanse of your thighs and cleavage. You simply didn't pay him any mind, however, simply turning your nose up and smirking. Perhaps he expected you to blush and duck your head once in his presence, but you could tell from the dark gaze he held throughout the night that he knew you weren't so keen on how he left you hanging.

It wasn't until he approached you at the bar, leaving the others swimming in the pool of grinding bodies and blackout drunks, that he spoke to you.

"I'd figure you'd be dancing a bit more, Noona. You barely spent any time on the dance floor," Jungkook commented, sliding into the seat beside you.

"I'll dance later, Kookie," you say, putting emphasis on his nickname, enjoying the heated glare he gave you. "I like to have a little bit of something in my system before I'm grinding against a man."

The corner of his lip twitches upwards into a snarl, seeing the shit-eating grin you couldn't help but conceal. "You didn't seem to have the same attitude when I was stuffing your pretty little cunt with my cum."

You do your best to conceal the upcoming shudder that runs through your body at his baritone voice. In an effort to hide the arousal you were experiencing at the moment, you simply hide your mouth with a sip of your drink, hoping that'll keep the emotions from bubbling to the surface. "That was before you confirmed my earlier suspicions that you were a kid," you say simply.

"Oh? Care to explain? I'd love to hear this."

You feel your own lips twitch upwards into a coy smile, gleeful that he was landing right into your trap. This was almost too easy- too predictable. You felt glad that it was your turn to have the upper hand. "A man knows how to please his partner and take care of her needs- push her over the edge. A kid, however, cares only for his own needs and gratification, caring for his own orgasm and not the other's." Your fingers trace absentmindedly around the glass, drawings circles. You hear the snarl that emits from the base of his throat, and a quiet voice in your head says the golden word. Checkmate. "That's the difference between a horny teenager and an experienced man."

"So that's how you want to play this, huh?" His eyes raked over your body. "Could it be you truly haven't learned your lesson? Or are you that desperate for me to touch you again."

You hum, shrugging as you slide off your seat with as much grace and elegance as you can manage. "You tell me, Kookie."

You slip into the sea of dancing drunks, bodies pressed against one another to the beat of the same old trap music. You let yourself sway to the music, arms above your head as you roll your hips, appearing as enticing and alluring as you can. You know all too well the burning gaze that you feel, your target of the night taking notice of your movements. It doesn't take long for you to feel someone pressed behind you, hands digging into your hips. His lips trailed up and down your neck, and though the bruises and hickeys from last time had disappeared, for the most part, you were all too willing to let them reappear and blossom across your skin.

You gasp at the feeling of his erection pressed against your ass, the outline of his big cock burying itself against you. Your hazy memory seemed to clear as you remember exactly how big he really was, and you gulp with anticipation.

"Does this feel like a kid to you, Noona?" Jungkook snarls against you, grinding his hips deliberately.

"Scared you're going to jizz in your pants like a horny teenager?" you counter, not allowing yourself to so much as taking in a breath.

"I won't be jizzing in my pants tonight, trust me," he responds. "Tonight I'll be cumming down your throat."

You tense at that. "Did you not hear what I said? You're only proving me right. Only care for your own needs, huh Kookie?"

His hand buries itself in your hair, tilting your head back so that the expanse of your neck is available to him. His lips press against your ear, hot breath fanning over you. "Only good little sluts get to cum- and you've been nothing but a brat, sweetheart. You're not going to cum tonight, but you're gonna beg for my cock. Maybe next time I'll let you cum. You'll be begging me to stop with how many times I'll wreck you in a single night."

Your breath hitches and his hand reaches forward, pressing your body further against his as his hand goes under your dress, hitching it up so that anyone around can see. His fingers trace the lacy outline of your panties, cupping your heat and feeling the warmth of your wetness. He smirks against you, and he shudders. "Look at you, so wet for just some kid. You're letting me touch your pretty little pussy right here on the dance floor where anyone can see because you're that desperate. Why don't you just admit what we both already know?"

You find your hips jutting against his hand, eager for more. "J-Jungkook, anyone could see. What if Jimin and Hobi see?"

"Let them see. I want them to see what a whore you are for me and only me, isn't that right?" he questions, fingers curling to grab hold of you possessively. "My little slut."

"Yours," you promise, feeling breathless. "L-Let's go somewhere private, please."

"Your choice, Noona." He lets go of you and grabs hold of your wrist, dragging you along until the two of you are outside of the club.

You find yourself being pressed against a brick wall, hoisted against Jungkook as he ground his erection against your core. His tongue dove into the hot cavern of your mouth, asserting his dominance as he swallowed your moans. You could feel the rough texture of the brick dig into where he had pinned your wrists, and you could do no more than squirm and take his humping as he moved you against the wall, your pressed body sliding up and down, letting the rough surface dig into your back through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your hips buck up to meet his, and though he had already confirmed that your needs wouldn't be catered to this time, you found yourself eager to begin anyhow. If sex was just about reaching orgasm, then people would simply stick to their toys or hands. Perhaps it was the feeling of pleasuring someone else that had people searching for physical intimacy.

"You're so desperate to get off, aren't you Noona?" Jungkook said, his lips brushing against your own as he murmured the words. "Dry humping me behind a seedy club- you look so desperate right now."

"I want you to touch me already, Jungkook," you hissed, your wrists twisting in his grip.

"All in good time," he mumbled, loosening his grip so that he could press harder against you, his hands finding their way to your breasts to give them a tight squeeze. "You've got such pretty tits, Noona, will you let me see?"

"Hurry," you whispered, feeling his fingers yank down the fabric at the top of your breasts, tugging the bra along with it to cup underneath. He held your breasts in his hands, squeezing as though he were trying to mold them, his tongue diving into your mouth again as he moaned. You felt the vibrations course through your body, and your legs circled around his waist, heels digging into the base of his spine to draw him impossibly closer.

"Fuck, you're so perfect," Jungkook hissed, his voice a low growl. "I can't wait to ruin you."

"Then do it already," you snapped, finding yourself impatient.

"Tsk- where's the fun in that? Gotta make you chase for it," Jungkook laughed, his smile cocky.

"Don't tell me you're playing hard to get," you muttered.

"You certainly aren't," Jungkook replied, pushing back to let your feet touch the floor once more, hands off until one reached under your dress, cupping your soaked underwear. "Do you get this wet for anyone, Noona?"

You whimpered, squirming as you felt his fingers slide your panties to the side, petting your wet folds.

You gasped when you felt a sharp slap on your pussy, and your body jerked.

"Answer me," he demanded, voice lowering to a husky growl.

"N-No."

"No what?" His question was followed by another slap.

"No, I d-don't get this wet for anyone else. Please touch me, Jungkook," you begged, pouting.

To your dismay, he only smirked, pulling his hand back, middle digit slick with your juices. "Get on your knees," he said simply. Your knees buckled, meeting with the harsh concrete. His finger dove into your mouth, allowing you to taste your addictive juices. "Suck it how you'll suck my cock in a few minutes," he responded.

You did as you were told, bobbing your head and keeping hold of his hand, keeping it still as you hollowed your cheeks. You stared up at him with wide eyes, anticipating his next move. He simply starved.

"Do you taste good?" He questioned, pulling back once you nodded with a low hum. "I wouldn't know, now would I?"

You licked your lips, biting them in an effort to further entice him. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

"Can't do that, Noona. Once I get a taste, I won't be able to stop," he said simply. His hands reached for his belt, and your mouth waters in anticipation. You straightened your back, arms resting on his thighs until his cock sprung free. You could see it a bit clearer now from nearby lights, especially since it was up close. His size was on the bigger side, and you couldn't help but find your mind wandering to the thought of it stretching you out with a delicious burn.

"Do you want a taste, Noona?" he questions, smirking with satisfaction at the sight of your blown out pupils and watering mouth.

You nod silently, transfixed on the sight. You reach up to touch him, but he grabs your wrist in midair, stopping you from doing so. His expression hardened, and you looked up at him in confusion. "Beg," he simply said.

You clenched your thighs together. "Please... Jungkook, let me suck you off."

"You can do better than that, baby. Let me hear that filthy mouth of yours. You won't be able to talk in a few minutes, so make it count."

Your tongue felt thick in your throat, and you swallowed. "Let me milk you dry, Jungkook. I want to feel your cock in my throat and swallow every last drop. Won't you please let me be your good little cocksucker?"

"What are you waiting for? Get to it slut," Jungkook hisse. "Prove to me that you're worth putting my dick in."

You didn't hesitate, wrapping your mouth around the sensitive head and sucking, your tongue lapping over the slit with the demeanor of the kitten. You sunk further, tongue tracing the underside as you tried to memorize the feeling of his skin against your taste buds. You kept eye contact with him, eager to please as he stared down at you with a harsh, expecting look. It was almost as though he was doubting your capabilities.

As though eager to prove him wrong, you find yourself taking in a deep breath through your nose, knowing that a bit further and you won't be able to take much more. You then slam yourself down on him, taking him all the way to the base. You find yourself gagging immediately due to his length, a bit bigger than you were used to. Already you could picture the ache in your jaw that you'd feel from his considerable girth. Still, the moment your nose buried into the fine pubic hair, smooshed against his pelvic bone, you knew it'd be worth it.

Jungkook gasped, hips jutting out and into your throat as though he were trying to get impossibly deeper. He cursed and muttered, and in the process you found yourself backed against the wall once more, head pinned between the brick and his hips.

His pants and shallow moans made you greedy, so you squeezed your eyes shut and dug your hands into his thighs as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth, the same pace he used when his fingers dove into your pussy less than a week ago.

"Fuck fuck fuck, you take cock so good," he mumbled, hand buried in your hair. "Shit, how are you so good at this?"

His hips slammed forward once again, and you choked at the feeling of the head hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, and he pulled back, allowing you to breathe momentarily. He tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes blown out with lust to see you with mussed hair, the lower half of your face glistening in the light with spit. You leaned forward, trapping a testicle in your mouth as you sucked gently, whilst breathing through your nose to prepare yourself once again. Jungkook pets your hair fondly, fingers combing through the strands.

"My good little cock sucker. You're such a good whore for me, aren't you Noona? Think you'll let me cum down your throat?"

You nodded, opening your mouth as though on instinct, allowing him entry. He grinned, and you felt the heavy weight of him against your tongue once more. You felt more prepared this time, becoming used to the sensation, and allowing yourself to gasp or take in shallow breaths once his hips were pulled back.

You could feel him getting close, his thrusts getting far sloppier and erratic. A stream of sinful words and profanities spewed from his lips, and his hand reached down to the base of your throat, squeezing as he felt himself move within you.

"Fuck, Noona, I can feel my dick in your throat," he gasped out, squeezing as though to enhance the tightness of the confines of your throat. Your eyes watered as you were forced to take it, until his hips had buried against you, pelvic bone trapping you against the brick as the hot, bitter fluid spilled down your throat in white ropes.

Finally, he pulled out, his length softening. It was glistening with your spit, and you were left gasping for breath, sputtering and coughing from the brutal deepthroating you endured.

Jungkook's hand wove through your hair, massaging your scalp with a certain level of tenderness and gentle strokes that you hadn't expected. "That's it, breathe Noona," he said, cooing softly to you as you found your breath evening.

He bent down next to you, and you could only imagine what a mess you looked like. Your dress hitched up around your waist, revealing the dark spot on your underwear. Your breasts revealed with the fabric around your torso yanked down. Your messed up hair that went far further than simple bedhead from simply being pressed against the brick. Or perhaps it was the makeup smeared against your face, mascara at the corners of your eyes, lipstick smudged, and drool covering your chin.

Jungkook simply leaned in and kissed you, as though to knock the breath out of you further. His voice was husky and hot as it fanned over your lips, as though he were speaking into your mouth. "I'll repay the favor tomorrow, Noona. After all- good sluts get to cum."

-

You felt anxious at the next guy's night, finding yourself fidgeting and your mind wandering. You'd repeatedly have to remind yourself to keep your eyes off Jungkook, not allowing them to linger for too long in fear that someone may catch on to the arousal swimming in your gaze. Jungkook was a natural actor, however- not that you're surprised, seeing how well he had kept the sex fiend side of himself hidden for all this time. It's crazy to think that it's only now being revealed.

Your mind wandered to thoughts of how Jungkook was going to pay you back with the orgasm he had promised. It was risky, especially to do it in Jimin's own home, but you couldn't deny the exhilaration that flooded you. Was it the fear of being caught? Was it because you'd be doing it someplace you shouldn't? Or was it just because of Jungkook in general? You pondered over what would be better- his hand buried in your cunt once more, his head between your thighs, or his cock thrusting through your walls at a pace that made you dizzy.

You let your imagination run wild, pressing your lips to the bottle to calm the heat that surged towards the pit of your belly. How was it possible that you were getting turned on just by thinking of a prospect that had yet to happen?

You were so out of it that the time you zoned back in, the conversation seemed to have taken a dangerous turn.

"Look, pussy is the one thing you can eat after 8 PM without gaining weight!" Jin said, arguing with Namjoon.

"I mean, yeah, but it doesn't provide any nutrients! It doesn't fill you up, you can still be hungry after!" He was currently getting a drink from the kitchen, but seeing as Jin has a stubbornness to which none can compare, he continued the argument while the younger was in another room.

"Maybe in the traditional sense," Jin huffed. "What do you think, Y/N?"

"What?" you said, snapping back into the conversation. "What are you guys talking about?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes, bumping his shoulder against yours. "I was wondering why you hadn't scolded us for being weirdos yet."

"You've been distracted. Something on your mind?" Hoseok inquired.

"No, nothing, don't worry. I'm fine!" You let out a burst of nervous laughter, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried to wipe the mental image of Jungkook hovering above you, pounding you into the bed, from your mind.

"You know you can talk to us about anything. We'll help if we can," Yoongi assures you.

You smile kindly at him, nodding at his words. "I appreciate the sentiment, Yoongs, but really, not- Oh!"

You immediately stood upright, gasping as the warm beer spilled over your shirt. You knew you shouldn't have worn a white shirt today- and it didn't help you were wearing a black bra underneath.

Namjoon cursed and muttered, quickly fetching a towel and giving it to you. "Shit shit shit! I'm sorry, Y/N. I must've tripped over a bump in the rug."

"Don't go insulting my rugs as an excuse for your clumsiness," Jimin countered.

Jungkook disappeared momentarily to get you a bigger towel from the bathroom, draping it over you as to save your dignity from being more exposed to men than you were comfortable with. "You might want to cover yourself, Noona. While I'm sure many of us would appreciate the sight, this doesn't seem to be the time and place."

"Gee, thanks, Kookie," you roll your eyes, though take the towel with appreciation. Your muscles are tense and stiff, however, when you say this, and you wonder if using his nickname so close to your reward will face any repercussions. You figured he wouldn't- after all, you were amongst friends, and he only seemed to be truly bothered by it in sexual scenarios. You didn't feel sexy at all with beer on your shirt. "This may be the only time I'm able to win a wet t-shirt contest with you guys."

"You'd win every time," Taehyung grins, only to have Yoongi sock him in the shoulder.

"Against the abs you guys have? I don't stand a chance!" You laugh at that. "Jimin-ah, I'll be back in a bit. I need to dry my shirt a bit."

"Feel free to grab one of my shirts- it's the least I can do," he says, allowing you to excuse yourself.

You do as he suggests, quickly swiping a shirt from his dresser and going to the bathroom, flinging the wet shirt to pat it and your chest dry from the beer with a fluffy towel. You grumbled to yourself, muttering slightly as you wondered whether or not you'd be able to get the stain out.

You were surprised by a knock at the door. "Uh, who is it?"

"Jungkook."

Almost as though by instinct, you find yourself opening the door for him, not even caring about the fact you were partially undressed. Jungkook closed the door and locked it behind him, and you catch him taking an appreciative glance down at your rack before diverting his gaze back to the ceiling. "Uh- just wanted to check up on you. You've been here for a while."

"Has it been that long?" You're slightly amused with the fact he can't even look you in the eye, wanting to show you respect. It's such a stark contrast from the sex demon he appears as on rare occasions- the man who stood before you was far closer to the Kookie you were familiar with.

"Yeah, the guys wanted me to catch up on you. Mainly to tease me again." Ah, so it appears they still haven't completely forgotten last week's ribbing.

You smirk at him, chuckling. "It's ok for you to look at me, you know. Might I remind you that you've done far worse?"

"I just wasn't sure if you were ok with it. That was a different context," Jungkook explained, though he allowed himself to look at you, doing his best to stare at your face. You couldn't help but giggle at how his eyes would do their best not to glance at your breasts, and you squeezed them between your arms and gave a little shake, seeing him gulp as he tried not to pay attention to what was in his peripheral.

"It's ok for you to look, Kookie," you purr, holding them up to cup them, pushing them upwards as though to entice him. His eyes darkened at the mocking tone you used, adding his nickname to create some sort of edge. "For you to touch too. I miss your touch already."

His dark gaze finally went to your breasts, which you held up as though offering them to him. He didn't hesitate this time, hands kneading at your breasts the way he had the night before. "Is that so, Noona?"

"Mhm," you hum, stepping closer to him, body pressed against his, trapping him between you and the door. "I've been thinking about it all day... and about that reward you promised."

"What reward?" He smirked, wanting to tease you.

You pout childishly at him. "The one for good sluts who get to cum."

He let out a low hiss at that, and before you knew it you're being hoisted up onto the bathroom counter. "You'll get your reward, Noona. But you'll have to keep quiet- and we'll have to be quick. Don't want the others to start suspecting anything, do we?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Please hurry, Jungkook."

He groaned at your pathetic whine, pulling your shorts and panties down, letting them drop to the floor. You hissed at the feeling of the cold countertop against your bare ass, but Jungkook simply gripped on tight to your thighs, caging them around his head as he took a swipe of his tongue against your heat. You were already so hot, bothered, and turned on that the wetness that had pooled between your thighs landed on his taste buds. He let out a groan against your pussy, burying his lips against it as he lapped once more. It was almost as though it were a drug, and he was being sedated.

"My little slut tastes so good," he groaned in appreciation. "Can't wait to make you cum with all the others outside."

"Please eat me out," you beg, hands curling into his hair.

He didn't respond, lips latching around your clit to give it sensitive sucks, enjoying the way you let out a small gasp, slapping your hand over your mouth as you moaned against your palm. He chuckled, sending vibrations throughout you, and you squirmed under his ministrations. His tongue dove from your pussy, lapping at the juices, up to the hood of your clit. He'd let out small groans of appreciation, tongue working quick as he paid attention to the small sounds you made, as though straining to hear each movement. Soon he seemed to have found out exactly what you liked, and he was using it to positively wreck you.

"Does this feel good, Noona?" he questions, one of his hands coming up to twirl around your clit, driving you closer to the edge. You could taste the orgasm on your tongue- it was tangible.

"So, so good, Jungkook. Please let me cum, I'm so close." You had been waiting for him to grant you this moment for a week.

He smirks, however, noticing how your thighs tremble. He adds more pressure as he gives a sloppy kiss at your folds, tasting the new arousal that flooded to your most delectable parts. "What if I leave you hanging again? What if I don't let you cum?"

"J-Jungkook, I swear to god-"

"Is that the tone you want to use with me, baby?" he warned, his thumb now circling around your clit instead of directly on it.

"Please please please!" you begged in hushed whispers, voice pathetically desperate. "Please let me cum, I'll be your good little slut. F-F-Fuck, I'm s-so close!"

"Are you now?" he hummed, lips returning to your clit to give it a harsh suck.

You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, one of your hands buried in his hair and the other in a tight fist that you gagged on to muffle your moans. Your eyes were brimmed with tears, and you weren't sure if was because of the upcoming orgasm or because of the prospect that he'd rip it away from you once again.

"Please, Jungkook! Fuck, I want you to make me cum. I need you to wreck me already. Let Noona cum on your f-filthy tongue."

"Such a good whore," he said, and with one final move, a few more harsh sucks against your clit accompanied with small licks, you found yourself jutting your hips, rubbing your cunt over his face as he let you ride his tongue. His hands dug into your thighs, blunt nails forming tiny crescents.

It was when you finally came down that you blinked away the stars from your eyes, seeing him caged between your legs where you kept him trapped. The lower half of his face was covered in your juices, and his deceiving doe eyes looked up at you in delight.

He gave you one more lick, a long stripe up your core that had you shudder from oversensitivity.

He quirked a brow. "Want another one?"

-

Truth be told, you weren't sure exactly how you got in the situation you were in now.

That situation? Your hands tied to a chair as Jungkook leaned back on a table, jacking off, as you were helpless to only watch. You begged to do anything- from suck him off or even touch him, but it appeared that Jungkook liked the sight of you squirming with arousal, dying to help get him off.

It was a haze of how this came to be. Jungkook had been teasing you through texts, going on about how hard he was and how he wanted a hot cunt to bury himself in. You volunteered, but instead, you got the irritating text of got to make you wait for it noona. you're so cute when you beg ;)

So you naturally sped to his house in a fit of frustration and arousal, the minute you got through the door participating in a battle of teeth and tongue. One thing led to another, and before you knew it your hands were bound with one of his ties, and you were left whimpering with the purest form of torture you could've imagined. Your hands twitched to touch the naked man before you, aching to run over the golden skin and taut muscles.

He twisted his hand along his length, bobbing it up and down, giving you a view of his glorious thighs as they twitched and tensed under his ministrations. He teased himself thoroughly, and you were at the edge of your seat, pulling against your restraints.

"Do you need something, Noona?" Jungkook asks, panting with a low whine as his muscles clench.

You felt as though you were going mad. "Yes."

"What is it you need?"

"Your cock."

Jungkook laughed at that, reaching down to cup his balls, massaging them as he further stimulated himself, though still far from the edge. "I can't give you that, baby."

"Why not?" You clenched your thighs together, squirming. "You were just texting me about how badly you wanted to fuck me. I know you want to have sex with me, and the feeling is mutual. How come you're holding back and teasing me?"

Jungkook only laughed more at your desperation, using his free hand to reach over and cup your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. "You wouldn't be this wet if I weren't a patient man, now would you Noona?" He let go of your chin to reach into your pants, past your underwear, slipping past your folds easily as his digits became coated with your arousal. He made sure not to touch your clit though, sliding his hand out to pop his fingers into his mouth before using it to slide up and down his length, using both hands.

"Please just let me touch you," you begged, your voice whiny and pathetic.

"Where's the fun in that? Just enjoy the show, babe."

He spread his legs wide to give you a better view, chuckling lowly as your breathing quickened. One of his hands reached up to twist at his nipples, rolling it between two fingers as he tilted his head back and groaned. "This is how I like to touch myself, Noona," he said, his voice far breathier than before. His pace as he jacked off quickened.

You let out a low groan that emitted from the back of your throat, and you clenched your thighs together, the sticky skin that wasn't hidden beneath your shorts clasping to each other. You were desperate for friction to your aching clit, but Jungkook was determined not to give in to your desires.

"Do you like this, Noona? Seeing me jack off in front of you. Would it make you feel better to know I've done this to myself countless times while thinking of you?"

"Shit, fucking hell, Jungkook. You're such a tease," you growled.

"Mm, am I?" Jungkook said though it didn't sound nearly as amused as he intended, a strain in his voice that wasn't there before. His hand came down from his nipple to massage his balls again, his hand running at an impossible speed. "Fuck, I'm close. Can I cum on your face, Noona? Pretty please."

"Yes, yes, go ahead." God, you were desperate.

He came forward, close enough where you could smell him and get all the close-up details, but too far to even wrap your lips around the sensitive head. You squeezed your eyes shut and opened your mouth wide once you felt the hot, white liquid land on your face. Some of it got in your mouth and some on your forehead, but a large bit of it landed on your cheek.

His breathing was heavy, and once you opened your eyes you were truly able to relish in the look of his post-orgasmic bliss. The two previous times took place in the dark in the midst of night, but now you could truly see the golden, glistening skin, and chiseled features of his toned and muscular body.

Jungkook tilted your head up again to look at you, eyes blown out with lust despite his needs being met. "You're so pretty, Noona."

He leaned in, but instead of giving you the kiss you expected, he went to the side, licking a stripe up your cheek as he collected the cum. You shivered as he then landed his lips to yours, and you could taste the bitterness as your tongues swirled against each others.

You felt breathless once he came back up for air, reaching behind to undo your bindings. Your wrists ached, and you massaged them, feeling how sore they are.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes. "When are you going to fuck me?" You weren't bitter this time, instead finding yourself asking it more so out of curiosity.

Jungkook simply smirked and patted your cheek, still sticky with saliva. "Soon, babe. Gotta make you wait for it."

You gritted your teeth at how he enjoyed setting you on edge, tonguing your cheek in annoyance. "Can't wait, then, Kookie."

-

You found yourself hanging out with the guys sooner than expected, but instead of it being the typical guy's night out, Jin had decided to throw a party at his apartment. As usual, you were put on mother duty to clean up after the fun was over, as well as make sure that nothing went out of hand.

To say you were distracted though, would be a significant understatement.

Properly to do with the fact that a buzzed Jungkook was pressed against you, grinding his hips against yours as his semi-hard erection rubbed against your thigh. His mouth had found it's way to your neck, sucking and leaving a trail, but your mind was hazy with lust, not even caring at this point that someone could walk in on you and Jungkook making out in this abandoned hallway.

"Jungkook," you whined, bucking your hips to meet his, offering more pressure.

"What is it, Noona?" he rasped in your ear. Your fingers wove into his hair as he dipped his head lower, sucking at a sensual spot where your collar bone curved up to your neck.

"Fuck me, please," you begged, your voice dripping with desperation.

"Right here?"

"N-No, take me to a bed or bathroom- anything. I can't wait any longer." You looked at him with eyes filled with desperation. "Fuck me, Jungkook."

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Jungkook chuckled huskily.

"You've been holding out on me like a tease. I just want you to shove your cock in me already."

He tsked at that. "So impatient."

You grabbed his jaw, forcing his eyes to lock with your own. "You started this to prove to me you weren't a kid. Your point has been made, and I know all too well that you're a man. I've learned that now, and I'll never forget. Make sure my body doesn't forget that you're a man, either."

At that he lets out a low growl, pressing firmly against you as he grips your thighs and hoists you up, carrying you to the closest bedroom as you cling onto him in an effort to prevent yourself from falling.

He kicks the door behind him, and your back slams down onto the mattress, your body bouncing against the springs. He doesn't care, however, climbing over you with a predatory gaze, as though he were fully intent on finally devouring you. He had gotten mere tastes of the meal to come, and you knew at once that once he slipped in so much as an inch, he'd be deemed insatiable.

He yanked at the leggings you had decided to wear, pulling them to the floor. "Such an impatient little brat."

"F-Fuck," you said, feeling him slide your panties to the side, thumb making contact with your already engorged clit.

"You're lucky I like you so much, Noona. I was intent on just teasing you for a bit longer, but you're just a cock hungry slut who wants to be filled as soon as possible, aren't you?" He chuckles as he removes his hand, much to your disappointment, instead opting to slide the offensive fabric down to the floor to meet your leggings, your shirt and bra following after. It showed the clear power play at the moment, with yourself being completely bare before him. He had been completely naked the last sexual encounter you had together, and your mouth watered at the thought of seeing the view again. He slapped your hands away, however, when you tried to yank at the sweatpants.

He dove between your legs, burying his head between as he forcefully pried your thighs apart, getting a full view of your cunt. "Want me to eat out this pretty pussy of yours, Noona? Get you nice and ready for my cock?"

"J-Jungkook, I'm so wet already. I can't wait any longer, just skip the foreplay," you hissed, thighs tensing beneath his veiny hands. As much as you yearned to feel the wet muscle against your folds once again, you wanted to feel him inside you.

"Are you sure, Noona? I don't want to hurt you. Sure you can take my fat cock?" To test you out, he puts two fingers in, crooking them up against your g-spot with expert precision. Your eyes roll back as you arch your back, desperate for more. He delivers as always, putting a third finger in.

"Gotta stretch you out. Want you to cream on my cock, Noona. Stretch you out good," he rasps, hovering over you, hot breath fanning over your face. "Wanna get you all messy and fucked out. Will you let me use you, Noona? Use you to spasm over my dick until I fill you up nice and good with my cum?"

"S-Shit, just fuck me already! Do whatever, I can't wait any longer," you whined, your mind spinning.

He didn't have to take any more orders, removing his fingers to wipe away the arousal left on your thigh. He yanks down his boxers and sweatpants, length fully erect. He strokes himself,  spreading the precum that had already covered the tip. "Can I put it in?" he questions.

"Please." You seemed to be saying that a lot lately, so it seemed.

He flipped you over on your hands and knees, pulling your hips back until your ass met his dick. He circled the head around your entrance, as though testing the waters before he slowly sunk in inch by glorious inch, causing your eyes to roll back at the delicious stretch that he provided. He was bigger than most, so it took you a bit to get used to him, but truth be told it didn't hurt or ache due to the copious amount of arousal that he elicited from you.

It wasn't until he was balls deep that the two of you let out a groan, the moment the two of you were waiting for- for so, so long- finally arriving.

"God, you're tighter than I imagined, baby," Jungkook groaned, pulling his hips back slowly before thrusting inside you. You felt yourself fly forward at the force of his thrust, hands grabbing onto the headboard for stability.

"Ffffuck, you're so big," you whispered, groaning as you spread your legs wider, rubbing your ass against him as he let out a hiss.

"Yeah? Can you handle it, baby?" he questioned, hands digging into your hips thrust into you again, drawing out a long moan.

"Yes! Please, fuck me already," you begged.

"You asked for it." He grabbed your hair, pulling it into a ponytail before twisting it around his wrist for leverage. It wasn't until then that he began fucking into you, his thrusts precise and delibate, aiming for your sweet spot as you gripped onto the headboard and met him thrust for thrust. Your back arched at an angle you weren't used to, your hips snapping back to meet his, his thrusts causing his balls to slap against your cunt with each snap of his hips. The room was soon filled with the sounds of skin against skin, and both of you moaning to your heart's content despite the fact that other people were present in the apartment, not too far away.

"You like this, Noona? Am I fucking you hard enough? Deep enough? Fast enough?" Jungkook panted, yanking onto your hair to pull your head closer to his, his groans right next to your ear.

"Yes! Dear god, yes. Jungkook, I-I..." You felt your eyes roll back. "I'm close."

"Shit, already?" Jungkook seemed to be surprised by this but nevertheless crept his hand down, middle finger toying with your clit. You spasmed over him, walls clamping and clenching down on him as you found your orgasm washing over you. A white hot bliss filled you, spreading from your fingertips to your toes.

You collapsed onto the pillows, but true to his word, Jungkook wasn't done. He let go of your hair as he let you rest momentarily before both of his meaty hands were gripping the flesh of your ass, and he was thrusting once more, using your body for his pleasure. You couldn't do much more than take it, moaning into the pillows at the pleasure you were feeling. You didn't feel sensitive yet, enjoying the feeling of Jungkook drilling into you as you rode out your orgasm, spreading your legs wider and lifting one, making your cunt visible to one side of the room as he leaned against you, fucking you at an impossibly deep angle. With his free hand, he toyed with your clit, enjoying the way your moans became far more unabashed and free than earlier.

"F-F-Fuck, Jungkook!" You still felt a twinge of sensitivity from your previous orgasm, tears springing the corners of your eyes as Jungkook's ministrations began to subside the pain with pleasure.

"Gonna cum again? Get all messy?"

"Let me cum again," you begged, sobbing into the pillow as you felt the band stretch, ready to be released. The muscles in the leg he was holding up had begun to tense, indicating the approaching orgasm. "I'm so close!"

"Greedy slut," Jungkook growled, adding more pressure. Your orgasm was just as powerful, stars exploding behind your lids. You collapsed, falling limp as your body's tremors subsided.

You feel your body roll over, and with droopy lids, you're staring up at Jungkook. At some point, he had taken off his shirt, revealing the sweaty, golden skin that you adored. Your hands came up to run over his muscular form as he settled between your legs once last time.

"I want to see your face when you cum on my cock one last time, Noona. Give me another one. I love feeling you cream on my cock like a good little girl."

You nod, feeling him nestle into you before he's fucking into you again, eyes raking over your body appreciatively. He's already had you ten ways to Sunday, and still, he didn't seem to be sated. Who could blame him though? You looked blissful, a hazy, lust-filled look to your blown out pupils, and your messy bedhead surrounding your head like a halo. Your makeup had smeared and your skin was sweaty, and it pleased Jungkook to know that he was the one responsible.

You could tell he was getting close, the muscles in his abdomen getting taut and tensing up, his thrusts getting sloppier. If there was one additional thing you learned from this experience, though, was that he was stubborn and persistent. He wasn't going to stop until you came one last time.

His hand pressed against your lower belly as he pumped in and out of you, both of you feeling the movements of his every thrust inside of you. "I can feel how deep I am inside of you, Noona," he gasped out. "I can feel my cock fucking you."

Your eyes rolled back, gripping at the pillow beneath your hair as you felt your orgasm approach one last time.

His other hand made contact with your clit, and before you knew it you were unraveling, becoming completely undone both physically and mentally. You felt as though you were being elevated, a sort of high that had taken place once your final orgasm had taken place, and with the additional grunt and deep thrust that accompanied Jungkook filling you up with his cum, it added to the sensation.

You were breathless, both of you panting as he slipped out of you, rolling over to rest. You struggled to catch your breath, your post-orgasmic bliss filling your senses.

You looked to Jungkook with droopy lids, pressing a kiss to his temple as you got up and began to pull your clothes on.

He grabbed your wrist to stop you, brows furrowed. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry, I'll be back. I just have to go to the restroom. Pee after sex and all that. I also need to get us a towel to clean up," you assure him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before exiting. He seemed worried about you leaving right after having sex, and you wondered for a moment if he felt betrayed by the thought of you leaving after getting what you had begged for, as though you wished only for a hookup with the younger man. Unfortunately, the bathroom wasn't connected to the bedroom.

It wasn't until you exited the bathroom with a towel in hand that Taehyung approached you. It didn't take a genius to realize what happened, considering the fact you smelled of sex and your appearance was a dead giveaway.

"So... you're hooking up with Jungkook now?" Taehyung questioned.

You grimaced. "Is that weird?"

"No, it's expected. Kid's had a crush on you for a while," Taehyung shrugged. "One of the reasons we teased him a lot."

Your brows furrowed. "Huh?"

He gave a surprised expression. "You didn't know? I thought everyone did. Especially with how whiny and grumpy he was with your comment on seeing him as a kid." He gave a boxy grin. "Guess he fixed that issue, though, huh?"

You waved goodbye and returned to Jungkook, noting how he seemed relieved to see you return, true to your word.

You climbed onto the bed, combing your hand through his hair. "Say, kid, how about we get a coffee in the morning?"

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts reactions #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader

[shamelesslypoetic]

Not Today

Wordcount: 1.5k

Pairings: Blink and you’ll miss it dukexiety. Logince, could be read as one-sided but I think of it as returned ;)

Warnings: Embarassment, some self-deprecating thoughts, vague ending, Roman being a gay train wreck you can't look away from

-----------------

‘Fashionably late’ was Roman’s latest statement these days and though Logan didn’t necessarily like it Roman thought he must still have some sense of agency against the increasingly hindering crush he’d developed in the past few months. 

Right now, however, he couldn’t help but agree as he ran out of theatre practice to the cafeteria, desperately trying to catch some time with Logan before his next class. His heart pounded in his chest, skin prickling with nerves as he glanced down at his wrist and promptly disregarded the clock, it was all gibberish and he only wore it because Logan had got it for him anyway.

The bustling cafeteria pulled the theatre loving geek in with all its colorful chatter and smiling faces, the laughs behind them bubbly and inviting. 

This school was his home, and had been for as long as he could remember. 

Still, in favor of finding some random group to hang out with, his eyes scanned around the crowded spaces for one person in particular, bumping shoulders good-naturedly and ignoring a scowl here, a biting retort there until he finally  found his target.

The impossibly cute and endearingly rambly Logan, sitting alone in a far table with his closed fist propping his cheek up and a book open in front of him, had his eyes closed. Roman’s heart swelled at the sight, workaholic stupor having forced the object of his affection into an unplanned nap. Logan always pushed himself to such states and then some. That determination and sharp intelligence etched itself across the bruised quality of his amor’s eyelids and it was enough to knock Roman off his balance. He sank into the bench and started yammering away to quell the force of the longing inside him. 

“Hey there, sleeping beauty!” Roman trilled loudly, the arm sliding against the table pushing a food tray away as he bumped the other sophomore’s shoulder. 

Logan started, letting out a very dignified yelp as his eyes snapped open and his shoulders rose in alarm. 

“Hold on, your glasses are smudged,” Roman noted, squinting. “Lemme just...” He raised his hands up as Logan barely had time to turn and took the glasses off his face. He delicately held it between his hands, words pushing out of him in a flurry far too passionate for the present situation, especially seeing as one of the would-be participants of the conversation had yet to manage a word in the wake of his crazed Chemistry partner.

“Ro-Roman?” 

Roman blabbed on, acutely aware of his companion and trying not to show it with every ounce of his Disney adoring being, going off, piling on the words blocking his ‘I love you’ from exploding out of him. “Classy guys such as yourself can’t be seen like that, no siree.” Roman trained his gaze on the thick-rimmed square frames in his hands rather than the strong tea brown that typically looked through them. 

“Roman?” Logan said again, impatience trickling into his voice of elegant fountain pens on parchment paper. 

“But don’t worry I gotcha,” Roman continued a train of thought from earlier that he was sure his chemistry partner hadn’t quite caught as he cleaned the lenses, but the glittering sing-song coming out of him just wouldn’t stop. “Nerds gotta look out for each other, right Lo? Of course I’m right who would you possibly sacrifice this ravishing company for--”

Logan persisted, “Roman!”

Roman turned his head as he let go of the edge of his shirt, “Whaaaat?” His drawl broke off into a flustered noise between confusion and awe as he fully alighted on the bare face and the slightly skewed necktie. “Whoa-uh...”

“Roman you startled me!” Logan said but Roman wasn’t listening, too lost in sharp edges and a jawline spawned from a knight’s sword, accented by arching, sweeping eyebrows and perfect, dark eyes. The wannabe actor’s breath caught in his throat as his mouth fell open and an itching blush quickly creeped up his nose. His hand trembled in pure gay disaster style as he took in the exasperated face in front of him once more, eyes hungrily tracing every dimension as if he could learn all the edges, as if he could fold the memory into his brain to call it whenever he wanted if he stared long enough. And yet, he was afraid if he got any closer like he so wanted to that wherever his skin touched the other’s it would come away hot and colored bright crimson. Just like the blush across his face. 

Logan gave Roman a weird look as he felt his face redden, wordless in stark contrast to the way he’d just been chatting away with all the conviction of a hummingbird that somehow managed to learn human dialect.

“Why are you staring?” he asked, a hand cautiously coming to Roman’s arm. “Is there something on my face?”

Roman didn’t answer, far too transfixed and a note of worry knotted the other’s words, the elegant, incredibly sophisticated voice all Roman could now hear. Everything else, the chatter, the bustle, fell muffled under Logan’s melodic words, all but white sound to the theatre enthusiast.

“Roman?” Logan said again and tightened his hold on the boy’s arm, the feverish skin underneath poking out from the cuff of his letterman jacket’s sleeve. 

Logan slid his hand down to check Roman’s roaring pulse and a rolling shiver coursed through Roman the way the cool assured hands felt holding him. It was too much. The press of skin without any space to spare, the absent sweeping of Logan’s thumb, the way it fit so perfectly on Roman’s vien as if it were already carving out a place there. Too much for Roman’s frail gay heart. 

Before the older of the two sophomores could say anything more, his glasses shot across the air and Roman slapped them onto his face with a force that had Logan reeling backwards, hold on the other faltering as he sputtered, “Ah!” he gave a sharp cry, blinking rapidly. 

“Roman, what the fuck!?”

The word Logan would normally never use for its rudeness escaped him by his temper and Roman finally stirred which was arguably worse than the state of frozen horror as his mind chanted shit shit shit shit! and the frantic, uneven thu-thump carried on against his ribcage. 

“I, I gotta go!” he stammered, grabbing his bag from the bench and neglecting the unicorn notebook falling from it. 

Logan stared at him, a purple blossom  appearing on the slope of that perfect pointed nose, hitching Roman’s breath as he held onto his bag’s strap.

“Sorry, Specs, I’d love to stay but I’m gonna be late for my next class at this rate, and not even fashionably so!” 

Shut up, shut up! The last of his common sense hissed as he backed away, bumping his hip against the table and wincing more at Logan’s incredulous face than the impact. “Love these get-togethers, babe!” OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE! 

Roman could see it now, the hole he’d dug himself, gaping wide in the middle of a graveyard where he’d soon be put out of his ineloquent misery and then buried, never to be seen embarrassing himself again. “O-Okay, see you around, bye!”

He ran, because really what else could Roman have done, when all compliments and flattery drifted from him every time he found himself in front of someone so damnably handsome, when he was confronted by feelings he normally only mimicked? 

So, blind and deaf to all around him, his feet carried him to the Chemistry lab, early for once. The Chemistry lab! 

Roman mentally prepared his will, his plushies would go to Princess and his writings would be published with not an extra edit and he’d have to tell someone to apologize on his behalf for teasing the emo in seventh period about his crush on his twin: Remus. Who would have nothing, because he’s a stinky bastard.

Roman steeled himself with little more than sheer pride as he took a seat. But then he ended up folding his arms on the metal desk and putting his head down. He pretended to sleep for the whole period. 

Which is not to say that his skin didn’t warm as Logan took his place beside him, that he didn’t want to apologize for such stupid behaviour, that when Logan told him -- “Sorry, for, for yelling at you back there, I can have the worst temper and you...you tend to...exaserbate that.” -- he didn’t sheepishly smile but none of it mattered, not even when Logan slid the notebook toward him with a whispered, “You forgot this.” 

Why? Because he was a coward. For all his bravado and pomp, he was an utter fool for Logan and a coward on top of it.  

He’d tell him in time. He’d tell him pretty poetry and have flowers in his hands, he’d scour the shops for Logan’s outlandish favourite of gladiolus and preferably also take him out somewhere nice, that new diner perhaps or stargazing in that meadow on the outskirts of town. He’d tenderly hold his face and ask if that’s okay and then he’d lean in and kiss him, slow and sweet, chaste and gentle. A bit far reaching and maybe even presumptuous. But feigning sleep gave plenty of time to daydream.  

One day Roman would tell Logan that it was his own otherworldly looks that turned his dramatic classmate into a bumbling, savage mess. But not today. 

Today, Roman would apologize. And that would have to be enough somehow. 

-----------------

A/N: Another one based on art by @sleepy-starling because I'm unoriginal. Hope you like it and that the words are treating you well whether you're reading or writing them! ^^

#ts roman #ts logan #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince #fluff #friends to lovers #highschool sweethearts #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #implied logince #og post #my writing #art inspired fic #dried ink

[kickingitwithkirk]

Beyond Seduction: pt III

Summary: Isobella Tennant is a woman wanting her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he has kept hidden for years. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 2195

Warnings: Cursing, sexual innuendo, self degradation

A/N: Sam’s finding it harder to keep his thoughts and hands to himself. More slow burn in this part.

PART II

Mobile Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

PART III

“Turn around slowly,”

Sam felt his breath catch as the lighting behind her turned his white shirt translucent and could see her figure.

Izzy was lean; her shoulders a gentle swoop, a waist needing no corset to achieve its dip, Sam was sure his large hands would overlap encircling it, narrow hips curved enough to give them a feminine shape, incredible legs with well defined calves peeking out from under the end of silk drawers. He could see between her thighs, Sam personally preferred them plumper, especially when he was lying in between them.

She slowly turned revealing her stomach did possess a slight feminine softness and far from his handful breasts perched high upon her chest needing no assistance to remain pert. Izzy was not malnourished like Sam first supposed but long and lean built.

As she turned her back to him, Sam drew in his lower lip and bit down to stop any noise as he pressed his palm against his swollen cock trying to find some relief.

His restraint was close to breaking, something about this woman made every fiber of his being want to take her apart, have her begging him for release but at the same time wanting to protect her from his own lasciviousness. He wanted her to freely give in and use him to discover her own hedonistic desires.

As she finished turning Sam quickly composed himself, shifting the sketch pad over his lap to cover his predicament. “Stand facing me I want to do a couple more and we’ll call it a night, I’m sure you must be getting tired.”

***

Izzy sat up with a start unsure what had awoken her and immediately regretted it. She burrowed back under the blanket remembering the events of yesterday.

After Sam had bid her goodnight at the second floor stairwell she took the pitcher to the WC happy to find there was still some warm water left in the pipes. She washed up quickly in the cool room deciding to not mess with the fire. Now she regretted it, it was freezing.

Wrapping the blanket around herself she went to the small round window and looked out at the light snow that had fallen sometime during the night.

Shivering she moved over to the pot bellied stove and opened the small door. She had seen the maids do this plenty of time so she picked up the small coal shovel and dumped coal into it. Finding paper starters she inserted a few in between the coal and lit a match to ignite the paper. The stove started smoking up the room as she had forgotten to open the flue.

Carefully reaching in she felt around for the handle, found it and pulled. It was stuck. She tried again, “Come on you bugger!” Izzy snapped as her door slammed open startling her. She landed on her bum at Sam’s shouting about burning the house down.

Hurrying over he knelt down and gripped the handle jerking it open, the smoke sucking upwards starting to clear the room.

Sam grabbed her arm roughly jerking her up onto her knees, “Don’t you have enough sense to open the fucking flue before starting a fire!”

“I tried to open it but the son of a bitch was stuck! How dare you charge in here and roughhouse me you bastard!” Izzy yelled back and shoved Sam hard enough he ended up on his arse.

They glared at each other breathing hard for different reasons. Sam was awoken to the smell of smoke triggering the worst memory of his life and in his panic lost his temper out of fear.

Izzy, despite the beliefs about redheads, rarely lost her temper but Sam's forceful manhandling had triggered strange sensations she was unsure of and it scared the hell out of her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my temper but you come barreling in yelling and putting your hands on me, that isn’t something I’m accustomed to.”

Sam grimiest, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I apologize. And this is my fault, I forgot the flue sticks sometimes. Here, let me show you how to work it.”

Sam watched Izzy scoot over in front of the stove awaiting his instruction. There was one problem; he couldn’t reach in and still have room around his arm for her to see what he did. He moved behind her and got on his knees trapping her legs between his. “What are…”

“You wouldn’t be able to see what I’m doing so I’ll guide you on how to work it.” Sam informed her as he took her hand and inserted them into the stoves opening.

“Feel for the handle,” she wrapped her fingers around the lever as his fingers covered hers, “good. Now when you tug it, twist your wrist at the same time,” Sam instructs. As their arms slid back she pressed against his chest, his naked chest.

Izzy became intimately aware of his substantial member as she was only in her undergarments and Sam, having rushed out of his room, in only his sleep attire.

While most Englishmen wore knee length sleep shirts Sam preferred the pajama style pants from India that hide absolutely nothing when it came to his lower physique.

“I believe I have the technique down on how to work it.”

Her phrasing caused Sam’s member to stiffen more. He slowly rocked his hips in a subtle manner enjoying the friction from the silken material and heat of her.

Sam placed his lips near her ear, “Not yet but you will soon.”

***

Sam yawned as the carriage traveled over London’s busy cobblestone streets. He turned to Izzy finding her starting out the window, wondering what she was thinking. Neither mentioned the incident in her room when they meet in his studio after lunch yesterday. Sam thought back on their slightly skewed conversation.

***

Izzy sat there fidgeting again.

“Will you sit still?”

“I’m bored, not used to just sitting doing nothing. Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“I don’t care.” she cocked her head, “Where are you from originally? I can’t quite place your accent.”

“North.”

“North what?”

“Just north, straighten your head up.”

“Is your family still there?”

“Yes and no.”

“Which is it?”

“...”

“What do they do?”

“Work on an estate.”

“Which one?”

“...”

“Are you an only child?”

“Yes and no.”

“Oldest, middle or youngest?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you being obsequious?”

“Why are you being nosy?”

Izzy blows a raspberry at him.

“That was rude.”

“Then answer my questions.”

“I would if you asked something interesting.”

She squints slightly, “How old are you?”

“Twenty nine.”

She snorted, “practically decrepit.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Practicality baggage yourself.”

Izzy smiled, making Sam catch his breath. It did nothing to improve her looks but was the most guileless one he’d ever seen; he couldn’t help but laugh. She slumped forward resting her forearms on crossed legs studying him.

“When did you see your first nude female?”

“I was twelve.”

“Who was she?”

“Chambermaid. I caught her while washing up.”

“Is that when you decided to become a painter?”

The sketchbook slipped on Sam’s knee as he jerked his head up in surprise. “You think I do this so I can freely ogle naked women?”

“You wouldn’t be the first depraved man that used a legitimate profession for it.”

Depraved. That word stuck in Sam’s mind the rest of the day. Yes, he had done many things in his life that society would consider deprived but to him, it felt natural.

He had stayed up looking at his sketches of her pondering how he would paint her. She didn’t fit most of the classics, her looks were too generic and completely unique at the same time when inspiration finally struck.

***

The carriage stopped in front of a semi detached house in a quiet street. Sam led them to a side entrance. As he rang the bell, Izzy looked at the placard: Madame de Merteuil- Seamstress.

The door opens revealing an older woman. She greeted Sam in heavily accented English, ushering them into her well appointed home. They conversed briefly before Izzy was led into another room.

A younger assistant joined them. Izzy removed her orange dress and Madame de Merteuil personally took her measurements, tutting under her breath, just like her mother's personal seamstress, who only went by Madame, always did at her lack of figure.

The assistant had to bring many swatches of cloth to test against her skin tone, the unflattering comments in French never stopped.

Izzy chose a couple of safe, simple styles and a few undergarments in silk, she couldn’t stand scratchy wool ones, making the seamstress sniff but had them brought out to Sam for approval. She returned telling her they were done.

Sam was flipping through a dress pattern book when Izzy came out. “I hope I didn’t select too many things.” He looked at her curiously, “I thought you would have chosen more than you did.” Izzy shrugged, “I don’t need much.”

Sam was surprised when Madame de Merteuil showed him what had been selected. The women he had brought here previously generously spent his coin but outside of the silk undergarments, which made him wonder if the Duke had given her the ones he had seen her in, Izzy had chosen the simplest everyday garments the seamstress produced.

“Is there anything else needed, Monsieur Winchester?”

Sam looked at Madame de Merteuil, “Yes, do you still have any that dark green left? I’d like it for a coat.”

“Oui, that material would compliment her well.”

“She’ll need an evening gown, that purple silk you showed me, you know what style I like.”

The seamstress bid them goodby. After they climbed into the carriage Izzy turned to Sam. “Why…”

“You are in need of a coat.” He said, “And an evening gown?” Sam shrugged, “I get invited to many events and I never go alone.”

Their last stop was to the pharmacists for personal toiletries and other sundry items. Sam made a face putting back the soaps and shampoo she had selected and chose some far more luxurious crafted items.

Izzy mentally frowned, she had picked the ones she had always used that were moderately fragranced, she didn't like the heavy, cloying scents many favored to hide the strong, unpleasant odors that came with living in London.

Well, if it was what he liked she would have to use them.

***

Izzy walked into the studio as Sam was finishing adjusting a side saddle on a wooden horse, the type workmen used, not the kind children rode.

He smiled at her confused expression, “I’ve decided on the composition for the picture,” he informed her as she started stepping up on the platform, “you will be Lady Godiva...” Izzy’s foot missed the edge and she banged her knee against it.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? She is considered one of the most beautiful women of all times! Mud puddles get more looks th…”

Sam was off the platform grabbing Izzy’s chin between his long fingers forcing her to stop talking and look up at him. He could feel her swallow hard at his thunderous expression.

“As long as you're in my home you are to never say another disparaging comment about your looks! Blink once if you understand me,” she did, “I don’t know who filled your head with that nonsensical claptrap but you have got to stop thinking that way.”

Sam let go of her chin and sat down speaking in a gentler tone, “Let me see your knee, make sure you didn’t injure yourself.” He picked her foot up and placed it on the edge of the platform lifting her skirt up to lay over her thigh and pushed her drawers up feeling around the joint. Her knee had a red line across it but seemed uninjured otherwise.

“Hmmm, you’ll have a bruise, I’ll have Mrs. Mills make a compress for it later. Now, as I was saying, you will be Lady Godiva, I need to sketch you several different compositions before starting the actual portrait so you’ll need to stop wearing my shirt.”

Sam had allowed her to continue wearing it with her drawers but now he needed to actually see her form unobstructed. “You can keep your drawers on for a bit longer but at some point you will lose them too.” Izzy bit her lip in uncertainty.

“Look, if you're too much of a mewling quim, you can leave right now.” Sam stood up irritated, it wasn’t like she had never been naked in front of a man before.

If there was one thing that made Isobella Tennant irate it was to insinuate she was a coward, no one ever got away with it.

With a defiant expression Izzy stared directly into Sam’s eyes before removing her dress and pulled the chemise over her head. She held it up and dramatically released it from her hand. She then untied her drawers letting them pool around her feet before kicking them away.

Turning her back on Sam, she stepped up onto the platform and mounted the saddle.

“Do you want it up or down?”

Forevers: @donnaintx

#artist!sam winchester x isobella tennant #victorian romance #artist!sam winchester x ofc #samwinchester #romance #ofc

[pinoyrella]

Part 3 🌸

Chapter 5, Part 3

FT: Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Yachi Hitoka, Tsukishima Akiteru, Tanaka Saeko, Karasuno Volleyball Team, Karasuno High School + Shiratorizawa.

TW: Mild Language + Minor Injury/Bleeding + Nishinoya makes 1 NSFW joke

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Coming of Age + Slow Burn 

-This part contains fluff, drama and angst.

WORD COUNT: 4,800+

“A LOVE SO BEAUTIFUL” Masterlist 🌸

A/N: Hiii hiii, here’s the final part of the 3 💖

The crowd goes wild as Shiratorizawa takes the lead, you stand restless besides Akiteru and Yachi, watching as Tsukishima stands by the net.

“At the very least” Akiteru starts, you turn your attention to him first. “Kei is the exact opposite from the kind of player that moves based on sensations.” The other two blonde girls turn to him, in question. “He doesn’t believe in his own strength. And he doesn’t trust the senses he’s built up.” He says bluntly, Saeko seeing the resemblance now of the two brothers. “How could you say that? You’re his older brother!” She scolds lightly. “I’m complimenting him!” He responds back. 

You turn your attention back to Tsukishima on the court. “He’s right.” The three now turning their attention to you. “You see, the more Tsukki feels let down, the calmer he gets.” Their gaze turns back to Tsukishima on court. “He only believes the information that his eyes can see.”

You watch as Ushijima prepares for his spike, Tsukishima jumping right on time, only to be sent back down due to the harsh force coming from the opposite hitter.

The buzzer goes off and the teams take their time. You watch as Ennoshita wraps Tsukishima’s fingers, feeling a bit worried for the pain but believing in him.

-

The first set is completed by Shiratorizawa, you continue to watch restlessly as the second begins.

You notice half way through that a very tall red-haired man seems to be razzing Tsukishima, watching the glare he gives him from the other side of the court.

Just then, as the red-haired man was about to hit a time-lag attack, Tsukishima blocks the ball immediately, sending it flying on their side of the court.

You cheer alongside with the gym. “TSUKKI!!!!!”

Tsukishima had left the other boy agitated, bowing and giving him a passive aggressive smile. “You piss me off!” You hear the red-haired boy yell.

You watch as Ushijima continues to spike, Tsukishima and Hinata’s attempts to block not working, for the ball keeps making contact with their hands, but only to pass and fall on their end.

-

“They got the point again!” You hear Takinoeu cry before turning your head to Yachi’s voice.

“Is there something wrong?” You watch her ask Akiteru, his hand to his chin. “I was just thinking Kei was acting a bit strange… I might just be imagining it.”

Yachi turns her head back to the court. “His eyes seem much more lively than usual!” She cheers as you smile at her reply, before looking back down. You feel Akiteru lean closer to your ear. “Does Kei actually have friends at school besides you and Tadashi?” You give a soft laugh before giving him a look of amusement.

-

You turn your focus back on the court, watching as a weirdly cut-banged kid sets to Ushijima once again.

Kneeling a little too off the railing, you watch in anticipation, noticing Tsukishima’s focus on him.

Tsukishima’s eyes are focused solely on the ball, jumping in sync with Asahi just as Ushijima’s about to hit, you notice his arms turn at an acute angle.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the contact, his palms holding against the ball perfectly. The sound of the ball hitting the floor echoes throughout the court, and you are left there in shock. It had landed on Shiratorizawa’s side.

You feel yourself tear up as the whole venue goes quiet. Being the first to yell in excitement. “KEI!” You cry, watching as he glances towards his palms, before facing you. You both share a brief moment looking at each other, the sound of the quiet venue making it feel as you two were the only ones there, like time has stopped. His widened eyes look up to you, giving a small smile before clenching his palm. “He stopped Ushiwaka?!” The sound of everyone's cheers comes back, and you watch Tsukishima.

‘It was only one block. It was only a point out of 25. It’s just a club.’ The memories in his mind take him back to three visions.

-

The first vision; of his older brother, who he had looked up too, curled into a ball as he sobs into his bedroom floor.

“Kei, I’m so sorry!” He cries, not noticing his little brother watching him from the cracked door leading to his room. Missing the single tear dripping past his cheek. “Pathetic.” He whispers to himself before walking away to his room.

The second vision; of his conversation with Bokuto, Kuroo and Akaashi back during training camp.

“But once that moment arrives for you. That’s the moment you’ll be hooked on volleyball!” Bokuto explains to him, Kuroo beside with a smirk. “Now come help us practice!”

The final vision; is of you.

Tsukishima looks down at you, watching as you give him multiple reassurances before bidding a goodnight. He watches as you excitedly ramble, giving a soft smile before looking up at him.

“And… I believe in you!” He remembers the smile on your face spreading, before tackling him into the warmest hug he has ever felt.

-

Bringing his palm up, clenching it before bringing it back down once again. “YEEAAAH!!!” He cheers.

You bring your palms up, covering half of your face as you let tears flow down.

The members on his team cheer for him, proud and happy for their teammate stopping one of the most brutal spikers in the entire Miyagi Prefecture.

“Tsukishima!” Tanaka and Nishinoya yell before jumping onto him from behind.

You laugh, watching the two aggressively congratulate him. ‘Did Nishinoya just bite him?’

“I think Kei might have been waiting this whole time for the timing for Shiratorizawa’s tosses to skew.” Akiteru says.

You, Yachi and Saeko turn to him, before Saeko lets out a chilled sigh. “Eh? I can’t believe he thought that far ahead.” She lets out as she as the four of you focus your attention back onto the court.

“Tsukki is very smart” You begin. “I believe he is always thinking about volleyball, as well as other things.” “As obstinate as always” Akiteru jokes. You giggle before adding, “it’s just at that moment, I feel as if the only thing on his mind was stopping that block.” Resting against the cold railing. “Purely just… like he was solving a difficult question on a test.” You bring a palm to place under your chin before smiling softly. “I believe in him.” 

Akiteru watches your gaze on his younger brother, letting a small smile make his way to his face. “Yeah.”

Karasuno takes the set, Hinata making his way to his fellow middle blocker. 

“Tsukishima! That point was worth 100 points!” He gives a bright smile, before the blonde replies giving a sadistic smirk. “Thanks” Hinata is taken back, about to jump the man before Tanaka holds him back. “Calm down, Hinata! I’m sure he meant it as, ‘If you’re a middle blocker, you try it too.’”

-

The score between both teams continues to rise, one after the other. The sets evening out between the two, but Karasuno was able to take the last set.

The crowd cheers as the final set begins, if Karasuno is able to get this set, they’re to win.

You watch, your attention dedicated fully to Tsukishima as he prepares to launch himself up again, to block another spike.

You were fooled, you had followed the red-haired boy, Tendo, thinking he was going to hit the ball, until Ushijima rounds the corner, Tsukishima catching on immediately.

Just then, Tsukishima jumps, stopping the ball, only for it to hit the line on Shiratorizawa’s side by just a little bit, having it overruled.

You listen to Saeko sigh in frustration at Shimada, but bringing your focus towards the court, noticing something off about Tsukishima, but not noticing the other Tsukishima had left your side.

-

Coach Ukai has his head down in frustration, as Kageyama stares at Tsukishima on the court.

“Um…” The coach immediately looks to Kageyama. “There’s something wrong with his hand.”

Coach Ukai and Takeda-Sensei, along with Kiyoko immediately make their way to the court.

Tsukishima holds his palm, watching blood drip from the cut between his fingers. “Fuck.” He let’s out a pained grunt.

The opposite team hurdles on the other side of the net, watching the commotion as Tsukishima gets swarmed by his team.

“It must have been Ushiwaka’s spike.” Coach Ukai. “Narita!” He calls to sub, as he instructs Kiyoko to retrieve the first aid kit.

‘God damn it, at a time like this...’ Tsukishima stares at the injury before looking to the scoreboard. ‘Thankfully it was just my pinky, if I can just endure the pain- How long does it take for the bleeding to stop?’ He looks back down to a sudden sting, Kiyoko wraps the towel around his hand, applying pressure. ‘If we just tape it up so it’ll be stiff…’ His brain thinks in complete frustration. ‘The next rotation will have Hinata on the front line…’ 

“Kiyoko, get him to the infirmary” Coach Ukai instructs. ‘I need to figure out something by then…’ Tsukishima begins walking off court with Kiyoko, before looking to Hinata.

“You’d better buy me some time!” Hinata bites back. “By the time you get back, we’ll already be bound for nationals!” Tsukishima walks off as Hinata finishes, the feeling of his sensory receptors making him finally feel the absolute pain in his palm. He grips his hand tightly, bringing his head down.

-

Watching as Tsukishima and Kiyoko walk out, you hand your bag to Yachi before leaving to go to him.

-

Tsukishima sits in the infirmary, Kiyoko waiting as the nurse tends to aid.

“Kei!” Akiteru walks in, immediately heading towards his brother.

“Nii-chan? Why are you here? Though I’ve already knew.” “I came here to see my little brother fight bravely of course!” He looks down to the wrapped injury. “It doesn’t look like you’re going to die from that, that’s a relief” He sighs. “What do you mean die?” Tsukishima looks away from his older brother. “Even if I’m alive, I’m being pretty useless when it matters the most” He scoffs.

His brother gives him a scowl as he stands up straight. “My teammates will win, even if I leave them alone!” Tsukishima looks up in shock at his brother. “You have to believe in that.” He crosses his arms as his gaze softens. “And, you have to believe in yourself.”

He looks down, thinking of someone who had said something similar, something about believing in him. His mind goes to you.

The nurse walks in, Kiyoko leaving to give an update to the team on his injury and Akiteru aiding to go fetch a water bottle for his brother from the vending machine.

Just as the nurse finishes cleaning, and wrapping the injury, you run in through the door, exhausted, this entire building was a complete maze, getting lost is as simple as that. “Tsukki!” Your voice calling to him immediately lifts his head, turning his attention to you, feeling glad you came to check on him-

He notices the number on the jersey you’re wearing.

“Kei! Oh my god, are you okay?” You run to him, immediately kneeling and eyeing his injury. Reaching out carefully as you hold his arm. “It must be so painful, I’m so sorry. I anything I wish I could take and endure your pain for you.” He can’t help but stare at the jersey on you. You sigh, worried before looking up, meeting eyes with him. He immediately looks away, scoffing.

You sit beside him on the examination bed.

The silence feels a bit more tense than the usual comfortable silence you’re used to with him, you look down fiddling with your fingers, understanding the frustration he must be feeling, getting an injury so late into the game, just as they were about to win too.

“You were pretty incredible out there.” You begin, your gaze stuck to the floor, “That was so cool, when you jumped super high and your hands went WOOSH! And then you angled yourself so fast, I didn’t even think he was going to hit the ball, I thought that other guy was going to-” Tsukishima stays silent, cancelling out your rambling in his mind.

Countless thoughts racing through his head, why are you wearing Kageyama’s jersey? Did he really think he was finally going to have a chance with you? Even after all these years? Why Kageyama and not him? He’s known you longer, he’s been with you longer. Did he make a mistake? Did he really allow himself, even after all these years, to open up to someone? Why did it have to be you? Why is he feeling this way? Could it be just the adrenaline rushing through him, the stress from what would happen to his team? But his older brother told him to believe in them, to believe in himself. You told him you believed in him. You told him you liked him. But why is Kageyama in the picture?

Tsukishima stiffens up, completely frustrated and pissed. He feels he can explode any second, and he doesn’t know why. What is this feeling?

“You know” Tsukishima’s mind finally stops, the sound of your voice catching his attention. He knows he’s about to explode. “I always believed in you.” His gaze immediately turns to you. You turn to look at him, your eyes widening from the unfamiliar look Tsukishima is giving you. His gaze, filled with something so malice, so frightening, you have never seen Tsukishima give this look to anyone, not in your 11 years of knowing the boy.

“You know” He repeats your phrase. “You’re pretty fucking annoying.”

You sit there, absolutely flabbergasted by his demeanor.

“Tsukki-”

“Even after all these years, you think I’d be used to you by now.” You continue to stare at him in disbelief. This isn’t real, right? “All you do is whine and yap, especially about ‘Oh Tsukki, I like you so much!’.” He mocks as you shut your gaping mouth. “It gets pretty infuriating.” You look back down, staring at your shoes, clenching Kageyama’s jersey as your eyes begin to water. “You were embarrassing” You look back up to him, your eyes soaking. He wasn’t even looking at you. “I can’t believe you cheered when no one else was. How humiliating.” ‘For you? Or for me?’ He refers to earlier, when he blocked Ushijima’s spike, causing the entire venue to go silent, as you were the first to cheer for his accomplishment. “Pathetic.” He finishes with a scoff.

You immediately stand as Tsukishima’s realization hits him, he turns to you in shock, watching as your lip quivers as tears stain the eyes he had deemed stunning just the other night. 

You try to reply, but can’t, instead letting our quiet sobs.

“Tsu- Tsukk… Kei…” You begin. He listens, waiting for whatever you want to say.

Yell at him, hit him, go off on him. He hopes you do to himself, feeling guilt in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t mean what he said, he really didn’t. You didn’t deserve such degradation, especially when you made time for him, just to watch him play. Just to cheer him on, to be there for him.

‘Pathetic.’ Echoes through your mind. You shut your mouth once again, not wanting to annoy him with your ‘whining’ or ‘yapping’ or anything. You turn to look up at him once more, tears spilling from your eyes rapidly, like a never ending flowing river.

He looks into your eyes, the pain from seeing you cry stinging much, much more than the cut between his fingers, or anything he has ever felt.

You bring your arm up to wipe the tears from your face, though, it was pretty useless since your tears wouldn’t stop. You hear the sound of chattering coming down the hall, you look to him once more before giving him a look he has never seen you give anyone. The look of heartbreak.

You run out of the room, unfortunately bumping right into one of the people you had heard talking, Akiteru.

You notice Yamaguchi, Yachi and Kiyoko by his side, their chattering completely stopping, before looking at you in absolute worry.

You use Kageyama’s jersey to wipe your eyes before thanking Yachi and taking the bag you had asked her to watch, wrapping it around you.

You look to Akiteru. “A-Aki-nii, I’m going to g-go home now.” You look back to the floor, avoiding any eye contact with the four in front of you, trying to make your way past them, Yamaguchi uses himself to block you from leaving.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Yamaguchi asks in deep worry, bringing his hand up to lightly touch your shoulder, before you shrug him off. Yachi and Kiyoko share a look before Yachi calls to you. “Y/n?” You continue to look down, feeling tears stain your vision once again. “N-nothing.” You try to make you way past Yamaguchi but this time Akiteru blocks you.

“I’ll take you home Y/n-chan.” You look up to him, seeing the resemblance between the two, only reminding you of the harsh words the younger Tsukishima had said to you.

“N-no, it’s okay” “How will you get home?” He questions, regardless he is not letting you go home, not in your current state.

“I’ll take the bus.” “Okay, I’ll take the bus with you” He retorts. You give a fake laugh, before seeing an opening, you book it.

“H-Hey!” “Y/N!” The four call out to you, but you were quick to make it out of the venue.

Running by a bench, you sit, taking a breather. The mean words Tsukishima had told you, the horrifying look he gave you. You begin to sob, pulling your legs closer to you on the bench.

-

Just as the four were going to chase after you, the nurse had come back out with Tsukishima, confused with the worried expression on their faces. The nurse lets out a smile thinking of how wonderful it must be to have friends who care about you so much. But what they didn’t know, it wasn’t Tsukishima’s injury they were worried about.

Kiyoko, Akiteru, Yachi and Yamaguchi thank the nurse, before the five make their way back to the venue. There's an awkward and tense silence, Tsukishima can feel the glare his older brother is giving him from his back. Yamaguchi itched to know what happened, wanting to ask his friend, but choosing not to. Not now at least.

They make it back to the game, and it continues.

-

You pull your phone out, hoping you could ask for your parents to pick you up. As you were about to press ‘call’, you look up and notice a bakery right across the street.

Dropping your phone back into your bag, you make your way across the street and into the bakery.

The little ring of the doorbell somehow brings you back to a calming state, the air in the bakery smelling sweet and calming. You make your way to eye the beautifully displayed deserts in the glass cases, pulling your wallet out, you notice one of the cakes. A perfectly cut slice of strawberry shortcake, the frosting covering the top, the layers visible with vanilla filling inside, and a cute strawberry placed just at the top, finishing the look of the iconic desert, the desert Tsukishima loves so much.

You are taken out of your trance by an older lady greeting you from across the counter. You greet her and ask for a slice of the strawberry shortcake, her heart of gold noticing your state, she offers it to you for free with a drink. You decline, offering to pay but she doesn’t allow. 

You thank her dearly, before making your way back to the bench you had just sat at.

Placing your bag down, you begin to dig into the cake, remembering the time you got Tsukishima upset. The memory of you buying him his favorite food as a peace offering before planning to apologize, only to find him on his couch with a heavy fever.

‘He didn’t deserve the cake.’ You think to yourself. You didn’t upset him as much as he upsetted you now, where’s your apology cake? You stab the spoon into the desert, ravaging it in one go before his harsh words hit you once again.

‘Oh Tsukki, I like you so much’ His mocking voice repeats throughout your head. Feeling your tears swell up again. “If you don’t want me to like you anymore, then fine!” You huff, taking the carton of milk and drinking it in one swig.

Pulling out your phone, you notice the amount of missed calls and text messages coming from Akiteru and Yachi.

5 MISSED CALLS FROM “College Nerd🤓” and 7 MISSED CALLS FROM “Yachi-bear🐻”

3 NEW MESSAGES

Today

14:03 p.m

College Nerd🤓: “Hey, I know you might still be around somewhere, please come back to the venue.”

14:05 p.m

College Nerd🤓: “Let me drive you home, your parents would kill me”

14:06 p.m 

College Nerd🤓: “I won’t leave the venue until you come back >:(( “

You sigh, taking the time to think. The rationalized idea of you running off and just going home after Tsukishima’s words was silly. It’d be a hassle to call your parents to pick you up, and either way you had gone with Akiteru, and he lives next door. You should wait until the game finishes, at least cheer and watch your friends, it’s their big game too.

You reply back with an “Okay” before tossing out the package that the cake was once in.

You scroll, checking the other messages from Yachi.

3 NEW MESSAGES

Today

14:01 p.m

Yachi-bear🐻: “Y/n, where are you?”

14:02 p.m

Yachi-bear🐻: “Please don’t go home alone!”

14:05 p.m

Yachi-bear🐻: “Y/n? Just know I’m here for you, please call me when you can. Love you!”

You feel guilty for worrying your friends. Standing from your seat, you wrap the bag around you before heading back to the venue.

-

You make your way through the crowd of people in the bleachers, deciding to watch just from afar, but your presence doesn’t go unnoticed by Yachi. Yachi beams running to you, she was about to ask if you were okay but decides not to. Grabbing your wrist, she pulls you towards the railing, as you guys had been watching from before.

“Y/n- look at the scoreboard!” You turn your head, seeing as Karasuno was in the lead. ‘One more point…’ Your eyes widen, turning to Yachi in excitement.

Looking back to the court, you notice Tsukishima is back in-game. You shrug, Yachi noticing your change of mood, calling to you.

“Y/n! Look! Hinata and Kageyama are going to do their quick!” You find the two boys, watching as Kageyama tosses a perfect set, Hinata jumping high in the air, his arm extended, looking very focused.

The two of you hold your breaths, before Hinata attacks. The ball spirals down from his spike, as Shiratorizawa’s libero tries to prevent it from touching the floor. He doesn’t miss it, but the ball goes flying off court, landing. Karasuno had defeated Shiratorizawa.

You take a step back before cheering, clasping your hands with Yachi before turning your attention back to the court. The screams from your side of the bleachers, intensifies more than Shiratorizawa’s. You watch as Shiratorizawa fall in defeat, while Karasuno huddles, jumping in glee.

You look to Yachi, hugging her before turning your attention back down, watching as Kageyama and Nishinoya drag Hinata to line up, you giggle at the funny interaction.

The line up begins, and the teams share their thanks before leaving.

-

Tsukishima stands above the sink in the boys’ restroom. The water running as his glasses are to the side.

“Tsukki the awards ceremony is about to start!” Yamaguchi’s excitement booms as he opens the restroom door calling to his friend. He watches as Tsukishima aggressively splashes his face. “What’s wrong?” He asks in concern by the doorway. He gets no response, he’s had enough, especially from seeing the tears that had fell from your face earlier. 

“It’s Y/n isn’t it?” Tsukishima tenses, letting out a sigh of frustration and guilt. “Talk about annoying-” “NO!” Tsukishima looks back to his friend in shock, as Yamaguchi takes a big breath.

“You have no right at all to be the one upset here!” He enters the bathroom, shutting the entrance. “Look, I don’t know exactly what the hell happened, but I know it has to be you that’s at fault. Y/n came all this way to cheer you on, to support you, and yet, something just had to happen.” 

He sends a glare to his friend. “She was fine earlier, she was up in the stands cheering her heart out, but after leaving the infirmary, which you were in, it’s like her mood had gone from 100 to 0!” He looks down. “I have never seen her that hurt before” He admits before looking up. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks, irritated. 

“Are you stupid?!” He yells tot he blonde. “Stupid-” “Whatever!” Yamaguchi turns his back to his friend, proceeding to walk out. “This isn’t the time to be down, we’re going to nationals.” He says, letting the door shut behind him, leaving his friend to dry up.

-

The ceremony begins, Karasuno lined-up as medals are given to them. You watch in awe, the expression on Hinata and Kageyama’s face absolutely adorable. You look at Yamaguchi, feeling very proud for them. You want to feel happy for them, all of them, but you can’t find yourself to look at Tsukishima.

-

Just as the event ends, you run down the bleachers with Yachi, congratulating the team. Throwing yourself to each member, you share a tear and heartful ‘great job’ to each individual, while completely ignoring Tsukishima.

“Y/n!” Nishinoya screams, running over to you with Tanaka, before jumping on you. “Noya-senpai!” You cry as you fall, letting out a giggle as he helps you up. You don’t notice the stares until Sugawara makes his way over.

“Oh-hoho? Y/n-chan~” “Sugawara-senpai!” You greet. “Nice jersey, where’d you get that from?” You look down and notice the jersey adorned with Kageyama’s number. Turning your head to find an excuse, you look to Kageyama, who looks away, completely flustered.

“Y’ALL FU-” “NISHINOYA” Daichi immediately slaps Nishinoya, stopping him from making such an inappropriate joke. You can’t help but let out an uncontrollable snort, causing Tsukishima’s attention to turn to you from afar.

Seeing his team huddle around you, Kageyama to your side as he watches the light in your eyes beam again, listening to the happiness coming from your laugh.

He looks away, letting out a depressing sigh before walking off.

-

“Aki-nii?!” You call out, noticing the man standing right outside the entrance of the venue.

He sees you, immediately engulfing you in a hug. “Oh thank god you’re okay!” You laugh as he pats your head in relief.

“Ah, Tsukishima-kun, that’s your brother?” Asahi asks as he loads his luggage back onto the bus.

Tsukishima turns, feeling jealousy burn in him again, seeing his brother so close to you. 

“Aki-nii stop!” You whine. “This is so embarrassing I’m not 5 anymore.” He stops before pulling away, giving you a warm, caring and brotherly smile. “Let’s go home, yeah?” You nod.

-

“You wanna get Mcdonald’s with me?” He asks as he’s already pulling into the Mcdonald’s drive thru. Laughing, you ask him why he’s asking, he’s literally the one driving.

“You know when I came back home around spring, I remember asking Kei if he wanted to get Mcdonald's with me, only for him to yell at me-” He notices as you stiffen up in your seat to the sound of Kei’s name.

Akiteru feeling guilty, hands you a pikachu shaped happy meal box. “That’s yours” You eye the box, thinking of just how adorable it is. “Kei would think this looks stupid.” You let out a low laugh before thanking him. The two of you are finally heading home.

-

Tsukishima finally arrives home. Slipping into his house slippers, he immediately heads to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he drops his bag before slipping down to his knees. Shutting his eyes for a second, trying to ground himself before he opens his eyes again to get up.

He immediately notices a figure sitting at his desk, moving his eyes, he makes eye-contact with his older brother, who looks at him with a glare.

“Speak.”

Tsukishima is in for it.

-

You lay in your bed, your phone besides you. You had already told Yachi and Yamaguchi of what happened, as well as Hinata and Kageyama after much debate.

You turn to your side, looking out your window to his as tears begin to spill from your eyes once more.

Curling up into your blankets as you cry yourself to sleep, the last thought in your mind;

“If you really want, I’ll stop liking you.”

Part 1

Part 2

Chapter 5