#he’s a bit lost but he’s doing his best

[jarofstyles]

Put Your Records On

This is a little thing I came up with at 2 am and kept writing till 5 lol. It's pop star y/n x rock star H. I don't do a lot of canon H and some things are changed/ don't fit into the real one but that's on purpose. Part two will be up very soon!

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WC- 4.2k

Warnings- dirty talk, mention of bullying (Brief)

She saw him from across the room- well, more like felt him. The room had a buzz in it that it hadn’t before.

It was common knowledge that he was going to be there. One of his best friends was hosting the after party for the BRIT awards, and she had been lucky enough to be invited considering her manager had been friends with the group for a while. Actually, it was a bit shocking that she’d never met the man considering how close their circles ran. She’d met a lot of his management and production team, even a few members of his band- but never the man himself. 

It was her second year after making it big on the music scene but her entire life, she’d been working towards this. School musicals, voice lessons, guitar and piano lessons, music had become her flesh and blood and she was determined to make it her bread and fucking butter. She’d been blessed with her voice and a talent like hers wasn’t one to waste, that’s what her parents had said as she grew up- and it had all paid off. She went home with Best New Artist and was coming down on the buzzing high of another huge accomplishment of her career. 

Harry was infamous, at the top of the damn world and everyone knew his name. He was just about to hop back on tour, one Y/N had been invited to attend by his manager himself. It seemed like today was the day they would finally meet in person, and judging by the recognition in his eye, he had heard about her too. 

God, that made her want to vomit. Growing up she’d been a casual fan of his band, been to a few shows even after scraping together enough money for a ticket along with her best friend. Said friend was lost somewhere in the room and Y/N knew she had a knack for awful timing, but as the man got closer to her she felt her insides begin to bubble. She wasn’t one to get starstruck super easily, thank god, but it was hard not to feel intimidated as he approached her. A black blazer with a very sheer pink blouse underneath, pants tight on the thighs and flared at the calves, necklaces hanging in a thatch of thin chest hair, she’d felt her mouth dry as his smile was given directly to her. Someone she’d grown up singing to in her bedroom, right into her hairbrush, was grinning at her like she was someone important. 

“So we finally meet.” Harry reached his hand out to shake hers. Clunky rings covered the digits as her own took them, shaking his warm hand with her own smile on her face. She’d been on stage in front of tens of thousands of people, and yet he was a bit more intimidating. Still she was going to do her best to use her brief acting skills and pretend her heart wasn’t in her throat. “I’ve heard so much about you- your album’s fucking brilliant.”

He was tipsy, she could see that much. His eyes were slightly hooded and he had a looser demeanor than he had seated at the table ahead of her at the awards show. Good for him. It wasn’t likely that he did this too much. It was well known that he wasn’t much for drinking during his working season and he’d won two awards! That called for drinks all around. 

What took her off guard, though, was the fact that he’d listened to her album. He listened and he had said it was good? Her cheeks heated as she realized he was still holding her hand, gently letting it fall as he took a step closer. It was a little loud out there but not too bad if you were close enough. “You think so? I’m hoping it’s all good things.” She let out a laugh she hoped sounded natural, adjusting her hair. The girl had always been one to fuss with her clothes when she was nervous but hopefully he didn’t realize that. “So is yours. Got quite a few on my playlists.” 

“Yeah?” His smile grew bigger. “Which ones?” Y/N felt the lump in her throat as she tried not to think about how good he smelled. It was so creepy, noticing that. There was a faint hint of tobacco and the tiniest bit of alcohol, but he smelled really warm. Cuddly, in a way. It made sense in her brain, but she was also a drink in at this point. 

“Mmm, I have a few from other albums but from the latest? Satellite, that’s the go to for the gym for me… Late Night Talking, very relatable for me. Erm… Boyfriends, unfortunately.” She saw him give a playful wince. “Yeah, men are shit- no offence. And then I’d say Daydreaming is a personal favorite. As It Was was brilliant, obviously, but Daydreaming is my favorite.” It felt like maybe she word-vomited a little but he’d listened to every word, seeming pleased with her answers. 

“Daydreaming isn’t one I hear of being a favorite, usually. M’chuffed that it’s yours.” He genuinely seemed happy about it. “I really liked the closing track of your album- it’s so rare to find albums that tell a story, that are thoughtfully laid out, at least at this point in time. I love to listen from front to back and it was laid out perfectly. Usually m’a bit of a snob and would have some critiques but you nailed it.” 

Y/N preened. It wasn’t a compliment she got often and it shocked her because that meant he’d really listened. Really paid attention to her music and took time with her album. It was extremely flattering. Surreal, really. Who could have told 15 year old Y/N that Harry would be a fan of her fucking music? She’d probably pass the fuck out. “I’m shocked you got that, but thank you. Yeah, I did the same thing growing up. It was my favorite part of music I’d find, seeing how stuff flowed together. Top to bottom and then bottom to top, then I can shuffle.” It was said in a slightly joking tone but she was fully serious. 

“You get it, Y/N.” He reached out to nudge her shoulder. “I’ve been trying to meet you for a bit but my schedule’s been hectic. Thought it wouldn’t be since we’ve been going for a bit now but tour prep… can be brutal, y’know?” 

Y/N did know, but on a minuscule scale compared to what his tour probably entailed. He was doing stadiums, for god’s sake! Y/N’s arena tour sold out quickly, but there was a huge size difference in where they were. Hopefully she’d reach his level one day. “I do, I do. It’s not a big deal, I didn’t think you were avoiding me or anything.” For a bit she did, but that was wiped away when she’d realized he released the tour dates. It had been months of almost meetings but she had faith in the universe. When it was meant to happen, it would. 

“God no, I was excited to. Did y’want to come sit with us over there?” He motioned to the private area she was allowed into but not been brave enough to venture to quite yet. 

“Sure, that would be nice.” Y/N hadn’t expected to be invited to sit with him personally, let alone feel his hand on her back as he led them through the crowd of people in the room. The star said hellos as he walked through but somehow had mastered the art of saying hi without being caught into a conversation without seeming rude. That was a skill she sure as hell was envious of.

His hand was really fucking warm. She could feel slight calluses on his fingertips, in true musician fashion, but they weren’t as rough as one would originally expect. Her backless dress did her no favors in hiding the warmth and how nice and comforting his touch felt, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank or scowl at her stylist. It wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the dress they’d pulled for the carpet, thankfully this dress was a slinky, emerald green one with room for her legs to actually move. Her updo had been taken down to a mess of curls that nearly reached where his hands were- the power of extensions. As heavy as her head felt, she couldn’t deny that she felt exceptionally beautiful. Thank god the universe had chosen today to meet Harry. 

“Finally!” Sarah sighed. “I’ve been waiting for you two to meet for ages. Come sit.” The woman had always been very sweet, even more sweet with a few drinks in her. Saying her hellos to the familiar people, she felt Harry sit himself next to her in the booth and immediately drinks were brought over. So this is why it was VIP. It was a lemon drop, something Y/N did happen to like. Harry handing her one before taking his own was unexpected but very appreciated, a gentle thank you exchanged as he settled back next to her. 

It was unreal to be here. To be sat at a table of friendly but insanely successful people, feel like part of the ‘in’ crowd, it had completely blindsided her. This was the sort of thing that she’d always thought about when she was in her bed at home as a teenager, hoping one day to rub elbows with the people she once admired so much they had space on her bedroom wall, and here it was. Someone who’s face was on her favorite bedtime tee shirt (Those merch shirts were expensive and she wasn’t about to get rid of it because a member was now in her circle). 

“Y/N, did you know that H added some of your songs to the preshow playlist in his dressing room?” Sarah hummed. 

“You did?” The girl gasped as she looked at him. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn she saw a bit of a pink glint to his cheeks. Maybe it was the alcohol. 

“He did, and he’s been raving about it to Mitch. Sometimes he’s singing it when we pass, that one song about the… what’s it called? The Raven? Some sort of bird.” 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Mitch had to laugh at her airing a bit of Harry’s business, but she was a chatterbox when she was drunk. 

“That’s so nice!” Y/N said shyly. “You’re on mine too, actually. The dressing room for me and the one the fans listen to, I can hear them sing it from backstage.”

Harry’s leg was pressed into hers so she didn’t have to turn far to look at him, watching him finish his drink as he nodded. “I do, yeah. Told you I liked your music. I meant it.”

“Yeah, if he didn’t he wouldn’t mention it. That’s why when he met that girl earlier he just said it was nice to meet-” Sarah was cut off by her husband asking her if she wanted to see something on his phone, putting Harry out of his misery. 

“M’not an ass.” He groaned. “I just didn’t vibe with the album, y’know? I won’t say things I don’t mean but that doesn’t mean I can’t be polite.”

“Agree, 100%. It’s easy when it’s just a taste thing, but I’ve found it harder with people I’ve seen or heard talk bad about me and it’s confirmed. Dunno how you’re able to do that.” Y/N struggled to not show her nerves or distaste of people sometimes and it was something she was constantly working on. Her best friend often had to tell her to adjust her facial expressions and she’d even gone viral once for a ‘stink face’ she’d made at someone. It was accidental of course, but it’d also caused one of her first big waves of hate. 

“It’s not easy, and anyone who says so is lying.” Harry confirmed. “It’s taken me years. Said something about pussy on tv not realizing the cameras could see, so It’s trial and error.” The joke had the both of them laughing, Y/N not divulging that she indeed already knew that. “I think it’s important to just remember they’re humans and probably just as nervous t’see you. It’s just a short interaction and you can move on quickly. I also think working out, yoga, all of that helps a lot with my inner calm. It isn’t easy, like I said, but you’re also in the beginnings of your career in this sort of light. I’ve got no doubt that you’ll be able to have a good poker face by the end of the year.”

“God, I love that song.” Y/N sighed. “Poker face, loved that one I mean. But thank you. I really do appreciate the advice. I was terrified coming tonight. The award shows are much scarier than your own gigs.” 

“Oh, definitely.” Harry whistled, taking another drink from the tray and handing a fresh one to her. “S’like, you know the people who go to your shows are there for you. It’s like a little family get together, it’s safer. Those people love you enough t’buy a ticket, travel got knows how long, wears a shirt with your face on it. It’s mental to think about but incredible. These things?” He motioned around the room. “All marketing and partying, but more drama. S’crazy how many people have slept with each other in this room.” Harry realized a bit too late that he’d said too much but thankfully Y/N just giggled in agreement. “You seem to take to it quite well though. Not to sound weird but I saw you accept your awards and socialize a bit here, you’ve probably got the whole room fooled.”

That was a relief and a compliment in her opinion. The goal was to make sure no one sensed the weakness. Unfortunately she’d learned early on that these people could sniff it out like a shark in bloodied water. “That’s the goal.” She replied, leaning back into the seat. Her back was killing her from the bloody heels on her feet and how tight her other dress was, so it was a relief to have this reprieve from them sitting here. 

“So tell me about your tour then. What’s going on with that?”

—-----------

Y/N was drunk. Certifiably hammered. She had one too many lemon drops and apparently, so did Harry. Some of the people had vacated the booth and it left them alone as they talked amongst themselves. With the aid of the liquid courage, she wasn’t losing her mind over how close they were. Sure, her heart was still going a million miles a minute, but that was due to his fingers fiddling with the strap of her dress. Harry was, evidently, a touchy drunk. Clingy. He’d even followed her to the bathroom and waited for her outside before they’d returned. 

In all honesty, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t believe all of this in the morning. That Harry had ignored everyone else in favor of talking to her, tucked away in VIP at a round table, his body closer than it needed to be considering the space. They’d talked about a lot of industry things, but more so the fun and personal. She told him about her collection of band tee shirts and admitting to not having listened to all the bands she wore, but he didn’t judge her for it. Said he went through a phase of doing the same while in the band. She told him about her cat, a Siamese named Simon and he’d cooed over photos on her phone about how cute he’d looked with his collar that had a little flower on it. So many topics were covered, so many things discussed in the last two hours that she felt like she was getting a handle on who he was. 

Though this many drinks, it was bleeding into oversharing.

“Your ex was at the awards?” He asked, eyes slightly red but widening as she dropped the tidbit.

“Yep.” The p in the word was exaggerated with a pop of her lips and an eye roll. “Note to you for the future, don’t fuck anyone involved in your production team. Makes for a nasty breakup and a lot of rude ‘inside sources’ with the press.” Her lips flattened. “And he couldn’t even make me finish, so. Fuck him.”

Harry’s eyes widened further before he groaned, his head dropping to the side onto the leather booth seat. “No, not that, Y/N. C’mon.” He seemed a bit distraught. “It’s always those guys that make your life hell, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I did learn that a bit early on.” He seemed to remember it but she didn’t ask. If he didn’t divulge it, she wasn’t going to pry. “You got the shit end of the stick. It’s one of my embarrassments being a male. Y’don’t have to be a rocket scientist to learn how to pleasure a woman.”

“You’d think.” She scoffed. “Swear, men in LA don’t know how to use any of their appendages. Used like a human fleshlight so I stopped hooking up with people. It got discouraging after the fifth time I left. Not a single one know where the clit is.” It was an unfortunate truth. Maybe she was looking in the wrong places or had a string of bad luck, but she’d been voluntarily celibate because of it. “Doubt you know what m’talking about, Mr Watermelon Sugar.”

Y/N realized her internal thought had become an external one when he broke out into his own giggles, her face heating. She’d definitely not meant for that to be said out loud, but thankfully he didn’t seem offended. It was the truth anyways, any man who loved pleasuring a woman so much that he wrote a whole song about it had to know what he was doing.

As his giggles came down, he replied. “Well, I’d like t’think I do. I…” He swallowed. “Know we just met, but overshare?” Scooting closer, he watched her nod. “I think I get off more on getting other people off, if that makes sense. Like, making someone feel good. I dunno if it’s some sort of ego thing, but I enjoy it a lot. Being the cause of pleasure. Think it probably ties in to a bit of a praise kink I’ve got, but it’s the truth.” 

Y/N had never thought she’d get into this sort of conversation with the man, let alone in a dark corner at the BRITs afterparty, but she wasn’t about to complain. “So it’s true then?” She rose an eyebrow. “You really love eating pussy?” Drunk Y/N had officially taken over. A bit of a drunk, horny Y/N she’d been trying to repress. In the morning she would be mortified that she asked that, but right now she was genuinely curious. 

“I do.” He smirked. “I dunno there’s just something about it. Being the one to make someone gasp. When it feels so good they try and push and pull you at the same time. Love the taste, love t’hear the noises. Maybe it’s a little arrogant of me but your name sounds better when it’s said with pleasure, don’t you think?” 

Y/N should have known better than to ask. Harry was a very attractive, alluring man, he was close to her and smelled so fucking good and god damn it, she was already horny. Her cunt throbbed and she knew she was going to have a wet patch in her thong when she left, but she was a glutton for punishment. “I do. I like giving for the same reason.” She admitted. “I’ve always had a lack of gag reflex so, it’s made it easier for me than other people probably have it.”

Harry’s interest seemed to be stroked, fingers brushing over her bare neck as she spoke. It was hard to concentrate here, with him so close. But Y/N always did like to be a bit of a tease, brushing the tip of her foot over the back of his leg. Maybe they were playing a dangerous game talking about this, but no one else was around. She didn’t fall back when his head dipped slightly, getting closer than necessary. “Look at us then. What a pair.” 

“I know. You’re just bold enough to write a whole song about it.” Her finger poked him playfully in the chest. 

“M’not apologetic about it. A woman’s pleasure is important and often overlooked. Makes me sad that no one’s made you feel good in that long. I hope you’re taking care of yourself at the very least.” Oh, she was. And she would be when she got back to her hotel tonight. Thank god for the suction vibrators. 

“I do, but it’s not the same as having someone else do it for you.” Her drunk self told her it as a good idea to pout, trying not to breath too hard as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck. “Sometimes I just miss the touch of another human, you know? Even innocent touches but, there’s nothing like being fucked so hard you feel it the next day. Feels like it’s impossible to find it anymore.” 

“It’s not.” He replied. Eyes were staring into her own. “You’re fucking stunning. Especially tonight, you could pull anyone in the room.” Gaze dipped down to her cleavage, not hiding that he was looking. Heat that had been bubbling in her stomach spread through the rest of her body, his touch igniting a bit of a spark. 

“Anyone?” Her head tilted to the side. The tension had been growing a bit with the two of them but now it was thick in the air. There was no denying that there was an attraction between them but it was palpable now. “So if I wanted to, I could pull you?” Y/N had no idea if he was even available for anything right now. It wasn't’ a smart idea considering how closely they worked near each other, but right now all she could think about was the fact that she had full confidence that Harry could give her the feelings that she wanted- the fuck she needed. 

“Absolutely. M’hanging on by a thread here.” His voice deepened, face far closer to hers than should be appropriate for two people who just met. “I’ve been trying to be a gentleman all night. M’a bit of a slut sometimes but hookups aren’t usually my thing. Was trying to figure out a way to ask you out but, I’ve been a little nervous.” Fingers curled around the back of her neck as their noses brushed. ‘But fuck it, right?” Warm breaths puffed against each others, leaving the ball in Y/N’s court. 

“Fuck it.” 

Harry took that and ran. Lips pressed against hers as he cradled her neck, angling her how he wanted while he slowly kissed her. It was shockingly intimate despite the setting, smooth, soft lips sucking lightly against hers. There was no sign of stopping as her mouth opened for him, letting their tongue brush and the heat rise between them. His body angled slightly to cover hers from view, he let out a low groan in his throat as her hand raised to his hair. It was soft and a bit long for him as of late, but it felt good between her fingers. His other hand held the side of her face, so gentle but solid that she knew she’d give into any of his demands. 

The party raged on behind them but they got lost in the kisses, one turning to three, turning to ten and they hardly came up for air. There was no doubt her makeup was going to be fucked up, that her lipstick was done for, but there was no better way to ruin it. “Y’taste so sweet.” Harry’s words were whispered against her swelling lips. “And you smell so good. Been driving me a bit crazy. Wanted to meet you for ages cause I knew we’d get on… but didn’t think we’d get on this well.” He chuckled into the kiss, squeezing the back of her neck and making her melt slightly into him. “Hoped for it, though.” 

“You did?” Her own voice was breathless as she tried to catch up to his kisses.. It was hard not to get butterflies when he hummed in agreement. Harry had been excited to meet her. “Had a little crush, did you?” The statement was fully meant to be a tease, but he agreed. 

“Suppose I did.”

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[vbecker10]

Can you do a fic were reader comforting Loki, whenever he get's nightmare..and just being a vulnerable baby🥹

Talk to Me

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: The Battle of New York was a year ago but as the newest member of the team, you quickly discover Loki is still tormented by nightmares every night. You try your best to help him while still dealing with your own nightmares.

Warning: Past trauma, nightmares, minor injury, mentions of a house burning down

A/N: I love this request! I accidently made it way longer than I originally planned but I hope that's okay. Thanks so much for sending this! I hope you like it! 💚

Thanks @firedrakegirl for help with the title! 🙂

You follow Tony and Steve down the hall and into the large oval conference room. "Morning everyone," Steve says and the chattering stops as all of the Avengers turn to face the three of you. He gestures towards you, "This is Y/N, I think a few of you met her already during her interview process. She's going to be the newest addition to the team."

"Hi," you wave to everyone and it reminds you of that awkward feeling you get when you're the new kid in school.

"Don't forget, she has pyrokinesis so everyone be nice to her," Tony jokes.

A few people laugh lightly but Scott looks confused and raises his hand. You cover your mouth to hide your own laugh and Steve groans. "We've been over this, she can create and control fire," he explains.

"Oooh, right. Cool," Scott gives you a thumbs up and smiles wide.

The rest of the team seems excited for you to join except for Loki. He sits quietly at the far end of the table, lost in his own thoughts. Tony notices you looking nervously at Loki and he whispers, "Just ignore him, everyone else does." You laugh at his suggestion and take an empty seat so the meeting can begin.

You sigh and throw off your covers as you get out of bed. Two hours of staring at the ceiling is enough for tonight, you think. You put a hoodie on over your t-shirt and slip on a pair of jeans before leaving your room. You wander slowly down the dimly lit hallway until you finally reach the kitchen and turn on the incredibly bright overhead lights.

After finding the largest mug you can, you set about making yourself a cup of coffee but you are stopped in your tracks when you hear someone talking faintly. You turn but don't see anyone else in the kitchen. A part of you thinks you are finally going crazy from sleep deprivation but then you hear it again.

You follow the voice out of the kitchen and into the common area next to it. The room is dark but enough light filters in from the kitchen for you to see someone sleeping on one of the couches. The person pulls the blanket around themselves tighter and mumbles something as they roll over. You find yourself drawn closer to the sleeping figure and realize it's Loki. You notice a book on the coffee table and assume he fell asleep reading.

He tosses and turns on the couch, clearly in the grips of a nightmare. "Stop, please," he says a bit louder, still fully asleep.

Your heart breaks at his words and how scared his expression is, he seems terrified of whatever he is dreaming about. You reach your hand out and shake his shoulder lightly, "Loki, wake up. You're having a nightmare." He doesn't respond, still caught in the dream so you try again. "Loki, you're safe now. It's just a dream, wake-"

His eyes open suddenly and you barely have enough time for the fear to flood through your body as a green glow lashes out towards you.

"Y/N," you hear a far off voice call for you. "Y/N, are you alright?"

You blink your eyes open, squinting at the brightness surrounding you. You look up towards the voice and see the fuzzy faces of Steve and Tony kneeling over you. It takes a moment for you to realize you are sitting with your back against the wall, a person sized hole in the drywall next to you. You reach your hand up and touch the back of your head lightly but thankfully there is no blood when you check your fingers.

"Y/N?" Steve asks again and you look at him, he finally comes into focus.

"I think I'm okay," you guess. Your whole body is sore but it doesn't feel as if anything is broken. "What happened?"

"Loki threw you into the wall," Tony says, his voice thick with anger towards the God of Mischief.

You look over his shoulder and see Loki standing in the furthest corner, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the floor. Thor stands in front of him, one hand on his hip and the other gesturing as he talks. You can't hear what he is saying but you can guess by his body language that the younger prince is in serious trouble.

"He didn't do it on purpose," you tell them and Loki lifts his head to look at you. Thor turns as well and you add, "He was having a nightmare. I was just trying to wake him and I guess I scared him or something."

"That may be but he still hurt you. Now let's get you to the med bay and make sure you're okay. Can't have you out of commission before your first mission," Tony says.

You nod, too tired and sore to argue further. Steve and Tony carefully help you off the floor. You make eye contact with Loki as you leave the room but he only holds it for a second before he lowers his eyes to the ground.

Your sister texts you to sleep well and you toss your phone gently onto the nightstand after replying. You lay back for a moment but you sit up again, knowing you won't be going back to sleep even though it's almost 5am. You sit on the edge of your bed and think about the last three days. You learned one thing, Loki was a professional when it came to avoiding you. You hadn't seen him once, and you had tried your hardest to find him. You wanted to let him know you weren't upset about what happened but it seemed like you weren't going to get that chance.

You sigh and get out of bed, grabbing your phone, you leave your room in a t-shirt and lounge pants. Instead of going straight to the kitchen for coffee like to have every night so far, you decide to just walk around for a bit. You wander towards the other end of the hall, trying to see if you remember which room is who's as you pass them.

You reach the last bedroom and stop to look out the window at the end of the hall. There are a few clouds but it is still mostly dark out. You barely have time for your mind to wander before you hear someone talking. You recognize the voice and the quiet pleas immediately. Standing outside the door, you listen to Loki beg in his sleep for the pain to stop and you knock loudly on his door. He doesn't answer and you try again.

You groan in frustration but are determined not to give up, turning to look down the hall you know Thor's room is right next to his brother's. You knock on his door, after a minute, you see light spill out under the door and he opens it.

"Are you alright?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm fine but Loki's not," you tell him. "He's having another nightmare. I tried knocking but he didn't hear me."

Thor nods but doesn't seem as concerned as you are. "My brother has nightmares every night Y/N. He has since they freed him from the mind stone," he explains.

"Shouldn't someone try to help him?" you ask. "He's obviously not okay."

He shrugs but you can see the worry in his eyes, "Believe me, I have tried but he does not want my help. He doesn't want anyone's help."

You look towards his door, you can still hear him faintly asking for whatever he is reliving to come to an end. "Can't we do something for him?" you ask.

Thor puts his hand on your shoulder gently. "Until he is willing to admit that he needs help, there is not much I, or you, can do. Go back to sleep Y/N." With that, he closes his door and leaves you standing in the hall alone. You try Loki's door one last time before slowly walking back to your room.

After making your second cup of coffee tonight, you head up to the library to find a new book. It's been four days since Thor told you there was nothing you could do to help Loki but you couldn't stop thinking about him. You didn't want to believe Thor was right but you also weren't sure you were the best person to help him anyway.

You walk slowly down one aisle then another until you pick up a book that looks like it might be interesting. While reading the back cover you hear the familiar sound of Loki having a nightmare, "Stop, please don't do this."

You nearly drop the hardcover book but grip it tightly to your chest as you look towards his voice. He continues to plead quietly and you can hear the urgency in his voice. You move carefully towards the couches at the rear of the room and see him tossing and turning. You stop, unsure how to wake him without being attacked like the first time.

"No, no," his cries become louder, he struggles with the blanket that is wrapped tightly around him. You look around and then down at the book in your hand. The book lover in you cringes but you can't think of anything else. You slam the hardcover book to the ground as hard as you can.

He sits up quickly, pulled from his nightmare by the sudden, loud thud. He breaths heavily and he untangles himself from the blanket, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes. He looks towards what caused the sound and you slowly reveal yourself from your hiding spot.

"Sorry I woke you like that," you tell him picking up the book. "I wasn't sure what else to do. It seemed like you were having a really bad dream again." He is quiet, watching you come closer and you stop when you see how uncomfortable he looks. "I should go," you decide and turn to leave.

"How come you never seem to sleep?" he asks and you stop.

"What?" you turn back to face him, acting like you don't know what he is talking about.

He gets up, the blanket vanishing with a wave of his hand. He motions towards your now cold coffee and says, "You're always awake in the middle of the night."

You grip your cup and look down at it, then back up at him. "I barely sleep lately," you admit.

"Why not?" he asks.

You bite your lip nervously and walk past him to sit on the couch. Setting your coffee aside, he sits next to you and waits for your answer. "I have really bad nightmares," you tell him. "They started again a few months ago."

He sighs in response and you both sit quietly for a moment then says, "I assume I don't need to tell you my dreams are about Thanos and what happened before my brother found me?"

You nod but are a bit surprised he admitted it so easily. When you tried talking to Thor about Loki again yesterday, he made it seem as if you were more likely to get a rock to talk then the God of Mischief.

He then asks, "What are your nightmares about?"

You pick up your coffee with one hand a create a small flame in the other, holding it just close enough to reheat the cooled liquid.

"That is a useful talent," he tries to joke and you force a laugh but neither of you have forgotten his question.

"My nightmares are of my worst fear," you tell him. "When I was seven, I lit my first fire." He watches you intently as you talk. "I had a nightmare and I don't honestly even remember it but I know it was scary enough to trigger my powers in my sleep. What was even more terrifying though was the scene I woke up to," you pause as the memory floods back. "The room my younger sister and I shared was fully engulfed in flames, my sheets, the curtains, all of our toys. The fire was everywhere and I wasn't strong enough yet to contain it."

"I remember hearing my sister scream and then our dad came into the room, our mom was right behind him. My dad picked up my sister and my mom took my hand and I stayed close to her. We all got out safely but the fire continued to spread, it destroyed the whole house, everything we owned was gone," you tell him, closing your eyes as you feel the tears gather. You wipe them away quickly then look up at him again.

"I'm sorry," he says genuinely, "I'm glad to hear your family made it out."

You nod, "Me too."

"So the nightmares, is it just the memory of what happened?" he asks, curious to see if you both relive your past horrors the same.

"Not exactly. My nightmares always start the same, my little sister screams and my parents come in to find the room full of flames," you tell him, trying to hold back the familiar feeling of panic that comes with those dreams. "But I always wake up when the house collapses with all of us still inside."

"That does sound like a terrifying dream," he agrees. You can tell there is something else he wants to ask so you sit quietly until he finally says, "I am curious though, how long do you think you can go without sleeping in order to avoid the dreams?"

"I don't do it on purpose, I would love to sleep but I guess I'm afraid to sometimes," you tell him. "Besides, it's not like you should be giving anyone advice on dealing with nightmares." The words come out much harsher than you mean for them too.

"Point well taken," he says looking down.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," you tell him quickly and he shrugs then looks up as if he suddenly remembered something.

"I should apologize to you actually," he says. "I never meant to hurt you the other night. I don't even remember doing it honestly."

"Lucky for us both I have a hard head," you try to joke but it does nothing to help either of you feel better at the moment.

You finish your coffee and he says, "Thor told me you tried to wake me again a few nights ago. That you were outside my room and you heard me."

"Oh," you suddenly feel awkward. "I swear I didn't go to find you or anything, I was just wandering around and ended up there. I felt really bad that you were having another nightmare."

"Why would it make you feel bad?" he asks genuinely curious.

"Why wouldn't I?" you ask as if the answer is obvious but he just looks at you still confused by how much you care. "You sounded so hurt and scared. I just wanted you to know you were safe here and you aren't with him anymore."

"I appreciate your concern but you don't need to worry about me," he says.

He smiles a bit, "I appreciate the offer."

"Unfortunately for you, it's too late, I'm already concerned," you tell him and you see him fight to hold back a smile. "I really think you should talk to someone, about your dreams I mean. Your brother or one of the shrinks that works here, or even me if you want. It could help."

"Does talking help you?" he asks.

"Yea, it's definitely getting better. The first thing I do when I wake up is call or text my little sister," you tell him. "She's a really good listener, probably better then I am but I'm all you have at the moment," you joke.

He laughs at your determination and asks, "Are you sure you want me to... what do you humans call it?" You shrug not knowing what word he wants and he says, "Ah, trauma dump is it?"

"Well go ahead then, talk to me," you smile and sit back comfortably.

You laugh, "That is the last thing I thought you were going to say but yea, sure. I'm just here to listen if it'll help get some of those thoughts out of your head."

The smile fades from his face and he says, "If I agree to this I need you to promise you won't tell anyone what we talk about."

"Of course. Patient, fake shrink confidentiality," you say but it's clear the joke missed. "Loki, I promise I would never tell anyone, that would defeat the purpose of wanting you to trust me," you tell him seriously.

He nods and takes a few deep breaths, his eyes on the ground. You wait patiently for him to begin talking and once he does, his thoughts and words flow quickly.

The alarm on your phone goes off and you open your eyes, it takes a second to realize you are still in the library. Lifting your head slowly from Loki's chest you look up at him, his arm still drapped over you loosely and your arm around his waist. He yawns then looks at you with a small smile as he says, "Good morning Y/N."

"Morning, Loki," you smile back. "I don't even remember falling asleep," you tell him.

He stretches a bit as you sit up, "You drifted off just before sunrise but you seemed so comfortable, I didn't want to wake you."

He stands up then turns and looks at you with a puzzling expression. "What's wrong?" you ask him, standing up as well.

"Nothing I just... I didn't have a nightmare," he smiles slowly. "And you didn't either."

You smile, "See, I was right. You just needed someone to talk to." Without thinking you give Loki a hug and when he hugs you back you tell him, "You can always talk to me."

Vaguely Similar Read: Someone sent a request (about 2 years ago lol) for a comfort fic where you help Loki through a nightmare. Below is the summary and link to the story if anyone wants to read that as well 💚

You wake from a recurring nightmare about losing Y/N during the Battle of NY. She comforts you, telling you she doesn't blame you for her injuries during the attack and that you will never lose her.

Shh... It was Just a Bad Dream

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-ofthe-pages @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv

#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #loki x reader #loki odinson #hiddlesverse #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x female reader #loki x f!reader #loki of jotunheim #jotun loki #jotun form #jotun loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki angst #loki au #loki imagine #loki mcu #loki marvel #marvel mcu #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #loki oneshot #loki fluff #loki fanfic

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Bros, Bros, and more Bros

I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...

"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"

My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!

"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.

"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."

I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.

"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."

"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."

The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.

The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.

With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.

"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"

My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.

"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."

"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."

"I'm good. I really just-"

"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"

The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.

"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."

"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"

My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!

"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."

"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."

"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."

"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.

I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?

"Dude! Long time, no see!"

In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.

"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.

"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"

"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"

My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!

"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.

"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.

"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"

The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!

"Who's this guy?"

My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.

"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.

"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"

"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."

My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.

"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.

"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-

"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"

"Yes, coach!"

The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.

"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.

"Yes, coach!" they shout back.

"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.

"No, coach!"

"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"

"Yes, coach!"

The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"

I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.

After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.

At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.

The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.

Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.

"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"

The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.

"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.

"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"

"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!

Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.

"Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.

He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"

"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.

"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"

"Ok, what should I call you?"

"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."

I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.

"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.

He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"

The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.

"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.

"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."

"Anything for you, bro."

"Looks like someone got lucky!"

"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"

"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.

"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"

"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."

The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.

"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.

"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.

I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?

It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.

With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"

#gay bros #male transformation #hypno story #gay ai art #gay hypnosis #gay mind control

[tayytayy12]

You think I didn’t see you? | AA23 x Reader x Lily Muni He

Feels like series link / Part one

-

Series Summary - Lily and reader are childhood best friends, they’ve always been there for each other no matter what. So when reader has a bad brake up Lily and her boyfriend Alex step up and help reader get back on her feet, the last thing they all expect was them all mistakenly catch feelings for each other along the way.

Part Summary - A terminal fight with your boyfriend after photos of him getting too comfortable with girls at a club surface, leads you into the comforting arms of your bestfriend.

Warnings - Swearing, Cheating mentioned, break up, blood mentioned for like two seconds

Type - Written work

“George I saw the photos, there’s no point even trying to deny it anymore.” You sighed out as a tear ran down your cheek. You had been trying your best to end things with your boyfriend for the longest time now, knowing that the constant arguments the two of you were getting into were anything but healthy, but what you saw tonight finally pushed you over the edge and gave you the courage to do it.

You was sitting at home by yourself when you phone began to buzz like crazy, so obviously you looked out of interest and saw hundreds of people sending you photos and clips of your boyfriend George kissing a random girl in a club while he celebrated his P2. A celebration that he insisted that you didn’t attend because it was a small party with ‘just the team’.

That’s what lead you to your current situation, George standing in front of you in the kitchen of your shared apartment, him angry as you confronted him with the events of the night, and you upset, for obvious reason as he denied it all.

“I’m not lying about anything, Y/n. You’ve clearly finally lost it.” He said as he chuckled, but there was no humour in it. He was actually trying to convince you that you were lying.

“George, there’s photos of you kissing that girl all over the internet,” you whispered, jumping lightly when he slammed open the door of the kitchen cabinet and made himself a glass of water, “you cheated on me, you humiliated me, you hurt me.”

“So this is what it’s about, hmm?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he took a sip of the water he had made before placing the glass on the counter behind him, “You’re annoyed because people will think bad of you?”

You shook your head and sighed, “No George, I’m not annoyed. I’m hurt. We’ve been together for three years and then you do something like this,” you whispered, “along with everything else you’ve been doing recently. Being controlling, saying hurtful things, not speaking to me at all unless you want something. I can’t do this anymore.”

He rolled his eyes, “And by that you mean what? You gonna breakup with me?” He said with a small laugh, but his entire body language changed when you gave him a small nod, followed by a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Really?” He asked with anger in his voice, “you really think you’d be anything without me? Please, Y/n. Grow up and stop being an idiot.”

“I’m being serious George,” You said a bit louder now, “we need to end this, we’re both clearly nit happy anymore, it’s best if we-,” You quickly shut up and let out a yelp when George took his empty glass from the counter and smashed it into the ground, shards flying everywhere as your arms fe,w yo to protect your eyes from the fragments, them embedding themselves into your hand instead, leaving a couple small bleading cuts behind as tears instantly gathered in your eyes.

You didn’t say anything as you walked into the living room, hearing George’s footsteps behind you as you picked up your phone, ignoring the stinging sensation in your hand as you looked for your shoes, you was leaving, you had to leave.

“Y/n, love I’m sorry. I didn’t meant too,” George said in a rush as you rushed to put on your shoes, not looking up as he said the words, “I’ll be better I promise, for you I’ll be better.”

You shook your head as you walked to the firm door, not looking back as you said, “No George, we’re done.” Your voice sounding teary as you walked out, ignoring George’s yells behind you as you walked down the street and pulled out your phone, calling the only person you could think of to help you in this moment.

She picked up on the third ring, sounding tired and confused as she muttered a quiet, “Hello?” Through the phone.

“Lily?”

“Y/n? Hey what’s wrong?” She sounded concerned now, she always knew when you was upset, even if you was trying to hide it.

“Can I stay with you tonight, please?” You whispered

“Of course you can love, okay? I’m gonna come and get you. And when I get there tell me what the hell that bastard has done now so I can get Alex to ram him off of track.”

----

Feels like series is back people, again, this is short bc I have to build storyyyy

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #feels like series #aa23 x reader #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon x y/n #aa23 x y/n #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x female oc #f1 x female driver #f1 x oc #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #logan sargent fluff #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant x reader #ls2 x you #ls2 x y/n #ls2 x reader

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 7

part 1, prev part

Hospitals brought a sense of comfort to Dustin that he didn’t quite understand. Or felt he could even admit. Somewhere among the bustling doctors and the constant beeping, he’s reminded that people are being saved every day. That the people inside these walls are doing their best to make sure his friends stay alive. And at the end of the day, or week, or month, he’ll be able to talk to them again.

That’s what he tells himself every time he walks through the hospital doors. When he goes to the front desk with a smile and asks if it’s ok he visits his friends. When he reads to Eddie as many days as he can and sits next to Lucas in Max’s room. That this place is the best possible place for them to be. That they will be home soon.

It doesn’t matter that they will be changed, it doesn’t matter that they might not be the same. At the end of the day, their alive. Their still here. Dustin doesn’t have to attend another funeral for his friend. Doesn’t have to get dressed in a stuffy suit and hear words of sorrows from people who didn’t care that much when the person in the ground was alive. Instead, he’ll throw a party so big it will shock the smiles right back onto their faces.

Make the bleak seem light again.

Deep inside though, something he never will admit, his own smile starts to fade every day. Seeing his friends lie unconscious on the bed in the same position they were the day before. Nothing changed. Nothing noticeably different. The same tubes still attached. It’s disheartening seeing the bravest people you know stuck somewhere they can’t leave.

The only difference this time is that Steve is there walking beside him. Discharged the day before, wearing his own clothes. Given an ointment for his scars to make sure they heal right and reduce any swelling that might still occur. One to numb the phantom pains when they come and help when they inevitably itch so bad it makes him want to scratch his skin off. Out of the three people who spent the night in the hospital, Steve was the one with the best outcome.

Which is strange to say, since he did pass out from blood loss and lost a good bit of flesh to those damned bats. Has a scar around his neck from their tails that make people’s head turn to look a second time. Think Steve did something he would never even think of. Couldn’t think of. There was too much here that Steve couldn’t leave behind. That any of them could leave behind.

This group of theirs, it was a family. The biggest and best one that ever lived. Where people stepped in to the roles that were given up. Lost. Never had. People come into each other lives just to make them better. It didn’t matter how they met. Everyone had to meet somehow.

It’s why Dustin keeps coming back day in and day out. Insists that he is family when the receptionist asks. This is what real family does. They stand by each other until the end. Give strength when it’s needed so they can get back up again.

Max is the first stop today. An intensity Dustin’s never felt before waiting for him in the room. Like a cloud of misery rests above their heads. Smacking his smile right off his face.

Lucas’s chin rests on his hands, while his elbows dig into the hospital mattress. He looks at Max with tears in his eyes. She’s asleep, the heart monitor attached to her fingers. Breathing tube still resting in her nostrils, just for assistance. Looking stiff with the casts wrapped around her limbs.

“What happened?” Dustin asks bluntly, pulling a chair to sit next to Lucas. He’d rather get to the point that wander around the subject.

Lucas swallows. “You know they scheduled a bunch of tests now that she’s out of the coma. Well, the eye tests were not that intensive, and she wouldn’t have to stay awake for longer than a few hours to get them done. And-.” He gets cut off when a shaky sob crowds his throat.

“And?” Dustin presses. Trying to be gentle but he’s starting to fear the worst. Already making a list of everything that could go wrong, getting ready to check them off.

He’s done research for this. Went to the library and checked out as many books as possible about nerve damage, eye damage. Scars and PTSD. Anything to make him prepared for any diagnosis. To be the best he could for his friends. Ease his own mind while he’s at it.

But nothing he could have done would have prepared him for the words that leave Lucas’s mouth. How they are so pressing that Lucas has to leave the room. Dustin watches as he steps out with tears streaming down his face. Steve pulling him into a hug before the door shuts behind him.

With all of the possibilities, this was the one that none of them wanted. The one that was the worst of his list. Written last in his mind because of how bad he didn’t want it to happen. Proof that none of them were as invincible as he liked to believe. Wanted to feel.

Max was almost entirely blind.

The room starts to close in around him as he stares at the hospital bed. As the heart monitor persists, getting louder with every thump of Max’s heart. Proof that she’s alive, but not proof for how well she is going to live. The life she will face that is so different than the one she had a week ago. Two years ago.

When they brought Max into this hellscape of a situation, Lucas presented her with a choice. To live happily in ignorance, or face the bitter truth that hides underneath this town. Max made her choice. Dustin has never wished she chose differently more than he did right now.

It was easy to believe that everything would be ok, when nothing really bad ever happened directly to you. Sure, he’s lost people. Almost lost people. But the ones he cared the most about were still here. Still above ground. In the end, Dustin could still walk away smiling.

He doesn’t quite feel like smiling anymore.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #dustin pov #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #steve harrington #eddie munson #hospitals #diagnosis #everyone lives/nobody dies #pre steddie #fanfic #blind max

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Shh!

Summary: Y/N and Dean have been overserved...what truths may come from it? Shh! Don't tell.

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warnings: None. All fluffy silliness. Little bit of crack. Drunk!Dean and Drunk!Reader. Some mutual pining (sort of).

Word Count: 1,379

A/N: Okay, so I'm trying really hard to catch up with my requests. Thank you all for your patience. This fun request came from a lovely anon:

omgomgomg can you please do the giggly smut space with a drunk!dean and reader?? i love your work sm!

This bingo square was already filled, but I said I'd try to write something fun for them anyway. So, I had lots of fun with the silly antics of these goofballs, hope you enjoy. ❤️

“Shh!” Y/N hissed with her finger to her lips as she and Dean stumbled drunkenly through the bunker door. She tried to frown at her best friend and meant to scold him for his noisiness, but he was making a goofy face as he pretended to be tiptoeing towards the stairs and she just ended up giggling loudly.

“Shh!” Dean scolded her. 

“Me shush? You shush!” She said, laughing as she followed him down the stairs. As they neared the bottom, Y/N lost her footing in the grating on the steps and pitched forward. Dean turned to try and steady her, but it was too late and she knocked them both to the ground. 

Dean landed on his back and Y/N landed directly on top of him.

“Oof!” Dean grunted as his fall and Y/N's weight knocked the wind out of him. 

“Oh my god! Dean, I'm so sorry!” Y/N felt terrible, but her drunken mind couldn't stop laughing at the way they'd plummeted to the floor.

When he could breathe again Dean groaned and started laughing too.

“Shh!” He cautioned as he rolled Y/N beneath him. “You're gonna wake up Sam.” He said in a voice that he thought was a whisper. It wasn't.

Y/N nodded and then caught Dean's eye as her giggling subsided. For a moment their gazes connected as their laughter died away slowly, so that they were left pressed close together and staring at each other.

“You know, you're so pretty.” Dean said, his words slightly slurred. “I don't think you know that, you don't know that I think that. You are.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, YOU don't know. I told you so many times, Dean. I told you that time when there was the baseball bat, and then too, where when we were at the drive-in, and…” Y/N frowned and then shook her head. “I told you all of those times. And then more.”

Dean was nodding along with her words as though he knew what she was talking about but then he burst into laughter and Y/N joined him.

“What were we talking about?” He asked as he stood up and pulled Y/N to her feet. They leaned on each other for balance. 

Y/N shook her head. “I don't actually know.” She cackled, and then shushed herself. Dean joined her. 

“Shh!”

“Shh!” 

They were both holding a finger to their lips and giggling like idiots as Sam walked into the war room from the direction of his bedroom. 

“Shhh-ut up. Both of you.” He said, barefooted and scowling. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a dark blue t-shirt and had obviously been sleeping. 

He was also obviously very annoyed. He ran a tired hand over his cheeks. “It's three in the morning, you two. What the hell are you doing coming home at this hour?”

Y/N snorted and then covered her mouth. “Sorry!” She said when Sam's frown landed on her. “You just…my mom said that when I was like fifteen. You sounded like her, for a second.”

“It's the long hair.” Dean said in a stage whisper, making Sam roll his eyes and Y/N nearly fall over laughing. 

“Was your mom a really tall lady?” Dean asked as both of them fell onto each other again, and landed on their asses on the floor - the extreme hilarity taking them both out. 

“Oh, Jesus.” Sam said in sleepy irritation. “I'm going back to bed. Can you both shut up and just pass out on the floor?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Dean called with salute and Y/N followed suit.

“Drunken idiots.” Sam mumbled lovingly as he padded back down the hallway to his bedroom.

Eventually Dean and Y/N stood each other up and then wandered down the other hallway towards Dean's room. When they got there, Y/N's eyes lit up when she saw Dean's vinyl collection.

“We have to play some Black Sabbath.”

She fumbled pulling the record out of its sleeve and almost dropped it. 

“Hey! Careful!” Dean protested as he took the precious vinyl out of her hands. 

In the end though, it took both of them to get the record on the turntable properly, and then all of their combined coordination to successfully put the needle down without scratching it. But soon Paranoid was blasting through Dean's room, and down the hallways to Sam's as well, where the youngest Winchester growled and slammed his pillow down tight over his ears.

As the song continued, Y/N grabbed Dean's hands and got him to share in a little drunken headbanging along with the wailing guitars, pounding drums and Ozzy’s slightly monotone voice. Eventually though, he let go so he could crash onto his bed. 

Y/N kept dancing, offbeat and slightly awkward. Dean watched her and smiled deeply.

“This is the other time!” He called over the music.

Y/N shook her head and turned down the volume a little. “What?”

“This is the other time.” Dean repeated.

“The other time of what?” Y/N asked, scrunching up her nose and furrowing her brow in that adorable way she had.

“The other time when you're so pretty and I'm telling you, but you're not listening.” Dean sighed, suddenly sad.

Y/N stumbled over to the bed and climbed up beside him. “Why’re you…what's wrong?” 

Dean shook his head. “No, you never listen to me when I'm trying to tell you. You don't get it.” His mouth dipped into a pout and Y/N was instantly contrite.

“Oh, I wanna listen to you. I do listen. You don't listen.”

Dean stared at her for a moment and then nodded resolutely. “We should write it down. Our things, our listening things. So we don't forget. Then we have to listen to both of ourselves.” Dean's eyes were wide, amazed by his incredible idea. 

Y/N nodded and wobbled over for pens and paper from his desk. She brought them back and slumped onto the bed, passing out the writing materials and grabbing two hardcover books from the bedside table. 

“For writing on.” She explained as she handed Dean a book.

“M’kay. Do you wanna go first?” Dean asked. “Cause…ladies? Y’know?”

But Y/N shook her head. “We could both go though.” She pointed at their separate pieces of paper. 

“Oh right!” Dean said as though finally figuring out her ever-so-complicated plan.

Then they both bent their heads to their task, but after only a few minutes, their pens stilled and their heads drooped towards each other and then banged together gently as they both fell into drunken oblivion.

Twenty minutes later Sam barged into Dean's room no longer able to take the screaming Black Sabbath. He immediately noticed that both of his drunken idiots were sound asleep and snoring, and he sighed, giving his head a shake. 

He took the needle off the record and shut off the record player before he walked quietly up to the bed and rolled his eyes indulgently as he saw Y/N with her head on Dean's shoulder and Dean with his head laying on top of her head.

They’re both gonna have such stuff necks in the morning. He thought.

He picked up the papers and books from their laps. He was about to throw the pages away but then he read them. His smile grew wider and wider as he read what they'd each written. 

Neither had actually finished, but they were both saying the same thing:

“Finally.” Sam whispered with an affectionate eye roll. “Friggin’ idiots.”

He took the papers and walked to the kitchen. Grabbing two strong magnets he posted the letters in plain sight where they couldn't be missed, even by two fools with raging hangovers, before he shut off the lights and went back to bed.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fan fic #fic request #dean winchester crack fic #dean winchester

[rey-129-fan]

Well, it's been a while since I've posted any fanfic... Let's change that.

Good news! I'm not dead! My brain did try to get me to do things that could unalive myself for a bit, and then I lost nearly an entire side of my family over the span of 3 years, but I'm still here and still kicking! And I have two new puppies who are adorable and so loving.

Now for this story, this is inspired by a few posts I saw on @theglamorousferal, mostly the one about Amity Parkers going to college in Gotham and buying a hotel (I'm making it a co-op student house, but I've never lived in one, so if something's unacceptably wrong, tell me, if not, artistic license), but also the one where our main Trio buy a building to set up shop there, and wind up adopted my Jason (I swear, I saw that post after I wrote the first chapter, but it just fit so well).

***

Honestly, Amity Park was weird long before the Fentons moved there- the original settlers named the nearby lake Eerie, and it wasn’t after the Great Lake.  It’s just that before the Fentons’ machine punched a hole through reality and created a permanent doorway to the land of spirits and ghosts, the weirdness was not as blatant.

Prior to that, Amity Parkers were some of the few that could move to Gotham without suffering a breakdown that was common for new arrivals.  Now there was a slight dip in newcomers for about a decade or two after the Bat made his debut and then the crazies that followed him, but then Amity Parkers got used to the spirits of the dead wandering around following the aforementioned punching through reality.

All this to say that Gotham Universities were a rather common destination for young Amity Park adults seeking higher education.

Now because of this, there were always apartments advertising themselves for people from the small town.  They, after all, tended to not have a breakdown after their fifth rogue attack and just pack up and leave halfway through their lease.  But it got very annoying having to sift through all the advertisements when looking for a place to stay- something Danny Fenton saw his older sister go through when she got in to Gotham City University.  The boy then shared what he was witnessing with his two best friends- Tucker Foley and Sam Manson.  Tucker offered to help filter out the spam, which Danny’s sister Jazz thanked him for but turned down.  Sam… Sam instead got thinking.

Sam had been to Gotham a few times in her life.  She had an idea of the areas closest to the schools and how much those should cost.  And looking at the letters Jazz was getting, the offers were a little too high for a regular college student to afford.  Sam was also familiar with how many hotels were not being used in Gotham- people building them in hopes tourists would come to stay while visiting the East Coast, tourists that could not be convinced to visit due to the high crime rate and the lack of activities or places of interest in the city itself.

She quickly went to work, looking in to these empty hotels.  She was rather upset by their numbers and put together a spreadsheet of them, with details like number of rooms, any amenities they may have, and nearby landmarks.  She then grabbed her two dorks and marched to Casper High’s Community Outreach director.

Now Sam’s presentation raised a few eyebrows, mostly because it was in a completely different state, but Sam shot back that because of the efforts to incorporate the town’s new ghostly residents and provide them with helpful ways to feed their obsessions- efforts led by the Fenton family- Amity Park had very few homeless, and those that were had a huge community safety net to help them get back on their feet.  Additionally, with how many people moved between the city and the town, helping the city could be argued to also be helping the town.

The Outreach Director just sighed and gave Same the green light to at least draft and send out a proposal to the powers that be in Gotham, saying that there wasn’t much that could be done before they got backing and approval.  Sam thanked them before leaving, Danny and Tucker trailing behind.

She was back the next day with a draft of her proposal and a list of who to send it to.

***

Since returning from the dead in the eyes of the public, Jason Todd was often contacted by groups trying to use the Wayne fortune to fund their own personal projects.  They thought Jason would be the easiest to con- sorry, persuade- since he was a former street kid unlike the rest of his family.  Thus surely he would know just how much this new building with low income housing would help the people of Gotham- it even came with a pool and gym!

Yeah, he did know how much the people of Gotham needed housing, but $2K a month was not affordable when you’re barely making $30K a year!  Oh and the pool and gym were only available for those who could shell out an additional $2K a month.  Jason knows, he read the whole document carefully.

God, sometimes it was hard to tell who was worse, the psychos in Blackgate or real estate investors.  And sadly, he couldn’t just pop a bullet in their heads and be done with it because 1) it would raise too many questions and 2) it would make Bruce get all sad and mopey- again.  Jason just did not have the mental energy to put up with that on top of the rest of his life as a crimelord/vigilante/long-lost adoptive second son of a billionaire.

All this to say, he was not impressed when he first glanced over a proposal to convert the unused hotels around the city into housing units- especially since it was from someone that did not live in Gotham.

Manson?  Wasn’t there a family with that name that would attend some of Brucie’s galas?  Oh yeah, their family made its fortune off patenting the machine that wrapped toothpicks in plastic, as well as a couple others.  And they had a daughter around Repla- Tim’s age.  Hopefully this wasn’t her trying to be a kiss-ass like her parents.

Jason finished reading and sat back.  The proposal wasn’t too bad.  Converting hotels into apartment buildings would be easier than office buildings, and the suggestion to use ex-convicts that wanted to turn over a new leaf as building managers certainly wasn’t the worst.  Also creating a fund for those that couldn’t afford rent, as well as community kitchens and gardens were certain plusses, though would need to have the right people in charge to make sure they actually worked as planned, and to keep the Court of Owls from messing with it.

Overall, it was something Jason would consider, after some research and maybe talking with the rest of the Bats and Birds.  And if this was from the Manson kid, maybe get Dickie or one of the others to talk to her next time there was a gala in town.  Or talk to her himself, if the Pit wasn’t too loud.

…Dick was probably the better option to talk with her if it came down to it.

***

There's the first chapter. I'm going to go write the next one. When I have a good log of them, I'll then go and edit them and put them on AO3.

This has no title yet because I suck at naming. Feel free to comment with suggestions for a name, both for the fic/au and for the eventual hotel/co op. As well as any shinanegans and majors/colleges/universities for our liminal young adults.

Part 1/? Next >

#dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc comics #i've admittedly never read dc comics #jason todd #sam manson #amity park/gotham co op #comments and constructive reviews are welcome #I was originally going to throw in a reference to another spoopy franchise #but i figured i could save it for later #the rest of the bat fam will show up eventually #I don't need majors for sam danny tuck or jazz #I do need for paulina dash kwan wes val and any other kids #star i'm think of being a physics or sports science #gotham is based around where jersey city is #amity park is actually going to be in NY #specifically around jamestown in the southern tier #no it's not illinois because it takes the fentons two days of driving to get to vlad's at least #that means over 8 hours in the car which illinois is not #part 1 #of idk how many parts there'll be

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity) Chapter Three: Les Sucettes

Chapter Three: Les Sucettes

warnings: past trauma, mentions of death, flirting, mentions of periods, oral sex(male receiving) pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: it's been a few weeks since you and Kento were able to hang out since the last time, and the one time you two do hang out, your period starts. no matter, you show him how things can be with you on your knees.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @seireiteihellbutterfly @kenpachisbrat @marikuchanxo @harlekin6

@gennaray

@markleeisdabestdrug. @benkeibear

MDNI and support banners by the wonderful @benkeibear

Masterlist

The next few weeks fly by. The semester is coming to an end and you have to cram for exams. You and Kento remain good friends, though you two don’t find the time to hang out while the exams are coming up. You two make promises to hang out whenever you can, but most of the time you’re communicating through cute little texts and sending each other links to funny videos on the internet.

As the week of exams starts winding down and you find yourself relaxing just a little more, you find yourself wanting to spend even more time with Kento. You find yourself missing him more than you’d like to admit. You were developing a crush and you were beginning to wonder if he was feeling the same way about you.

The way he texts you would suggest he’s quite fond of you. He uses lots of emoticons and silly faces, and he’s so quick to text you back. You even notice that he texts you back while you’re both in class. He makes you giggle and kick your feet whenever you’re laying stomach down on your bed. You both stay up late into the wee hours of the night, wanting to hold onto these little memories like they would fly away if you weren’t careful.

Other times, you worry if maybe you’ve said too much. You worry that maybe you and Kento have a hard time communicating, but he’s always quick to text back as soon as he can to remind you that he is, indeed, still your friend and he cares for you.

He spoke a little more about his friend dying when they were younger. He tells you about how they went to a boarding school together and that something very dangerous had happened. It was an incident that left him shaken and devastated. Kento told you that the minute he graduated from the boarding school, he packed up his things and left. He’s never looked back since.

You felt like you understood Kento just a little more. He was slowly becoming your best friend, and now you were definitely sure you had a major crush on him. He was quiet and sullen most times, but he had a boyish charm to him. He didn’t try to impress you, he just did with the person he was.

And now that the exam period was coming to an end, you were wanting to see if maybe Kento would be interested in hanging out with you. You were thinking about how much fun it would be to maybe fool around with him. And even if it didn’t come to that either, it would still be fun to have company after such a grueling week. Just even the thought of being near him was making you excited.

You text him that night and you begin to get ready for him to come over. You’re excited at the prospect of fooling around when you feel your stomach cramping. An angry and frustrated sigh escapes you as you make your way into the bathroom. Leave it to your period to show up when you want to have a little fun

You change into your comfiest pair of sweatpants and baggy sweater. Kento knocks on the door of your dorm and when you open it, he’s never seen a cuter sight. You have a slight pout on your face, which furthers his feelings for how cute you look..

“Hi Kento,” you let him in.

He places the bag of food on the coffee table and sits on the couch. You join him, throwing yourself dramatically into the blankets. Kento’s a little confused, but then it all starts to click a little bit. He turns to you with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you not feeling well?” He inquires, his hand reaching to feel your forehead for a fever.

You shudder softly at his touch, “Uhm…not sick. I’m uh…” your heart sinks. “I’m on my period.”

Kento blinks a few times, then the concerned look returns to his face. He reaches over to gently squeeze your shoulder. He knows this can be a tough time for women, and he knows that he should approach this with a delicate demeanor.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s natural, but it still mustn't feel good.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay. Just some cramping. I’ll feel better after we eat.”

Kento pulls the food out of the bag and he gives you your portion. The two of you begin to watch an episode of your favorite anime and talk about the exams that just passed. You’re happy that the conversation continues to just flow between the two of you. It doesn’t feel like things got awkward between now and the time you two spent apart since your last hangout.

The thought of him cumming in his pants the last time has been playing in your mind for weeks. You desperately want to see his ‘O’ face again. You want to be the one who brings him to orgasm in the best way possible. Thoughts of how he might sound if he were in the throes of passion that he anticipated had been all you could think about for weeks at a time.

Now that Kento was finally back in your dorm room, you weren’t even going to be enjoying this time sexually. You had fantasized about him for so long, and now you weren’t even able to do anything with him.

Then the idea pops into your head. You weren’t going to rush him into anything, nor were you going to push him into anything. But there was something that could make you see him come undone just for you. You would definitely be able to make him cum just for you if he wanted it.

The anime continues to play even when you’ve packed up the leftovers and thrown away the trash. There’s this tension built between you and Nanami, but you aren’t sure how to approach the situation. Slowly, you reach over to take his hand in yours.

He smiles at you, making you swoon. Then you both begin to lean in. Kento surprises you by kissing you first, and you notice just how much better he’s gotten at this. Especially since that first time. He’s gentle as he cups your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks so lovingly.

“You’re better at kissing,” you comment with a smirk.

Kento blushes, “I had a good teacher.”

This is when you giggle softly. You kiss him back, this time it’s a little hungrier. He’s quick to catch on too, not sure how far you want to take this tonight. He knows he shouldn’t expect anything considering you’re on your period.

But he eagerly kisses you back, his hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He touches you like you were made out of glass and the slightest little touch might make you crumble in front of him. You bring your hands up to caress his chest, and instantly Nanami feels his cock twitching.

“B-but…” he tries to reason with you.

“Just because we can’t do anything together, it doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.”

His eyes widen when you push a pillow to the ground. Then you kneel in front of him, and his cock is now rock hard. He’s never had a blowjob, of course, but he’s dreamt of this day for so long. He’s watched so many blowjob scenes in porn, but nothing could ever prepare him for the real thing.

Your fingers toy with his studded belt, making his stomach flutter. Then you unbuckle it, leaving him feeling just the littlest bit lightheaded. The minute you unzip his pants, he’s already feeling like he’s not going to last long. But with the way you were so eager to comfort him the last time, he knows it’s okay if he blows his load early. 

“Just relax, okay? Lemme make you feel so good.”

His cock is throbbing in your hand when you help him pull down his pants and boxers. Your eyes widen when you see just how large he is. Your fingers don’t even touch when you try to wrap your hand around him. You swallow hard before looking up at him.

The sound that comes from his lips is downright pitiful and pathetic, but it makes your clit throb. Your tongue makes the slightest bit of contact with his tip, just lapping up his precum. Then you wrap your lips around it, suckling so gently. Kento’s breathing becomes very shallow.

“F-fuck,” he pants. “H-how am I supposed to–ahh fuck–how am I supposed to last?”

You release him with a pop, “It’s okay to cum quickly,”

You wink at him before you sink down onto his cock. Your mouth is so warm and so wet, it makes his head spin and his heart flutter. He’s scared to look down at you because he knows he’ll blow his load immediately. 

Pants and whimpers escape his lips as you begin to bob your head up and down, and the minute the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, he knows he’s hooked. This is the type of feeling he wants to feel all the time. His hands are shaky as they settle in your hair; he’s not pushing either. 

“I’m so fucking close,” he grunts. “C-can I cum in your mouth?”

You look up at him through your lashes, and Kento lets out a strangled moan. You nod your head as best as you can with such a thick cock down your throat, and Kento moans your name. You swallow around him, and that’s what pulls him over the edge.

Spurts of hot cum fill your mouth and slide down your throat as you continue to suck him through his orgasm. He’s grunting and moaning and whining as the pleasure washes over him. Kento’s left a panting and shaking mess as you slowly pull off of him.

You press a kiss to his cheek before you leave the room. He’s left with his thoughts for a few moments before you return with a warm washcloth. His heart feels full of affection for you. You gently clean up his still leaking and twitching cock before helping him tuck it back into his pants. You sit down next to him and Kento surprises you again with a kiss on your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for everything. Next time, I want to return the favor, okay?”

You nod, “You’re welcome. And maybe next time…we can go out to dinner first?”

Kento smiles, “I’d love to take you out.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and he rests his head against yours. You both feel so relaxed and relieved.

#bacon.writes #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #nanami x reader smut #nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami #nanami kento #anime smut #nanami smut #kento x reader #nanamin #Nanami Kento x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut

[too-much-tma-stuff]

I Want Better For You (part 3.5)

part 1 | Masterpost | Part 3

Tim sat on the edge of his bed in Titan’s Tower, his mind going like a hamster on a wheel, a mile a minute and getting nowhere. In his hands he held the note left for him by Red Hood! It was a serious security breach that he had gotten in here at all. Obviously Tim knew he was smart, he had been Robin before Tim after all, you couldn’t do that job without being smart as hell and strong as heck. But he had upgraded the security himself when he joined the team, no one should have been able to get into the tower, let alone into his room to leave the note.

At least it wasn’t a bad note? In fact it was… nice, it was a kind offer. They had to know that if he did this he would spy, he wouldn’t even be able to help it because he’d always had a detective's mind, yet still they offered. 

Of course there was always a possibility that it was a trap of some type but Tim really didn’t think it was. Jason had proved he could get into the Tower, if he wanted Tim dead or kidnapped he could have just done it.

He should talk to his team about this, he should talk to Bruce about this, but for the moment he just held the note. Robin had always been his hero, sure it was Dick he’d first recognized because of the Flying Grayson connection, but Jason had been His Robin. Tim had idolized Jason, and been completely devastated when he died. Ya he had become Robin to help Bruce, but it was to memorialize Jason as well.

He knew that Jason wasn’t the same as he’d been before his death, but… while he was dead Tim had gotten used to thinking of him like a brother. A part of him desperately wanted to take this note at face value, to forget all about the violence, and the crimes, and just take the olive branch and bond with his childhood hero. But he was going to be smart about this.

He was going to go, of course he was, but he needed to put safety measures in place and some sort of plan. Though he probably still wasn’t going to tell B about it, he was overprotective and would grill Tim for any bit of information he managed to gleen, and if he wanted any real info he would have to do a long con. Best he could do right now would be to have Superboy listen in, set up a code word, and have Impulse ready for an extraction if needed then… well he’d tell Batman when he needed to.

------------

It took about a week to talk Superboy into letting him go but it wasn’t exactly hard to set up as minimal of plans as he had, including wearing a hidden wire to record whatever happened. As long as it worked, Tim had heard tech had a habit of messing up around Hyena if he didn’t want them working. 

He didn’t bother thinking of an excuse, he didn’t think he needed one. Wanting to get to know them would be enough, especially if he was going to rely on them for anything in the future. 

So, feeling tense and keeping to the shadows he entered Crime Alley on a slow night with his friends behind him, figuratively speaking. He moved a bit deeper in, grappling up to the roof of a building, feeling a little lost and listless. He did know vaguely where to find these two, but Crime Alley wasn’t a small place, and now that he was in their territory he didn’t know where to go, it’s not like they knew where Hood and Hyena lived, or their base of operations. 

It seemed like he didn’t need to though, because while he was standing on the roof thinking he saw someone coming, leaping from one building to the other with reckless abandon. They weren’t even using a grapple as they free ran and made jumps Tim was pretty sure should have been impossible. Tim knew who it was before they were close enough to see detail because Hood still used a grapple, the only one who acted like that was Hyena.

Sure enough Hood’s lover skidded to a halt across the roof in front of Tim, grinning to the point he could see it a little past the muzzle he wore. He didn’t have any weapons out, not that that meant anything, half the time Hyena forgot to use the clawed brass knuckles he carried and fought with bare hands. Tim was tense, ready to fight or flee but Hyena was not, he seemed relaxed and didn’t approach, keeping his hands visible. 

“Hey there little birdy, what can I do for ya?” Hyena asked, he didn’t have a Gotham accent but it was a little hard to tell where exactly it was from.

“I got Red Hood’s note. I just wanted to talk, introduce myself properly and meet you before I decide to take you up on any of the offers.” Tim said honestly.

“Of course!” Hyena agreed, pulling his phone out of a hidden pocket on the inside of his cropped jacket. “I’ll text Hood, ask him to pick up some food for us and we can have a little rooftop picnic and chat for a bit. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Tim said, not sure why he was surprised by the offer.

“Any requests? The lifestyle sure builds up an appetite huh? And I certainly hope you’re still growing,” Hyena teased, cackling at Tim’s expression of indignation. Hyena wasn’t that much taller than him!

“Coffee,” He requested, finally relaxing a little.

“Hmm,” Hyena sounded judgmental as he tapped at his phone. “Fine, it’s your bone density that’s at stake not mine.” He pressed send, waited a moment and his phone dinged with a reply. “Great, he’ll be on his way soon, with picking up food he’ll probably be about a half hour,” Hyena said, pocketing his phone again and flopping down, as if the rooftop was a soft bed. “I know it’s probably Hood you really came to see but is there anything I can tell you in the meantime? Let’s stick to small talk though huh? I know how you bats and birds are, but I also know you’re wearing a wire, and I’m not interested in spilling my guts.” 

“Alright, ya that’s fair. Hood mentioned in the note that you know a lot about astronomy?” Tim mentioned, finally sitting down with his legs crossed as well.

“Oh ya, I was totally obsessed with it for most of my life, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid and learned everything I could about space and engineering,” Hyena confirmed casually.

“This is a long way from being an astronaut,” Tim pointed out.

“Ya, well, things don’t always go the way you plan you know? Sometimes you get kidnapped by mad scientists and experimented on to the point you go a little around the bend,” Hyena snickered. Tim wasn’t sure if he was being serious, or self referential, or not.

“Riiight, well, what are your favourite space facts then?” Tim asked, just to pass the time really. Hyena brightened immediately and was happy to start sharing a bunch of random facts. 

It ended up in a back and forth of fun facts, aerospace vs chemistry and both of them could go shot for shot when it came to engineering. Tim realized, a bit belatedly, that Hyena is way smarter than Tim had given him credit for. That was disconcerting but… if they ended up getting alone Tim thought he could have a lot of fun tinkering with him.

“Incoming,” Hood broke into their conversation, warning them before he landed on the roof so he wouldn’t startle them. “Hey there Timmy,” He said as he walked over to crouch next to Danny, handing him a few bags of batburger and a tray of drinks before taking off his helmet. He was wearing a domino underneath it but it wasn’t like Tim didn’t already know his identity. “Got your coffee, I bet if you took off that domino your eye bags would be nearly as dark as the mask. Never enough time to sleep between school, social life, and nightlife.” Jason said, taking the tray of drinks back from Hyena, who promptly started digging through the bag with his now free hands, and handed the coffee cup to Tim.

“If you drop out of school to play hero I will personally kick your ass,” Jason said pointing at Tim warningly. 

“Uhhh,” Tim sounded, shifting a little awkwardly because he couldn’t deny he had already thought about dropping out. He looked down and took a sip of the coffee, which wasn’t great, but hey. “Why do you care?”

“Neither Hyena or I got to finish school because we died before graduation,” Hood said simply, which was a punch in the gut, and new information about Hyena. “I want better for you.” 

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that.

Hyena finished rummaging through the bag with a little yip of delight and started distributing the food, handing Hood a bag and taking a box of chicken wings, a burger, and some fries for himself before handing off the rest to Tim. “Looks like Hood didn’t know what you wanted and bought half the store, whatever you don’t eat I’ll finish,” Hyena joked as Tim took the bag. “Shit I forgot my sauces,” Hyena grumbled, staring at his nuggets with a little pinch between his brows. 

“What sauce are you looking for?” Tim asked, looking through the bag.

“Sweet and sour,” Hyena said brightly and Tim found the sauce and tossed it to Hyena, who hummed happily and took off his mask to eat. He was completely barefaced now and Tim couldn’t help but stare a little just because of how casual he was being about this. “What?” Hyena asked, catching Tim staring. 

“Hey I know he’s cute but he’s taken,” Hood joked, slinging an arm around Hyena’s shoulders who cackled and leaned back against Jason.

“No!” Tim said, cursing his fair skin for showing his blush, not because Hood was right of course, he was just embarrassed! “I mean, that’s not what I was thinking, I’m just surprised you took off your mask,” He told Hyena.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before I’m sure. I’m sure you and the bats have already figured out my ‘civilian identity’ or whatever. It’s not like I have anything to protect really, I only have the mask and the outfit because I like the aesthetic.” Hyena said, gesturing down at himself. 

“Fair enough I guess…” Tim said before looking back at Hood. “How did you get into Titan’s Tower?”

“Trade secrets Timmy, I’d rather talk about you. How’s school? You got a girlfriend or boyfriend?” Jason asked with a shit eating grin as Tim sputtered indignantly and then took a big bite of his burger to avoid having to answer such an invasive question! Especially with Superboy definitely listening in.

#tim drake #kon el kent #superboy #Red Hood #Jason Todd #danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dead on main #Hyena!Danny #they're brothers your honor

[pynkgothicka]

Ｋｎｅｅ Ｓｏｃｋｓ ＫＮＪ

Pairing - Tutor! Dark! Kim Namjoon x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis-Based off Parasite, your korean teacher leaves to go on a work study trip, and leaves you with his best friend to be a replacement teacher. Part 2 of the movies series.

Featuring - Brandon Perea (Angel From Nope)

Word Count - Around 3k

Tags and Warnings - age-gap, manipulation, murder, fingering, tutor/student relationship

Authors Note - As you can probably tell, the stories are majority very loosely based on the stories with me throwing my own twists into it all. Also Joon is a conglomerate of all the Parks (the poor family) into one character! Enjoy:3

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“So you want me to basically be your substitute?”

Namjoon eyed his friend as he ate from the bowl of ramen in front of him. One of his old high school friends, Brandon, stopped by his apartment out of the blue. And of course, Namjoon was embarrassed, the place looked like a dump.

Which is exactly what it was.

A dump.

“Yeah, listen I know you're smart. And I know you need the pay.” Brandon said taking a bite out of his ramen. He used his chopstick to point at Namjoon. “Also I trust you man.”

Namjoon groaned out leaning back into his couch. “Trust me? With what? Don't tell me you got roped into something fucked up.”Namjoon complained. Brandon had that look in his eyes, Namjoon could tell when he was being shifty.

“So maybe I've kind of got something going with the girl, she's sweet, super sheltered, like the perfect girl,” Brandon says leaning back long with Namjoon. “I plan on asking her out when I'm back okay? I just need you to be so you man. All scholarly and shit.”

Namjoon thought about it for a minute. “How's the pay?”

“Around 500 a session. Trust me her family has the money to blow. They want the best and they trust me to have good recommendations. Also, the mom is a bit of an airhead anyway.”

“Fine, you're lucky I need to make rent.”

📖

You sat in your room bored out of your mind. Your mother told you that Brandon had found someone to continue your studies while he was away. You knew your mom was probably annoying the poor man downstairs. She had a habit of talking too much.

Curiosity got the better of you as you found yourself heading downstairs to your lavish mansion kitchen. You sat on the stairs, peering through the railing.

Your new tutor was handsome, slightly built with a buzz cut. He reminded you of men you see in movies, rich CEOs who would fall for their secretaries. Or even a dangerous boxer who has a soft spot for the ballerina.

Lost in your trance, your mom spotted you. “Oh! Sweetheart come down, Mr. Kim here would like to meet you.” You curse under your breath as you stand up and walk the rest of the way downstairs. Almost tripping as your socks slipped on the hardwood floor. You catch yourself walking over to the side of the island.

Mr. Kim looked at you for a moment before smiling. “Please call me Namjoon, Mr. Kim makes me sound old.” He said extending a hand. You take it and give him a slightly firm handshake.

“She'll call you Mr.Kim, respect always remember sweetheart?” Your mom cooed passing you a bowl of pomegranate seeds. You nod towards her as she smiles. “Okay now go study, Mr. Kim is a very smart man by the sound of it. If you need anything call me upstairs.”

You were already walking upstairs with Namjoon following close behind. You led him into your bedroom and sat down at your desk. You pull out the notebook that you and Brandon used. “Sorry if my mom was annoying you, she's ditzy like that.” You mumbled going to the practice test you were doing before Brandon left last session.

Snap!

You jump at Namjoons snapping right in front of your face. “I want you to focus. From what you're mother is telling me she wants you to pass with Korean as a foreign Language for college next semester correct?” You nod at Namjoon. You focus back in on the practice test.

It was a particular problem you stared at, and it was something you couldn't figure out. You were about to circle A but you were stopped by Namjoon grabbing your wrist. “Are you certain that's the answer?” He asks leaning next to you. You shake your head, no, your breathing rising in speed as his hand holds your own in place. “Then why are you answering it?”

“Because it's the next question?” You say your voice peeking as you finish the statement. It comes out like a question and more so it comes out as you being rude to him. You shake your head looking up at him. “Sorry… I mean… it's true I just didn't want you to take it as me being rude to you.”

“Focus.” He reprimands. “Look at the question and think again.” Namjoon let's go of your wrist and you reconsider the answer. It's D. The answer is D. You circle it and look back at Namjoon expecting a response. You're welcomed with a warm smile. “Very good.”

His hand digs into the bowl of pomegranate seeds and he pops one into your mouth. You blush as you feel the tips of his fingers touch your lips and the action in general. Not even Brandon did something that bold. “T-Thank you Namjoon.”

He gives you a warm smile, showing his dimples, something you just caught. “Good, now continue answering the rest of the questions, you don't want to do bad you're first day with me do you?”

📖

Once Namjoon got his pay and started his trek home he realized something. Brandon was right, you pretty much were the perfect girl. Just from one lesson, he realized he enjoyed teaching you something he's become so familiar with.

While he was lost in thought Brandon called him and Namjoon picked it up. “Hey, how was your first class?” Namjoon didn't want to tell him that he was secretly fond of the girl that Brandon liked and that he felt something for her as well so he chose to be as bland as possible.

“It was good. We just kind of reviewed what you guys already went over before.” Namjoon said crossing the street and walking into his apartment complex. He checked the mail seeing that he had nothing.

No one usually contacted him unless it was some bill.

“That's good, is she ok? I know I kind of left on short notice.” Brandon said into the phone. Namjoon hated that he felt indifferent towards Brandon's concerns. It wasn't really like him to see his friends whining about nothing in particular. “God I must've hurt her so bad.”

“I mean if she's hurt she didn't say anything about it, I mean I guess she was nervous,” Namjoon said entering his apartment. “I mean it's nothing bad for her to not be upset. Maybe she'll ask about you later?” God, he hated giving Brandon hope.

But Brandon took it as is. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate you doing this for me. Call you later.” And before Namjoon could even wish him goodbye the phone hung up in his face.

He let out a sigh before pouring a bowl of cereal. He wished you were there for him. You wouldn't have him eating this, you'd probably want him to eat better. Namjoon caught himself thinking in that way and he caught himself. He knew this would end badly. There is no other way it could go.

📖

Namjoon had taught you for about a month now, and you couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now as he sits next to you while you study what he taught you today, you couldn't help but fantasize about him.

You sat with your head down reading over the pages in your notebook. You poked your lip out, hoping he would notice you. It was fruitless of an attempt but you at least had to try.

“Namjoon, have you ever been in love?”

He looks up at you cocking a brow. “What does this have to do with Korean?” You look away at his question, keeping your eyes glued to the notebook. Namjoon takes his thumb and tilts your eyes to look into his own. “Look up here, Answer the question.”

Your eyes look away. “It was a dumb question, I shouldn't have asked it.”

“But you did. Why?”

You let out a sigh before responding. “Well, I was just wondering if you had, you don't have to answer it, I know it's off-topic.” You blabber on, Namjoon letting your head drop.

“Well, yeah of course. I'm 29, and I of course have had a few relationships. But they always just don't get it you know?” Namjoon rests his head in his hand, elbow resting on your desk. “They didn't want to change for the sake of our relationship. I guess I just have a bad taste in women huh?” He ended with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I mean what do you like in women…? I can probably be a good judge of character for you.” You add playing it off as being nice towards him. Maybe if he told you what he liked, you could change to fit his standards. Namjoon seemed to be a perfect man, and maybe you being almost 20 could be perfect in his eyes if you did.

He turned to look at you. “Well, I like my women of course pretty. Smart, shy, well… I mean that's too much already.” He said throwing his hand up to brush it off coyly. You put a hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes as to encourage him.

“Tell me, I want to know.”

“Well, I don't think it matters really. Unless you think that you're right for me.” Namjoon said leaning down to get closer to you. “Are you baby? Are you the right person for me?”

You nodded getting closer, your lips ghosting over his own. Namjoon does the final push, connecting your lips together. His hand goes to your hair, tangling his hand into it. His tongue brushed over your teeth, pushing into your mouth. You were messy, clunky, and unsure of what you were doing. As he pulled away, his chest rose and fell. “Do you think you love me?” He finally asks. “Is that why you asked me if I had ever been in love?”

“Mhmm, you're just so… amazing and wise… I've looked at you since you showed up in the kitchen…”

“Good, I think that you're amazing, and I want to see where this goes, I think you're the right person… the one I've been looking for,” Namjoon said before connecting your lips again.

📖

From that day on, every time you had a class with Namjoon, it was really spent cuddling and enjoying your time with the older man. Laying in bed, you two would usually talk about life, normally letting Namjoon talk and praise you. Maybe it was due to the fact you usually went along with whatever he wanted to do.

Like now.

You dug your nails into his arm, his hand dug into your panties, fingering you. He quieted your moans with his lips, you sitting in front of him, toes curling as they hang off your bed. “Joon…” You whine into his mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible. “It f-feels so good…”

His fingers curled, blunt nails hitting at your walls. “Yeah? Doesn't it feel good to be loved?” He said placing kisses down your neck, sucking a hickey to join new and faded ones. He usually couldn't keep his hands off of you, no matter what, usually liking for his hands to dig into your thighs, thumbs brushing over the top of your knee-high socks. But now he wanted to give you pleasure, something he called a gift since you two were together.

You nodded as you feel your cunt gush around his thick fingers. “Please let me cum… I need it, sir.” You moan quietly into his mouth. Namjoon only liked to be called sir when messing around. He told you that it made him feel empowered and that you being there made him feel so much better than usual. You saw nothing wrong with that of course, isn't that the role of a lover?

“Do it for me, baby, all over my fingers.” And you do, as soon as he says that, you throw your head back on his shoulder. You collapse onto him, Namjoon adjusting it to where you laid on him in bed. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking off your juices. You couldn't help but blush. “You taste amazing, like always.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Are you still going to be able to make it to my party? I know my parents invited you and stuff.” You ask, hand playing with your boyfriend's cheek. Of course, coming from a rich family meant you'd have large parties for your birthday. It's not like you wanted them but, they also told you they invited your tutor who just so happened to be your boyfriend.

Namjoon swatted at your fingers, chuckling a bit. “Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. We just won't pretend to be a thing.” He says. You nod in agreement, knowing your parent's reaction would most likely ruin the party in general.

“Yeah… okay! We should have around 30 minutes left, and I really just want to nap.” You say closing your eyes and laying down your head. Namjoons hand stroked at your head soothing you to fall asleep.

📖

The day had come for your party, and Namjoon couldn't have been more excited. He put on a brand new suit, one he brought with the money he made from his newfound job. As he arrives at the home, he spots that people have already shown up and that it's an outside party at that. Namjoon walked towards the backyard patio, your father setting up a backdrop for pictures.

“Mr, Kim, just the man I wanted to see,” Your father behind raising up to hug the man. “I'm glad you made it, hey can you head inside to grab the champagne buckets? They should be in the cellar in the basement.”

Namjoon nodded. “Yes, of course, I'll be back.” Namjoon makes his way to the back door seeing a table of women who blew kisses at them. He smiled before going inside, taking his phone out to send you a quick text.

Namjoon: Just arrived! Ur dad is already putting me to work lol

Baby🤍: Oh goddd I'll get on him about it.

Baby🤍 Still getting ready though, so just work for him a bit until I finish. Luv uuuu!!!

Namjoon chuckled at your texts as he made his way into the kitchen.

“So when were you going to tell me you started fucking her?” Namjoon put his phone down to look up, seeing no one other than Brandon. He stood at the kitchen island leaning on it, a drink in hand.

“Oh, your back? I thought you'd be gone longer.” Namjoon commented before turning to head to the basement. He wasn't going to deal with Brandon and ruin his girlfriend's day.

That thought was before Brandon shoved Namjoon into a wall. Brandon held Namjoons shirt. “Don't play dumb with me, I went to see her. I was gonna gift her a letter and she said she already had a boyfriend. And I know the only dude she would see constantly was you. How could you? I asked you to do one thing and you couldn't even do that?!” Brandon said, getting in Namjoons face. He whinced, Brandon's forearm resting on Namjoons neck pushing down. There was no way he was going to die this way, not from Brandon's rage.

Namjoon pushed him off, then shoved him down the basement stairs. Namjoon stood there as he watched Brandon fall, head hitting the wood. He waited until the last thud, Namjoon slowly walking downstairs to see what he had just done. Once he reaches the bottom, Namjoon smiles, the sick sight of Brandon writhing on the ground groaning. A puddle of blood formed around him, the impact from hitting the concrete probably giving him a concussion.

The bottom of Namjoons shoes clicked as he made his way to the cellar. He took the metal branding tool used to mark the barrels. The sound of metal shrieked as he dragged it towards Brandon's beat-up corpse. “I'm sorry I have to do this, but you're in my way now. And we can't have that now can we?” Namjoon taunted raising the iron. Brandon's eyes opened slightly as he saw the iron come down on him.

Namjoon felt tears pour down his cheeks as he began to beat Brandon in.He coughed up blood, and Namjoon didn't stop beating Brandon until he was certain he was dead. Once he came to that conclusion he dropped the iron. "Why did you make me do that huh?!" Namjoon yelled at no one. "You ruin everything, god, im happy you're fucking gone."

Namjoon claimed himself wiping his eyes of tears. He got up and grabbed the champagne buckets. He looked back before heading out of the basement, locking the door. He lets out a sigh before leaving, not looking back. He had bigger plans now, and Brandon wasn't in them.

He couldn't be in them.

Namjoons eyes trailed over your form, stopping at your socks as you laughed with your family. Outside the patio, you see Namjoon carrying the ice buckets and wave him over. He smiles at you before signing and returning to his girlfriend who he plans to keep forever.

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33 @devilzliaison

#dark writing #tw dark content #tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere bts #tw gaslighting #yandere namjoon #yandere kim namjoon #kim namjoon #bts fic #bts smut #bts yandere #dark bts #dark namjoon #bts fanfiction #yandere bts fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon #Spotify

[toxicbg]

YOUR BOY — k.taehyun

warnings: sub!taehyun, camboy!taehyun, possessive!reader, yeongyu are together for plot purposes, reader is lowkey entitled and cocky, mommy kink, ruined orgasm, vibrator, oral (male receiving), inaccurate pegging i was too lazy to write the prep just pretend, kinda aftercare

a/n: i lowkey wrote this high so if you think it’s shitty it probably is.

it was beomgyu’s fault. taehyun would stand by that sentence. beomgyu challenged taehyun, dared him to create an account. it wasn't taehyun’s fault, it was peer pressure.

so taehyun did what beomgyu told him to do, he'd never give them his username. but he was going to last as a "camboy" for a week just as beomgyu dared him to.

he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought.

at first he was tense, trying to act as serious as possible, but once the comments started rolling in, the praise just made him melt. next thing he knew it was a week later and he was whining and shaking with a vibrator focusing on the tip of his cock.

but this one subscriber stuck out the most, always praising him and degrading him in the best ways. he always thought he'd break down if anyone degraded him, but the way they accompanied the words with praise drove him nuts.

while most of him enjoyed this, he'd find himself thinking too much with his friends. hoping that his favorite subscriber wasn't some old bald guy.

"what's got you all spaced out?" soobin’s voice shakes taehyun back to reality. it was saturday, taehyun and the five of his friends were at this secluded area in the woods near the local park.

yeonjun was to his left, throwing his baseball from one hand to the other. kai was on his right, cheering on what soobin was staring at in front of him, book discarded due to the fight to his right. the fight being between you and beomgyu because god knows what at this point.

"can you two go one second without your hands on each other?" yeonjun’s question was rhetorical, but the suggestive under tones had all heads snapping his way. taehyun looks to his friend in shock, yeonjun knew he had a crush on you. why would he say that?

"nope," beomgyu releases his death grip on your hair, smirking down at you. you reciprocate the look before bringing your knee up to his crotch.

the silent area was now filled with everyone's — spare beomgyu’s — laughs. "that was too far," beomgyu groans, letting his body finally fall all the way to the ground.

"y/n, gimme your phone," yeonjun snaps his fingers in your direction, making a "gimme" motion when you look at him.

"one second," you make sure all of your special tabs were closed before handing him your phone, thankful he didn't know much about technology. just the basics and how to use tiktok.

"i'm gonna go take a leak," kai gets up, taehyun muttering something in agreement before getting up and going in the opposite direction.

a few moments pass of silence, beomgyu sitting back up once he regained all his strength, tackling you down immediately after.

"uh, i don't think i was meant to find this..." yeonjun trails off, a laugh escaping him at the sight of the same website beomgyu had dared taehyun to join on the screen.

"holy shit!" soobin laughs, grabbing the phone from yeonjun’s grasp. he started to go through your following, but amongst only seeing one, the three boys decided to stalk him.

"beomgyu! what is it?" you knew what it was, pretty much. a part of you still having a small bit of hope it wasn't that website.

their eyes widen at the sight before them, videos upon videos of a certain boy. one who joined at the same time taehyun was supposed to. this was definitely taehyun, or this boy had a scarily similar room.

now, the video was quite zoomed in, reason on how you hadn't noticed it was your taehyun yet. but, yeonjun and soobin had been to taehyun’s house many times before.

"click it," beomgyu tells yeonjun, his boyfriend looking to him as if he'd lost his mind.

"definitely not."

"why?" beomgyu laughs, pouting when you take your phone from yeonjun’s hands. you groan at the sight before you, maybe from anger that they saw, maybe from the pretty sight before you.

"i'm not letting you see a boy naked," yeonjun rolls his eyes, picking up his book. "besides me."

“cmon, i don't like ta—" yeonjun slaps a hand over beomgyu’s mouth. he wanted to see how this would play out. how you would find out it's taehyun. how taehyun would find out you watch him.

"you don't like who?" kai asks, he and taehyun walking back towards the four of you.

"uh, better question," soobin sets his book down once more, "why'd you two come out at the same time? snogging?"

taehyun looks at his friend with wide eyes. he and kai frantically shaking their heads, causing the other three to burst into a fit of giggles.

"oh yes, because you're in love with someone else. 'forgive me kai, but we can't!'" beomgyu mocks taehyun’s voice, placing a hand over the right of his chest dramatically.

"beomgyu, your heart's on your left," the boy quickly moves his hand at yeonjun’s comment.

"in love with someone else? who?" you inquire, a smirk playing on your lips. while you tried to act your normal, witty self, 'female beomgyu' as you were called by your friends, you mentally frowned at the idea of taehyun liking anyone but you. he was yours.

but so was that boy you watched every night, hand between your legs. but you imagined it was taehyun, he acted so much like him, it was fine.

"none of your business," taehyun quips, a little too snarky for your liking. but you bit back a response, deciding that the pretty boy you'd be seeing later that night would ease your anger.

you didn't talk to taehyun the rest of the night, knowing he hated it. he looked guilty, sad that he hurt you. not that he did, he just pissed you off.

that night you practically pounced on your pillow, sitting with it between your legs as you hurriedly unlocked your phone. you were a big late but so was he, at least he wasted no time, already jerking off when the live started.

you began to grind on the pillow below you, using one hand to keep it in place and the other to give the boy commands. this became a usual thing, you practically being his partner in this. you got to be the only one controlling him, people enjoying it, and what you commanded him to do. and he got paid with everything you did.

it was a win for everyone.

you were still pretty upset with taehyun denying you, ordering the boy on screen to do so many different things in the next two hours, vibrators, dildos, even a cock ring at one point. he looked absolutely spent. his legs were shaking and he couldn't stop the whimpers coming from his mouth every time he moved.

you were finally satisfied after seeing your boy cum over and over again, just imagining it was you punishing him for speaking to you that way, with that tone.

the next day you were woken with a call from beomgyu, saying something about yeonjun and kai having homework and soobin having baseball practice so he, taehyun, and you could go wherever you wanted without their 'supervision.'

you agreed immediately, soobin and yeonjun were practically helicopter parents, you’d take any chance you could to go have fun without them present. not to be offensive.

once you'd gotten dressed, you met the two boys at the end of your neighborhood, having all lived in the same neighborhood your whole lives. that's how the five of you became friends.

"so, y/n," beomgyu starts, throwing his arm over your shoulder. taehyun’s happy face quickly turned to a pout at the sight, even though deep down he knew beomgyu was doing this to get a reaction out of him.

"you look absolutely stunning today," beomgyu compliments, throwing a wink at you. you shake your head with a scoff, pushing his arm off of you.

"cut it out gyu, you have a boyfriend," you laugh, the three of you beginning your journey around town. beomgyu chuckles before grabbing a cigarette from his pocket.

after lighting it and taking a long drag, he said something that neither you or taehyun would expect, "we're both into trying new things."

taehyun laughs at this, clearing his throat when beomgyu gave him a look that told he was being truthful. "didn't expect that one," you giggle, taking the cig from his fingers.

the rest of the day consisted of going to a park, a cafe, and many other places, but at every spot, beomgyu had to stop and tell you just how beautiful you are. and now here the three of you are, at your last stop of the day. you told your friends you had a headache, when in reality you knew your boy was streaming in less than an hour.

beomgyu brushes a strand of hair from your face, "y/n—" beomgyu was cut off by a whine, followed by a quick 'shut up' from taehyun. your eyebrows shot up when the noise came from taehyun’s mouth.

beomgyu smirks at your expression, he wasn't yeonjun, he knew the two of you needed a push before either of you found out about the other.

you furrowed your brows before realization dawned on you, no wonder it was taehyun. a few weeks ago you adjusted your settings to 'near me,' your camboy — or well, taehyun — popping up immediately.

"taehyun, can you come home with me?" you ask him suddenly, earning a double take from the boy. beomgyu rubs his hands together before getting up.

"i need to go...see yeonjun," beomgyu pushes his chair in, slapping some cash down to pay for his side of dinner.

"i thought you said—"

"bye!" beomgyu interrupts taehyun before waving. he didn't waste time dashing out the diner. he was lying, obviously. he'd probably just go home and play a video game with his brother.

you stand up, throwing your side purse on and motioning taehyun to follow you. "why do you want me to go home with you?"

"i change my mind," you push yours and his chair in, laughing when his curious smile falls. "it wasn't a suggestion."

taehyun’s face reddens at your dominance, a light smile returning to his lips. "but-”

it wasn't a question," you repeat, throwing down your money and walking away. you hear taehyun following quickly in suit and you grab his hand before running out the diner.

"s...slow down!" taehyun stutters, attempting to keep up with you. despite playing baseball like the rest of his friends, he still found himself running slower than you. maybe it was the way you were treating him, driving him crazy. not to mention that he was supposed to be streaming minutes from now.

you push him into your empty house, thankful your parents were gone since the night was probably going to go as you thought. your boy wouldn't come on stream in time, proving he's taehyun.

you lead him to your room, practically throwing him onto a nearby chair. the next hour consisted of the two of you on your phones, taehyun occasionally trying to ask you something, but you refused to comply every time.

you laugh when your phone clock reads '11:00 pm,' and the stream never started. not to mention the amount of times taehyun made an attempt to leave.

"taehyun, it's an hour after," you smirk, you'd caught him. you found your boy. taehyun looks at you, eyes blown and a red coat of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"an hour after what?" taehyun gulps, eyes widening when you make your way towards him. you pull up his profile before shoving it in his face. you swore he couldn't get redder.

a whimper leaves his lips, tears beginning to brim his eyes. "please don't tell anyone!" taehyun pleads, hiding his face in your neck with shame.

"as long as i'm in your videos from now on," you smile at him, lifting his head from it's spot. taehyun looks up at you with confused doe eyes, cheeks still red with embarrassment.

"w...what do you mean?" taehyun stammers, his lip trembling. you coo at him, running your fingers through his hair. his eyes began to flutter shut, but snapped open when you tug at his hair.

"i've been waiting to show people who you belong to."

taehyun whimpers at your words, "you've been watching me?" you nod, bringing up your blank profile for him to see. his breath hitches, his top tipper had been you the whole time.

he leaned forward to kiss you, a hand pushing him back into the chair. he throws his head back and let's put a noise of protest.

"i'm in charge here taehyun," the boy — your boy — nods at your words.

"can i kiss you?"

you brush his hair back with a nod, "such a good boy." taehyun squirms at the praise, bringing your body onto his, locking your lips together in a messy kiss.

his hands were gripping your hips, your fingers entangled in his hair. he kept trying to buck his hips up in hopes you'd comply and give him what he wanted, but the two words 'bad boy,' had his lips trembling and his movements stopping.

taehyun backs away from the kiss, the words upsetting him and the lack of air causing his head to spin, and not in the good way you made it spin. "i wan' be a good boy," taehyun whimpers, his chin placed on your chest thanks to your position.

"you do?" your face was plastered with faux sympathy, taehyun was already too far gone to realize this, believing you were being merciful with him. he nods, letting his head fall to the side.

while the sight was adorable, you instructed him to log in to his account on your computer. despite him saying he didn't have his good camera, you promised him that the people wouldn't care, they just wanted to get off.

taehyun was still embarrassed, the feeling only growing when he realized you were going to fuck him on stream.

"why're you all shy now, tyunnie?" you run your hands through his hair. his finger hovers over your mouse, the little arrow hovering over the big button with uppercase 'start streaming' letters staring at him. "y'weren't all shy before when you were showing your pretty cock off to hundreds of people at a time."

taehyun looks at your face, you looked angry, disappointed even. "why are y'mad?"

"because, tyunnie. you're my boy, and you were giving everyone else a show as if you didn't belong to me already," taehyun whimpers at your words, his cock stiffening in his pants.

"m'sorry, mommy," taehyun apologizes, his voice a pretty mix of a moan and whine. "y'better be sorry. y'gonna be sorry," you lean over, quickly pushing his finger onto the mouse, the clicking sound being the loudest noise in the room.

viewers flooded in, all surprised by the sight of not only taehyun, face in frame, teary and red, but a pretty girl right next to him. comments came left and right, 'why didn't you tell us you were so pretty?', 'who's the hottie?', and 'why are you late?' the first one, and many others like it, boiled your blood.

"gonna answer them, tyunnie?" you ask the boy beside you, his eyes never leaving you. a small 'huh' left his lips before he looked to the chat.

"oh," his voice was small, quiet, afraid he'd say something bad and you'd punish him. he watched with glossy eyes as you walked towards you closet, the sight of you bending over causing a groan to leave his lips.

"i told you to answer them, taehyun," your commanding voice rang through the room, comments left and right telling him to obey, as if he'd listen to them. he was too focused on you, and he'd probably get punished if he listened to anyone else.

his focus was on the comments now, trying his best to ignore the sound of things being moved around behind him.

"s...she's my..." taehyun trails off, not knowing what to call you at this point.

"tyunnie here, is my boy," taehyun sighs when you take back control, his mind too fogged with thoughts of you that he couldn't focus on anything else. his eyes widen when he realizes you'd stripped down to your underwear, the lace of your bra and panties clinging to you in the best ways.

you smirk as you read the comments, people interested in taehyun actually being controlled in person, not by a random commenter. your ego just kept growing at the comments, one specific one from one specific person sticking with you. you had to show the viewers what you could do now.

you lean down towards taehyun’s ear, "gonna be a good boy?" he nods, a squeak of surprise emitting from his lips when you slap his cheek. "use your words."

next to taehyun stood you, holding a box with toys, causing the boy's eyes to widen. "are you using that on me?" he asks, his voice high-pitched and barely over a whisper as he points to the blue strap-on that sat on the top. you just give him a smile before ordering him to take off his clothes.

he suddenly felt very exposed, despite being naked and doing various things for, as you’d said, hundreds of people before, your figure above him made him a lot more nervous.

you watched him in awe, he was so much prettier in person. yours eyes widen at the sight of his cock, tip an angry red. he was so much bigger in person, too bad you probably weren't going to be able to have him inside you tonight.

"good boy, always obeying me, hm?" you praise, straddling him. he nods with a whine at the feeling of your clothed pussy on his bare cock. he quickly corrected himself by muttering a small 'yes.'

you smirk at him, your good boy. "m'gonna have so much fun with you. my little toy." taehyun squirms under you from hearing your words, accompanied by the sound of your hand rummaging through the box.

once your hand wraps around your vibrator you bring it towards the camera, your face held something between a smirk and evil smile before you looked back to your boy.

"ready, baby?" you slide your hand down his chest, leaving goosebumps in your wake, a shiver traveling down taehyun’s spine.

"yes, mommy," he makes a fist from frustration, lack of relief. you turn the vibrator on the lowest setting, getting off of his lap and between his legs. you lowered the head of the toy to the slit of his cock, his body jolting at the feeling. his hands gripping the sides of your desk chair, eyes squinted shut as moans and whines left his lips. it didn't make it better when you'd occasionally pick up the vibrator and kitten lick where the toy once was.

"tyunnie?" your voice causes his eyes to fly open, and his head to fall down to look at you. "yes, miss?" he pants, the feeling almost distracting him from being able to talk.

"i need you to keep your eyes open, 'kay? good boys have manners," you tell him before taking the head of his cock in your mouth.

"yes, yes, yes, yes, okay! fuck!" a mix of a moan and a laugh leaving taehyun’s lips. his body felt so hot, the feeling and thought of you driving him mad that he couldn't take it anymore.

"m'gonna cum!" he shouts, throwing his head back. a light slap to his thigh reminding him that only bad boys disobey, his head snapping back down.

"really? but you just broke a rule tyunnie...i don't know if you should," you look at him with disappointment, fighting a smirk when tears brim his eyes.

"m'sorry, m'so sorry," taehyun sobs from both disappointing you and his ruined orgasm. he kept repeating the words over and over, the occasional 'mommy' thrown into the mix.

"get on the bed, taehyun," you command, the boy scrambling up with a sniff and disappearing from the camera's view. you switched the stream from the computer to your phone, grabbing the strap-on that caught your boy’s eye earlier.

you throw the phone down, muting the mic of your phone. "y'okay, baby?" you caress taehyun’s cheek, a rapid nod from him soothing your worries. he felt himself getting closer to the edge just from how you were treating him in this moment, he was so deep into subspace he barely knew anything besides the word 'mommy.'

"okay, baby, m'gonna need you to tell me," you brush the hair sticking to taehyun’s forehead back. "yes, mommy." taehyun whines, with a laugh you slide the harness up your legs.

you grab the camera, flipping it to taehyun and unmuting the mic just in time for you to push into him. his eyes fly open and a cry rips from his throat at the stretch. "y'okay, baby?" taehyun nods, the word 'yes' tumbling from his lips over and over like a prayer.

you began dragging your cock in and out of him, giving him slow strokes to calm him down. his head was lolling, the rule you made completely lost in his mind. you didn't care anymore, the sight before you so pretty, it wasn't worth ruining.

his eyes screwed shut, and his mouth formed an 'o' shape when you sped up, moans, giggles, and whimpers leaving his lips. he felt he couldn't escape you. he could feel you everywhere, hands on his thighs, then his chest, then his arms. the thought and mental image of you floating through his mind.

"m'gonna cum," taehyun breathes out, his voice was raspy. you leaned down to kiss him, camera still focused on his lower half.

"go ahead, baby, cum all over my hand. make a mess for me," you quicken the snap of your hips, sobs leaving your boy as he came all over your hand, some landing on his stomach.

you didn't spare another second on the stream, ending as fast as you could. he was your boy, no one was going to see him longer than they had to.

"thank you, mommy," taehyun pants, a smile on his dry lips that he was repeatedly wetting with his tongue.

"s'not mommy anymore, tyunnie, s'y/n," you lean down to kiss him, the boy bringing you towards him, chanting the word 'more' against your lips.

"no, tyunnie, don't wanna push you," you laugh, slowly pulling out of him. he took advantage of his strength, wrapping his legs around your waist and pushing you back towards him. a moan left his lips when you pulled out completely, leaving him feeling empty.

"time to get you cleaned up," you walk him towards the bathroom connected to your room. you begin running his bath and sat him on the toilet. his head fell back, hitting the overhead cabinet. he furrowed his brows before looking to you.

“you didn't get anything..."

"didn't need it, tyunnie, promise," you grab his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his lips. he laughs, placing his face into your chest and wrapping his arms around your torso.

"thank you, y/n," he kisses the flesh of your breasts, taking your right nipple into his mouth. you sigh at the feeling, combing his hair with your fingers.

"you're welcome, my boy."

#txt smut #taehyun smut #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt x moa #txt fanfic #txt x fem reader #taehyun x reader #taehyun x y/n #taehyun x you #taehyun x female reader #kang taehyun smut #kang taehyun x reader #txt imagines #taehyun imagines #txt #taehyun #kang taehyun #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop smut

[stinmybubs]

“Do It For Us.” Pt.2

Summery: A quirkless girl tired, sick and tired of being helpless, tired of being weak. Bullied all her life along side her best friend and longer term crush, Izuku Midoriya. Happy she isn’t alone…but he gets in to UA? Leaving her behind…what’s left for her? Seems a blonde takes pity on her.

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1

The morning with katsuki Bakugou was, weird to say the least. He wakes you up bright and early, his face a bit pink, you were confused into why. You two waited for each other to change, you two brushed your teeth together. It felt weirdly domestic.

Breakfast was wonderful, Mrs. Bakugou made some special Omurice for you and Bakugou and it was delicious! And surprisingly Bakugou barley spoke this morning just the few remarks here and there. Guess he’s not a morning person.

Walking to school with Bakugou was even weirder, it was awkwardly silent. You never tried to start any conversation, except you just wanted to thank him. And ask why the sudden change of heart? Why help you after putting you through so much? Did something happen?

“Hey, I just wanted to say-“ of course the timing couldn’t be worse, his lackies and more boys bombarded him, pushing you out the way. You simply shrug, glancing at the blonde boy before making your way into the school to wait for Izuku. Realizing that Izuku is probably wondering where you were.

“Where were you Y/n!? I was worried sick!” Izuku ran to your desk, worry in his face. You were currently staring into the distance for what seemed like ever.

“I was…not home..so I walked to school in a different path.” You smile, grabbing Izuku’s hand to try and soothe his worry. “Oh…why? Why weren’t you home!” He proceeded to grab your hands with both his.

“Uh…just some personal stuff, nothing too serious !” You laugh, giving him a soft look. You loved whenever he worried for you, it made your heart soar and your serotonin levels went off the charts.

“Oh…well if you have more trouble. Please, come to me…I would hate for you to get hurt. Again.” He looked at your hand dejectedly, “oh! I have something great to tell…” as soon as his smile was up it faded as soon as it came. It’s like he realized something.

“I’m going to get into UA…I will. I have a chance now!” He gave you the most determined look, a look you haven’t seen since you were young. One where you knew you couldn’t argue against.

“Good luck Izu…work hard! Do it for…do it for us! We quirkless people need a rep too!” You let go of his hands as the rest of the class came flooding in. You couldn’t help but think. What if he really got in? Am I a bad friend for not believing in him? Is it bad to hope?

What if he leaves me behind?

Questions and thoughts raced through your mind, not even noticing you were staring at the back of Izuku’s head.

Don’t go…

Don’t leave me alone…

Being so stuck in your head, you never even noticed the day ending. Until you finally heard Izuku calling out your name.

“Y/n! Are you okay? I’ve been calling out your name for ages!” You turn to Izuku, noticing the almost empty classroom. “Oh! Sorry just lost in thought!” You laugh sheepishly, scratching the nape of your neck. Izuku shook his head chuckling.

“Oi! Y/n…hurry yer’ ass up.” The familiar hot head was standing at the classroom door way, you quickly get up to gather your things. Izuku was clearly confused by this. What did Bakugou mean? Are you two hanging out? How and why?

“Wh-what? Why would she-“ he stops, seeing the smile on your face when you look at Bakugou, the same smile you always give him. That friendly and loving smile.

“See ya Izu! I gotta go but we’ll talk later!” You giggle waving him goodbye as you make it to Katsuki’s side. The two of you making your way out of the classroom leaving the green-haired boy with so many questions.

When did you two become friends…?

It had been a few months since you’ve been staying in the Bakugou family households. You’ve never been happier, you felt as if they were your own family! They helped you with everything, you almost forgot about your old family. Almost.

That is until you were walking to the school with Katsuki one day, talking about breakfast and how katsuki wakes you up way too early.

“No! Katsu-…you really wake me up way too early I always have an hour left of free time!” You protest to the boy, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“Yeah yeah whatever, you wouldn’t wake up at all without me!” He argued, he grabbed your bag throwing it over his shoulder. Katsuki had made it a habit to carry your bag. How sweat. You thought. Everything finally felt right, the bullying almost stopped, you had a nice family! You’re ere finally happy!

“Y/n?” The voice made you freeze, like a dear in headlights you stopped in your tracks to see your father standing at the school gates.

“Y/n! Oh my gosh we’ve been worried sick!” Your father reached out for you only for Bakugou to slap his hand away, putting himself in between you and your dad. Giving you a chance to compose your self, something strange happened, katsuki grabbed your hand. And tightly at that.

“What do you want old man!?” Katsuki shouted anger my glaring at your father. “Y/n!? You’ve been running off with some boy while your mother suffers!?” This caught your attention. What? What happened to your mother?

“What…? What’s wrong with mom…?” You peek from behind Katsuki, righting your grip on his hand. “She’s sick! In the hospital all because you’ve gone missing! I can’t believe it!” You could tell he was getting angry, really angry. Your heart started racing, continuing to cower behind katsuki never letting go of his hand.

“Don believe him…it’s a trick. They all always use the same excuse. Cmon Y/n.” Katsuki pulls you along with him making sure to keep distance between you and your father.

“You’ll regret this Y/n! What if your mother dies huh!?” This made you stop katsuki from walking, turning to your father. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know what to say.

Shall you return to save your mother?

Or stay where it’s safe.

You look back up at Katsuki, the boy who’s given you so much.

“If your mom cared about you wouldn’t she go searching? They don’t love you Y/n. I know you love your mom…but she doesn’t love you anymore. And if she did she’d want you to stay where it’s safe…” he fully turned around to steady you. Cupping your face in his hand, you could tell he was worried. You trusted him.

Your father couldn’t be trusted, katsuki who had changed so much for you. You’ll believe him. “S…sorry dad…but you are no longer my father! I’ve been happy! Tell mom…I love her and hope she finds happiness herself!” You scream, quickly pulling Katsuki along with you as you run away. Run like your life depended on it.

Katsuki let out a sigh of relief.

At school you and katsuki always parted ways. But he left you alone for the most part! Especially not wanting to be around Izuku.

“It’s the last day…and the exams are in 3 more months…” Izuku mumbled to himself. “Really? I’d didn’t even notice that…” you’ve been having such a good time lately you didn’t notice it was your last day of jounior high.

“Hey…Izu…what if you do get in? Where…where would I go?” You finally said it looking into Izuku’s eyes, looking for a sign, anything for him to stay with you.

“I…I don’t know…but I’m doing this for us!” He gave you his signature big smile, the smile that you loved. But you knew that loving him will give you nothing, it’ll only hurt you.

You knew you could never keep up with him.

You were his past. Not his future.

You knew you had to push these feelings down, you had to look to your own future. You just didn’t know what. It’s always been with Izuku. It’s always been him. You felt your words get stuck in your throat as you try not to cry.

“Yeah…do it…I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines. Just don’t forget about me when you become number 1 Izu.” You give him a big smile, tears streaming down your face, Izuku embraced you, you breath in his scent for one last time.

Goodbye, Izuku Midoriya, my first love.

My everything.

As you hugged him you noticed something different, he was a lot musclier than normal.

“H-have you been working out?” You sniffle, leaning away from him. He lets out a long laugh at your sudden statement.

“Uh…yeah! Yknow heros, they can’t just be smart.” You two share on last laugh together.

AN: Part 2 is a little shorter! I might drag this out for 3-4 more parts! Because I love this little story <3 I hope you all enjoy! Get ready for part 3! What will the reader be? How does she live without Izuku by her side anymore!?

#mha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #mha writing #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha angst #deku x reader #deku angst #mha deku #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku angst #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoryia x you #deku x you

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Distance part 2

Note: follow up to part 1!

Warnings: just fluff! a bit of angst maybe, but very light.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric picked you up from the airport.

wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

While you anxiously waited to collect your bags at the airport, Sihtric was chewing off his nails while he stared at the arrivals door. He was so incredibly nervous, he had never felt anything like this before. Everything had been arranged so fast that he barely had any time to even process that you were really coming over to see him, and it had only hit him once he arrived at the airport. Part of him wanted to turn around and run back to his car, but the other part of him told him he had to man up, because meeting you was something he had been dreaming of for years and there was no way he was getting cold feet now.

Sihtric had been nervous ever since he left his house, but he had gotten even more nervous with every step he took towards the entrance, wondering if you were going to be disappointed once you met him. Because maybe you expected him to be taller, or shorter for some reason. Maybe you didn't like his shoes, which were simple black leather boots, or maybe you hated his dark grey cargo jeans. Or maybe you thought his white shirt looked stupid on him or, even worse, maybe you thought he didn't smell nice. He discreetly tried to get a whiff of his own scent and just hoped he didn't stink. 

And then he suddenly worried that maybe you'd think he looked better through a screen, or that maybe you'd hate his messy hair in real life. Sihtric cursed himself when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window, realising that in all his suppressed nervousness he had completely forgotten to comb his hair before jumping in his car. He quickly raked his tattooed fingers through his dark locks, in an attempt to look a little more decent, while he entered the airport and tried to get a grip on himself again.

And while Sihtric was slowly driving himself mad, with his eyes fixated on the arrivals door, you tried to freshen yourself up a little in the toilets after you had collected your luggage. You took a few deep breaths as you looked in the mirror, and you suddenly felt yourself crumble on the inside. You were overwhelmed with nerves and horrible thoughts. Because what if he suddenly realised he wasn't attracted to you in real life? Or what if the chemistry just wasn't there or if it was just incredibly awkward and you both just couldn't get a conversation going? You also became concerned when you realised you didn't know what you were supposed to do once you saw him. Was he expecting you to run to him? Would he want to kiss you immediately or would he not want to do that at all? What if he only shook your hand while you tried to go in for a kiss? You groaned at these thoughts and tried to fight your tears while you dragged your hands down your face.

Sihtric had meant everything to you these past seven years, and if things would not go as you had both expected it would truly be a bitter pill to swallow, and you didn't know what your life would look like without him. And neither did Sihtric. Because despite the fact you had never met, you both had plans for the future that involved each other or were simply built around each other, and neither of you ever even considered the option of a future alone or with someone else. There was no backup plan if this first meeting would ruin everything.

You took another deep breath and composed yourself as best as you could, and when you checked your phone you saw Sihtric had texted that he was waiting for you. Surprisingly enough the airport wasn't as busy as you had expected, and then you finally made your way through the arrivals door.

You froze for a split second when your eyes immediately landed on Sihtric, who looked straight at you while he stood there wide eyed and with his hands in his hair, as he had been anxiously waiting for you to appear and had almost lost his mind while doing so. And Sihtric swore he just couldn't remember how to breathe anymore when he saw you, and he was completely nailed to the ground. He always imagined he'd run up to you, pick you up his arms and spin you around while he kissed you, but he just wasn't able to move an inch in reality. He saw how you stared at him as you approached him, your eyes just as wide as his, and he finally managed to slide his hands out of his hair once you were almost in arms reach.

'Sihtric,' you almost gasped.

And Sihtric tried to speak, but he couldn't make a single sound. You dropped your bag and suitcase on the ground as soon as he suddenly reached out, and you wrapped your arms around his waist while he wrapped his strong arms tightly around your shoulders and held you almost bruisingly.

As soon as Sihtric had wrapped his arms around you, he knew he would never be able to let you go anymore. To let you go home, that meant. He could never let you go back home again, for as soon as he felt your body pressed against his he knew he would never be able to breathe again without you. He knew he would never be able to fall asleep again without you next to him. And he just knew his life would never be the same anymore when he felt how you buried your face in his chest, and he then suddenly remembered to breathe again.

You cried as you enjoyed his tight embrace, feeling as if you were home in his arms and you inhaled his scent deeply. The smell of amber was soothing and suited him absolutely perfectly, and it calmed you as well as making you feel a little lightheaded. It was a scent you would never forget and also one you never wanted to miss again. You clung onto him as if you were afraid you'd be torn away from each other at any second, and Sihtric shared the same frightening thought.

And as he was overwhelmed with the idea of losing you now that he finally held you, his trembling hands searched for your face while his vision was blurred due to his teared up eyes. Once found, he cupped your cheeks firmly to lift your face up, in order to bring your lips closer to his so he could finally capture you in the kiss he had been dreaming of for almost seven years. Without any hesitation, you pressed your lips back against his, and your hands fell from his waist as you lost your ability to think for a moment. You then slid your hands slowly up his torso, feeling his muscles from underneath his shirt while moving your hands up to his neck before sliding further up and into his loose hair. 

You tangled your fingers into his slightly wavy hair while his hands still held your face, and he deepened the kiss as soon as he felt you melted into his touch and relaxed entirely. You felt his tongue as he slowly flicked it against your lips, before allowing him fully into your mouth, and the minty taste on his tongue was a pleasant one you desperately wanted to taste more of. You both forgot how to breathe this time as all you wanted was to taste and feel each other, until your lungs almost burned and you were both forced to pull away.

'My love,' Sihtric whispered as his tears fell, your face cradled in his hands while he leaned his forehead against yours, 'I'm sorry it took us so long.'

'I'm sorry too,' you sniffled, your fingers curling around the neck of his shirt, 'but life kept preventing us from meeting sooner.'

'I know,' he sighed softly, 'but we're together now, and I'm never letting you go anymore.'

You both smiled before your lips found their way back to his again, and you kissed once more until your lungs begged for air and you suddenly remembered you were in public. Sihtric then picked up your luggage with a satisfied smile, teary eyes and his cheeks a hint of red, and he wrapped his arm around your waist as he walked you out of the airport and to his car. But you didn't get there without stopping a few times just so he could kiss you again and again, dropping your bags out of his hands numerous times in order to cup your cheeks while he kissed you, or to roam his hands all over your body. 

Sihtric refused to let you carry your own bags, which you tried to do after each head spinning kiss when he had dropped everything once again. You smiled when you reached his car, recognising the vehicle as you had seen it in uncountable video calls over the years. You watched how your boyfriend picked up your luggage with ease, putting it in the trunk of his car, and without thinking you placed your hand on his bicep after you saw his muscles flex when he closed the trunk. Sihtric froze for a second and frowned upon the sudden touch, but an amused grin appeared on his face when he realised you were just admiring his body, and he definitely didn't complain about you touching him. In fact, you could touch him wherever you wanted to, he wouldn't stop you. And he kissed you again with that thought on his mind.

You put on your seatbelt as Sihtric sat down behind the wheel. He exhaled sharply while he stared straight ahead for a few seconds, and he then turned to face you. He leaned in and smiled, and placed his hand on your thigh as he looked deeply into your eyes.

'Hi,' his voice so low and smooth, as well as a little breathy.

'Hi,' you smiled shyly.

'How are you?' he asked and leaned in closer to peck your lips.

'Good,' you murmured against his lips before you kissed him back.

'Yeah?' he asked and kissed you again.

'Mhm. And how are you?' you barely managed to ask in between kisses.

'I'm good,' he smiled against your lips, 'so good, darling. How was your flight?'

Sihtric kissed you again before you could answer.

'It was good,' you chuckled.

'Good,' he smiled and kissed you once more, then leaned back slightly, 'are you hungry? Or do you want to get a drink? I can stop by a place if you want.'

He gazed into your eyes while awaiting your answer, but when it became evident you weren't going to answer and instead just stared at him, he fought a smile as he furrowed his brow.

'Baby?' he asked as he held your chin.

'I… I'm sorry,' you suddenly snapped out of getting lost in his mismatched eyes, 'I… I can't seem to think right now.'

Sihtric laughed softly and nuzzled your nose, then kissed your lips again.

'I know,' he said, 'I'm sorry. Everything is overwhelming for me too. I guess I'll just take you home right away.'

You nodded in agreement and, when he kissed you again, slowly flicking his tongue against your lips, you took his face in your hands to deepen the kiss until you both were insanely aroused but didn't dare to say it. And when you leaned back to look at him, you smiled at each other before you pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and you then lightly traced the scars on his face while you continued to gaze at him.

'You're so pretty,' you whispered, 'so beautiful. Even more perfect than I'd thought you'd be.'

Sihtric blushed lightly and smiled, returning the compliment while he tried to hide his teared up eyes as he looked down at his feet for a moment. And after a dozen more kisses, Sihtric finally started the car and placed his hand on your thigh while driving back home.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #modern!sihtric #sihtric au #tlk au

[hheaven-sentt]

meet me in the woods

summary: dreams of the woods and being someone else | leon kennedy x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: the softest angst ever, fighting & sparring, mentions of injuries, language, wanderlust, love confessions, unfortunate situations, slightly forbidden romance, krauser mention (i hate that guy)

notes: 'm where have you been?' 'm when are you coming back?' i'm back. i'm alive. i am free from the shackles of college for three months lawd have MERCY | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kick to the stomach should’ve been something you expected. You’d been calculating his moves the whole time, able to evade them without even thinking because you saw them from a mile away. But he wouldn’t stop talking. That’s always how he got you; opening his mouth and letting pretty words fall out of it. So when he said that the sunlight made your eyes a different shade, a prettier shade, you lost your touch. It was replaced by a boot to the stomach.

You let out a sound you didn’t even know you could make, a rush of air blowing past your lips. You hit the ground hard, half expecting a plume of dirt to come up around your shoulders. Leon is over you in an instant, locking your arms across your chest. He’s grinning. The sun outlines him like a halo.

“Yield,” he says, lips wrapping around his teeth in an obnoxious grin.

“Never,” you say, pushing back against him. You know it won’t matter so much, he’s always been stronger than you.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he asks, teasing. You notice your legs are still free, remaining unpinned by his. You finally return his grin.

“Never have,” you answer, managing to force your leg between his chest and yours. You plant your foot against him as best you can and give a hard kick. It’s enough to loosen his grip on you, and you’re back on your feet in minutes. You shake the dirt off of your shoulders.

You feel more at ease now, more in control. So long as Leon stays quiet, you might actually win this one. You put the voice in your head to bed, the one that says you’re still going to lose.

Leon tilts his head a bit, grin still hanging on his lips. He squares again, feet shoulder width apart. You could mirror his stance without even thinking. You know his strategies, you know his moves, you know the way his body works. He bounces on the balls of his feet before he swings, it gives him more momentum. He blocks too often with his right forearm, it’s covered in bruises that make it a weak spot. Yes, you know him. That doesn’t always make it easier.

You’re circling one another, waiting for the other to strike. Leon likes to bide his time; he knows you hate going on the offense so he tries to make you, tries to goad you into it. You often fall for it, but you’re trying not to. But he’s still grinning at you, which is mildly infuriating, like an itch you can’t quite reach.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. You raise a brow. “Are we just going to stare at each other, or are we going to finish this? I’d like to get something to eat, and half the mess hall will be closed by the time we’re done,”

“Then hit me,” you return. “Finish it,”

He lets a breath escape him in what seems like a chuckle. You try to ignore it. “Why don’t you hit me, huh? Why do I have to do all the work?”

“Because when you swing, your balance is off. Makes you easier to topple,”

“You’re a quick learner,”

He rushes you then, throwing a right hook that would most certainly hurt if it were to connect with your jaw. You angle your head back at the right moment, using his forward momentum against him. You slip behind him, spinning on your heel. Before you can regret it, you send a hard kick into his back. The satisfaction rises in your throat when he stumbles. He turns to face you. The sunset is peeking at you over his head. You smile. He laughs as he swings again, and you duck beneath the fist hurtling at your nose. He grunts when he takes a punch to the kidney, but you doubt it even hurt that much. It’s a dance of fists and feet, attempting to land a single blow on the other. You can see the sheen of sweat on his brow, something you try to ignore. If you think about it too long, you’ll be face down in the dirt below. You throw a punch, one that lands hard against the smooth planes of his cheek. You worry it will bruise. You push it down. When you’d first started this, he didn’t care if you bruised. He said it would motivate you to do better.

Use everything to your advantage, even losses, he’d said.

Four hours. Within four hours you had managed to lose every fight against Leon you’d started. They didn’t even last that long, so there was no telling exactly how many you’d lost. A kick to the back of your knees sends you down this time, his forearm coming to rest around your throat. His labored breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

“Yield,” he says. The anger in you is too much.

“Fuck you,” you say, ramming your elbow into his ribs. He grunts, the wave of breath cascading over your shoulder. It gives you enough of an edge to wriggle out of his grasp.

You swing with abandon now, anger and frustration and exhaustion haunting your body and movements like a poltergeist. It’s only a matter of moments before your back is on the ground and his boot is pressing into your chest.

“Yield,” he says again. You grit your teeth, feeling tears resting in your eyes. You will not cry in front of him. With anger and resentment, you hammer your palm into his leg twice, signifying your yield. He relents, allowing you to stand.

“You let your anger get the best of you,” he says, turning you forcefully to dust the dirt from your back. “It makes you sloppy,”

“I’ll show you sloppy,” you say, stepping away from him. He laughs.

“I’m serious,” he says, schooling his features as you look at him. “You need to stamp it out or use it to your advantage,”

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say. Your voice is hoarse from the lump in your throat. Defeat weighs heavy on your bones.

“You will learn,” he promises. “Use everything to your advantage,”

The punch to the jaw is a shock to the system. It wakes you up in a way. You feel that anger coming back, that refusal to accept defeat. With a breath, you swing your leg up, landing a solid kick to his side that knocks the wind out of him. Taking hold of the moment, you land a right hook to his face, which causes him to stumble. You can hardly believe your eyes when he falls to the ground. You stand above him, triumphant.

“Yield,” you say. You’re not even pinning him, just sort of hovering near him, hands on your hips.

He’s grinning at you. It’s not teasing, it’s not to get a rise out of you. It’s the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen on him. Without a word, he taps out. Two hard beats against the ground are like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. Even in your exhaustion, you can’t help but thrust your fists in the air in celebration.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, extending your hand to him to help him up. “I actually won,”

When he’s standing in front of you, half drenched in sweat and smiling at you with so much pride, it’s hard to deny how beautiful he is. Constructed by the gods, you might say if he ever asked. You’re laughing, cackling actually, and he grips the sides of your head as he laughs with you. Your nose is bleeding, you can taste the rust on your lips. He brings your forehead to his, celebrating with you even though this was definitely a blow to his ego. 

After a few moments of bliss, you realize how close you are and how unprofessional it looks, and you back away. You’re both still grinning as he unwraps his knuckles.

“Don’t let this go to your head,” he teases, dropping the wrappings into the trash. The sun has nearly fully set. “You’re not the heavyweight champion or anything,”

“But, damn, don’t I feel like it,” you muse, smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. He shoves your shoulder.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he says, grabbing your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is.

The mess hall is practically empty when you arrive, save for a few stragglers and the staff. Your usual seats are open, which is a relief. You feel like you can’t breathe when you set your tray down on the table. Leon sits beside you, like he always does, knocking his shoulder into yours.

“You have not won the war,” he teases. You roll your eyes. “Tomorrow night, you’re going down,”

“Who knows?” you return, sinking your teeth into a hard roll. “Maybe this is the start of your losing streak,”

He grins, stealing a piece of broccoli from your tray. In response, you shove the tray his way, a silent gesture to allow him as many as he would like.

You hate it here. It’s hard and trying, and it often makes you want to run away and live in the woods. But Leon makes it passable. Sometimes, after a particularly hard day, all you want to do is hit him. The thought brings comfort to you, settles it over your bones like a warm blanket. It makes your relationship with him strange, sure, but it works somehow. You hit him, he hits you, you get dinner, and the world can turn again. You don’t remember the last time someone had this effect on you, especially in this way.

Sometimes you wonder, on the days where the woods look like your best option, if he would come with you. Leon doesn’t like it here either, but he’s good at it. He’s good at following orders, he’s good with sparring, he doesn’t lose. He’s the star pupil if you’ve ever seen one. But there’s a part of you that thinks he might follow you. Maybe it would be under the guise of protecting you against bears and other woodland fauna, but you think he might just like an escape. Maybe he would go with simply because it was you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, knocking his shoulder into yours again. You look at him through your lashes.

“What comes after?” you wonder aloud. He quirks a brow, asking for elaboration. “When we leave? When I am no longer allowed to conquer you?”

He laughs at this. “I wouldn’t go that far,”

“I am David, you were my Goliath,” you say. He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what comes after,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to knock you on your ass every now and then,”

Something brightens in your chest. “A noble cause,”

“I’m serious,” he says. Your smile falters for a moment. “I think we’ll figure it out. One day, we won’t have to bruise each other anymore,”

“Maybe I’m only doing it to get your attention,” you tease.

“It’s working,”

The statement makes your cheeks flush. “Don’t get sentimental on me now. There’s no place for that kind of talk here,”

He laughs. “You sound like Krauser,”

“Take that back,” you grin. He shrugs, then laughs when you playfully hit his shoulder. He looks around for a moment, gauging your surroundings.

“I meant it,” he says after a while. You look at him. “That we could make it work. Guess I’m sentimental when it comes to you,”

You roll your eyes. “You say that like you’re about to confess your love for me, Kennedy,”

He laughs, a real laugh that rumbles in his chest and warms your flesh. You like when he laughs like this, and you like it even more when you’re the one who causes it.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asks. His head is bent toward you, closing you into his space. He smells like dirt and cedar, a scent that you would let choke you.

It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were anywhere else, anyone else. But you’re not. You’re you and he’s him, and you’re stuck somewhere that bleeds the love out of you one punch at a time. If you were in a coffee shop on a dreary street with a warm mug in your hands to unfreeze them from the rain, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. It would be a wonderful thing.

“Here?” you say. “With me? Yes, that would be a bad thing,”

He grins at you. “Then I’m not confessing my love for you,” he says. “But if we were in the woods somewhere, lost and wandering, I would,”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “In this hypothetical situation, lost in the woods and confessing love, I would welcome your confession,”

The conversation dies with that. You know your days will continue, the secret dream of the woods stuck in your heart somewhere. You refuse to allow that to be beaten out of you. You would spend your life trying to reach whatever woodland he dreamt up.

He walks you back to your bunks, like he always does. There’s something lingering between you, but it’s not a fire worth stoking, not now. His smiles are easy, his jokes even easier, and you allow things to continue as normal. That seems easier.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, voice soft and sweet and low. You let it wash over you. You grin.

“Only if you’re prepared to lose again,” you tease. He laughs, a low whisper of air.

And he kisses you, soft and sweet like honey on a sugar roll. Plush against him, you feel like putty, ready to be molded to do whatever he could ever need. When he pulls away, he lingers in your orbit for a moment. Your eyes remain closed, just standing in the feel of him.

“I will not be losing tomorrow,” he says. “I won’t go easy on you,”

With that, he’s gone. He’s never gone easy on you, so it’s not much of a threat. But that doesn’t mean he’s never soft. He’s always soft for you.

#m writes #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #x reader #leon kennedy #fanfic #my fics

[leclerced]

Lando with a virgin!reader? That boy would go with the philosophy “panic first, deal with it later”. He’d be stressed af cause for him it’s a big thing to that his girl wants to loose her virginity with him. I can so imagine her being like super turned on and she’s like ready to go all the way but then he’s pulling back and starts rambling how he thinks it would be best to start slowly cause rn? He’s not the ready one. So the first time would be kind of movie romantic. Maybe not that much but a little bit at least. Very intimate and absolutely filled with his praises about her

omg yeah he’s so worried about doing it right and it being a good memory. the first time, they try to just get it over with like she wants. she’s horny and wants to fuck, so they almost do it before he stops because he wants to do it right. they plan it out, have a nice romantic meal and watch a movie and then he puts it off because it doesn’t feel right, they planned it out too much and now it feels orchestrated. she’s like “we literally agreed ‘sex after dinner on friday’ how is that too much planning?” third times the charm though, they’re having a lazy day, attempting to binge watch a new series but they keep getting lost in make out sessions before something loud happens in the show and they break apart to see what action they’ve missed.

at some point they give up on watching it completely, get lost in each other and end up having sex without thinking about it ahead of time. she asks if he wants to after he goes down on her and he asks, “right now? we didn’t really plan on it.” and she’s like, “we didn’t plan on you going down on me either but that happened. so yes, right now. you said it had to be natural, this feels right, doesn’t it?” and he can’t find anything in his head telling him now is not the time. it’s the first time they’ve been close to doing it without any hint of doubt or hesitation in both of them and soon enough he’s retrieved a condom and he’s lining up. he’s checking with her every move he makes; asking her if she feels okay, if it feels good and if he can move, then praising her when he stills; telling her how good she feels, how pretty she looks, telling her its okay if she wants to stop to which she replies, “if you stop i will cry. i’m not going to be a half-virgin.” and he laughs and promises he won’t stop, but he reminds her three more times before he’s bottomed out.

#ask #lifeboredme #ln4

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event (Part 1)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

(you'll see full art when I finish because it's spoilery as fuck I realized (too late))

SUMMARY: You accidentally the whole Coca-Cola bottle summoned Raphael (or so you'd think) to Earth.

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 4

“Buonasera”, Raphael leaned against the doorframe, taking in your appearance. "You look ravishing," he said before giving you a brief kiss on the cheek. 

You could feel his light stubble grazing against your skin. Notes of cherries and leather wafted off of him. No sulphur.

Ravishing was perhaps too grand a term, but you put in your best effort. You wore a black dress. While choosing, you went through wanting to be extravagant, then classic, then unconventional, then elegant again, and landed on a little black dress because you thought the devil in a suit would like it.

He, for his part, looked immaculate (of course). His crisp white shirt was expertly pressed, a sleek black waistcoat around his torso. His trench coat hung open, and he played with his car keys.

That surprised you. You had imagined he’d have a chauffeur in a black peak cap, driving a long black limousine. Could Raphael even drive a car? Did he learn to drive for you? Is it difficult to learn to drive a car? You had no driving licence and no idea.

"Thank you, come on in," you invited, breathing in and out low and steady. Did this invitation hold any significance, like with vampires? "I'll just grab my bag and I am ready to go. Do I need to take anything? My wallet?"

You were slowly getting used to the thought of Raphael being real, you mused to yourself. Well, real. At least a constant hallucination in your life.

"Only if you are planning to offend me," he replied with a laugh. “And I hope you are not”.

Raphael followed you into your flat, taking in the surroundings with a half-pitiful, half-amused expression that said “I'm not saying anything because I am well-mannered, but I'm thinking a lot to myself." Well, yes. Not the House of Hope, not even an upper scale apartment, just a run-down studio, forty-six square metres, overdue for some renovation. What more could a young professional afford in today's economy?

Raphael briefly glanced at your open laptop with disinterest, then his eyes lingered on your neatly made bed with its white, slightly faded linen. A small smile formed on his lips as if he entertained a certain thought.

You had entertained quite some thoughts about him while lying on that very bed. 

Snatching your phone, keys, and card holder, you cleared your throat and put on an "I'm prepared for whatever comes next" expression as Raphael's eyes moved from the bed to settle between your breasts.

Not in a suggestive way.

"Oh...you are Catholic?" His tone suddenly shifted - was it cautious, repulsed, or bewildered? 

"No, I am not religious," you responded, shaking your head and taking a step towards the exit. Raphael didn't budge. The raised eyebrow at the cross around your neck hinted that he wasn't entirely convinced. "You mean the cross? My mother gave it to me for protection and… ugh, protection," you added.

“The age gap between us was not lost on me, but I never imagined you were still young enough to seek fashion advice from your mother," he remarked with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

It was clear what he wanted - the cross had to go. You recalled the black screen in the video and your own possessed, sickly face.

The cross stays on. 

You didn’t believe in God (well, you did believe a bit more now), but the cross stays on. Even during sex. Especially during sex.

“Does the cross bother you?”, you asked.

"Why would it bother me?", he questioned. "Because I am the devil?"

Oh, there you go. Is it confession time already? 

You remained silent, refusing to fall into a trap again. Let him say what he wanted.

He did not say anything, but he extended his hand and gently grasped the cross. Shit. Shit. Raphael traced his thumb along the edges almost as if he was trying to decipher its meaning.

There was no recoil, no burning, no hissing. Part of you hoped there would be. Part of you thought there should be. Then again, there is no Christ in Toril. 

"Ah, the agony! It burns, the Holy Symbol, it burns!" Raphael made a half-hearted attempt at a pained grimace before letting go of your cross. "Yes, after you referred to me as Raphael twice, I did some investigating. A computer game devil, is he not?”

Referring to a video game as "a computer game" was a very authentic boomer move, you had to admit. 

Two can play this game, Raphael.

"Well, I wouldn't say Raphael is THE devil," you said casually. "He's just A devil."

Raphael tilted his head in amusement. 

There was something oppressive about his presence, the way he stood taller than you, the way he took up more space than he should have, making your apartment look tiny.

“To be fair”, you continued. ”He’s not even that. He’s a cambion, half human, one of the lowest beings in the levels of hells. He likes calling himself a devil for effect though; probably gets a kick out of scaring people.”

Definitely gets a kick out of scaring people. There, you said it. Now let's see if Raphael would drop the act.

You held your breath as silence stretched between you - five seconds...four...three...two...one...

Would your screams reach the neighbours?

Would they call the police?

And if they did, would the police even help? What happens if they shoot him? Will he bleed black blood? Why were you even thinking about that right now?

"Well," Raphael finally broke the silence and placed a gentle hand on your waist, guiding you towards the door. "Judging by his many admirers, it seems some people quite enjoy being scared. Shall we depart?"

God damn it.

You gave a quick nod, trying to subtly adjust your right stocking which felt slightly loose. You had bought them on Sunday but hadn't tried them on yet (which you should have done). Raphael noticed but pretended not to, his hand on your back guiding you downstairs.

The door closed and you wished it farewell. 

Who knows if you'll ever see it again.

****

Raphael's car was exactly what one would expect from him if he did drive one - flashy, shiny, predatory; a sleek beast painted in blood red. The kind of car that turned heads and started conversations among curious onlookers. 

The kind of car that made teenage boys gather around in awe, wondering how he could afford it and why he was driving it in this neighbourhood. 

And so they did, and so you stumbled upon it, surrounded by admirers.

"Nice car, sir!" exclaimed one of them. "Is it a Maserati? A Gran Turismo, right? How fast can it go from zero to sixty?"

"In less than four seconds. Work hard and you might own one someday too, boy," Raphael replied. “More than one if you are any good”.

"Uh-huh," the teenager said, not entirely convinced. You couldn't blame him; you were not entirely convinced either.

You considered yourself a socialist and always voted left (well, you voiced your opinions more often than you voted, but still), but a socialist getting into a Maserati was a bit of an oxymoron, so you decided to put politics aside for tonight. Besides, you weren't sure you wanted to hear Raphael's political opinions on... well, anything at all.

"Or you could always sell your soul to me. Is that not right, Anya?", Raphael turned to you with a playful wink. Now it was your turn to say "uh-huh" and adjust your stocking again. 

The gaggle of boys took their cue and dispersed as Raphael stepped forward to open the passenger door for you. You tried to sit down as gracefully as you could, but the leather creaked against your skin and your dress rose to obscene heights. 

Quickly, you tugged it back down.

Without a word, Raphael started the car and pulled away from the curb. He was no stranger to this routine - following traffic laws, navigating through the city streets. He felt at ease behind the wheel, it’s not the first time he has driven a sports car.

Something didn't feel right. It all seemed like too much effort; the complicated act, blending into society, creating a false background. Raphael knew who he was, and so did you. So why did he insist on pretending to be someone else? Not even someone entirely different, someone so clearly inspired by himself.

He must be testing you, but for what reason, to what end, for what? Loyalty? Endurance? Ability to take psychic damage?

There is always another truth: there is no bloody devil (of course there isn’t). There is a young woman going through acute psychosis in isolation. You might be now banging your head in a room with very soft carpets on the walls, imagining yourself to be driving in a fancy car with a man you fancied-oh-so-much. 

You need proof. You need solid proof. For your own sanity. The thing is, when you need to prove that you are sane, you are half-insane already. 

"I must say, this is not the safest neighbourhood for a young woman living alone," Raphael said, scanning the area with a wary eye.

Oh, the neighbourhood was fine, he was the most dangerous thing around these parts by far. At times, you would encounter a few junkies asking for spare change or hear about your neighbour getting mugged. 

“I am afraid that’s all I can afford. Have you seen the rent prices nowadays?”, you chuckled. “Well, you probably haven’t.”

“On the contrary,” Raphael shook his head. “I am well aware. I have several investment properties inside and outside the city.”

“Well, that is exactly why I cannot afford anything nicer.”

"That can change at a moment's notice," he said and gave you a sly smile. "Quicker than you might think."

You couldn't suppress your coquettish grin; his words reminded you of his generous gift from earlier - a cool grand handed over just like that. Not that you were mercantile (not that you ever had much of a chance to be, either); but if you were living in an imaginary world, might as well imagine yourself wealthy too.  Socialism is…

Well, for real life.

"Where are we headed?" you asked as he merged onto a busy street. “Is there an address?”

"Why? Do you want to send it to your mother?" Raphael's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. “For protection?”

Still cannot let go of you wearing the cross?

"Yes, I do. Just in case you decide to keep me locked up in chains in your basement," you joked. 

Sort of joked.

He glanced at you, and you couldn't help but wonder if you had finally hit a nerve.

"On our first date? I am a gentleman, an old-fashioned one at that," he retorted, feigning insult. "I'll ensure you reach home safely, plant a goodnight kiss and wish you sweet dreams."

Not exactly how you envisioned the night ending, but you chose not to argue.

“The address is Grand Rue 3, the old theatre,” Raphael said. “If you do not make it home tonight, tell your mother to check the basement.”

It’s the centre, the very centre. Nobody gets killed in the centre of the city. In the bushes, in the slums, in the outskirts, but not in the centre. It’s too much hassle.

Right?

“The one at the street corner? I didn’t think it was open.”

“For the general public, it is not”, Raphael said. “For the few who are invited, it is.”

You drove in silence for some time, and then you spoke up:

“So, is there a play there or…”

Hopefully there was also a dinner, you thought as you nervously adjusted your stocking, because you were so bloody hungry.

“You will find out enough”, Raphael said. “Anya, dear, I have seen the lace on your stockings in every little detail already, so do not bother pulling them up.”

You hastily pulled up your stockings.

“They’re new...I think I took the wrong size. Too large.”

"Well then, take them off. There is no use trying to keep them from slipping down, and it is quite a distracting sight."

You gave him an incredulous look; unsure if he was serious.

He seemed pretty serious about it. That’s some old-fashioned gentleman.

"Take them off?", you repeated.

As the car slowed down to halt near a corner street, you contemplated checking if the doors were locked but decided against it - no subtle way to do that.

"You heard me correctly," Raphael confirmed, leaning back and taking his time to examine you. 

Yeah, okay. Okay. That’s a perfectly normal and a justified request, or at least you would act as if it were.

With some hesitation, you removed your shoes first and then gradually rolled down your stockings to reveal your freshly waxed legs. You tried to make it look sensual but ended up feeling more like a rookie stripper or a soldier executing orders.

His eyes were glued to you as you undressed. It was the sort of stare that makes skin tingle.

It felt pretty good.

By the time you pulled your stockings off, your panties were much wetter than when you got into the car. Raphael knew it, and you knew that he knew it. He had access to every dirty little fantasy in your browser history. 

On the other hand, you were completely oblivious to his kinks; the only hints you got were Haarlep and the debtors in the House of Hope. It's hard to say which of those is the most disturbing.

"Such exquisite feet," he complimented. "Lovely nail polish. I do adore crimson red."

What was it about the way he said it that felt so... dirty?

Raphael then glanced at the scar on your knee and asked, "Now, is there anything else you bought just for me that keeps slipping?"

Everything you wore you bought new for him, panties to bra, except for the cross.

"I am just teasing," he chuckled, cutting you off just as your lips parted to retort. "We have arrived."

Raphael signalled someone outside. A uniformed valet appeared at your side of the door, reaching for the handle with his gloved hand. The door swung open with a soft click.

A cool gust of wind brushed against your bare legs as you stepped out into one of the quieter corners in the city centre. You couldn't exactly recall when this quaint theatre was built but if asked, you'd guess it was a relic from early 20th century opulence. Red bricks and stone columns stood tall amidst modern buildings like a stubborn old man refusing to budge.

Raphael casually tossed the keys into the air with a quick flick of his wrist. 

The valet caught them mid-flight.

***

You were not sure what you had expected.

A password in Latin to enter, people in mysterious white masks, cultists chanting in circles around Raphael, hailing him as their new god, something out of Eyes Wide Shut. The reality was much more mundane. Still high-end, but lacking the unhinged allure you might have imagined. Just the private turf of the rich, the only odd thing being the electric entrance sign that read:

"MAGIC THEATER. ENTRANCE NOT FOR EVERYBODY. FOR MADMEN ONLY!"

Since you could pass the threshold, you assumed you were mad enough to pass the bar.

As you stepped inside, your eyes met those of an older man with a rugged face and a thin scar under his eye in the cloakroom. Raphael handed him his pair of identical black iPhones and AirPods, and then it was your turn to do the same.

It took you a moment to process the fact that Raphael had gotten himself not one but two iPhones just to pass himself off as a human, high-profile lawyer. You followed suit, handing over your electronic devices after one last long look. The last hour was the longest you'd gone without looking at your phone.

queen-of-the-bored: look we are all freaking out after what happened to your twitch

queen-of-the-bored: that’s some creepy pasta shit PLEASE write something PLEASE

“E’ un piacere rivederla capo! Che bella ragazza che ha rimediato!”, the man's words were directed at Raphael as he helped you out of your jacket.

“Vero, vero”, Raphael nodded in agreement. “E’ stupenda e non sa nemmeno di esserlo”.

What were they saying? They were talking about you, you could feel it.

“Non c'è niente di meglio!”, the man continued with a sycophantic grin on his face as he took Raphael's trench coat. He had a rose and a skull tattoo on his wrist.

“Beh, è completamente fuori di testa. Pensa che io sia il diavolo, in senso letterale”. 

“Le più sexy sono quelle pazze, capo!”

Your knowledge of Italian was minimal at best. The only words you understood were "devil" and "sexy." Neither of which gave any insight into the situation, and that these words fit perfectly together you had known before. 

The theatre was converted into a private club and restaurant, keeping the stage, but adding the chairs and the table and the sofas, the leather-bound books on the walls, the mahogany tables, the smell of cigars and whisky in the air. The only infernal or infernal-looking symbol you could spot was a square and a compass sigil on red velvet curtains. 

Everyone knew Raphael. 

A crowd of well-dressed men and women reached out to greet him; they exchanged words, smiles, kisses on the cheek (was that an Italian thing?), pats on the back. They looked at you as if you were beautiful or interesting. 

Was it because you were supposed to be beautiful, accompanied by such a man?

Raphael’s hand never left your back as he exchanged pleasantries. He seldom spoke English to them. French, Italian, German, Russian, Turkish. The sound of a foreign language can be pretty, but it can also be eerie, discerning, the us-versus-them thing. Hearing them speak was rather the latter.

You couldn't guess who these people were. There is very little difference between how a businessman, a politician or a criminal look; besides, these three professions were perfectly compatible. 

The debtors, probably; not literally in chains yet, but certainly owing something and in some kind of servitude.

The prime spot in the room was yours—or rather, it was Raphael's. The table had been marked, a lone initial "R" carved into its surface.

When the waiter suggested an aperitif, you selected a Negroni Sbagliato, because you thought it sounded sophisticated (and so did Olivia Cooke), Raphael ordered "bourbon and blood" because of course he would. You didn't even question if he meant actual blood.

As you chewed on your lip, your eyes darting around the room, Raphael reached across the table. His fingers brushed against yours before he lifted your hand to his lips. “Anya, may I make a small confession?"

"Yes?"

A soft kiss was pressed into your knuckles as he murmured, "I am delighted to have you here with me tonight. Believe it or not, I am but a lonely tired man in a dire need of pleasant company."

His genuine sincerity, the lines around his eyes and the hint of sadness in them disarmed you for a moment. 

Who the fuck was this man?

Before you could answer, the curtain opened to reveal a small figure behind it.

It was a dwarf. Not the fantasy dwarf, an actual dwarf - you struggled to recall the politically correct term for them - was it "little person?". He was like something from a lucid dream: crimson suit-clad, slick-backed hair on pale skin, moving with an almost rhythmic grace.

Right. Twin Peaks. Could Raphael read your thoughts? Did he know you were thinking about Laura Palmer?

Or perhaps he too was a David Lynch fan?

"Welcome, dear ones," the little man said, his voice surprisingly deep. "I am grateful for your presence tonight. Some of you I have known since the millennia, while others are new to my realm."

He was looking at you. He meant you.

Raphael squeezed your hand tighter, fingers intertwined, an oddly intimate gesture, as if you’d been dating for a long time. You squeezed back, feeling comforted and sheltered in his touch.

“There are rules that govern this place”, the little man continued. “Rules, as well all know, are under no circumstances not to be broken, or there would be consequences. Same rules apply to everyone”.

“What are the rules?”, you whispered.

Raphael flashed you a wide smile, wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.

“Patience, he will tell us”, he whispered back. “They are never the same. If they were, would that be interesting?”

Consistency would be nice, you thought.

“You, little miss!”, the little man pointed his finger at you. “Yes, you, you specifically, little miss, little-miss-with-the-cross. Tell me, how well can you distinguish reality from fantasy?”

Oh, how you despise being the centre of attention. All eyes on you. All of them. These rich, strange, scary people looking at you and your naked legs and your weird knees and your…

“Not very well”, you said. “Not very well at all, I am afraid”.

The dwarf cackled, Raphael followed suit, everybody laughed, and you were not joking at all. 

“Yes, she is remarkably honest”, Raphael praised, giving you an adoring kiss on the cheek. “A wonderful quality, is it not?”

“Shall we give it a little try, little miss?”, the dwarf asked.

Why you? Out of all people, why did it have to be you? Because you were with him?

"Come now, don't be shy”, Raphael chimed in. “There is nothing to fear in this place."

(Except me).

"Would you lend a hand, R?" The dwarf turned his attention to Raphael.

“It would be my absolute pleasure," he replied and positioned himself behind your chair. "Eyes forward," he instructed as you attempted to swivel towards him.

Raphael’s fingers gently grazed your cheek before sliding behind your head. 

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold being secured over your eyes and instinctively clutched the armrests of your chair tighter. The room was plunged into darkness, every sound amplified; the rustling of his clothes, the creaking of the chairs beneath you, the whispering and giggling of others in the room, and your own heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. 

Raphael's hands rested on your shoulders.

"I want you to try this and tell me what it tastes like", came the dwarf’s voice from somewhere ahead, as the waiter (you presumed) set the table before you. “Let imagination be your guide.”

Taste? Taste without looking? You heard the sound of Raphael picking up a fork and piercing something in front of you. 

“Open wide”, Raphael said. 

If you could say no when he would make such a request, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.

So open wide is what you did and let Raphael push something between your lips and onto your tongue. You sucked and then bit down. 

The texture was unlike anything you had ever tasted before - bubbly, tenderly sweet with a savoury undertone, slightly slick and a bit challenging to chew. 

You didn’t have the faintest clue what it could be.

“It’s an…”, you took a wild guess. “it’s a.. it’s a piece of lamb in some sugar sauce, I think?”

There were a lot of excited laughs and giggles at your response. 

What did you try? 

What the fuck did you try? Your hands darted to your eyes to remove the blindfold, but were halted mid-way by a soft but very insistent touch.

“Keep the blindfold on until instructed otherwise,” Raphael warned before removing it himself.

You looked down at your plate and let out a loud exhale. Tiny glazed apple pieces, arranged in this typical Michelin restaurant artsy fashion, sat innocently on the large round dish. Why did the thought of meat cross your mind? What triggered that thought?

"Did your imagination run a little too wild there, little miss?" the dwarf laughed. “Seeing things that are not there?”

I know what you are all playing at, you thought bitterly. And I know who the fuck you all are, Raphael from Baldur’s Gate and the little man from Twin Peaks and I am not fucking crazy despite all your insinuations. 

“Dear ones, tonight we will serve five courses in complete darkness. Under no circumstance should you remove your blindfold; if needed, our waitstaff will guide you to restrooms. Guess what we serve tonight - at evening's end, we reveal the truth of it all”.

You said nothing while looking at the glistening apple. You never thought so much of an apple before; of how structure and taste and smell should be, of how it would (should) feel against your gums and teeth.

You kept staring at the glazed apples and thought of all the disgusting things it might have been instead. Brains? Tongues? Worms? A roasted dwarf leg?

“Rapha..”, you began and quickly corrected yourself. “Raul, just one thing, I… I do not eat human flesh”.

His response came after two slow blinks.

“Thank you for that wonderful piece of information. What am I supposed to do with it?”.

Not serving human meat would be a good start.

"Oh my little girl," Raphael cooed as he tenderly stroked your cheek. 

(why do you allow him to call you his little girl why this is disgusting this is so hot)

"You don’t seriously think…”, he continued. “Even if I had such inclinations - which I don't - cannibalism is illegal in this country.”

Oh yes, of course, he was a very lawful, very rule-abiding devil.

“And if it was legal?”, you asked.

"Anya," Raphael sighed heavily, "Your questions intrigue and frighten me in equal measures. Now, put on your blindfold." He added when he saw your hesitation: "Of course I will do the same - same rules apply”.

You trusted him to do as he said, since you put on your blindfold first. 

"As a warm-up, we have something that may bring back memories of your childhood," the waiter announced as he set down a dish in front of you. Your fingers searched and found the accompanying spoon. 

You breathed in the scent, which was so mild it told you nothing. Even if it turned out to be terrible or disgusting, you still wanted to taste it; you still wanted to do rather than not do; after a lifetime of not doing rather than doing.

The first spoonful exploded with nostalgia – kindergarten, afternoon naps, finger paints. The creamy texture and subtle sweetness with a touch of honey. 

Quite lovely, actually.

On the other side of the table, you heard a strangled gasp as if someone had just been forced to eat live worms.

"You don't like it?" you asked.

"I do not," Raphael responded gruffly. "But I am well aware that was the intention, so my compliments to the chef."

You wondered that a lot about him. The motherless childhood, growing up in hells, an evil bastard for a father. A chanceless, bleak fate, to be born evil, among evil, for evil, all privilege and no hope. If only Raphael would answer truthfully about that instead of spinning tales about some Italian village.

"I remember when we first met when you mistook me for an actor," Raphael mused out of nowhere. "That's when I first thought we had a certain… connection."

“I thought it happened way earlier”, you said, because it happened way earlier for you.

"Ha! True, I thought you were an exquisitely stunning woman the moment I walked into this cafe, if a little... skittish... which, I must say, adds to your allure. But then again, I've had my fair share of beauties... No matter. You see, I do have an affinity for the theatre".

“Oh really? How surprising”, you laughed pretty humorlessly. The ongoing joke about "I am not who you think I am" was getting rather stale for your taste.

"Indeed," came Raphael's self-assured response. "This place owes much to... ever heard of Antonin Artaud and his Theatre of Cruelty?"

"No, but it sounds like something you would love," you said.

"You hardly know me well enough to make such judgements," he said. "And if you're implying that I'm cruel, rest assured that I am not; merely just." He paused before asking nonchalantly, "Do you mind if I light up?"

You shook your head, though he couldn't see it through his blindfold. He proceeded to light his cigarette regardless. You noticed a dance of light behind the fabric covering your eyes as Raphael took an indulgent, addicted inhale.

A twinge of regret stirred you; witnessing Raphael taking a drag would have been a sight. You’d bet that looked very old school and very villainous. Your Negroni was long gone, replaced by overly potent wine which you sipped on nonetheless.

“The problem with art, Arnaud thought, was the distance between the audience and the artist. The safe space. The little cosy chair you sit in, detached, protected, at a comfortable distance; never truly allowing art to flow through you”. 

"I thought the purpose of art was to explore dangerous themes in a safe space," you said.

"That's not exploration then; it's voyeuristic entertainment, nothing more," Raphael countered. “Art and safe space should not coexist in the same sentence.”

His cigarette smoke wafted towards you - sharp, biting, pungent with a metallic undertone not unlike rotten eggs left under the scorching sun for too long.

"Does it smell somewhat... off?" You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your stinging eyes.

You never smelled sulphur before, but you knew what it was the moment you smelled it.

“I beg your pardon?”, Raphael asked.

“The main course shall make you think of something - or someone - you crave for”, the waiter’s voice went straight into your ear, and you didn’t even hear him coming.

"I know exactly who it will make me think of," Raphael said slyly.

You took your first bite as if trying to drown out the scent. Spice, cherries, and raw beef so tender it practically melted on your tongue. Delicious. Sinfully delicious.

Just as you were about to enjoy your third bite, something warm and sinuous wrapped itself around your bare ankle and began to crawl upwards. Your meal lodged in your throat causing a coughing fit that rocked your body.

"Is the flavour too intense for your palate, my dear?", you could hear Raphael grinning. 

His tail, you realised as it ventured further up. The nerve of that fucking devil! Groping you with his tail and STILL pretending he was fucking Raul from a fucking Italian village!

"So, as I was saying," Raphael continued, his fork scraping against the plate as if nothing unusual was happening under the table. "Artaud wanted to eliminate aesthetic distance."

You reached down for his tail underneath the table. The thing had a mind of its own though; it slithered away swiftly before you could touch it. You tried to grab for it again, but the sneaky little bastard darted away, causing you to stumble under the table and end up between Raphael's legs in your blind chase.

"By transforming the theatre into a place where the spectator is exposed rather than pro..." You felt his hand rest gently on your head, "Anya, may I inquire what you are doing under the table?"

You froze. His hand gave you a light caress. 

"You know exactly what I am doing under the table," you managed to say through gritted teeth. "Looking for your goddamn tail."

Raphael's hand stopped in a half-stroke. For a fleeting moment, you imagined him pulling you closer by your hair until you were right up against his crotch.

"A tail?" He seemed genuinely perplexed at this point. "We may be lost in translation(*) here, but I assume what you're looking for is somewhat more... up."

Your mind conjured up an image of him showing you exactly where it was; unzipping his trousers and placing his cock between your lips.

Would you then open wide and give him a head right there, blindfolded, no questions asked, in a room full of strangers (and a weird dwarf) watching?

You would, wouldn't you? 

You wanted to touch him so badly, just one touch to see how hard he was for you; just one fleeting touch, maybe he wouldn't even notice?

"I am delighted that theatre talk has put you in such a playful mood," Raphael purred. "I did presume we would at least make it to dessert before…”

A wave of embarrassment washed over you at his words. You tumbled backwards onto the floor, right on your bum; bumped your head, too, pretty badly and pretty awkwardly.. 

"I wasn't... Damn, that's not what I..."

Raphael chuckled (you hated him in that moment) and your cheeks turned red. How dare he think you'd suck him off like that, in front of everyone?

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you tried to escape the four-legged table trap, bumping into everything you could bump into. The world turned on its axis for a moment as you finally crawled out from under the table, your legs shaking beneath you.

The smell of sulphur again. You lunged for where your glass should be, found it, almost knocked it over, caught it in time and drank the wine. You thought it would make you feel better, but it made you feel worse.

The tail decided to make a comeback and patted your thigh affectionately.

"I...excuse me," you stammered out, pressing a hand to your mouth. "I need to use the bathroom."

“I’ll escort you, ma’m”, the voice next to you said, and you jumped in surprise. Was the waiter here the entire time? Did he watch you stumble underneath the table?

What else was here the entire time? Who else?

Christ.

Well, fuck, no, not him. Anybody but him.

****

"R's new little pet, aren't you?" the words echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom as you entered. You saw a woman in the mirror, tracing her lips with a ruby red lipstick that matched her hair, and she said: "Careful."

She was older than you, but not old, mid-thirties maybe, but she looked like a woman who was thoroughly done with her life. A stale kind of beauty.

"Why?" you asked, your eyes never leaving hers in the reflection.

She laughed, as if you were asking something utterly ridiculous. Without ever giving you an answer, she gestured to four meticulously arranged lines on the marble countertop. "Want some? It's primo stuff. You won’t get any better"

You've never tried cocaine, nobody's ever offered you cocaine, you wouldn't know how to order it and you certainly wouldn't have the money for it. 

It's something that other people have done in the movies. The villains, the debauched, the corrupt elite.

"No thanks," you replied, "I'm already unhinged enough, I think."

Her high-pitched laughter filled the bathroom again. "Oh darling, we're all mad here. Absolutely fucking mad. Even me... Especially me."

"Who 'we'? What is this place?"

"The lodge? Why, a private playground." She gestured vaguely with her lipstick tube, as if to encompass everything around you. "His rules. His people. His theatre."

"And by 'him' you mean..."

Theoretically she could also mean the dwarf…

She laughed again, and you wished she'd just stop. "Oh, how sweet! You know exactly who 'he' is. The man who is going to fuck you tonight."

Okay, you hope it’s Raphael.

"I know who he is," you said, maintaining eye contact in the mirror. "But I thought Raphael had just arrived on Earth... I thought I was the one who summoned him here..."

"Summoned him? Like a demon or something?" She put another layer of lipstick on her lips, now facing forward. "'Raul likes them crazy,' they say, and boy they don't lie." 

She had just called him Raul.

What the fuck was going on?

"The one to summon him, ha," she sneered, spinning around to face you directly, her face inches away from yours. “We all think we're so special”.

"No, I don't," you said. "I never thought that. Never. Because I never was any special".

"Well that definitely makes you the special one. How about a kiss, special one?" 

How about what?

She leaned in closer still; her breath smelled of champagne and burnt caramel. You took a cautious step back.

"Oh-oh, look at her, such a tease. I can see why Raul brought you here."

That name again.

“Tell me about him”, you asked. “Tell me about that Raul”.

"Nah. No kiss, no tell", she replied nonchalantly while returning her gaze to the mirror. “Enjoy your evening.”

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event (Part 2).

(*) In some European languages, tail = cock (e.g. “Schwanz” in German).

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #fanfic #bg3 #raphael x player #raphael x tav #knock knock