#ignore the fact that I flood them I flood every pair of pants ever okay

[jinbestboy]

FKWOSKQOSMCORNWIXJFIENSOWHD DONT MIND ME IM JUST DOIN HOT GIRL SHIT IN MY NEW JKCORE PANTS WATCH OUT IM STOMPIN THRU

#ignore the fact that I flood them I flood every pair of pants ever okay #I am like 4 inches taller than the average Korean man I was prepared for the flooding #BUT OH MY GOD IMMA STOMP AROUND ALL DAAAY IN THESE PANTS #plus the quality? *chefs kiss* #worth the money #now I just need like a 6x black shirt and the look is finished #I am so PUMPED FUCNEOXMCOSNSIF #em’s rambling again #also pls ignore the anime girl stance I just noticed im doing in both pictures #leave me alone I physically can’t stand any other way #pigeon toed 👋🏼

[amphxtrite]

sirius black x fem!reader

warnings: fingering, teasing, mentions of one night stand, alcohol.

do not read if you are uncomfortable.

summary: a movie night after hooking up with your crush.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: wrote this one for the lovely @le-weasley-simp sorry it’s late love, had work today :)

hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————

Today was shaping up to be the worst day ever.

It all started when you woke up in Sirius Black’s bed, completely naked with him lying beside you, also wearing nothing but an elastic in his thick hair.

“Oh Godric…” You murmur, sitting up in the bed and holding your head as you try to recall what happened.

Memories of gryffindor winning the quidditch match, a party, shots of firewhiskey and a game of seven minutes in heaven begin trickling into your head. Your hands in someone's long hair, your tongue dancing with another, the feeling of being filled up over and over again and pleasure coursing all over you as you moaned out one name. ‘Sirius.’

“Fuck.” You sigh, holding your head in your hands. You managed to hook up with your best friend, and the worst part was, you liked it.

You knew you had a crush on Sirius for years, but you always thought of him as the one you could never have, now with him laying clad in nothing beside you, your emotions were all over the place, in your head, heart and the deepest part of your core.

“Y/n? Merlin, what time is it?” A low voice rasps from beside you.

“It’s only six am Sirius, you might as well go back to bed.” You mutter, trying your best not to focus on the gryffindor’s morning voice.

“What, no pet names today darling? You seemed to use them quite a bit last night.” Sirius teases, running his long digits up your arm.

“Haha, very funny Pads.” You breathe, spotting Sirius’s jumper below you and picking it up.

“No it’s true, I mean there was Padfoot, Sir, Daddy…” He drawls on, watching you playfully as you slip on his sweater.

Your face burns as the words leave his mouth and you couldn’t help but pray Sirius didn’t notice.

“Oh there’s nothing to be shy about, love.” Sirius chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back down towards him.

“Siri!” You squeak, feeling the gryffindor’s chest nuzzle into your now clothed back.

“What?” He laughs back, trying to imitate you as you turn around and roll your eyes.

A silence falls over you and while you try to break it, Sirius decides to have a little fun. Using his hand, he pulls yours over to his abdomen and holds it there as he leans in closer.

He can’t help but smile as your eyes widen to the size of saucers and your breathing quickens along with your heartbeat, only for Sirius to whisper.

“I’m getting hungry, let’s go find everyone.”

Your breathing hitches and Sirius gleefully rolls off the bed to throw on the first shirt and pants he sees.

“Yeah- sounds good.” You mumble, staggering behind him as he rummages through his closet and throws you a pair of his boxers and shorts.

“Oh Sirius, it’s okay, I can just-” Sirius cuts you off as you catch them.

“Nonsense pup, you have to let me take care of you sometimes.” He chuckles, throwing a wink in your direction as he laces up his trainers.

You can feel your entire body heat up in a mix of embarrassment and shame, embarrassed Sirius had this effect on you, and shamed because you liked it, no, you loved it.

You do your best to distract yourself from the growing feeling of need pooling between your legs as you slip on his boxer and shorts and gently push your hair back to compose yourself.

The entire day, the little shit known as Sirius Black teased you, whispering his dirty thoughts into your ear if you sat too close to him, throwing his arm around your shoulder when you walked down the halls and purposefully going to his room to change into his loose white t-shirt that cut just enough to see the top of his chest. He knew exactly what he was doing as he pulled you from behind into him and rested his chin on your shoulder. He memorized that nervous look in your eyes that told him to sod off and continue at the same time, and by nightfall you were a mess of need, but you were far too conflicted to say anything.

As per tradition on weekends, you decide to head to the Marauder’s room that night to hang out with the guys and Lily, despite the fact you were having second thoughts on your decision.

You arrive just after the sunset to see James, Lily and Sirius. The couple were setting up Lily’s projector for a movie as Sirius lay on his bed. 

Hearing the door open, his ears prick up and a sneaky grin creeps up on his face.

“Y/n, sit by me tonight?” Sirius asks with a small pout, causing the red-head to roll her eyes.

“She sits with you every movie night Padfoot, there’s no need for that.”

“I guess you’re right Evans, but you know I like to have my fun.” He winks, pulling an exasperated sigh from Lily.

You smile at the exchange and make your way to Sirius who has now sat up and opened his arms for you.

“You look marvelous tonight, pup.” He teases as you nervously sit beside him on the bed.

“It's just a t-shirt and shorts Siri-”

“But you look absolutely ravishing in them.” He mumbles, leaning in close to your ear so the others wouldn’t hear him.

You gulp nervously and squeeze your legs together, partly because of nerves, but also because the heat between your legs was becoming too much to bear. 

Remus and Peter return with snacks and drinks as the movie begins to start, a classic action movie that the group had yet to see.

Halfway into the opening credits Sirius shifts his body so he is right against his headboards, before spreading his legs and pulling you into him by your waist.

You did your best not to yelp as you hit his back, but you couldn’t help but sigh in content as his lips trailed down your neck. On movie nights the boys moved their beds so there would be an empty wall for the projector to hit, Sirius almost always took the spot closest to the corner of the room, you never thought much of it, but when his hand moved to the drawstring of the curtain beside his bed, the two of you were hidden and now he could do whatever he pleased. 

Your breathing begins to pick up a bit and unconsciously you begin to squirm against his body.

Sirius grabs you by your hips to stop you.

“You better stop that, pup, or else I’m, gonna have to punish you for everyone to hear.” He murmurs, letting one of his hands trail up and down your body then further to caress your neck.

“Understood?” He smirks, bringing his lips back down to your shoulder.

You nod your head ‘yes.”

“Perfect.” He sighs, pulling the blanket over your legs and letting his fingers wander to the waistband of your shorts.

You nibble on your lip as Sirius bites the sensitive skin at the base of your neck before kissing it and teasing his tongue up your throat.

At the same time his fingers slip into your shorts and fidget with the cloth underneath.

“You’re still wearing my boxers, pup?” Sirius mumbles, letting his fingers move over your clothed folds.

“And so wet for me already? Such a good girl.” He continues, massaging his fingers in a circular movement around the damp fabric.

“Fuck-” You moan out silently as Sirius hits your clit perfectly.

“Feel good darling?” He chuckles, kissing your jaw.

“Y-Yeah… So good.” You whimper, moving your hand to your mouth to muffle your moans.

Sirius smirks and retrieves his fingers, you start to squirm in protest only for him to push his long digits into your folds.

“Mh-” You squeak.

Sirius doesn’t hesitate to move his fingers up and down your folds, teasing your clit with his fingers and swirling it around in soft circles.

Your legs spread further, begging him to keep going as you throw your head back onto his shoulder, choking back moans of ecstacy that begged to be let out.

His thick fingers slip in deeper and you arch your back needily. His fingers trace your slit teasingly for a couple seconds before he plunges two fingers in without hesitation.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, luckily masked by the sound from the film and Sirius begins pushing his fingers in and out of you.

Your vision clouds as his fingers curl and hit your g-spot over and over again, your toes curl as his other hand moves down you play with your clit as the feeling of a third finger being added to the mix has your heartbeat moving to your pussy and a coil tightening in your stomach.

“Siri-faster, p-please.” You beg, grinding your hips into his fingers as he obliges, pumping quicker and shifting between curling his fingers and thrusting deeper.

“O-Oh.” You murmur, clutching the bed sheets beside you tightly as Sirius’s hands work magic on your pussy, roughly playing with your sensitive clit and pumping his long fingers in and out of your slit.

“That’s it, pup.” Sirius chuckles, feeling you begin to squirm again. 

“I-I’m so close.” You pant, biting hard on your bottom lip as the tight feeling of your climax prods at your stomach.

“It’s alright, pup.” Sirius murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck and picking up the pace one last time as the feeling of pure ecstasy floods your entire body, making your body go weak. You rush to cover your mouth as a moan of relief threatens to reveal you to your friends.

Sirius smirks as a small squeak of a whimper pushes past your fingers and he slows his digits into a slow massage to help you ride down your high.

“You did so well darling, absolutely perfect.” Sirius mutters, finally pulling his fingers out of your core and bringing them to his lips.

You watch in amazement with bated breath as Sirius drags his tongue along his fingers to clean up every drop.

Noticing your stare, the gryffindor smirks and leans in closer against your ear.

“Be good, pup, and next time, you’ll get my tongue.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you pull the blanket covering you over your face, ignoring the feeling of your release all over your shorts and you tuck your legs in and snuggle into Sirius’s chest.

“Here.” Sirius smiles, lifting his wand and muttering a short incantation.

In seconds, the feeling was gone, and you were left feeling cozy and warm cuddled up against his chest.

You were absolutely ecstatic to finally have your wish fulfilled, but there was still one question that had left to be answered.

“Something on your mind?” Sirius asks, feeling the silence grow.

“Yeah, it’s just…” You pause, shifting so now you are sitting, facing Sirius. “What- What are we Sirius? I mean you are my best friend and after last night, today and for years, I’ve known I’ve fancied you but-”

Sirius sighs playfully as you speak, but cuts you off mid sentence with a soft peck to your lips.

“Y/n, I’ve known I fancy you for the longest time, but it wasn’t until last night that I really got to show you. So… If you’d have me-” 

This time it was your time to cut Sirius off.

Your arms fly around the gryffindor’s neck and your lips crash happily into his.

Sirius’s hands move around your hips and pull you closer to him as you deepen the kiss and rest your forehead on his.

“So does this mean?” Sirius begins.

“Yes! Yes Pads, of course I’ll have you.” You murmur, locking your lips once more.

Maybe, today wasn’t so bad after all.

#sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #young sirius black #young sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #young sirius black x reader #young sirius black x reader smut #marauders era smut #nsfw.anya

[cafedanslanuit]

sometimes ending a relationship is the only way to help each other. at least that’s what you tell yourself on your way back home to your fiancé.

♡   —   pairing: reiner braun x reader / zeke jaeger x reader (mentioned but not described)

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, suggestive but not explicit, cheating, angst, canon compliant, toxic relationships (not romanticized)

♡   —   a/n: heavily inspired by miley cyrus’ ‘angels like you’, hence the title.

♡   —   length: 2.2k

♡   —   masterlist

Liberio at night was never a pretty sight.

As you walked home, you noticed all the small details you never took the time to see. The puddles of sewer water on the streets, the stench of urine in the corners close to bars and the sound of rats running around, too afraid to come in the light. Your thighs hurt every step you gave and you couldn’t ignore the burning sensation between your legs. Memories of grunts and your nails digging on a man’s back flooded your mind, making you shake your head in a vague attempt to get rid of them.

You knew well you couldn’t ever get rid of them.

You thought of everything that led you to Zeke’s office late that night. Of course, it was about delivering some documents that could have been delivered the next morning and staying for a cigarette even if you had quit smoking years ago. And before you knew it, Chief Jaeger was fucking you on his desk, your legs around his waist, his forehead pressing to your shoulder and his hands grabbing your ass as he roughly pounded against you.

You wished there was a part of yourself that truly believed you didn’t know this was coming, that you hadn’t let your skirt rile up when you crossed your legs neither smiled bashfully at Zeke’s compliments about how beautiful you looked that night. You wished there was a part of you that was really attracted to him, a part of you that really wanted him to fuck you seneseless and leave you a sweating mess over his desk as he pulled up his pants.

But you knew better than that.

You opened the door to your small house, not bothering in turning on the lights. Maybe this was for the best, you told yourself. It was the best decision you could make. Well, it had to be, or else you had broken a man without a purpose.

On your way to your bedroom, you noticed a new framed photo on the wall, making you stop in your tracks. You remembered taking it a little more than a week ago and you figured it must have been delivered while you were gone. Reiner, his mom and you were smiling at the camera and if you hadn’t known both Brauns as much as you did, you could have sworn their smile was genuine.

Your eyes fixated on Reiner’s soft expression, one of his hands on your shoulder and the other one over his mom’s. He had barely talked to you since returning from his long mission in Paradis, refusing to answer any of your questions regarding how he was feeling or what had happened during the years he was gone. Reiner had never been one to share too much. You still remembered how long it took him to tell you the truth about his absent father on an Autumn afternoon, his face pressed on your thighs, his shoulders shaking violently as he told you the truth that had been tormenting him for years. You were twelve, just one year older than him, yet you listened and ran your fingers through his blond locks, trying to comfort him the best way you knew. Four years passed by and every night you would pray for his safety and that he would return to you. You knew he was a warrior and that he was good at what he did but you couldn’t fight the feeling that you just wanted him to rest. 

The first time you saw Reiner after his mission in Paradis, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. No matter how tightly Reiner held you, assuring you he was in fact there and that it wasn’t another one of your dreams. He was hurried by his mother to leave you and go back to his home, which he did, not before asking you to meet him at your spot at midnight.

Reiner was your first kiss. And how happy you were that you had waited for him.

As short-lived as your romance was before he had to leave for war again, you couldn’t help but notice the weight over his shoulder had only increased. Only this time, he wouldn’t talk about what he saw or experienced at the island. You tried to be understanding, even if it pained you to see his disassociated eyes look at the horizon whenever he was too much in his head.

Before Reiner went to war, he promised he would marry you when he got back. You had smiled brightly between tears and told him you would wait for him, no matter how long he took. Both of you kept on your promises, with him buying a small house inside of Liberio just for the two of you and you organizing a small but lovely wedding that would happen in a few months.

That was supposed to happen in a few months.

Now you wondered where it was that you lost him. Had a part of him died in Paradis? Had it been the war that had finally sent him over the edge. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that the Reiner sleeping on your bed wasn’t the boy who had cried on your lap anymore.

Not having enough with dancing around your questions about his feelings, he also expected you to act like he wasn’t having nightmares every night. That you didn’t see him sitting up with a panicked expression, covered in sweat. Whenever you tried to reach for him, he would elude your touch, not even caring to acknowledge your questions about what he had dreamt about or how you could help.

He hadn’t shared a word with you after coming back home from your engagement celebration. Even if the whole afternoon he had his arm around your waist and would press kisses on your forehead and temple at any moment, it all went away when he stepped inside your new home.  You still remembered the knot in your throat from when he refused your offer to have some tea on your balcony, just the two of you. Reiner turned to leave so quickly he didn’t notice the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You didn’t know what happened on that island and you probably would never know but you were sure the man who you had been sharing a bed with wasn’t Reiner anymore.

Your eyes looked at Mrs. Braun in the photo, a sour taste filling your mouth. Even if her smile was gentle, you couldn’t easily forget that only a few minutes before the photo, she had told Reiner you were just an orphan trying to profit from his warrior status and that he should break the engagement, that a promise he made when he was sixteen meant nothing. Reiner’s eyes met yours for a brief second and just when you thought he was going to say something to defend you, he lowered his head, continuing to listen to his mother’s yells while she pretended you were not in the same room.

You took the photo off the wall and placed it face down on the table.

Resuming your steps, you stepped into your bedroom. Reiner was sound asleep on your bed, the sheet not big enough to cover his brod, bare shoulders. For a minute, you just watched him sleep, taking in everything you had loved for years about him. From the way his brow creased to the small mole next to his ear, to the way his hair looked when it was messy. You hated the way his image made you smile even as you were about to lose him for good.

Taking a deep breath, you turned the lights on. Reiner’s light sleep was evident when he started blinking a few seconds later, a confused look on his face until his eyes met yours.

"I fucked Zeke tonight."

A truth. You thought it was always easier when you start with one. Reiner stayed still for a moment, his still confused mind trying to process your words. You watched him in silence, waiting for his response. He was never violent so you weren’t afraid but you knew that night everything was going to change.

Reiner passed one of his hands across his hair, letting out a long sigh.

"Okay."

You furrowed your eyebrows. You opened your mouth and then closed it, not believing you had heard him correctly.

"Okay?"

"I just want to sleep," he exhaled, laying his head on the pillow once again and closing his eyes. You took some steps further until you were standing next to him.

"Reiner, I fucked Zeke Jaeger in his office an hour ago."

"Yeah, you just told me," Reiner muttered, his eyes still closed.

That’s when it hit you. You took the sheets covering his body and pulled them away hastily, forcing him to open his eyes.

"Do you really not fucking care!?" you spat, your voice breaking at the end.

For a few seconds, Reiner remained quiet, not an inch of his body moving. You were breathing heavily, eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall. It was all coming down to this and a part of you still couldn’t believe this is how you were going to say goodbye. Was he truly the man you had loved for the last ten years? Did you really mean so little in his mind? You watched him sit up on the bed, his honey eyes finally facing yours.

"Of course I care that my fiancée slept with the Chief. Of course, I care, fuck— I hate it. I fucking hate it and I wish I could stop imagining it happening inside my head,” Reiner said, gesturing towards his temple, his voice hoarse and pained. “Because it is. Believe me when I say I keep replaying those thoughts in my head, over and over and over,” he hissed, his lips forming a thin line. “But why— why would I feel entitled to say anything when I'm the one that's been fucking things up with you?" he asked, his palm hitting his chest forcefully.

The tears you promised not to shed were already falling from your eyes, your face twisting in a scowl.

“We're not good for each other. We haven’t been for a while, Reiner. So please, please, lets just— we need to let each other go,” you pleaded.

“It’s not like that, we’re not— fuck,” Reiner sighed, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I am, I just— I can’t,” he choked.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured him in a softer voice. Tentatively, you put your hand over his shoulder, rubbing it gently. You saw his body melt under your touch, his left hand immediately reaching for yours in search for comfort. “I’m not what you need right now, Reiner. We’re only hurting each other by playing this long game of pretend. And… I’m tired. I’m so tired,” you cried.

His hand squeezed yours in a vain attempt to calm you down. It only increased the sobs, making you remember all the times he had taken your hand underneath the table whenever he noticed you were anxious in a social gathering or kissed each one of your knuckles, making you laugh even when you had just been crying.

“Guess your mom was right when she told you I wasn’t good enough for you,” you chuckled sadly.

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, taking your hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss on the back of your hand. Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away from his, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“But it’s true. I— I fucked up. I fucked up big time, Reiner. And now… now we’re done,” you breathed out, looking at your shoes. “We can’t just keep pretending everything is fine when—"

"Let's go to sleep.”

You choked on a sob, your eyes snapping back to his. “Reiner,” you whispered.

"I promise we'll talk in the morning. Just come here" he said, shifting on the bed to make space for you. You looked at the sheets, your body not moving a fraction. “Please,” he almost begged, his voice making your heart clench in pain.

You held on his powerful gaze, lips parted in dismay. Both of you stayed in silence for longer than you could register and even if he wasn’t talking, you could recognize the utter necessity of having you close in his eyes, even if he was aware of the lie you had fabricated together. You finally yielded and you looked away, nodding idly as you wiped the tears off your face. Your body and mind had surrendered one more time, just like you told yourself you wouldn’t.

"Let me take a shower first,” you muttered, taking off your coat.

"No," Reiner quipped. You turned to him, confused, and now he was the one to avoid your gaze. "I don't care, just... let's go to sleep.”

Kicking your shoes off, you got into bed with him, his arms around your body feeling so foreign you felt yourself on the verge of breaking down once again. Reiner buried his face on your neck, pretending he didn’t recognize the strong male perfume lingering on your skin, instead massaging the plush of your hips with his thumb softly.

"I love you," he whispered. Your eyes filled with tears once more.

"I love you too," you mumbled back.

You knew you both meant it.

Maybe that's what hurt the most.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner braun angst #reiner angst #snk angst #aot angst #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #attack on titan reiner #shingeki no kyojin reiner

[jiminisnotavirgin]

A+

Pairing: professor!taehyung | collegestudent!reader

Genre: smut

Description: A one-on-one video call with your hot, college professor takes a surprising turn.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: inappropriate student/teacher relations, mutual masturbation, fingering, clit-stimulation, and innapropriate language.

Note: After much anticipation, I hope this is my return to the writing part of the lovely fanfic world. Here’s a little something mischievous and self-indulgent (clearly!). I started writing this when quarantine and remote-learning first began last year and I returned to it earlier this week. Let me know what you think :) I hope you enjoy A+. Love, Phoenix.

Email after email, document after document, the light from Taehyung’s laptop shines bright blue across his features. The hours go by and the sky grows darker but he remains at his desk, only taking small breaks to lighten the strain on his eyes. His chair creaks as he leans back and glances outside the window. Like most nights lately, only the stars keep him company tonight.

His courses shifted to an online-only remote format due to the need for social distancing. Despite the initial confidence he displayed to his boss and colleagues over the change, Taehyung is more unsure than ever. Frustration sneaks its way into his mind like a viper wrapped around its squirming prey. His life has turned into a turbulent sea of e-mails and complaints from upset students. What’s the best way for him to support his students? How can he assure them that their mental health is more important than any essay or assignment they’ll ever complete?

A sudden knock at the door steals his attention. Jungkook, his roommate and best friend, leans against the doorway with crossed arms. “Professor Kim,” he begins with a smirk. “Do you have a minute to speak?”

“What’s up?” asks Taehyung, ignoring his friend’s use of the name his students address him with.

“Did you see Jimin’s text? He invited us over for drinks at his apartment. Are you coming?”

“Can’t,” answers Taehyung. His computer glows in his peripheral vision. “I have—“

“Emails to write, work to do. I get it, you’re a busy man.” Jungkook shrugs. “I thought I’d ask anyway since it’s Saturday night.”

“Maybe next time.” Guilt floods Taehyung’s chest and makes it difficult to look Jungkook directly in the eye. Not only is he a shitty professor but he’s a shitty friend, too.

Jungkook finally steps inside the room, occasionally tinkering with Taehyung’s things until he reaches his desk. “Whatever. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jungkook’s already-large doe eyes go wider. “Because all you do is sit at that damn computer all day!”

“I have to teach classes online, what do you expect?”

“It’s not healthy. You barely even leave your room to eat.”

“Who are you, the food police?”

“No, I’m your best friend,” Jungkook answers. “When was the last time you did anything fun? Or normal? You’re twenty-six, Tae, not a hundred and six.”

Taehyung sighs. “I can’t think about any of that right now. Actually, I should get back to my work...”

Jungkook takes the hint and leaves, but not without shooting a glare that makes Taehyung regret his choice of words. He can’t worry about it right now though—not when he has a call planned with you in about two minutes.

He was surprised to see an email from you in his inbox yesterday. You’re one of the students that hasn’t reached out all semester unlike most of the others in his courses. He knows just what kind of student you are: the type who floats through classes quietly but still gets high marks. You’re an older student. You fade into the background by avoiding the attention of your peers but your work stands out, therefore, you do too. He recognizes it because he was that student, too.

Taehyung opens the app for the call, expecting you to pick up after a minute or two but you answer within seconds. “Hello,” he greets you.

You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear and speak but no sound follows the movement of your mouth. He waits but nothing changes.

Taehyung clears his throat. “I think your microphone is off,” he says and types the same words into the chat box at the bottom of his screen.

You squint as you bring your face closer to the monitor. “Can you hear me now?”

He smiles. “Perfect. So, how are you doing? How’s the semester been so far?”

You shrug. “It’s been okay. I’m just trying my best, you know? What about you?”

“Pretty much the same. There’s nothing to do besides read and grade assignments.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the midterm, actually...” your voice fades out and your eyes drift away from the camera. He digs through his memory for what you wrote but his mind comes out empty-handed.

“Let me pull it up on my computer.” He searches through his saved files and documents.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all of that.” You pause for a few seconds. “It’s about my grade.”

“Let’s see... B-plus. Nice work.” When he looks away from your paper, he catches you frowning.

“Could you give me some feedback on it?” you ask.

“I left a few comments on the side,” he answers, eyes still glued to the document. He exits the window and focuses on your face once again. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. You’re a lovely writer.”

“Not good enough if I can only get B-pluses,” you answer with a sigh. Taehyung sits up in his chair, surprised by your shift in tone.

Are you looking for an explanation? A justification for the grades he’s given you? “Most students would be satisfied with a B-plus in an almost graduate level course.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not your other students.”

His brows twitches. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an arrogant jerk but I’m not used to getting anything lower than an A on my papers. The fact that I’m about to graduate and can’t hack yours is pretty... frustrating.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t know what to tell you.” What do you want to hear? Can anything he’ll say wipe that glare off your face? It’s interesting to see you lose your cool after all this time.

You refuse to back down from the challenge. In this impromptu staring contest, your brown eyes penetrate his through the computer screen.

Taehyung decides to give in. Slightly. “One thing I will say,” he continues, “is that I’m particularly tough on my best students. If I gave you an A-plus on every essay you handed in, what would you work up to? There’s no doubt about the strength of your writing.”

Your expression changes immediately. “Oh,” is the only word that leaves your lips. The lines of anger decorating your forehead smooth out as your mouth eases into a relieved smile.

It’s in this moment that Taehyung finds himself looking at you. Truly looking at you.

There’s something about the determination in your face as you plead your case, as though nothing else in the world matters more. Your glossy, heart-shaped lips possess a reddish tint that reminds him of cherries, or rubies. Even through the pixels on the computer screen, you retain the same freshness he remembers from a few months ago, if not more now.

All this time on the computer has gone to your head, he thinks to himself. Perhaps there’s still a chance for him to catch up to Jungkook and the others.

A giggle erupts from your side of the call. “So my papers are good? And here I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you suffer,” he murmurs and runs a hand through the waves in his raven hair. His eyelids flutter closed as he sinks into his chair and stretches his arms. Finally, a meeting he can consider a success; a meeting where the student leaves the call less frustrated than when it began. He prepares to end the call and log off for the night.

Then he hears it.

It’s faint and quiet and quick but he hears it, as if all sounds in the world were turned off and yours was amplified. The sound echoes in his mind as though you were right there beside him: “If only you knew how you make me suffer.”

This progression of thoughts occurs in a matter of seconds. By the time he’s processed your statement, his eyes have been forced open and any chance of relaxation for the rest of the night disappears into thin air.

“What?” he asks, voice betraying the casualness he wishes to exude.

“Oh, nothing.” You blink innocently, long lashes fluttering like a pair of butterfly wings. “I just care about your opinion, Professor Kim, if you can’t tell.”

“Right...” His eyes trail to the messy display of pens and papers spread out across his desk—anything to avoid your gaze. Its intensity has multiplied a thousandfold and threatens to melt him like a popsicle in the sun. He ignores the surge of anxious heat flowing through his veins.

“I mean,” you continue, lips pursed. “Who doesn’t love hearing a little bit of praise every once in a while, right?”

Your statement hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. His shirt suddenly squeezes his torso. His pants suffocate his thighs. The room feels like a furnace and dizzying all at once, but the tension in the air keeps him in the moment.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

All the blood drains from your face and your limbs freeze. You hold your hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, professor. I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” warns Taehyung. A new fire fuels his gaze. With his thick brows, chiseled face, and beautiful black hair to match, your professor is a flame and you’ve been dying to get burned since you first laid eyes on him.

You pull off your hoodie and toss it onto the ground behind you. With a small tug of your index finger, you adjust the spaghetti straps of your pink tank top, underneath which you wear no bra. Your nipples prick at the thin fabric that stretches with each of your breaths.

“You deserve so much more than a little bit of praise,” he murmurs, erasing any doubts over your advances towards him.

“I do?”

“Mmhmm. Especially since you’ve been such a good girl.”

This man couldn’t possibly be the same one that lectured your class all semester. Something sinful replaces the innocent, awkward mannerisms you’ve grown to know over time. No more does he hesitate with his words or actions. Instead, he leans towards the camera with his shoulders pushed back. You’re greeted by his neck and the tan slope of his chest that hides beneath the loose collar of his button-down. You want nothing more than to rip off his shirt with your bare hands. For now, you can only imagine what lies beneath.

“Good girls deserve rewards,” he says with a swipe of his tongue across his plump bottom lip, snapping you out of your daze.

“What should I do?” you ask and glance at your closed bedroom door. Fortunately, you locked it before the call started. You don’t want any intrusions from your roommate.

“You should wind down and take care of yourself. You’ve been working so hard.” His eyes dart down to your tank top. “Close your eyes and imagine it’s me worshipping your chest.”

Your eyes fall closed as your hands drift to the hem of your top. Your fingertips graze your stomach and stop when your skin begins to slope up into the mounds of your breasts. “What would you do if you were here with me right now?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make it my mission to kiss every part of you but first, I’d focus on those beautiful breasts of yours. They’d fit in my hands perfectly.”

With your left hand, you grasp one breast and tighten your grip just the slightest bit. The squeeze forces a sigh from your lips and although your eyes are closed, Taehyung struggles to control his own breathing as he watches you begin to unfold. With the other hand, you bring two fingers to your mouth and coat them in saliva only to bring them down to your nipples which harden with each squeeze and stroke.

Taehyung swallows in anticipation. “Just like that. Keep going.”

“Wait, what about you?” you ask, voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

“What about me?”

“I’m not the only one who deserves a reward.”

“Watching you wriggle and writhe in desire is enough for me.”

You cross your arms. “Nope.”

He chuckles. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“I want you to fuck yourself with your hand and imagine it’s my pussy squeezing the life out of you.”

Your words knock the air out of Taehyung’s lungs but he manages to recover quickly. “You may be a good girl but you’ve got a dirty mouth.”

You smirk. “What are you going to do about it?”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clinks from his end. “Touch yourself right now. Play with your clit and we’ll see if you’ve still got that nasty mouth of yours when you’re begging me to cum.”

You raise your brows. “I fully intend on cumming at least once in your presence tonight, professor, whether I have your permission or not.”

“Call me Taehyung.” He takes a moment to reflect on the current situation versus the dynamic you had only minutes ago. “Why now? Why did you initiate—”

“My grades go above all else. I didn’t want to jeopardize any of that,” you answer. “And I also waited for your sake.”

“My sake? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this to secure your grades,” he muses.

“Nothing boosts my ego like getting an A-plus based solely off my hard work,” you answer. “Fucking my hot professor is for my own personal pleasure.”

You description makes it sound so typical, just another everyday thing like washing the dishes. Are you using him? Deep inside, the thought of you using him arouses him. He wants to be used by you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, suddenly absorbed by you and the way you carefully orchestrated this interaction. How long did you think about this moment? Were you afraid of rejection?

“I know. Everyone likes me but I always want what I can’t have.” You wink. “Life’s more fun that way.”

Fun. “Enough talk. Let me see.”

“Yes, of course,” you stutter, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. You don’t mind his demands or commanding tone. In fact, you invite them.

“Slide back,” he instructs you. “I want to see everything.”

You swallow and obey immediately, rising to pull your chair further away from the camera. You take the chance to slip off your sweatpants which leaves you in nothing but your underwear and tank top. Your underwear isn’t fancy but it’s what’s below that he’s interested in.

You lower yourself onto the seat, not bothering to keep your legs pressed together. You spread your knees slowly, as if your legs were a book with pages waiting to be read.

“Good. Open up more and show me how bad you want it,” he says. The smile in his voice urges you on.

Your hand creeps along the stretchy waistband of your underwear. The material works against you, forcing your wrist against your pelvis and the area you so desperately wish to touch. You have to be patient since you seek to milk this moment for as long as possible.

Your middle finger searches for any sign of dampness and you gasp when you find a small pool already built up at your core. When you look back at the monitor to see what he’d like you to do next, you watch as he adjusts himself into a similar position to yours.

“Your turn. Take off your shirt,” you instruct.

He raises his eyebrows. A mischievous smile dawns on his face. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“So demanding. That’s what got us here in the first place,” he remarks but proceeds to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m not afraid to go out and get what I want.”

“I know, and I admire you for it,” he says. His shirt begins to crinkle as he unbuttons lower and lower until eventually, the front parts to reveal his chest. His abs are soft and his warm honey skin looks smooth. You wonder what it would it taste like.

As he rolls up his sleeves, you observe every movement of his hands. They’re large. One of the first things you noticed about him when he spoke in class and lead discussions. You always wondered what his hands would look like if they were doing something else entirely... Now, your fantasies have come to life.

You force your jaw closed but he’s already caught you staring. “Like what you see?” he asks through his low lids.

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know you’re attractive as hell.”

A low laugh emerges from the man and you smile. If only you could bottle it up and keep it. When he reaches into his pants, you follow along, taking the slick from your finger up to your clit in one smooth stroke. You hum and bite at your lips to contain your reaction.

He shakes his head. “Don’t hide it. You sound beautiful.”

Your other hand starts to wander as you go to work on your clit. From your head to your chest, you seek something to ground you as your soft bud puffs with pleasure. No longer does it hide, tucked away beneath the crevices of your lips. You grind against it using your hand and a slow swivel of your hips from left to right.

“You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you,” coos Taehyung. “Your body was made for this. For pleasure.”

The sight of him gripping the base of his cock is almost enough to send you over. A light glaze of sweat builds on your forehead but you make no effort to wipe it. Taehyung wishes to feel the heat of your body on his. It’s probably better than anything he could ever imagine.

Perhaps now more than ever, he longs for the days before the virus took over and broke everyone apart. He misses those times so much he could cry, especially since he took them for granted. At the same time though, he thinks about the effort those close to him have made to keep in contact. Even old friends he hadn’t spoken to in years called to catch up with him. His students have stuck out the most out of anyone. One or two of them don’t even own laptops but they show up to class on time and bring their A-game. He believes he should take a note or two from them.

As he studies you, the way you squirm in delight, and the way your body responds to the ministrations of your hand, a wave of relief washes over him. If it weren’t for these circumstances, he wouldn’t have had this moment with you.

“Taehyung,” you moan, bringing him back.

The sound of you calling his name shoots heat straight to his cock. With the precum glistening at the top, he grabs his cock and works the tip using his thumb. “Fuck. Look at what you do to me,” he groans at the sensitivity.

“Please,” you take in a breath and continue, “t-tell me more.”

If praise is what you want, praise is what you’ll get. “You’re so hardworking in everything that you do. Look at you now. Touching yourself just for me.”

“Yes, yes.” You moan as your fingers settle into the one position that feels like you’ve struck gold.

“How far inside can those fingers go? I bet you can put them in real deep.”

It’s as though your hands were waiting for his approval. You slip inside your clenching, gaping hole using two fingers. They slide in easily but the initial stretch is foreign since it’s been so long.

Taehyung groans and for the first time tonight, you begin to see him lose control. His cool exterior sinks into the pleasure of his hand—and of you—leaving him a sweaty, desirable mess. His hair sticks to his forehead and his stomach clenches with each stroke of his hand. He moves slowly, trying to match the pace of your hand. You pick up speed and allow your body to move against the rhythm of your hand. Your insides feel warm and soft and slippery. You close your eyes and imagine he’s the one fingering you with those gorgeous hands of his.

The rubber band of pleasure in your stomach begins to stretch. The squelch of your pussy grows louder with each passing second.

Taehyung is well-endowed but never did you imagine his dick would expand so much in length and girth. He could spear your pussy in one fell swoop, destroying your insides and anything else that gets in his way.

“Taehyung, I’m close,” you say with a sigh. You barely have the energy to speak.

“Fuck, me too,” he adds. “I’m almost there. Cum with me.”

His hand travels from base to tip and each part of the journey is smoother than the last. He massages each vein and ripple and moves even faster when he catches a glimpse of the uneven quiver of your thighs. Heat churns in his stomach and all he can do is chase it desperately. He needs it like oxygen, to breathe in the sight of you along with the pleasure of his nether regions.

The rubber band snaps. It strikes you in waves, each crash stronger the last. You let the waves overtake you and succumb to the burst of pleasure spreading through your limbs. You pull out your hand and clench around nothing as the sensitivity forces your legs closed.

Just when you thought things were over, Taehyung makes a request: “Taste it.”

You waste no time in taking your fingers to your mouth, gliding your tongue on the pads of your fingertips, and spreading the salty fluid in your mouth. All you can focus on is the heavenly sight of Taehyung coming. Each breath he lets out comes with a moan. You swear you can feel the vibration of his low voice against your own chest. His hair covers his eyes but you know they’re closed in pleasure. He intakes one sharp breath before it finally takes him over.

He can feel nothing but release. Release of stress. Release of work. Release of anything except you. As white spurts of cum squirt from his dick in a messy stream of strings, all you can think about is the beauty of his body.

“This was fun,” you admit with a smile. “I’m glad my attempt didn’t flop.”

“No, that would’ve been a huge mistake on my part.”

As you look down, your eyelashes brush the top of your cheeks and you bite your lip in anticipation. “I know I’m graduating and all, but we should do this again sometime. If you’re interested.”

He rests his elbows on his desk and brings himself closer to the camera. With his hand holding the side of his face, he takes in the sweet sight of you. “Did you enjoy it that much?”

“Oh yes. In fact, unlike some people, I’d give you an A-plus.”

#bts #bts smut #kim taehyung #fanfic #bts au fanfic #bts au fic #bts fic #bts au #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #Taehyung #jiminisnotavirgin #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you

[joheunsaram]

In Plain Sight (knj)

Summary- After weeks of preparation and stress, you believed you were ready for the opening night of your restaurant. However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your ex waiting for you.

word count- 2k

pairing- idol!Namjoon x chef!Reader (feat. bff!Seokjin, brother!Jungkook)

rating- PG

genre- angst, exes to (maybe) lovers

warnings- none to note, Namjoon eats mincho

a.n- Happy birthday to my bae, Beezy @hobeemin​! I hope you had the best day and that this isn’t too late haha. I know you requested this for my March drabbles but I got carried away. Here’s some angst to heal your soul!

A huge shout out to @casuallyimagining​ and @missgarnet​ for beta reading! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

You sighed in relief as the first customers of the night started pouring in. This was it. This was what you had been working towards for the past ten years. After years of culinary school, slaving away as a sous chef and begging investors, tonight was the night that you unveiled your new restaurant.

You ran your clammy hands over your pants as you greeted your guests, the most radiant smile on your face, before checking in with the kitchen. Even before the grand opening, the fact that one of your investors was the beloved chef Baek Jong-won, had people excited about your restaurant. It had put a lot of pressure on you, but watching your head chef prepare the kitchen for the dinner rush calmed your nerves. It was comforting being in the back, the clatter of pans and shouts of commands made you feel at home.

“Checking up on me already, boss?” Seokjin asked, chuckling as he draped a towel over his shoulder. In addition to being your head chef, Seokjin was also your best friend, supporting you over the years to make your dream come true.

“Can never be too sure, what with your habit of getting distracted by your reflection,” you joked, earning a scowl and a whack from Seokjin’s towel. Pushing him back, you laughed as he yelled at you for almost killing him, his dramatics at an all time high, probably the same nerves churning through him as you.

Where the kitchen was chaotic, the front of the house was almost serene, a low rumble of conversation offset by a soft jazz playlist you had spent hours curating. Your nerves dissipated as the first orders arrived, the customers smiling and nodding at the first taste. 

Moving behind the bar, you checked on Jungkook, your younger brother and bartender. No one would have ever thought the two of you would end up working together, given the fights you had all through your childhood, the scar of one of them permanently etched on his cheekbone. 

“Did you invite him?” He asked as he shook a drink, the ice rattling obnoxiously in the metal container. 

“Who?” You asked, your nose scrunching at the aggressive way he made the drink. You swore if he broke another glass you were going to take it out of his paycheck, shared gene pool or not. 

“Namjoon,” he whispered theatrically, using his eyes to point towards the corner of the room. The sound of his name set you on edge, your heart in your throat. 

You hadn’t thought of your ex for over two years, since the night he walked out on you and you vowed to never let anyone take control of your happiness and leave you broken on a whim. However, that didn’t stop you from following your brother’s eyeline to the more secluded tables of your restaurant. 

He looked different. So different that it cracked the carefully constructed armour around you, a frown etching onto your features as you took him in. Dressed head to toe in black, you wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for Jungkook.

He looked out of place, anxious, as he drummed his fingers on the menu, staring at it intently. The hood of his oversized jacket was atop his head concealing his dyed blonde hair, and his black mask was pulled low on his chin, leaving his bare face on display as if his new album wasn’t currently at number one. 

He was biting his lip, his brows scrunched together and it sent you back to two years ago, the memories flooding your brain as the ache you’d worked endlessly to ignore reared its ugly head once again. 

“We should break up,” Namjoon said, his lower lip between his teeth, as he stood in the doorway. He was still dressed in his outfit from the shoot he had returned from; a shiny silver bomber jacket adorned atop a plain black outfit, his makeup still on perfectly. It gave him an ethereal look, all flaws hidden from view as he looked at you in your striped blue pyjamas, hair up in a messy bun, face puffy from sleep. 

His words felt like you had been hit with ice water, like you were skating on a frozen river and it gave way from under you plunging you into a panicked cold that felt akin to a burn. You didn’t know how long he watched you, your face neutral after you demanded an explanation. 

“It’s not fair to you, Berry,” he said, voice soft and broken as he finally made his way to the bed. He sat as far away from you as he could and the distance seemed to stretch on for miles. You were confused by his sudden change. Just yesterday he had arrived home with smiles and cuddled into you immediately, just as he had done for the past three years, but today you were hard pressed to find that warmth, his gaze never meeting yours. 

“You don’t get to decide what’s fair to me,” you stated. “We are not breaking up.” Decision made, you slipped the cover over yourself as you reclined back into your supine position. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he muttered, almost silently but the quiet of the room gave him away, his distraught weaving itself in your skull. 

“Juniper, let’s talk about this,” you pleaded, a hand reaching to grab onto his that he shrugged off. 

“No. If we talk about this you will convince me to stay and I just can’t do this anymore.”

“What did I do?” Your voice was soft, as if you spoke any louder it would startle the seemingly broken man in front of you. 

“It’s not you, it’s me,” he spoke the cliche, his dimples making an appearance in the sad smile he gave in your direction. You didn’t understand what was happening. Namjoon was a man of many words, slinging together poetry out of thin air in seconds, inspired by the mundane. He continued, talking over your thoughts, as he explained the reasons he was hurting you, the reasons he was a bad partner. All reasons that you have never even conceived - a product of his overthinking, anxious mind. Every time you would argue, he would counter with his own failings, like how he couldn’t make it to your culinary school graduation and how his fame made him unavailable to go to whenever you needed him. 

Namjoon cried, inconsolable even when you tried to assure him that his failings were in his imagination, that you were happy, content. But he had a notoriously one-track mind, and the only conclusion he could come to was that he couldn’t bear to be with you any more. 

“Seeing you always waiting for me breaks my heart,” he whispered as he held you, your face in his hands as he smiled for your benefit. You didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, but the way he kissed you, tasting of salt and regret, you knew it would be the last time he would do so. 

When he left that night, you finally cried, mourning a relationship that he snatched away from you, before the tears turned to rage, heartbreak manifested into indignation. 

“Are you going to talk to him?” Jungkook broke you out of your reverie just before you could further relive the sorrow. 

“No. Absolutely not. He can enjoy his solo dinner,” you replied, turning on your heels to go into your office, your excitement for the night overshadowed by Namjoon’s sudden reappearance. It wasn’t bad enough that you had to see him in your restaurant but as you turned on a random playlist fate decided that you would hear him too as he talked about your break up on his new single. His sultry vocals rapped about his self loathing and need to please only to realize that he left the only person who loved him for himself. You were bitter that he had this epiphany, bitter that he was monetizing on something that was as much your heartbreak as his. 

But what Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets, and as the dinner rush ended and the crowd dwindled with last call, he was still sitting in the corner table, sequestered away from eyes as he played with his dessert. He must have known that the chocolate bon bons were inspired by him, dubbed Juniper like you had called him all those years, and extra mint added just to spite him. The same way he had named his new song Back to Berry, an homage to no one else but you. 

When he refused to leave even after Jungkook asked, you had no choice but to act civil and make your way towards him. He gasped as you unceremoniously settled in the chair in front of him, eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. As if he had not been waiting three hours for this exact moment

“What are you doing, Namjoon?” You asked, arms folded across your chest as you glared at the face you once thought you couldn’t live without. 

“I’m eating dessert,” he answered, averting your hardened gaze to poke his fork at the food. 

“We’re closing,” you said, your hand waving to your wait staff that had started clearing tables and sweeping the floors. “And you hate mint chocolate,” you added as he took a bite. 

“It was calling my name,” he chuckled humourlessly, before he sighed pushing the plate away. He finally met your eyes then, a soft smile on his face, his dimples poking their way from his cheeks into your heart. “Congratulations. You did it.”

“Yeah. Alone.” You were bitter. He had left you, practically ghosted you for two years and now he thought it was okay to waltz back in?

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping all pretenses as his hand reached towards you. “I’m so sorry, Berry.”

The use of his old nickname for you broke your heart and your facade as you looked at his hand placed directly in front of you on the table, a finger slowly caressing your forearm, almost out of reach. You couldn’t help the way your eyes glistened at his touch, tender and apprehensive. How could he think it was okay to come here? How could you think you wouldn’t forgive him if he asked?

In that moment all you wanted was to run back into his arms, kiss him, delve back into that chaotically beautiful brain of his, but your pride was stronger than all the apologies in the world. 

“It’s too late,” you said as you stood up, his head dropping as he retracted his hand back into his lap. “We’re closed. Goodbye, Juniper.” You gestured to the door, waiting for him to collect his bag, watching as he dropped much more money than his bill on the table before he made his way to the door. 

Turning around he looked at you, catching you staring at him with tear streaked cheeks. “I’m not going to give up, Berry”

“You never do, do you?”

“Never when it comes to you,” he said, covering his face with his mask and adjusting the hood atop his head before disappearing into the quiet street. 

That night you felt your defences weaken a little when you got a message from an unknown number. 

I forgot to tell you. I still miss you. Even after 708 days.

-

taglist: @cheesecakes-randomshitz​, @aroseforyoongi​, @awhnamjoon​, @agustdjoon​, @codeinebelle​ 

I hope you enjoyed the angst! For more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm fluff #rm angst #rm x reader #bts fanfic #bts #thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtanuniversity #purplearmynet #ficswithluv #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

[nvrrmiind]

Not In The Same Way ; Calum Hood

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: smut & swearing -- like always

Summary: the one where y/n doesn't love Calum the way she used to.

(Read more of my work here)

***

It started like most relationships did, with fiery passion and unrealistic standards of happiness. In the beginning there was an overwhelming feeling of love and trust, like they’d known each other in a different life and had somehow found each other again in this one. They’d joked about being soulmates, but as their relationship progressed it would become evident that that wasn’t the case. Not because they didn’t love each other enough, but because they loved each other too much. In fact, they loved each other so much that it prevented them from being happy.

Calum had met her through a friend of a friend, who couldn’t stop talking about the beautiful girl with the killer smile and vibrant personality. Eventually one thing led to another and they met for drinks on a terrace overlooking the city. They seemed perfect for each other, both adventurous, yet laid back, and both aspiring to make a name for themselves. Perfect, however, as the years progressed, was the last thing outsiders would dare to call the pair.

It’s like what everyone says, what is good, must eventually come to an end.

***

“I love you. You know that, right?” He whispered, fingers trailing up and down her naked back.

“Yea, I know that.” She sighed, trying to muster up the strength to give him a smile.

Their bodies were covered in a light layer of sweat, yet she was cold to the touch. Her face lay on the back of her hands as she turned away from him, her chest feeling heavy. She couldn’t muster up the courage to tell him that she loved him anymore, much like how she couldn’t muster up the courage to give him cheesy smiles or squinting eyes that were filled with happiness.

She’d given up responding to his ‘I love yous’. It’s not that she didn’t love him anymore, because she did, but not in the same way she used to. She used to love him with the entirety of her heart and soul; she used to admire everything he did and couldn’t find a single thing wrong about him. But as her infatuation dwindled and real life began to kick her ass, it was getting harder for her to remember all of the things she used to love about him.

“I’m going out.”

“Okay.” She felt him leave a lingering kiss on her shoulder before their bed dipped and he was leaving to the bar yet again.

Two and a half years, she’d sigh. Have I wasted two and a half years of my life on a relationship that is going to amount to nothing? And am I going to continue to allow myself to feel this miserable, and if so, for how long? These questions swirled through her mind constantly for the past couple of months; and to be frank, she wasn’t sure how to answer any of them. She felt stuck between her past and present self, because she didn’t want to leave the man who she lived with and built a life with, but she also wanted to branch off and do different things. She was still so young and full of life, why should she spend it with a man she was no longer in love with.

That was it, she decided. She still loved him, but she wasn’t in love with him.

By the time she’d managed to get out of bed and showered off the lingering smell of him, he was stumbling up the stairs, drunk off his ass; a normal routine of his for the past few weeks. Because while she was ignoring and avoiding her relationship issues, he was feeling all of the blow-back from it. Calum was feeling the space that she was putting between the two of them and how she hadn’t told him she loved him. He could tell that she wasn’t happy and he knew that he was the reason for it, but he wasn’t sure why.

She avoided her problems by shutting down and he avoided his problems by drinking. Maybe they still were a match made in heaven, he thought sarcastically.

“You’re home early.” She remarked, meeting his drunken gaze. He was standing in the doorway, slowly swaying on his feet. It was hard not to notice his puffy lip and the cut above his eyebrow. While she continued to trail her eyes down his frame, she stopped at his busted knuckles.

“They kicked me out.”

“I can see that.” Her eyebrows were furrowed as she approached him, loosely linking her hands with his. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“I’m sorry.” He hissed as she brushed the alcohol pad over his cut. His hands were bruised, and hurt when he gripped them into fists, but he still gripped her close to him.

“What happened?”

“You want me to be honest?”

“I always want you to be honest with me.” She nodded, her free hand cupping the side of his face, her thumb running across the underside of his eye, his eye-bags evident from the lack of sleep he’d been getting.

“I wanted to fight.” He was sitting on the side of the tub, his body melting into hers.

“You’re a psycho sometimes.”

“Only for you babe.” He winked, flashing a quick smile, something she had missed seeing.

Times like this, when he held her close, and they had their comforting witty banter, she felt like everything was okay again. But nothing would really ever be the same again, not with the two of them. The damage was already done, but neither of them wanted to admit it -- to admit defeat. They stayed like that for what could have been hours, but in reality it was only minutes, until she pulled away to throw away the bloodied tissues.

She could feel his stare, but refused to meet his gaze in the mirror. She could see Calum’s eyebrows furrowed in sadness and confusion, like they had been for the last few dreary months.

“I love you.” He spoke quietly.

“Me too.” She whispered, feeling her chest tightening each time she refused to acknowledge both his love and the love she had for him.

So, she did the only thing that she could think of to ease the tightening in her chest and the hopelessness in his; she made her way to him and cupped his face gingerly and brought his lips to hers. It was sloppy and laced with desire, everything they both needed at the moment. While they both knew that sex wouldn’t solve anything, they couldn’t help themselves.

Calum’s hands gripped the hem of her t-shirt, or rather his, and pushed it quickly up her body, before he tossed it across the bathroom. He left wet kisses up her stomach and between the valley of her breasts, his hands grabbing at her perfect ass. She hastily worked at his jeans, pulling him up by his belt loops, before she yanked them down his legs.

It didn’t take long before her knees and forearms were pressed against the cool tile floor and he was filling her up like he’d done hundreds of times before. She felt so warm and snug wrapped around him, like he was meant to be inside of her, pounding in and out of her with pure lust. He loved looking at her from this angle, with her ass in the air and back arching in pleasure. Small pants left her mouth as her eyes rolled back with every rough thrust he gave her. The sound of skin snapping against skin filled the room and her sweet whimpers mixed with his breathless moans.

“Harder,” She gasped, her body shaking with pleasure. “Please, Cal, give it to me harder.”

His hips slammed into hers with fervor, sliding in and out of her slick folds with ease. She could feel her orgasm in the pit of her stomach, waiting desperately to be taken to the edge, so she could release around him.

“Come for me, baby.” He whispered into her ear, nipping at her neck. “Come all over my cock.” He continued, suckling on her neck, making sure to leave a mark. He needed to, to remind her that she was still his, despite all the recent flaws of their relationship.

“Fuck, Cal, I’m gonna--” She whimpered, hot pants lingering past her dry lips.

“That’s it.” He groaned, feeling her clench around him, her legs spasming as her orgasm flooding her senses. He fucked her through her high, before he was a garbling mess behind her. Spurts of his hot white come filling her up.

He stayed inside of her, holding his come inside of her in desperation. Desperate, that if he pulled out of her that she would walk out of the door at the very next moment. As much as he tried to drink away his problems, nothing could fix the pain he was going through. Calum felt like there was a hole in his chest, like part of him was missing. He felt empty and sad and angry; and all of this was because of the fucked out girl in front of him, who was still coming down from her high. But she couldn’t have been the only problem, he knew that he played a part as well, but he didn’t know where he went wrong or how he could fix it.

When he finally pulled out of her, his come dripped from her weeping hole and down her thighs. He marveled at the sight, but it didn’t last long, before he was in his head again, thinking about how the only time he felt close to her now was when they were having sex. Inevitably, he knew, that they would end up fighting sooner or later since nothing seemed to be going right for them.

He wondered if they’d reach the point of no return.

***

Tears slipped down her cheeks with ease and stained her tear-ridden hands. She was tired, so tired. Tired of having to deal with this tightening feeling in her chest from her mixed and muddled emotions. She couldn’t keep living like this -- feeling like she was confined and trapped inside of her own mind and body. She paced around their kitchen in nothing but an old t-shirt, her sock clad feet scuffing against the smooth hardwood. There was a glass of whiskey that she’d slowly been drinking, set on the island, it was her second glass -- maybe third -- not that it mattered.

Calum was passed out upstairs, having come home after he helped close out the bar. The clock above the stove brightly shined 3:12am, and she couldn’t quite figure out why she was awake or why she decided that drinking whiskey would fix her. She was turning into him, she thought dryly. Her mascara was making her lashes clump together and was drastically smeared below her eyes like she was going through a life crisis in some generic movie. Tissues were littered across the counter, full of her sorrows; she’d gone through half a box of tissue already and wondered how much more she’d go through before she’d be able to stop pouring her heart out over a glass, or rather bottle, of whiskey.

She scrolled through her phone for the past twenty-five minutes, looking at pictures of the two of them together. Seeing how the both of them looked so happy, so in love. Pictures from years ago flooded her screen, of them at some lousy bar -- his arm hanging lazily over her shoulder, holding her tight. Pictures at the beach, of her holding him in the water with cheesy smiles on their faces. Pictures of them cuddled up next to each other by the fire, photos that their friends had taken of him. There were pictures of them after one of his shows, where you could see the light sheen of sweat layered across his body, where she still held him close even though she secretly hated his sticky post-concert skin.

There were the more intimate photos of them, and silly ones, and romantic ones -- and paparazzi photos that she’d saved to her phone from Twitter. The longer she stared at the photos the tighter her chest felt yet she still couldn’t look away from them. Her eyes continued to fill to the brim with tears that spilled from her eyes and continued to leave streaks down her cheeks. Why couldn’t she look away? She nearly let out a sob, reaching for her tissue box once again. Her phone hit the counter with a soft thud and she threw back the last of her whiskey before refilling it for the third -- maybe fourth -- time.

Sniffle, sigh, sip. That was her new mantra and as she looked at the clock above the stove the numbers shined brightly at her, 3:54am.

“What are you still doing up?” Calum’s groggy voice shook her from her thoughts.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She murmured, downing the last of her whiskey.

“Why don’t you come back to bed.” He spoke softly, matching her tone.

Her back was to him as she leaned over the counter, her glass discarded to her side and large piles of tissues were scattered around her. She wondered if he could feel her sorrow from across the room but he often decided to play the oblivious card whenever he could. Part of her wished that he would sweep her off of her feet and take her upstairs where he’d whisper sweet nothings into her ear until she fell asleep. Another part of her wished that he’d yell at her for being so distant and moody lately or yell at her for not loving him the same way that he loved her.

“Why haven’t you left me yet?” She questioned, turning around to face him, sniffling in the process.

“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed, and although he wanted to act dumb he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“I’ve been a complete and utter asshole to you. I’ve been the shittiest girlfriend imaginable for at least the past month and you’ve stayed by my side like a sad fucking puppy.” She was angry, irrational, sad, and broken -- and she’d take it out on him if she had to.

“Because I know you’re just going through it. You’ll get over it, I know you will.”

“It’s not that simple.” She all but sobbed. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me understand.” He came to her with soft eyes and open arms. “Help me understand what you’ve been going through so you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” She fell into his arms, clinging to his shirt, fearing that he might slip through her fingers.

“I’d rather be hurt by knowing what’s going on in that brain of yours than be hurt by you not telling me anything.”

She breathed in his scent with nostalgia, thinking about all the memories they’d made together. She thought about their first date and their first kiss. She thought about the first time they said they loved each other and the last time she actually meant it. She also thought about moving in with him and getting their first dog together. Her memories came flooding back to her in waves, making her clutch onto him tighter. She didn’t want to leave him, but how could she stay with him if she didn’t love him?

“I - I don’t think I love you anymore. Not in the same way I used to, at least.” She cried into his shoulder, mascara staining a shirt he should have thrown away a long time ago. “I want to love you so bad, Calum; I swear! I just, I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure this out, y/n, I promise.”

#Calum Hood #calum #hood #5sos #calum hood one shot #calum hood imagine #calum hood x reader #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfic

[sakuric]

study dates -> akaashi keiji

synopsis!the love you felt for keiji was growing bigger and bigger, suffocating you more and more each day, but you still didn't let yourself confess. all it took was rejection to finally word how you feel about him.

pairing!keiji akaashi x gn!reader

genre!fluff

warnings!slight cursing

wc!1886

gen taglist! @graykageyama @elixhirs @soranihimawari @admiringlove @softieynnie

a/n!hello babes :3 this is a short? not rly drabble dedicated to my dear sam @admiringlove , and every akaashi stan reading !! this wasn't proof read, but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

you were in love. in love with a boy whose presence made your heart skip a beat. in love with a boy whose hands are gorgeous, but he hides them everytime someone, who isn’t you, around him. he's a boy you've been in love with for a long time now, yet you can't gather the courage to let yourself tell him.

"hello, y/n. are you ready to study?" akaashi asked, sitting down opposite of you at the table. you were doing your study session in the library, as you do every week. although bokuto, akaashi's friend, once joked that you two go out on study "dates", but neither of you found it funny. and it made you worry, why akaashi didn't find it funny. of course, he doesn't usually laugh at bokuto's jokes, and he usually answers with a snarky remark, but he stayed quiet that time.

"l/n?" akaashi waved a hand in front of your face, causing you to flinch out of your daydream. "oh, uh, yes i'm ready." you smiled softly, opening your biology book, but akaashi noticed something wrong.

"you sure? we can skip today if you want."

"oh, no, akaashi, it's okay. i'm okay." you gave him a soft smile before continuing to read. "so what i'm thinking is-"

"what i'm thinking..." akaashi interrupted, a hand slid across the table to close your book, his deep emerald eyes gazing back at your own. you gulped, swallowing any sign of anxiety that could be visible. but it didn't help, akaashi knew you well, and he knew how fidgety you get when you’re anxious for something, so when he saw you anxiously play with your nails while waiting for him, he knew something was up. "is that we can continue this later. do you want to go out with me, y/n?"

as the words left his mouth, your body stiffened, your breath came to a halt for just a moment, and your palms started sweating heavily. "like- like on a date...?"

"yes, y/n, like on a date." akaashi let out a laugh, mumbling "cutie" before sitting back in his chair. "i'll let you think about it, and if you say yes, i'll see you tomorrow at eight pm, by the crooked tree in the campus park, deal?"

"deal."

—

the next evening came faster than expected. and you weren’t really confident with your choice to go on the date akaashi suggested. what did you have to wear? did you have to bring anything? was it a friendly date? the answers to these questions were too unknown to you, but nonetheless, you couldn’t disappoint your best friend, right?

“i was thinking you forgot about the date.” akaashi’s voice ringed in your ear, your body shifting immediately towards the origin of the sound. your eyes scanned his body; a university hoodie, a pair of black, skinny jeans, and his beloved converse shoes. you swooned over how he dressed, for the study sessions he’d wear a beige button up with a sweater-vest on top and some formal, checkered pants. but for afterschool chats and hanging out, he dressed nearly opposite.

“are you alright? why are you not saying anything…”

“you.. look nice.” you mumbled, stepping closer to him, in hopes that your anxiety will calm and let you speak the words you wished to say.

“thank you, y/n. you look nice too.” he smiled softly, his emerald orbs scanning your face for any discomfort. akaashi was good - he was good at identifying different emotions of people, even if there was the slightest change in a person's body language, he could already identify why and what they felt. he was also good for you, and you knew if he’d reject you, he’d try his best to continue being friends without it being awkward for you.

“akaashi, why did you ask me to come here?”

“i wanted to tell you something.” keiji extended his hand towards you, waiting for you to grasp it. he loved when you held his hands, and you’d do it quite often. akaashi never let anyone hold or look at his hands for too long, and he had opened up about how he’s insecure about his hands, their shape and form. that time, you comforted him by planting a small kiss on each of his fingers, saying his hands were perfect the way they were. you intertwined your fingers with his and started walking.

you wondered what it was that he wanted to tell you, what was on his mind this exact moment. you sometimes wished to be able to read people’s minds, just so you could figure out what goes on in that pretty head of his. and maybe, for your own good, what he thinks about you. these emotions flooded your mind like a flood after a rainstorm, and akaashi noticed. he stopped in his tracks, covered your eyes and mumbled ‘were almost here’ as he stood behind you. you two walked for a while, akaashi mumbling a few words into your hair as he led you further. your mind started racing with a million thoughts an hour as you wondered where he had taken you.

“okay we’re here,” keiji announced, removing his hands from your eyes. you turned around to see him smiling softly at you, as he stood in front of the object he wished to show you. you tried to get a look at it, but akaashi forbid you from it. “remember when you showed me that flower, in our biology textbook?” you nodded your head, anticipating what the boy had planned.

“i did some research and i found out that the flower is right next to our main campus,” akaashi moved so you could finally see what he brought you here for. and then you saw it… the bright lilac flower staring back at you. a laugh mixed gasp left your lips as you walked closer to the delicate flower, your fingers carefully tracing the petals. “and i also found out that it was planted here on exactly your birthday. so i think i’d like to call it the y/n flower.” you giggled and turned to him with a smile painted on your face. as your arms embraced keiji in a warm hug, you mumbled a small ‘thank you’ against his warm skin.

—

a week had passed and akaashi wasn’t seen, to you at least. you saw him in the halls and tried to catch up to him, but he’d walk away without letting you even say hello. you’ve had enough. what did you even do wrong? you two just hung out later after the date, he gave you a book he really liked and said there was something special in it for you- wait. the book… you haven't opened it yet, and maybe the important thing was why he was ignoring you.

as soon as the class bell rang you ran out of the school building and jogged across your campus. thankfully, it was your last class of the day, so you didn't need to rush. except you did, you wanted to fix this, you wanted to find out what went wrong.

you attempted to unlock and open the door to your dorm, but the door seemed to give you a middle finger and decide to not unlock. fuck it’s the wrong key, you thought and clumsily fumbled with the multiple keys you had. as if the day hadn't been horrible already, you dropped the keys.

“fuck!” you exclaimed, feeling tears prick your eyes. you quickly grabbed -hopefully- the right key and unlocked the door. you had never gotten in your dormitory as fast as you did now. without taking any notice, you quickly speed-walked to your bookshelf.

The picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde. was the name of the book Akaashi Keiji gave you. it was one of your favourite books when you had read it in highschool, yet you haven't picked up a copy of it ever since. you flipped over to the page where a small blue sticky note marked. you opened it to find a highlighted quote, and another sticky note writing something underneath it.

“You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.” y/n, have i not been obvious enough? I have tried to show you that I love you. maybe my cheeks weren't a bright enough shade of crimson when you kissed each pad of my finger on both my hands, maybe i didn't use my body language enough. Bokuto says that for a genius I am truly stupid. and I cannot help but agree. i hope, that instead of study sessions, we could go on real study dates, as a couple. but i’ll ask you this later. I love you, l/n y/n. please tell me you do too.

that was it. that was enough to make you realise what you had done and why he was ignoring you. you hadn’t told him.

—

“hey, y/n.” spoke akaashi, seeing you the next day after your date. you smiled softly at him and greeted him with a hug.

“hi, keiji. are we going to study today?” you asked, tightening your grasp on the straps of your black backpack. you noticed how akaashi’s hands twitched, he was going to hug you, or maybe hold your hand, but he restrained himself.

“i.. uh.. i have to go, y/n. see you around.”

—

he had expected you to open the book as soon as you got home, and didn't think about the fact that you wanted to give all your time and attention to it. it didn't make sense. it didn't make sense how all this time you expected to be rejected by akaashi when you’d confess (which you thought about never doing), but you unknowingly rejected him.

once again, your body worked faster than your brain could register and you were right out the door, on your way to akaashi’s dorm.

“y/n? what are you doing here?” keiji asked, his head slightly tilted to the side, signifying that he was confused. he was wearing that gray university hoodie of his and some black sweatpants, and you swore you had never wanted to embrace someone in a hug as much as you did now.

without even saying anything, you embraced his lips in a passionate kiss. akaashi’s mind raced with multiple thoughts, but nonetheless his warm hands travelled to the groove of your waist. you two made out with the open door for about two minutes until either of you realised it was even open. akaashi thanked the gods that no one saw and that bokuto wasn't over at that time, because he would've made funny remarks, that neither you or akaashi would've found funny.

“i love you too, akaashi keiji. i’ve always loved you.” you smiled after you two caught your breath. “i read the highlighted page, and i’m sorry that it took me so long. we could've avoided the whole… ignoring that went on if i had opened it sooner and i- i love you, akaashi.”

“i know you do, y/n. i love you too.” akaashi smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “how about a study date at the library?”

© all work written by sakuric is not to be posted on any other writing app or website without notice. if it is found to be reposted without consent, rightful action will be taken.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi x gn!reader #akaashi headcanons #akaashi x you #keiji akaashi #akaashi imagine #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu one shots #akaashi one shots #— rayne writes #if you liked this pls rb !! means a lot :)

[kar-krashew]

life could be a dream [AO3]

Alec navigates first dates, second dates, and general panic, while accidentally making a friend along the way. He's not sure how to feel about any of that, but it seems to be going okay.

Rated T for language and implied sexual content.

@arsenic-creator for you, my lovely ❤ This is an interlude, of sorts, between the Cars AU and the planned Cars 2 AU :D

Alec is ninety percent sure whoever came up with the concept of first dates was a sadist; who else would devise a concept so nerve-wracking and excruciating? Currently, he’s in a random hotel in Spiral Springs, aptly named as he’s spent the last hour spiraling into insanity as he tries to figure out what normal people wear on first dates with people like Magnus Bane. He can’t even call Izzy, because she’s off on some “important work trip” with Jace. (That basically means that they’re going to be mysterious and vague during phone calls the whole time— and that’s only if they answer. He knows better than to ask.)

Thus, Alec has two options: suffer, and show up to his first date with Magnus in his normal shitty worn-out jeans and shirt, or suffer more, and ask someone in town for help. Unfortunately, the only other people available to him are Raphael (Alec is pretty sure he’d be found dead the next morning if he asked Raphael about dating advice), Ragnor (the man dresses like a reclusive British hermit, Alec really doesn’t think asking him will help), and Simon.

Shit.

“Do I really need someone else’s help?” Alec asks his own reflection in the mirror, “I look fine, right? And it’s not like Simon’s got a better idea of how these dates work.”

He looks great, honestly! Probably. He’s fine, as long as he ignores the suspicious fraying of his collar and the faded white patches on his jeans, and okay, he lied, he does not look fine.

Also, Simon’s had like three pretty steady girlfriends already. The kid must be doing something right.

“Shit,” Alec groans again— out loud this time, for intended effect— before taking a deep breath and grabbing his phone.

Fine. If it takes talking to Simon, he’s going to talk to Simon. Besides, how bad could it be?

---

Really bad. Like, really fucking bad; Alec had forgotten how annoying Simon is, and he’s regretting this decision wholeheartedly now.

“No one’s really asked me for dating advice before, you know,” Simon says from where he’s rummaging through Alec’s suitcase, “And of the people I would expect to ask me, you’re, like, last on that list. Not in a bad way or anything, it’s just weird, you know?”

Alec does know. This is the third time Simon has said this.

“Sure, totally,” he grits out, watching Simon carelessly toss his neatly folded clothing onto the hotel bed. Alec is going to have to reorganize the whole case after this is over, because these sorts of things have systems and the kid is ruining it. This was definitely more trouble than it’s worth.

“Yep. Anyway, wow, I’m no expert, but you really don’t have a lot of options in here.” Simon whistles, pauses for a minute, then upends the entire suitcase onto the mattress before Alec can intercept. God, Alec’s going to strangle him. “That’s better! So, you seem to only have, like, one decent button-down, and those always look nice. Maybe pair it with a tighter pair of jeans? Your jacket would look nice with this, too, though I’d leave it out in this weather.” Simon tosses the articles of clothing towards Alec as he speaks, hitting Alec squarely in the face, but he’s already been distracted by something else before he can register the glare being sent his way.

“Okay,” he says after another moment, “Show me what you got.”

Alec’s skeptical, to be frank, but he decides to indulge Simon anyway, so he heads to the bathroom and tries on the outfit and—

Oh.

Simon’s really not bad at this thing. Izzy probably could’ve picked something a little more flattering, but this is way better than whatever Alec was wearing earlier; he didn’t even know he’d remembered to bring this shirt when he’d packed his bags.

“Hey, man, you look great!” Simon beams. “I wasn’t totally sure that would work out, but you look awesome! Magnus is going to love it.”

“Thanks, Lewis,” Alec replies, and he’s surprised to realize he means it. Simon’s grin stretches out wider, somehow, and Alec doesn’t even feel that annoyed.

(Oh no, does this mean he tolerates Simon now?)

“It’s gonna go great, Alec, don’t worry about it,” Simon responds, oblivious to Alec’s internal turmoil— Alec is seriously having a breakdown over the fact that Simon has somehow made it onto the short list of people Alec doesn’t want to punch on sight, because what the fuck does that say about Alec’s standards? His reputation is on the line. “Magnus has lived here for a while, which means I know him well enough to tell you that you make him really happy.” Alec stares at him blankly.

“I— That means a lot, actually,” he manages, then they both just kind of. . . stand there for a minute. Alec isn’t sure how to process the fact that they seem to be having a moment when he was preparing to initiate anti-Lewis measures just seconds ago, so it’s almost a relief when Simon ruins it with the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“I feel like a proud mother sending her kid to prom. Do I need to give you a sex talk? No one actually gave me that speech when I was younger, but I did improv in highschool, so I could probably work something out.”

Scratch whatever he said earlier; Alec hates him.

---

The trauma Simon inflicts on him is almost completely worth it when Alec sees the way Magnus checks him out for a moment. The other’s standing outside the entrance to some obscure Chinese restaurant, smiling warmly and turning Alec’s knees to jello with his low-cut blue tunic and shimmery eyeliner (not helped by the fact that he has managed to find pants that are even tighter than his usual leather ones— Alec’s going to die of a heart attack before they can even enter the establishment).

“Hey,” he says, trying not to look stupidly overwhelmed at Magnus’s answering smile, “You, uh, you look amazing.”

“I could say the same, Alexander. This shirt is definitely doing you favors,” Magnus replies, and Alec blushes.

“Would it be completely unattractive if I admitted Simon picked it out for me?” he asks, half-serious, but Magnus just laughs, taking Alec’s hand in his own.

“Of course not. Remind me to thank him next time we meet.”

The rest of the night goes by in a blur: Alec’s sure that the restaurant and everything was amazing, but it’s hard to notice things like ambiance and food when one has a front row seat to the wonder that is the gentle tilt of Magnus’s mouth. He spends the night being regaled with far-fetched anecdotes in between shameless bouts of flirting and giggling, and it’s nice, it’s really nice; alone, away from cameras and parents, just the two of them tucked away in a cozy little corner booth together.

It’s kind of the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

Maybe first dates, Alec thinks, lying in bed later that night, the taste of lip gloss still faint on his tongue, aren’t too bad after all.

---

“Oh my gosh, are you going on dates and making friends? I’m so proud, my baby brother is all grown up,” Izzy sniffs over the phone, “Do we need to talk about safe sex?”

“Why is that the conclusion everyone draws? Do I look that repressed?” Alec groans, thinking back to Simon’s earlier pursuit to educate him on the carnal pleasures of the world. He’d managed to cut the kid off after the first use of the word “penetrative,” but it had been enough to fuel his nightmares for a solid two days afterwards. “Also, I’m older than you.”

“Details,” Izzy dismisses. “Speaking of which, spill! How was it? I still can’t believe you ran off to Spiral Springs without telling anyone. Mom must be absolutely livid, I just wish I was there to see it.”

Alec rolls his eyes, even though she can’t see it over the phone— the sentiment is there, and that’s what matters. “You would be here to see it if you weren’t off doing lord-knows-what in god-knows-where every other week with Jace,” he replies.

“Import-export business, Alec,” Izzy says, “I’ve told you this.”

“Right, the same way you’ve told me you can cook without poisoning everyone. We both know it’s a load of bullshit.”

“We’re getting off topic!” his sister exclaims, which is Izzy-speak for “We’re not talking about this for another year or so,” as she artfully changes the subject. “I believe I asked for specifics about your date with Magnus, hermano. You are not getting out of this.”

Luckily for her, Alec is easily distracted by even the vaguest thought or mention of Magnus, because he’s a total fucking sap and Izzy knows exactly how to use it to her advantage. He would say he hates her, but, well: he’s thinking about Magnus now. That’s infinitely more important, obviously.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he sighs. The exhale’s got this kind of pathetically lovesick quality to it, but he barrels on, praying Izzy won’t comment on it. “We ate, then he walked me back to the hotel and kissed me at the door before he left. It was amazing. God, Izzy, I like him so much.”

In a perfect, normal world, this would be an opportune time for Izzy to realize that Alec is kind of horribly vulnerable and honest when it comes to Magnus, and for her to be gentle and supportive about it. However, because normalcy is a pipe dream that Alec’s siblings are hellbent on crushing, he is treated instead to an inhumanly high-pitched squeal, followed by frantic shuffling before a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jace’s floods the phone speaker. Given that the most-definitely-Jace-voice is currently yelling something about condoms and endowment and the logistics of same-sex intercourse, Alec decides that hanging up is the appropriate course of action here.

(God, they’re the worst. He’s never going to talk to them again. Or at least, he’s not going to pick up their calls for the next week. Okay, maybe, like 3 days. Probably.)

Great, he thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. Now that that’s settled, he can get back to other matters, like fucking losing his mind because he had totally forgotten to ask Izzy how to plan a second date so he’s now screwed but he’s definitely not calling her back especially now that he knows Jace has her phone and that means he’s been left to his own resources to plan the perfect second date for Magnus and he’s going to have to do it all by himself and he’s going to fail spectacularly because he’s never had to do anything like this before and no one can help him unless—

Unless. . .

“Shit,” Alec says— out loud, for intended effect again, as a horrible flash of deja vu strikes him— which is how, minutes later, Simon ends up sprawled out on the hotel bed next to him at 4 pm on a Wednesday afternoon.

Alec should really start looking into better coping mechanisms before this becomes a problem.

“Okay, so the first thing about this is that you’re approaching it all wrong,” Simon says, sitting up to peer at Alec over his glasses. “Dates are about spending time together, not about being perfect, so don’t stress! What did you initially have in mind?”

That’s the issue: Alec didn’t have anything in mind, because when he had said that he’d organize the next date, he wasn’t exactly operating on full brain function. Impaired thought processes tend to be a common side effect around Magnus, now that Alec thinks about it— he should probably get that checked.

“I really have no clue,” Alec groans. “There’s so much that could go wrong! What if I take him somewhere that reminds him of his ex? Or I stumble and spill slushie all over his shoes and they’re brand new designer ones and he ends things with me on the spot? Or he hates the food there and realizes that my tastes are shit and he decides to cut his losses instead of being forced to eat shitty food everyday that he hangs out with me? Or—”

“Alec, jeez!” Simon interrupts. “Man, you’re kind of a mess about this, huh?”

Okay, rude. Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean it needs to be pointed out. Alec just groans louder, and lets his head fall heavily against the headboard. “I’m so fucked.”

Simon shakes his head, standing up to pose solemnly. “Don’t lose hope yet, young padawan! Come on, you gotta have something. What do you know he likes?” he says, and because Alec is a sucker when it comes to talking about Magnus (as established earlier), the tactic totally works.

“Okay, well,” he starts, “I know he likes expensive wines with names I can’t pronounce. He likes late nights and old classical music, but his ringtone changes every week to a different Britney Spears pop song. He’s kind of a horrible romantic, but I really like that about him. I. . . like a lot of things about him.”

Simon blinks for a moment, and Alec hurries to wipe the besotted smile that’s inevitably found its way onto his mouth. It’s too late, though— Simon’s already grinning back at him, looking too excited for his own good. “That’s so cheesy,” he coos, “But in, like, totally a good way, I promise.” He pats Alec’s shoulder, once, then stands up. “I think I have an idea of what would work. Any ideas in terms of the venue?”

“Oh,” Alec says after a moment. He’s still thinking about Magnus, which means he’s thinking about their previous meetings, which means he’s thinking about—

“Yeah,” he replies, “I have the perfect place in mind.”

---

“So, where are we headed?” Magnus asks. He’s beautiful like this, in the light of the passing streetlights, silver chains glinting like stars, silk tunic flowing like water, hair mussed from the wind. If Alec didn’t have a plan for this evening, he’d probably do something very dumb like slamming the breaks on the car and kissing him senseless. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, not by a long shot.

Maybe he can fit that part later into the evening.

“You’ll see,” Alec replies, beaming a little at the pout it brings on Magnus’s— stupidly kissable— mouth. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Magnus frowns, but he still leans forward as they pass by a familiar waterfall. Alec can see the moment he processes what that waterfall means, his face lighting up completely as he does so. “Are we going to the Dumont?”

Alec shrugs, trying to be mysterious, but he’s grinning too wide for it to mean anything but a yes. It’s fine; if ruining the surprise means that he gets to see Magnus’s bright smile an extra few moments earlier than planned, it’s totally worth it.

When they finally pull up next to the old sign, Magnus has already noticed the changes to the hotel. “Oh,” he gasps, stepping out of the car, “Alexander.”

Lights are strung up around the outdoor courtyard, with a singular table in the center, a candle and plates arranged across its surface. Simon’s standing there, dressed in a black dress shirt, grinning at the two of them as music plays softly from some unknown corner. It’s horribly cheesy and romantic, and, judging by the way Magnus is excitedly clutching Alec’s hand as they approach the table, it’s worked like a charm.

Alec could marry Simon after this; the kid’s a fucking genius.

“Good evening, sirs!” Simon grins, “Welcome to the Hotel Dumont. We’re so glad you could join us this evening.” He bows, pulling out a chair from behind him, and Magnus laughs delightedly.

“This is absolutely lovely!” he exclaims, settling down. “Did you come up with all this?”

Alec blushes, sitting down right beside him. “Well, Simon did most of the work,” he replies, and Simon shakes his head.

“He’s totally lying; he did, like, all of the decorations and set up, and most of the plan, too. I’m just glad to be of help, man.” He hands them menus, then steps back. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone for a moment while you decide. Don’t do anything too scandalous!”

Alec rolls his eyes— because really, what could they get up to sitting like this?— but then Magnus places his hand on Alec’s thigh as he leans closer and okay, maybe there’s a lot they could get up to, and maybe Alec is now thinking about all those things in a setting he really should not be, and maybe he should’ve let Izzy give him that talk after all.

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles, leaning closer still, “All of this is amazing, I don’t know how to thank you enough.” He tilts his face up invitingly, and Alec’s helpless to the pull of it, pressing his lips against the other’s. It’s supposed to be just a light brush, but then Magnus shifts nearer and opens his mouth up a little further and fuck, Alec’s libido is suddenly making a desparate appearance in this very public locale. That’s an issue, probably. Whatever. He can’t really bring himself to care right now.

“Mm,” he hums between kisses, “we should really decide on what to eat— hm, before Simon comes back,” but then he chases after Magnus’s mouth right after saying it, so that undermines the message a little. Though no one can really say it’s his fault: kissing Magnus is temptation incarnate, and Alec is a weak, weak man.

They do, eventually, unfortunately, break apart, which is exactly when Simon finally shows up with some expensive drink that he’d sworn Magnus would like. It seems to fill the has-an-impossible-to-pronounce-name quota that Alec had mentioned earlier, so he’s rolling with it. He’s also rolling with the menu, because Alec had planned on pre-planned meals for this thing, so he has no clue where Simon had managed to get proper menus with a selection of food (though the Spanish-themed cuisine on the menu and the passive-aggressive text he receives the next day from Raphael might be able to explain that).

Simon’s left them and they’re finally finished with their courses when some even sappier song starts playing on the speakers, and Alec, being a total dork, stands up and invites Magnus to dance with him. Alec’s kind of shit at dancing, so he’s not sure why he does that, but they end up pressed against each other, swaying slowly, and he can’t even regret it, not even when Magnus laughs at him for stepping on his toes.

It’s perfect. Alec has no clue how he’s going to live up to this on future dates. He’s also, like, halfway to proposing on the spot.

“I reiterate my statement from earlier: this is absolutely lovely, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs after a while. His head’s pressed against Alec’s shoulder, so the words brush Alec’s ear softly as he speaks. “I have quite a bit of planning to do for our next date if this is the standard we’re setting already,” he teases.

“We could eat takeout on my couch while watching some boring regency-era movie and I’d still love it,” Alec replies bashfully, “I got a little nervous this time and went really big, but I promise you don’t have to go this hard to impress me.”

“And you thought you did?” Magnus asks. He pulls away slightly, looking Alec in the eyes. “Darling, the same goes for me. This is stunning, but I genuinely just like you and your company, and that takeout thing sounds more than enjoyable. Though we might have to revisit your opinion on regency-era movies.”

Alec grins. “Why, Mr. Bane, don’t tell me you enjoy watching such long-winded pieces of media, filled to the brim with such stuffy, superfluous dialogue?”

Magnus gasps, seemingly affronted. “How dare you!” he exclaims, “It’s about the drama, the yearning! I’m sure you just haven’t seen the right ones. Next time, I’m making you watch my entire collection.” Alec laughs in response, and it seems to soften something in Magnus’s eyes, because he pulls close again, tilting their foreheads together.

“You know, Mr. Lightwood,” he murmurs, “I’m not the sort of gentleman to invite someone into my home on only our second evening together, but I’m sure I could make an exception for someone of your stature, especially given the amount of time we’ve spent together outside of these official meetings.”

Oh fuck, this is really happening. “How scandalous, Mr. Bane,” Alec somehow manages, then Magnus is giggling and kissing him, and yeah, Alec is so on board with this plan. He’s even more on board with the plan when Magnus leads him to the car, and then leads him up the stairs to his loft.

He’s not even annoyed when he wakes up to Simon’s strangely supportive “Congrats on the sex!” text, because there’s a man lying against his chest who he thinks he could easily fall in love with, and literally nothing else matters right now. It’s him and Magnus against the world: everything else can wait.

(Alec replies to Simon with a single middle finger emoji. He likes the kid, but Simon doesn’t need to know that.)

(The Star Wars movie marathon the two of them end up doing a week later kind of gives it away anyway.)

#my writing #none of you follow me for my writing but i insist on posting it anyway #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #simon lewis #shadowhunters #malec fic

[witcherslittledove]

Life's a Bitch

For @jaskiersbow as part of @thewitcherbog RPF exchange! - AO3

Ship: Joey/Henry (with a side of Joey/Kal)

A lockdown fic.... but with more dog fucking.

CW: RPF, Bestiality, Dead Dove: do not eat, masturbation, Joey has a small cock, multiple orgasms, knotting, accidental voyeurism

_

Lockdown was a bitch.

It wasn’t like Joey was a particularly sociable person, but the one thing really did enjoy was sex. He was no stranger to one night stands, getting far too drunk at the club and falling into bed with whoever took his fancy. Having sex with strangers was easy, especially when he was too drunk to care what they might think about him, about his dick. It wasn’t exactly average, and he’d been laughed at one too many times by people he cared about, so now he had a habit of pushing people away before he could get hurt.

Henry was no exception.

Sweet, kind, loving Henry, who had offered Joey a place to stay when the electrical mains had blown in the flat he shared with Madeleine. Gorgeous, filmstar, sexiest man alive Henry, who just happened to be Joey’s biggest crush.

So, despite the fact he was desperately horny, Joey kept his co-star at a distance. Preferring, instead, to cuddle up to Kal or spend hours locked away in his room composing, or trying to compose at the very least. He really didn’t want to admit how many hours he actually spent reading porn with his fingers up his arse. Honestly, the amount of lube he’d gotten through the last few weeks was just embarrassing.

There were moments when he thought that maybe, just maybe, Henry fancied him back. The soft smiles when they danced around each other in the kitchen in the mornings, the lingering glances across the room when they were watching Netflix in the evenings, or even the rather romantic walks with Kal at dawn.

But he couldn’t risk it, not when he had to spend the next seven odd years working with Henry. If they were lucky anyway, god, he hoped it would be that long. Lauren wouldn’t kill off Jaskier, would she?

Nah…

He was fine. Dandelion was integral to Geralt’s development in the series. Joey just had to have faith that Lauren saw that too.

Of course, there was a niggly feeling at the back of Joey’s head, an anxiety that said this stupid bloody pandemic would never end and he’d never get to perform again. He kept wondering whether he should just give up, get another job; something stable.

He sighed, running both hands through his hair as he collapsed back onto the bed, his guitar abandoned on the floor. Lockdown wasn’t the most inspiring of events, but he had to be productive. It was the only way he was getting through his boredom, that and far too much gin and wine. He smiled at that, Henry had been terrible for encouraging his love of gin and tonic, the pair of them spending most evenings lost at the bottom of the bottle.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t keeping Henry at as much of a distance as he should have been, but a broken heart would definitely fix his lack of inspiration. There was no better cure for writer’s block than a broken heart. Any artist could tell you that.

Until then Joey supposed he would just continue to be unbearably horny and get through too much lube.

He had nothing better to do.

Groaning, he leaned over to grab the bottle he kept in the drawer, and then hastily unzipped his jeans. It didn’t take long for his cock to get hard, teasing strokes along his length as he fell into the memory of Henry working out that morning, biceps bulging in the dark blue tank top, tanned skin glistening with sweat in the sun. Thick curls fell in front of Henry’s eyes, sticking to his forehead, and he winked -sort of- as he noticed Joey watching from the doorway. Joey wanted to lick every inch of Henry’s skin, lavishing him in kisses and hickies until there was no denying who he belonged to, then he wanted Henry to ruin him; fuck him against whatever surface they could find, strong arms lifting him up against the wall. Joey could ride him until his legs started to shake, Henry thrusting up into him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

God, he wanted it all.

Henry’s lips around his cock, never judging him or complaining, but loving him, loving his cock.

Sparks flew in front of Joey’s vision and he cried out as he came, spilling into his hand. The pleasure crashed over him, leaving him boneless as he fell back onto the bed with a blissful sigh, happy to bask in the haze of his orgasm and forgetting that it was all just a fantasy.

Until the door burst open and Joey was suddenly bombarded with a faceful of fur as Kal bounded into the room. It was mortifying. Joey was still covered in cum and lube, and now he had to try and force Henry’s giant hound onto the floor, but if Kal didn’t want to do something it was incredibly difficult to get him to behave. He was just so fucking heavy.

“Okay, that’s enough now, boy,” Joey mumbled, his face burning hot and he wondered if he could just die there, never having to show his face again.

Kal’s fur was already sticky with the mess of lube and cum, and Joey really didn’t want to have to explain that to Henry.

It was fine. He could pull Kal into the bathroom, nothing a flannel wouldn’t clean off. Henry never needed to know…

“Oh fuck, shit, Kal. No!” Joey stammered as the dog started to lick at his hand, dangerously close to his cock. “No, no, no. No!”

Kal ignored him, continuing to lick up the mess on Joey’s hand, before nuzzling against his cock, and holy shit, it had been so long since someone else had touched him. Despite the fact he’d just cum, Joey felt a whole new wave of arousal flood his body and his cock twitched pathetically, trying to get hard.

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, knowing he should be disgusted but he was just so fucking horny that he was struggling to keep a good grasp on reality.

And Kal really didn’t care that Joey’s cock was small even when hard.

Joey whined and closed his eyes, letting the dog lap messily at his dick. He was already so sensitive from his first orgasm but it felt so fucking good, and as long as he was already there and trapped by Kal, he might as well enjoy it. Every lap of Kal’s tongue sent fireworks through him, and Joey couldn’t help the needy whimpers that escaped his lips, his own hands running up inside his shirt to play with his nipples. It didn’t take long until he was hard again, panting and on the edge of a second orgasm.

“Joey?”

“Oh fucking cock!” Joey cursed and tried, to no avail, to push Kal off him

The door.

Kal had rushed into the room leaving the door wide open behind him.

“I- it’s… shit!” Joey stammered, trying to find an excuse that just didn’t exist.

He was caught. Life as he knew it was over. Henry would turn him into the police and he would never work again, all because he’d been too horny to stop Kal from licking his cock. It wasn’t as if he’d meant to do it. There was no pre-meditation and he hadn’t sought out the dog… but he’d enjoyed it?

“Kal, come here,” Henry’s voice was firm, and unfairly hot given the situation.

Despite his now flagging erection, Joey still wanted to climb the man like a tree. He was weak. He was desperate. He probably needed therapy.

Shit.

“I’m sorry, Joey,” Henry mumbled, sounding… ashamed?

Joey frowned, covering himself with a pillow as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry? You just… Kal… Me?”

“I didn’t know he’d- I should have told you to lock the door.”

Henry was blushing, and he really did look apologetic, like he was the fucked up one in this situation. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He should be angry, yelling, phoning the police, not apologising.

“Henry? What exactly are you apologising for?” Joey asked cautiously, chewing at his bottom lip. There was a flutter of hope in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he was the only one.

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Darling, you just caught me getting my cock licked by your dog. I think we’re beyond boundaries now. I- You should hate me?”

“You should hate me. It’s my fault. I- I trained him to- to-”

Joey felt his eyes widening as he processed Henry’s words. Not only was he not disgusted at what he’d witnessed… he’d practically been the reason for it.

“Holy shit.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Holy shit!” Joey whined, scrambling off the bed to get closer to his crush who had just somehow got impossibly hotter.

“Joey, please.”

“I liked it.”

“What?”

“Kal, I- I liked it, and- umm, well… I like you too,” Joey admitted with a bashful smile, “and you did interrupt so… you could always join in?”

Henry’s face flew through a million different expressions until he seemed to finally understand what Joey was saying. A dangerous smile fell into place and they crashed together in a heated kiss, hands tearing at each other’s clothes, their shared shame fueling the passion until it was scorching every cell in their bodies. Teeth clashed, noses bumped, breaths intermingled, the taste of coffee dancing on Joey’s tongue.

And when Henry’s hand wrapped around Joey cock, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven. He waited for the comments to come, a raised eyebrow or something, anything… but Henry didn’t seem to care that his hand dwarfed Joey’s cock considerably. All his fears had been for nought. He whined and just kissed Henry with even more fervour.

“Fuck, Henry,” he moaned as Henry’s fingers stroked the length of his cock.

The bastard just chuckled, pulling back to press their foreheads together. “Ever taken a knot?”

“W-what? No?”

“Do you want to?” Henry asked, his fingers moving to tease Joey’s rim, the sensation making Joey keen.

“I- fuck, yes. Jesus Christ! You’re trying to kill me....”

“Get on the bed,” Henry instructed, then whistled at the dog who had been sitting rather patiently by the doorway.

Joey did as he was told, pulling off the last of his clothes before crawling back onto the bed, eagerly awaiting whatever new delights that Henry had in store. Smirking, he watched as Henry stripped down, looking like a fucking god, and Christ, the size of his cock… Joey might never walk again.

But that wasn’t what really caught his attention. No, Henry had Kal by the scruff of his neck and was pulling him up onto the bed to join them. It didn’t take Kal long to understand what his owner was asking of him, and he happily let Henry guide him, his own long pink cock unsheathed.

“Fuck,” Joey breathed as he stared, transfixed as everything he knew about himself was suddenly turned upside down.

He wanted this… badly. He hadn’t just enjoyed the mindless lapping at his cock because he was horny. Fuck, no, it was more than that. He wanted it. The thought of Kal fucking him made his cock ache and he was sure he’d never been quite so aroused in all his life.

“Good?” Henry asked, tilting his head.

“Uh huh. Yup, very…”

“Good,” Henry murmured before capturing Joey’s lips in another kiss.

There was a click of the lube bottle, and he hissed as Henry’s finger pushed inside him. “More,” he whined, “I can take more. I- already…”

Henry growled, and in the next thrust, he was two fingers deep inside Joey, his lips moving to attack Joey’s neck. Teeth grazed against Joey’s skin, fire burning in his lungs as he tried to catch his breath, another hand wrapped around his cock.

“I- I, fuck!”

“God, you’re perfect.” Henry’s words caught in Joey’s neck, his collarbone, his chest. “You fit so beautifully in my hand.”

Joey keened as Henry’s thumb ran along the head of his cock, the words tingling over his skin. “Please, Henry.”

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

Another finger slid inside him, the stretch a delicious burn that soon gave way to pleasure as Henry attentively opened him up, murmuring praise with every thrust of his fingers. His deep rich voice the bassline to the melody of Joey’s gasps and moans that filled the room.

“There you go, good boy, come on Kal. He’s ready for you,” Henry finally said.

“Oh, oh cock!” Joey panted, biting against his own hand to try and stop himself from cumming.

They were doing this.

Fucking mother of god, they were really doing this.

Henry’s strong arms scooped him off the bed, flipping him with ease and guiding him onto all fours. He whined, fingers gripping at the already filthy sheets, head dropped forward so he could see his own cock red and leaking onto the bed. Kal’s nose was cold against his skin, but Henry didn’t let him sniff for too long.

“Up boy, come on,” Henry coaxed.

The weight of the dog almost had Joey collapsing back down onto the bed. Pain seared down his spine as the claws dug into his skin, but fuck he wanted more. He needed more, everything that he could get. Joey could do little more than close his eyes and hold on as Kal rutted against him, frantic and desperate until finally, oh god, finally, his cock pushed inside.

It felt strange, different to any other cock Joey had taken before, reminding Joey of just how filthy this was, forbidden, disgusting and yet so fucking good. Kal fucked like a man possessed, desperate, ruthless, uncaring, and Joey felt tears prick in his eyes. He needed to cum, already so exhausted and oversensitive, but yet he felt like he might explode if he didn’t cum again. He vaguely heard his own voice babbling, pleading, begging, Henry's voice a constant low growl in his ear, stroking and pulling at his hair.

He felt so full, and it was only getting worse with every thrust until he finally felt the pressure of Kal’s knot teasing at his hole.

Fuck.

Henry hadn’t been kidding.

He whined, hand desperately reaching out until felt Henry’s fingers lace with his own.

“So fucking, full,” he gasped.

“You’re doing so well, Joey, almost there.”

“Fuck!” he cried as the knot finally pushed inside him, the dog cumming harder and longer than any human. With just a single touch to his cock, Joey’s own orgasm burst through him, spilling over Henry’s hand as he struggled to stay upright, the energy draining from him.

“That’s it, well done,” Henry murmured and Joey wasn’t sure if he was talking to Joey or to Kal.

Kal continued to rut against him, working the cum deeper and deeper, leaving Joey to whimper pitifully as he hung off the dog’s knot, unable to move. By the time the knot finally released him, Joey was a mess, whining against Henry’s chest, covered in cum; Kal’s, his own, Henry’s. He felt thoroughly used and fucked out, dozing quite contently in Henry’s arms.

So maybe lockdown wasn’t quite so bad after all.

#the witcher #the witcher rpf #joey/kal #joey/henry #dead dove do not eat #joey batey rpf #henry cavill rpf

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 2

Day 2 - There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate. 

Pairing(s): Romantic RoSleep (Roman x Remy/Sleep), background Analogical

TWs: Mild Swearing from Remy __

“No, no, no, you move my 3 O’clock to 4, my 4 O’clock to 5, then cancel it. I don’t even want to have to look at that scumbag from accounting today, babes.”

Remy kept taking on his bluetooth headset as he approached the Starbucks he’d grown so accustomed to. Normally just inhaling the scent of ground coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon spice would be enough to flood his stressed cranium with serotonin. But that wasn’t going to cut it today. 

Today he was on a mission; his soulmate timer had stopped during his visit here a week ago, and he was determined to find out who it’d stopped for. With his schedule cleared as much as possible, Remy walked into the Starbucks in his business attire, having only bothered to throw on his leather jacket when he’d left the office. Not that his outfit was unplanned, he had made a point of wearing the same white button up shirt, black waistcoat, and matching black slim cut pants he’d been wearing when he first noticed the timer had stopped. If not for making sure his soulmate recognised him, then simply because he looked damn good.

It was a gamble, assuming his soulmate would be there today, but by now he was desperate. Remy knew the rules; after exactly a week was up, his timer would disappear for good and he’d never know who his soulmate was. And he wasn’t about to let that shit fly. No sirree. 

“Now, which one of you is it?”, Remy mumbled under his breath. As he stood just about to open the door and leave, Remy had memorised the men who were present in the cafe that fateful day; eight potential men, two eliminated visually over the first two days when he noted their timers were still going. Another three all eliminated themselves the days following as they revealed themselves to be straight, in a relationship, and very straight, in that order. Remy sighed impatiently as he perused the last three men he’d narrowed things down to.

The first was a short, burly man with chestnut brown hair that tickled his button nose while he leant over to pet the outrageously cute border collie sat by his chair. His cheeks were dusted with freckles that drew attention to his mossy green eyes and sunkissed skin. The blue polo shirt and tan shorts he wore clashed with the fact he clearly worked hard labour in the outdoors. Remy guessed he worked with plants going by his scuffed and dirty boots, and the mud on his pupper’s paws. Remy dubbed him, unsurprisingly, Dog Guy.

The second, Space Cadet, was a far departure from Dog guy; his auburn hair and pale skin spoke of celtic origins while his numerous books concerning the far reaches of the universe spoke of the cosmos. Of a man who harboured an intense scientific curiosity as deep as his sapphire eyes. His black shirt hidden under a dark blue flannel shirt showed the insignia of the local museum, which Remy found fitting. In the nicest way possible, Space Cadet looked like he belonged there with his pristine glasses and tidy upkeep that bordered on neurotic.

And the third man, Anxiety Magnet, was once more a drastic change from the other two. Dark skin melted into an all black outfit consisting of a black hoodie sporting custom purple patches - perhaps he made it himself, Remy couldn’t be sure - alongside black ripped skinny jeans. His purple sneakers matched his nailpolish and eyeshadow framing heterochromic brown and green eyes. Every time Remy would scope out the young man, he’d always be anxiously biting his nails, fidgeting with his napkins, or doodling in the notebooks (Remy noted three different ones at least) he brought with him.

Remy was in for a loooong ride but hopefully today he’d finally figure out which of these lucky doofuses is his soulmate.

He walked over to the counter to order his usual drink, giving the familiar barista a nod as the man recognised him,

“Afternoon, Remy,”, the barista smiled, “The usual for our beloved fairy godmother?”

Remy rolled his eyes fondly, “Roman, babes, kindly shut up.”

Roman laughed, “Come now, wouldn’t want you turning into the Evil Queen, would we?”

“Joke’s on you, babes, I like the Evil Queen.”

Roman feigned a dramatic gasp, only returning to making Remy’s usual once he’d secured a smile from the stressed office worker. Remy twirled his lanyard in his hands; Remy Merryweather. Of all names to be cursed with around a Disney fan like the barista, it HAD to be one of the uncool ones. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Roman hadn’t insisted on labelling his drinks with “Flora”, “Fauna”, and “Aurora” ever since. Remy didn’t dwell too long on the kindly barista though, he was a man on a mission. 

Turning his attention to his first choice, Space Cadet, Remy watched him from the table he sat at; no wedding ring, his wrist was covered from sight, and he was most certainly gay going by the pride patches sewn into the backpack under his table. Perfect, he could just be the one.

As if on cue, Space Cadet shifted his watch and frowned. Perhaps he’d get lucky-

Ah, he’s leaving. Shit. Well, there was nothing else for it, Remy carefully nudged the trashcan by his seat as the man walked past, tripping him. The man let out a yelp and hit the floor. Remy was just getting up to help him when Anxiety Magnet came hurrying over out of the blue, 

“You alright?! That looked painful....”

What the fuck. Remy was about to speak up when Space Cadet locked eyes with Anxiety Magnet and for a moment the two were silent as the latter checked his timer, prompting the former to do the same. 

Son of a bitch.

Space Cadet sat up and reached a hand out to Anxiety Magnet, revealing that his timer had just stopped.

“Logan Baird, charmed to meet you, dear soulmate.”, he smiled warmly at the anxious man who helped him to his feet.

“Likewise,”,the anxious man responded, “Virgil Peyton. Nice to know my soulmate’s so handsome.”

Ugh. Remy watched as Space Cadet and Anxiety Magnet - or Logan and Virgil as he was now painfully aware - gathered up the fallen books and left together to go be happy and in love. While Remy could only watch as they did so. 

Fantastic. Well, at least he knew who his soulmate must be now. Who knew Dog Guy would be the top dog? Admittedly, Dog Guy was Remy’s last choice in a partner, but hey, after all the trouble he went to, he wasn’t about to argue with fate. Once Roman brought him his order - an iced, Ristretto, ten shot venti, with five pumps of vanilla, seven pumps of caramel, four packs of Splenda, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top with “Prince Phillip” written on the cup this time - Remy made his way over to the lucky fellow.

“Excuse me, mind if I sit here?”, Remy asked as he approached the Dog Guy. 

The man smiled warmly, “Oh, not at all, kiddo! Hope you don’t mind my dog or things might get ruff!“. The joke made Remy want to drive his head into the ground at mach speeds, but if they were soulmates, he’d learn to love it. Hopefully. Maybe.

“Like, no worries babes, your dog is totes cute.”, Remy noted the man’s cheerful smile. He sat down and offered his name, “I’m Remy, what about you?”.

“Ah, how rude of me! I’m Patton Fairchild! And this is Foster!”, he gestured to the collie, “It’s nice to meet you Remy!”. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad of a choice after all; he's bubbly, friendly, gentle, and Remy truly couldn’t deny the sexy lumberjack appeal.

“Likewise, though I hope I’m not intruding on anything here. Like, I don’t wanna take up your time if you’re here on a date or-”

“Goodness no, I’m not on a date! Don’t you worry, you’re not interrupting anything!”, he assured Remy.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of you and your soulmate, sweetie.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,”, Patton stated, sending Remy’s hopes soaring before they shattered on the marble floor, “I don’t have one. I mean, I love love and all that, but I never much felt the lure of it myself!”

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Remy’s face fell. None of them were his soulmate. He stayed to talk to Dog Guy- Patton for a while so as not to make the poor guy feel awkward, then watched him leave. Another failure with not enough time left to find his soulmate. Remy sat alone, sipping the dregs of his order. He ignored the constant texts from the office as he stayed til near closing time. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not paid attention when his timer hit zero? Maybe he deserved this; to be miserable and alone for his negligence. His soulmate probably wasn’t even missing him either. Or maybe they were and now they couldn’t find him-

“Mind if I sit here?”

Remy rolled his head towards Roman, taking in the sweet sympathy pouring from his rather lovely smile. In his hand he held a to-go cup and his work apron was replaced with a red and white letterman jacket. Great, now he was keeping the charming barista from going home. But when had Remy ever cared about not being selfish?

“Sure, take a fuckin’ seat, babes.“, he groaned, no longer caring about keeping up the facade of being more put together than he really was. Roman sat down with a concerned gaze and slowly slid the drink over to Remy.

“It’s green tea. It’s a little less extravagant than your usual tastes, but it’s good for relieving stress..”

Roman encouragingly tapped the cup lid, smiling contagiously, “And something tells me the Evil Queen has some tension she needs to release.”

Remy gave a slightly bitter laugh as he looked up from playing eye-contact-chicken with the table and noted the green tea read “Maleficent”. God, this guy’s such a dork.

“It’s more than just some tension, sweetie,”, Remy began, inhaling sharply as he sat up, “I’ve just realised I’m never going to find my soulmate. I was stupid. I wasn’t thinking and the moment I looked away, I missed him.”. The half-snort he gave came out so much more painful than intended, “I let my timer hit zero, babes, and now it’s almost been a full week. My last three chances just walked out the goddamn door. Two of them as fucking soulmates, Roman! How unfair is that?-”

Roman’s expression gave him pause. It wasn’t the sympathetic expression from before, more like he was seeing Remy for the first time. Like he’d made a cosmic realisation that was about to change his life.

“Your timer… when did yours stop exactly?”, he asked. The wording gave Remy pause as he realised. 

He hadn’t accounted for Roman. How could he have been so blind? Perhaps he couldn’t believe the charming barista could be the one. Perhaps he thought the man who smiled genuinely at him every day while he whittled down potential soulmates and greeted him with only the kindest of regards was too good for someone like him.

“It… stopped on Wednesday-”

“Around 2:15 pm? During the lunchtime rush?!”, Roman cut in excitedly. Remy was aghast as Roman pulled back the wrist of his letterman and revealed a stopped timer about as faded as Remy’s. With no hesitation, anticipation growing, Roman gently reached for Remy’s hand, which the latter offered enthusiastically. To their mutual delight, their timers disappeared, proving that they were indeed soulmates.

Both were stunned, Roman’s expression wildly happy, his brown eyes sparkling with equal elation and adoration. As Remy took in his gorgeous tanned skin, beautiful mocha hair, and that wonderful chiseled face he had the growing urge to caress and litter with kisses, all he could say in the moment was,

“Does this mean you’ll finally spell my fucking name right?”

--

This one was so much fun to write! I think this is the one piece of writing where I mostly nailed Remy’s character, so I hope this one does well TTvTT @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #roman sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #rosleep #soulmate september #coffee shop au #basically #fanfics #my fics #sleepingbeauty #thats the other name for the ship right #otherwise i put all the sleeping beauty references in there for nothing #anyway i really like this one ehe

[andypantsx3]

ab intra | 5 | armata potentia

pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi / Reader

length: 18,811 words / 6 chapters

summary: When a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, underground hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What’s even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.

tags: romance, thriller, misunderstandings, pro hero AU, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, suicide mentions, brainwashing, consensual mind control, some violence

The magnetization villain didn’t make it back to the station.

Security footage showed the person you had witnessed go through the wall of the bank sliding straight through the back of the cruiser and freeing his friend. The two of them had then slipped through another series of walls until you could no longer find them on neighborhood cameras.

The wall walker had also managed to free the bank of its internal security footage while you’d been wrapped up in the fight with the magnet villain, and had made off with tens of thousands of dollars as well, leaving you with nothing else helpful to go on and sour pit in your stomach.

You’d since been running facial recognition scans on both the wall walker and the magnet villain, but so far no clear matches had surfaced. You’d pulled all the files that seemed like tentative matches, though, and were going through them as carefully as you could.

Aya had similarly been unable to catch the mind quirk villain, which was infuriating, but didn’t surprise you considering he had turned up in the middle of your fight, and was now sitting across from you in the precinct offices, acting for all the world as though he were only here to help with the investigation.

“You’re staring, kitten,” Shinsou intoned, violet eyes darting up to catch yours. “See something you like?”

Anger welled up inside you, but you pushed it down. He had still been keeping up his ridiculous flirtatious act, unwary of your suspicions. The fact that he kept trying to bait you like this meant that he had no idea you were on to him. It was a good sign, much as it frustrated you.

You took a breath.

“I’m just browsing, not buying,” you said. “Keep your shirt on.”

Shinsou let out a low chuckle, and annoyingly, the sound slid straight down your spine to pool hotly in your stomach. After you brought him to justice, you were taking a long fucking vacation. Something was not working right in your brain if you were this affected by a villain, and you needed time to sort things out. A long break would do you some good.

You turned back to your files, searching them over for any clue as to how you could lure Shinsou out into the open, maybe predict where he would strike next and catch him in the act. Somewhere on video where he couldn’t manipulate anyone into forgetting he’d been there. You would have to do your best to avoid getting caught up in a fight with him, or you would have to leave a trail of clues for some other investigator to lead them to the footage if you did.

Your mind raced with how to set something like this up without knowing all the details yourself, in case Shinsou did find out and compel you to tell him everything.

Maybe what you needed to do was capture one of the other villains and get them away from him fast enough that he couldn’t control them. Once out from under his purview, maybe you could get them to confess to his involvement. Better yet, if you could get one of them away from him without his knowing and they confessed, he wouldn’t have any idea you were coming before you could strap quirk suppressors on him, nullifying his power completely.

“You’ve been especially tense lately,” Shinsou drawled from across the table, making you jump. “Something wrong, kitten?”

You froze, your hands curling into fists under the table. He couldn’t know, could he?

“I’m fine,” you ground out, keeping your eyes on the pile of paper and manila in front of you. He couldn’t try anything if you weren’t looking at him…

You hear the rustle of his jumpsuit as he shifted. “That sounds very much like something someone who wasn’t fine would say. I would hate to find out that there was something you weren’t telling me.”

Your nails bit into your palms. Fuck, did he suspect? You thought you’d been playing it cool enough in the week since the incident. But you were super stressed, it made sense that he could have caught on somehow. It sometimes felt like your stress and wariness were seeping out of every pore, choking the air around you, roiling in a dark mass like a cloud that was almost visible. Aya had certainly caught on, eyeing you suspiciously on more than one occasion, although she had yet to approach you to ask what was up.

If Shinsou was on to you, it could mean the end of this case. You couldn’t let him manipulate you into forgetting your suspicions, so you would have to do something to throw him off the scent. What could you do that would put his mind more at ease?

Slowly, an idea dawned on you.

Shinsou was still using that fucking flirty act to try and distract you, and you wondered how far he was willing to take it to keep you occupied. You wondered if playing into his hands would be enough to allay his suspicions, as no investigator in their right mind would ever keep up a flirtationship with someone they thought was the very villain they were after…

You gathered your resolve.

“There’s no hiding things from you,” you grumbled, raising your eyes to his. “You’re always sticking your nose in everything. I just....” you heaved a sigh like your walls were crumbling a little bit, “I’m just stressed. We have no leads on these villains. No way of knowing who they are.”

Shinsou’s gaze raked over you and you could feel it on your skin like the fingers he’d trailed down your shoulder last week.

“We’ll catch them, kitten,” he said. “It’s only a matter of time. In the meantime, you need to relax. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer with how hard you’re thinking.”

You let out a shaky laugh. Okay, here went nothing.

“I don’t think I know how,” you said, lifting a hand to finger the ends of your hair like you were self conscious. “I don’t know how to distract myself from all of this.”

Shinsou’s eyes widened a fraction. Then he leaned in, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Is that a request, kitten?”

You inhaled sharply. You could do this. How would you normally do this?

You let a wry smile curl your own mouth. “It’s an order, contractor.”

Shinsou’s violet eyes went dark, almost black. He was on his feet in an instant, his fingers curling around your wrist and tugging you up out of your chair. The next thing you knew you were being shoved through a doorway into a darkened room, the lock clicking behind you. Shinsou pushed you up against a shelf, and in the gloom you could just make out the vague shapes of white evidence boxes stacked neatly on other metal shelves. The evidence room.

This was the last thing you registered before a hot mouth was covering yours, the heat of a tall, lean body caging you firmly against the shelf. Your eyes fluttered shut and your thoughts evacuated your brain like ants from a flooding hill.

Fuck, it felt good to kiss him. It was like weeks of mounting tension all unraveled at once, like he was kissing all of your concerns out of your mouth one after the other. He felt so warm and good and right against you, and you wondered vaguely why you hadn’t let him do this sooner. There was a brief moment where your previous suspicions floated to the surface of your mind again, but then Shinsou did something very clever with his tongue and the thought was gone.

He made a noise low in his throat and his hands came up to your waist, pinning you more forcefully to the shelf at your back. He pressed himself so tight against you, and you could feel every hard muscle, taught under that jumpsuit. You reached up to grab a fistful of messy hair, pulling him even closer.

“Thought you were never gonna give in, kitten,” he said, kissing his way over the side of your face to your neck. He bit down at the curve of your jaw, and one long fingered hand slid up the side of your shirt. “You have such an attitude, you know that?”

You made a noise, purportedly of acknowledgement, that sounded mostly like a moan instead. His mouth moved under your ear, and then his hand met the edge of your bra, tracing the curve of a breast for one moment before slipping up underneath. You made another embarrassing noise that he caught in his own mouth, and then his thumb was teasing your nipple into a stiff peak. His thigh pressed up firmly in between your own.

“I’m gonna help you relax,” he breathed, but you barely paid him any mind, too occupied with what his talented fingers were doing under your shirt. “Gonna help you forget anything but me.”

“Fuck, Shinsou,” you gasped, forgetting yourself entirely already. “Yes, please.”

“It’s Hitoshi, kitten,” he panted into your shoulder. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Hitoshi,” you answered compliantly. The sound of his name on your lips seemed to excite him and he pressed you even more firmly into the shelves, bringing his face back yours to catch your mouth again.

“Do you trust me, kitten?” he asked when he drew away from you. His eyes flicked over you, mauve in the dark of the evidence room, and a thought came to you dimly--did you trust him? There was some reason you shouldn’t…

You tried to ignore what his hand was doing up your top, trying to recapture the thought. Trust him...you didn’t trust him… There was a careful brush against your thoughts, a whisper like the caress of cool fingers, like the feeling of a thought forgotten on the edge of resurfacing...

You froze.

This feeling. You had felt this feeling before.

The touch in your thoughts like the edge of a memory. Every time Shinsou had been in the room--only when Shinsou had been in the room. You had felt something--no, felt him--tug at your thoughts like this.

Horrified, you realized what it could mean. Had Shinsou....manipulated you? You couldn’t remember a time that he had, but that was the point, wasn’t it? None of the victims of the mind villain attacks could remember what had happened to them, the window of time in which he’d struck completely erased from their brains like fingerprints under a duster.

Did you trust him? No, you didn’t trust him.

You ripped away from him, ducking out beyond his reach and fleeing for the door.

“I have to--I have to go,” you managed before you hurled yourself through the doorway, tearing down the hall and out the entrance to the precinct. The afternoon sunlight blinded you after the dark of the evidence room, but the burn helped bring you back to yourself.

God, what had you been thinking? Did you honestly think playing his game was going to keep you safe? What the hell had you been doing, kissing a dangerous villain like that, vanishing to an empty room where he might have done anything to you he liked, hurt you and erased your memories just like he had all those other people?

You stumbled away from the precinct, thoughts churning like waves of an angry tide. You would take a walk, figure out what to do. You just had to stay away from him until you could get your thoughts in order.

Then, you would come back with a plan.

You didn’t have a chance to put together a plan.

A half hour into your walk, your phone rang with the tone reserved for emergency calls. You picked up immediately.

“There’s another ongoing attack,” Captain Nagumo said as soon as you answered. “A jewelry store in downtown. I need you to get there as fast as you can.”

“Yes sir,” you responded, already spinning on your heel to run for the street. “How do you know?”

“A victim was on the phone when they struck,” the captain said as you flagged down a passing taxi. You asked him the address and relayed it to the driver.

“Where’s Shinsou?” you asked. “Have you called him?”

“Shinsou left the station about a half hour ago and is not picking up,” Captain Nagumo said, and you could hear the frustration in his tone. “We’re trying to get ahold of him, but--”

“Don’t,” you said quickly. “Don’t alert him that we’re coming. I think he has something to do with this. Captain, if I don’t remember anything when I come back from this, look into Shinsou.”

There was quiet on the other end of the line. “Detective, that is preposterous. He’s a hero from the Public Safety Commission.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he would think that if Shinsou had brainwashed him to.

The thought struck you that maybe Shinsou had also ordered him to relay information that indicated you’d grown suspicious, and you shut your mouth. If you did come back from this with your mind intact, if Shinsou did manage to slither out of things again, then you didn’t need the captain giving him the heads up.

“Who’s gone in already?” you asked and the captain rattled off a list of units that had been deployed. They’d been informed, this time, that they were dealing with more than just a mind villain, but two accomplices with similarly slippery powers. You still didn’t like their chances. Brute forcing something like this was unlikely to work, when those three were so powerful. Particularly when all Shinsou needed was for someone to look at him to control them.

You hung up with the captain and had the taxi drop you blocks from the jewelry store. You made your way over as fast as possible on foot, then considered the building from a distance. You could see how the police force had already blocked off all exits, crowding the front and back entrances. That wouldn’t stop the wall walking villain, though, who could just lead his co-conspirators straight through the walls to the adjoining buildings…

An idea dawned on you. Even now, the other officers were probably dredging up floor plans from the city, trying to get a handle on any other access points to the jewelry store, but they probably hadn’t received them yet. You knew from experience, though, that strip malls like this often shared a network of back halls for trash and overstock. If it really was just the three villains, they would be unable to guard every store with shared access.

You strode casually over to a lawn and garden store towards the end of the mall, where employees and customers alike were spilling out of the doorway to watch the police activity at the other end of the mall. You eyed the blue-shirted employees warily as you ducked past them, but they were too preoccupied with the spectacle to even notice you sneaking into the store.

You left quick change on the counter and helped yourself to a trimming knife as you made your way through the store, as you hadn’t had your gun on you when you’d left the precinct. Neither a gun nor a knife would hold up well against Shinsou’s quirk, but it made you feel safer to have it tucked into the back of your belt.

Then you let yourself through the employees only door and snuck through the stock room and into the back hall. You crept carefully down the darkened cement hall towards the jewelry store, wrinkling your nose at the lingering scent of trash and the dirt of unswept floors. There was thankfully no flicker of movement, no scuff of a boot or careful breath that indicated the presence of anyone watching the hall, and you arrived at the employee entrance to the jewelry store with little trouble.

It was what lay beyond that would be the real trouble.

You held your breath and you carefully tried the door. It proved to be unlocked and you sent up a silent prayer in thanks, then inched it open the slowest you had ever opened anything in case it creaked or any sudden movements would draw anyone’s eye. Once you had opened it enough for you to fit through, you crawled in, and slowly inched it closed behind you. It shut with a soft click that barely registered, even in the silence of the backroom.

You glanced around, noting a tiny, cramped kitchenette and a few metal shelves that looked like lockers, probably to store more valuable pieces before they went out on display. It looked like none of the villains had been back here yet, though you could hear voices beyond the employee door and the sounds of shattering glass as they broke open the displays to help themselves to the goods.

You crept silently to the door, peering through the thin, plastic window. It looked like there were only three of them, and they had barricaded the windows to the shop front with cardboard so that their movements inside were invisible. You could see several shadows huddled on the floor, and assumed these were the victims. You eyed them carefully to make sure they were still alive, and thought you could detect twitches where they were still suffering the effects of Shinsou’s quirk. A relieved breath escaped you -- they were still alive, then.

You lifted your eyes from the victims to track the villains instead, and caught sight of the wall walker and magnet villain leaning over a case, stuffing gleaming strands of jewels into a back pack. Your eyes cut to the other end of the room to catch Shinsou's movements, only to meet a pair of brown eyes that you’d never seen before.

Brown eyes that were looking directly back at you, and narrowing in a way that told you’d been spotted.

You had time for only one thought before pain exploded behind your eyelids.

That wasn’t Shinsou.

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #tw: suicide mention #shinsou hitoshi

[harringtonstudios]

bail. (part II)

plot: the morning after. part 1!

A/N: SMUT!!!! i don’t think i’ve ever written a part two as fast, thank you all for your encouragement. hope u enjoy :)

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyth @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging���

Unlocking your hotel door for the first time this morning felt like a relief. Thanking the hotel manager, you shut the door, slumping against the back of it. Your phone was dead, you had the worst headache in the world, and things had gotten a little more complicated with Colson than you had ever wanted. 

Crouching on the floor for a second, you let out a long breath. Thinking through all the things you had to do today before leaving Portland, you walked over to your unmade bed from the night before. Plugging in your phone, you moved aside the sheets, starfishing across the mattress.

In a few hours, you were supposed to be driving everyone to Washington. Your dad was expecting all four of you at his house by dinner and you knew that once your phone charged up, his texts would come flooding in. 

You didn’t particularly want to address the whole situation with Colson. It was obvious last night that you weren’t the only one with some type of feelings, especially with the way his eyes had constantly tried to focus on your own. There was something there, and even though confronting it would be the mature thing to do, you kinda just wanted to curl up into a ball and push it all away. 

Mentally, you composed a list of reasons why you couldn’t talk to Colson about your feelings. 

He’s Rook’s best friend. Rookie basically idolizes him and you would just be getting in the way of their friendship.

 You two were supposed to hate each other. That’s how it had been since the moment you met.

He was such a dickhead.

Granted, the last reason wasn’t great, but everything else made sense. Closing your eyes, you made a decision. Your weird crush on Colson needed to end, for both you and your brother’s sake. 

-

Your phone dinged to life and started buzzing almost immediately. Reaching over, you saw your dad’s name flash. You picked up the phone call, smiling to get your tone of voice back to normal. 

“Hey dad!” you cheerily greeted, wincing a little at how excited you sounded. 

“Y/N, baby. Where are you guys? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning,” he responded, and you could hear the chaos behind him as he crashed around the kitchen. 

“We’re just getting breakfast. Can’t drive on an empty stomach,” you lied, gritting your teeth as your voice cracked. 

“Breakfast? Honey, it’s 2pm. You haven’t left yet? Is everything okay?” he rambled and you could hear the nervous tone laced in his words. 

“Yeah, the guys just had a late night. You know them,” you muttered, brain racing at the fact that it was already mid-day. 

“Well, drive fast sweetheart. We’re all waiting for you,” he stated before saying his goodbyes. 

Hanging up, you swung your legs around, getting off the bed. Throwing all your belongings into the rolling suitcase you’d brought, you cleaned up. Grabbing the key from the table this time, you dragged your stuff out before walking down the hall to Rook’s room. 

“ROOKIE!!! UP,” you shouted, banging on the door. You heard a crash in the room, and you hammered even more, trying to get his attention. The door cracked open, and Rook stood there, eye looking even worse than it had last night. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumbled before pushing his door open. His room was decently clean and he was still in the same clothes as last night. 

“Get changed, brush your teeth, I’ll pack your shit up,” you pointed towards the bathroom, eager to get this show on the road. 

Within a few minutes, you had partially covered his black eye with a light layer of foundation. Throwing him your sunglasses, you handed him both your suitcases. 

“Can you go wake up Slim? Make sure he has all his shit in order, then go put everything in the car,” you ordered as he groaned. 

“Why can’t you deal with Slim?” he asked, shuffling out of the room. 

“You deserve it for making me deal with this fuckery,” you responded, blowing a kiss before closing his hotel door behind you. 

-

Running into the staircase, you walked up to the fifth floor. You were ready to take charge today, brushing away any sense of feelings that may have come out last night. 

You had taken Colson’s key last night, just in case something had happened with your room. Keying in, he was still slumped on the bed. You spared him a single glance before getting to work. Shoving things into his backpack, you moved around the room, making sure you weren’t leaving anything out. 

After fully packing, you turned towards the bed. Hands on your hips, you thought of the best way to wake him up. After a second, you leaned down a little, nudging his shoulder. 

“Hey, get up,” you muttered, shoving him a little rougher. He stirred in his sleep, mumbling something as he moved his limbs around. You gave him a final hard push and he grabbed your arm. 

“I’m fucking up,” he grumbled and you twisted your arm. He softened his grip, letting you pull away. 

“Good. I put all your shit away, can you change? We needed to be on the road like an hour ago,” you explained, moving back towards the door. 

He lazily got up, moving to the edge of the bed before murmuring, “Did you stay here the whole night?” His morning voice was in full effect, and you bit your lip, avoiding him. 

“You’re just not gonna answer?” he asked again, and you sighed before saying, “No, I didn’t. Now, if you don’t mind I’m gonna go set up the car.” 

Leaving the room, you stood outside the door. You couldn’t just ignore him the whole time, and if you were being honest, you’d rather answer his questions now than later in front of everyone. You hesitated and before you could change your mind, you opened the door again, walking back in. 

Colson was standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of socks. “Y/N, shit, fuck,” he shouted, reaching something to cover his body with. 

Usually, he wouldn’t care, walking around half-naked was his thing. But this time, he was scrambling around trying to hide the evident hard-on he had. 

You blushed, realizing that maybe you shouldn’t have just busted in. 

“You needed something?” he questioned, pitch a little higher than before. He was holding his stupid, white shirt from last night over his dick and you let out a little laugh. 

“Glad you find this funny,” he grumbled, throwing his shirt on the desk. You’d already seen his strained boxers, there was no point in covering anything. You closed the door, moving a little closer to him. 

“Not funny,” you said, smiling as he furiously pulled out clothes from his backpack. His eyebrows were furrowing and you could see his frown line as he threw his wardrobe out. Shirts flew up, and within seconds, the room was just as messy as before.

“I just packed those, c’mon,” you scoffed, moving right into his space. Reaching for his backpack, you put your hands around his wrists, stopping his movement. He paused, and you waited for a second before making eye contact. 

His pupils were dilated, eyes blacker than blue. It took your breath away, knowing that he wanted this more than you thought he did. His pulse was strong against your fingers, thudding in the silence. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispered, breaking eye contact. He hung his head down and you bit your lip, all thoughts flying out of your mind at the sound of your name in his voice. Squeezing his wrists a little harder, you leaned in, kissing his forehead. 

He lifted his head and you dropped his wrists, moving to be right in front of him. Cupping his face, you pulled him closer, pushing your lips together. He kissed right back, warm heat enveloping your mouth. 

Immediately, he pushed you back a little, until your back was straight against the desk. Putting his arms on either side of your body, he moved closer until you could feel his body against yours. He was so warm, radiating heat and you let out a little moan as his dick brushed against your belly. 

At the sound of you, he kissed you even harder. You bit at his lip, trying to get a reaction out of him. Moving your arms to lace them behind his shoulders, you scratched at the base of his neck. At the feeling of your nails on his skin, he cursed, breaking the kiss apart to take a breath. 

He was panting and you could feel his dick twitch slightly. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed out. 

He looked back at you, smirking before getting back to your lips. This time, you opened your mouth wider, letting his tongue slip in. 

One of his hands came down, landing at your hip. Gripping it tightly, he grinded his hips, letting you feel every inch of his dick. 

“Yeah? You want this,” he muttered, voice low and husky. Your eyes fluttered and then, you were pushing him back. He stood there, and you looked at his body, chest rising and falling as he moved his hair out of his face. 

“Fuck it,” you whispered, mostly to yourself before pulling on his hand. 

“You have ten minutes. Make me come,” you shot at him, moving to the bed. He looked up at you, eyes wide before regaining his composure.

“Is that a challenge?” he whispered, hands already under your shirt, reaching to pull it off. You nodded and then he was taking off your t-shirt, slightly pushing you down on the bed. 

Hovering on top, he kissed your neck, one of his hands dipping behind you. Skilled fingers unclasped your bra and he moved it off before looking up at you. 

“Challenge accepted,” he rumbled out and you could feel how wet you were, just at his words. 

Moving down your body, his tongue lapped over your nipples twice, warming them before he bit down on one of them. Pulling one nipple between his teeth, you let out a moan, hands going down to his unruly hair. He moved to the other one, biting down again before leaning up to blow cold air on it. The sensation was so different and you arched a little. 

“Y/N,” he mumbled and you felt heat start to build at his use of your name. He kissed right between your chest, before putting your nipple in his mouth again. 

Sucking it slowly, he used his hand to play with the other one, pinching the nub in between his fingers. Rolling it slightly, he bit the other one a little and the pleasure started pooling. 

Looking down at him, you pushed his hair up, trying to catch his eye. Realizing what you wanted, he looked up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. His eyes met yours and you felt your mouth fall open. He waited a second before moaning with you still in his mouth, and you suddenly felt yourself fall right off the edge. 

Moaning out loud, you felt your core pulse as he continued to play with you. You tugged at his hair, pulling him up so that you could kiss him, panting into his mouth. 

No one had ever made you feel like that just with their mouth and you were a little surprised, not sure if it was Colson or the unresolved sexual tension both of you had. 

Moving back a little, he looked down at you, arms on either side of your head. Smiling he whispered, “I win.” 

You laughed at his cockiness, pushing him to fall on the bed. Grabbing your bra, you clasped it back on, feeling the tenderness of your chest. Pulling your shirt on, you patted at the warmth on your face, willing it to go away. You knew that all day, you would feel Colson’s fucking mouth sucking and biting at your boobs. 

Looking down at him, you smiled. He was flushed, arms tucked under his head. Casually looking at his boxers, you saw that his hard-on was gone, a stain blooming against the material. 

“Did I do that?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him once, chaste. 

“Mmhm,” he responded, letting his forehead touch yours. 

“I win,” you shouted, sitting back up, throwing your arms in the air as a victory. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” he scolded, smiling as he looked up at you. There was no hint of anger in his voice and you felt yourself smile back, knowing that the meaning behind his insults had changed.

Your phone went off and you slowly got off the bed before seeing your dad’s caller ID flash on the screen. 

“Shit, Colson change!” you yelled, scrambling to pick up the phone.

“Yeah, Dad. We’re on the road, just a few hours away,” you lied, trying to stop a laugh as Colson started shoving things back in his backpack. 

Maybe you had ruined everything by letting your desire take over, but at this moment all you could see was the red of Colson’s cheeks and his smile as he looked over at you, flashing a thumbs up as he zipped his bag close and things just felt good.

#o yah this is sexy 😳 #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly smut #mgk imagine #mgk lyrics #mgk icons #mgk fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker imagine #colson baker smut #colson baker fanfic #mgk x reader #m writes 4 mgk #m-writes-4-mgk

[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

Grip

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x reader

Rating: M

Words: 2k

A/N: this is only my second writing of this beautiful man and it's already smut. Damn.

Warnings: Dry humping, wet dreams, moaning, slight (very) hair pulling, SMUT, sexual frustration. If you think I should add anything let me know.

Summary: time is stretching the more you spend time with Mando on the Razor's Crest. What happens at night then?

The days are starting to blur together the more time you spend in the Razor's Crest, with no indication of what day it is, nothing but your own perception of time to keep track and try to stay sane. The silence, with a man who speaks two complete sentences on a good day, tends to become overwhelming if it stretches for too long, which happens more often than not.

With Mando flush against your left side at night though, time ceases to exist, much less matter. He always runs hot, probably because the beskar keeps his warmth inside, like a shiny envelope that he allows you to strip off every night with the only condition to have all lights turned off, sensitive to every single touch you give, intentional or accidental. 

He has a reputation to uphold, the big bad scary Mandalorian hunter, with no mercy to his bounties, getting the job done with no questions asked. Aggressive when needed, detached like he doesn't care about anything but the job. He's incredibly smart, which only makes him scarier. Nobody wants to get on his bad side, that's for sure. And getting on his good side is not an easy task, easier to avoid him altogether.

His upbringing had been a hard one, with his parents getting killed when he was still a kid and then being taken to The Mandalorians where there was no soft caress from a mother, no wise words from a father. Only training, fighting, The Creed, The Way. They showed love and affection in other forms, but definitely not in a touching style.

Not like he's complaining though, he owed everything to them.

But with the kid, his reputation stopped mattering. The kid was an exception to everything he was known for. Sometimes he wonders where he would be without that little womp rat, where would you be. He tries not to linger on that thought too much, hurts to think about it. 

You push him away from your body a little, the heat getting suffocating. Your arm is trapped between the cot and his torso, leaving your hand beside his head. The fact that he trusts you enough to hide his face in the space between your head and your shoulder forms a lump in your throat, knowing what would happen if you even so much as peeked at his face. You'd never do that, and that's exactly why he sleeps so easily around you. Instead, your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, your mind drifting off to places you don't allow in daylight.

Sometimes he looks at you and thanks the Maker that he wears a helmet because his facade would come crashing down if anyone realized how soft you've made him, how he melts when he's looking at you. You're beautiful, inside and outside. Once he tried to deny it to himself, and the feeling of stupidity that followed still haunts him to this day. And he knows it's not a great idea to allow himself to embrace it even a little bit under the helmet, but he doesn't know how to stop, doesn't know if he wants to.

His left arm wraps around your waist and pulls you to him, letting out a content sigh. You smile, moving your hand up to his hair, brushing it softly so as not to wake him. You can feel his lips moving against the skin of your neck, no sound coming out. His other arm is laying over the edge, hand dangling from the cot. 

Although him sleeping with you is very common, you're sure he doesn't know how cuddly he is, and he most likely doesn't know you know. He probably thinks he stays like a statue, far away from you. You're not an item, after all, you're just friends. And even that sounds too personal but too simple at the same time. Friends don't sleep together at night because the other's presence helps them sleep better, but friends can hold a conversation for more than 30 seconds without it getting awkward and that's not something that happens between you.

You let out a soft sigh, caressing his silky hair with your fingers while your other hand comes down to his forearm and brushes his skin lightly, the bumps of old scars clear under your tips. 

His lips kiss your neck softly, spreading heat all over your face. You tense, clenching your legs together as you stop your movements. He whines, still asleep.

After a few seconds, you relax against the cot, resuming your movements absentmindedly. He's never acted like this before, but now you realize that something is digging against your thigh and you're sure it's not his blaster. You move your leg, testing. A breathy moan leaves his lips as he pulls you closer to his chest, grinding lazily against you for a moment before stopping and moving his leg on top of yours.

Fuck, he's having a fucking wet dream.

You take a deep breath, willing your heart to calm down, and stop beating so fast. The heat from before suddenly feels worse, making your body hot from the tip of your toes to the top of your head, making you squirm.

The Mandalorian sneaks his hand down your sleeping shirt, hiking it up a fraction. His calloused fingers explore your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You bite your lip to suppress a moan, closing your eyes.

Out of nowhere, his hips start rubbing against you, with such sluggishness that you're sure he's still asleep. Soft, sweet pants leave his mouth, his breath hitting against your skin, only making you hotter. You can feel him leaking pre-come, the worn pants wet rubbing against your own, getting them damp, making them stick to your body. The thought makes your core throb, blood rushing down as you clench your legs together seeking relief.

"Fuck" you bite out, careful not to wake him up as sweat starts to appear in your forehead.

He remained asleep, whining as he rocked his hips against your thigh, his erection just pressing harder and harder until you got soaking wet, desperation invading your senses as his own leg presses against your heat just enough to provide some friction but not enough to ease the ache, just riling you up even more, bringing tears of frustration to your eyes.

Your name leaves his lips in a breathy moan, desperately grinding against your body, driven by his hot dreams but completely unaware of his actions in real life. Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. He's thinking about you. You wonder briefly what is turning him on so much, what is he doing in his dream. Or what is he fantasizing about that makes him moan your name?

Your eyes flick down to his arm, muscles spasming as he uses it as leverage to hurry his movements. Without realizing it, you grip his forearm harder, about to go insane. Your skin feels overly sensitive at the lack of stimulation where you need it most, and you lift your hips up slightly, your clothed clit brushing against his calf. You moan, biting your lip and closing your eyes as relief floods you briefly before a new wave of frustration fills your body as he moves his leg down to your knees, taking away the only source of release you had found.

You grit your teeth together, breathing deeply to calm yourself down. You decide to take what you can get, enjoying his sounds, his touch. He doesn't stop, not even for a second. His hips start stuttering though, his rhythm growing irregular and his noises getting needier, whinier.

And just as you're sure he's about to come, just as you're about to do something incredibly stupid and let every effort to get close to him go to waste, he wakes up, and your breath hitches in your throat.

At first, you can practically feel the doubt and regret roll off of him like waves, despite his hips still moving involuntarily against your body. His grip at your waist eases a little bit, but he doesn't let go. There's a slight shake in him, his entire body. You're not sure if it's because he was about to come or the shock of what he woke up to.

What should you do? Feign sleep? He's too smart to fall for that, too sharp. Even barely awake, his reflexes are ten times yours on your best day. Your logic is telling you that the only other option is to flee from there, but you're not leaving him to drown in guilt, thinking that he abused you in some way when the dampness down the middle of your legs very much say that he didn't.

This is not something one can simply ignore, act as if nothing happened. Everything is going to change after this, so at least one of you should be able to get some sort of release out of it.

"It's okay, keep going" you finally say, threading your fingers through his locks, pulling gently, making him groan and returning his grip to the almost bruising one from before. "keep going"

Still sleep-heavy and hesitant at first, he obliges, moaning as he thrusts against your hip, his grip at your waist tightening. His rhythm becomes erratic, with his leg laying on top of yours as his clothed dick seeks for enough friction to make him come. His right hand grips the edge of the bed until his knuckles turn white, using it as an impulse to push harder against you.

He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut again as he buries his face in the cot. The heat pooling in his belly grows, his muscles clenching as his orgasm runs through his entire body like a wave, making his toes curl and his fingers grip your body stronger, nails digging against the covers on the other side. You whisper sweet nothings to his ear through it, encouraging him to keep going. He lets put a choked moan as his cock keeps pulsing his release inside his clothes, chest heaving. The aftershocks hit his body harder than he's ever felt, making him jerk beside you like he's been electrocuted. He has to bite his lips to stop himself from screaming, opting instead for gripping you harder, pulling you closer as he rides out his orgasm. His hair is a mess by now, with all the tossing and your attention to it.

As he comes down from it, his body relaxing back into the cot, he moves his head back to his spot in the crease between your neck and your shoulder, breathing slowly. Your heart is beating wildly, and he can probably hear it but doesn't comment on it. You're not sure if he's aware that what just happened wasn't a dream, and there's a horrible ache between your legs that you won't be able to relieve right now for fear of his reaction. Maybe that would be too much at once for him. 

Taking deep breaths, your eyes begin to drop, the rush of adrenaline finally subsiding. His breath is now calm against you, and he moves his hand from your waist to hold yours and thread your fingers together.

"Is this the first time I do this?" He whispers, sleepy. His words are slurring together, bordering on the state of unconsciousness. You hope that, if he remembers this tomorrow, he won't regret it, won't act as if nothing ever happened. You certainly won't, and if he decides to, then everything will only be harder.

"Yes," you answer, gripping his hand. He sighs, shifts slightly to be closer to you, and falls asleep.

You follow shortly after, knowing that the next morning would be interesting for both of you. For a moment, your mind starts to create different scenarios of how this could go, going from spectacularly good to horribly wrong. Everything is possible.

But that's a worry for the future.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren #reader insert #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #my writing

[justimagineitblog]

“I Cant Lose You” Tyler Rake Fan Fiction - Chapter 1

A/N: alright here we gooooo, my first chapter for my new Tyler Rake series, I hope you all enjoy x

Warnings: Death, violence, swearing, kidnapping - we are all aware that Extraction is a violent movie, but I just thought I’d still give a heads up. 

Word Count: 4289 words - a longgg first chapter but I didn’t want to split this into two because it’s so fast paced :) I hope thats okay x

Cast

Chris Hemsworth as: Tyler Rake

Alycia Debnam-Carey as: Kate Spencer 

Yesterday I was kidnapped.

3 men jumped out of a black van that had come to a screeching halt beside me on the side walk. They took me, threw me in the back of their van, bound my wrists and ankles and put a bag over my head.

Now, I’m cable tied to a chair, alone in a room. I beg myself to steady my breathing. If I don’t, I’m going to die of fucking hyperventilation before these sick fucks kill me. I shudder that the thought. The air is hot, as I breathe heavily against the bag that has been over my head for so long that I cannot remember the last time I saw daylight.

I listen closely to any voice I can make out. Anything that the people outside the room might say that could give me some indication into who they are. And what they want.

I can hear low, grumbles voices. Back and forth. But I can’t distinctly make out what is being said. Then, for a moment, there is complete and utter silence.

But then like a bomb detonating, suddenly gun fire bursts into the air. The sound is defeating to my ears that have barely heard any noise in surely what has to have been 48 hours. A scream almost escapes me as the sudden commotion frightens me so badly that I jolt in the chair. The gun fire is followed by shouting, and the sound of body parts colliding as if a fight has broken out. My mind is racing just as quickly as my heart, as I find myself holding my breath. More gun fire ensues, and I can hear objects crashing and slamming. What sounds like wood crashing and breaking along side grunting and cries of pain are all I can hear. I try and make out what is happening on the other side of that door, but it’s completely useless. From all I can hear, who ever is on the other side of this door is dangerous.

I begin to pray. Pleading, begging with any god that is listening that who ever is doing this is here to take me away from these fucking people.

But I might not be so lucky.

Realising that the sounds are so loud they might provide some kind of protection, I leap into action, beginning to wriggle and fight against the cable ties that are digging into the flesh around my wrist. The dull plastic burns as I feel it tear into my skin. I whimper slightly, unable to control the noise from coming out as I wrestle with the restraints.

But something catches my attention… the noise outside has stopped.

I stop moving immediately, the sudden silence rendering me completely frozen. Terrified to even breathe to loudly, I hold my breath again. But I’m practically in the middle of a panic attack, and hyperventilation gets the best of me as my lungs burn. My chest rises and falls heavily beneath my shirt which sticks to my skin, soaked with sweat.

I think I can still hear footsteps. This fucking bag makes everything muffled and harder to hear.  

I hear the door knob turn with a squeal, followed by the door flying open, banging against the wall loudly. All logic and reason leaves my body as the footsteps enter the room. Unable to control myself, I begin to scream.

I am completely defenceless. I have no way to fight the person who could be here to take me. Or kill me.

The thought of this sends my panic into overdrive. As the person gets closer to me, my cries turn into blood curdling screams. The kind that make my throat burn as they claw their way up and explode out of my chest. To my horror, I feel the persons hands on me. They are strong and firm as they grip at my legs trying to hold me still and stop my desperate lashing.

“No, no, no” I chant repeatedly, my screams turning more and more into sobs.

With whatever strength I have left I begin back pedalling, pumping my legs to push myself away from whoever is in here. The sound of the chair legs scraping across the floor is ear piercing as I push myself backwards until I hit a wall and can’t go any further.

Complete terror at the fact that I cannot escape leaves me with no choice but to thrash around in my chair, praying that something gives or maybe I injure them somehow. I feel the cable tie around my ankles digging into my skin, but the adrenaline coursing through me like electric currents prevents me from feeling it. But then, I hear a snap.

One of my ankles is free.

Sensing that an ankle has broken free, I begin kicking manically.

Behind my screams and begging, I can hear a males voice. It sounds unfamiliar. I think I can hear him pleading with me, telling me he isn’t going to hurt me, but it’s overridden by my deafening cries.

At first, I’m kicking at nothing, I’m just desperately hoping I will strike them somewhere hard enough for me to delay them. The pair of hands grabs at me firmly again, this time, grabbing onto my shoulders. With barely anything left in my body, I deliver one final strike. And this time, I hit something. I feel my shoe come into contact with a body, and my attacker responds with a shout of pain, like all the wind has left his body.

Then, like a giant head light is beaming in my direction, daylight floods over me. The sudden brightness burns at my eyes, but they’re open just long enough to realise that when I kicked the man he went flying backwards, taking the bag over my head with him.

I blink rapidly as the room spins around me. Panic, adrenaline, and my senses being completely overwhelmed makes me so dizzy that I feel like I’m going to pass out. As I shake my hanging head, trying to stay conscious, I see the man in the corner of my eye begin to get up of the floor. My head shoots towards him as I sit up straight in my chair. I’m completely paralysed with fear as I watch him. He is panting heavily and clutching at his stomach, where I realise is where I had kicked him.

From somewhere around his waist he suddenly pulls out a knife, but before I can start screaming again, he holds his hands up in a surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he begs, getting closer to me wearily “I’m going to cut you from the ties okay”

I couldn’t even speak if I wanted to.

I notice his accent. It’s heavy. Australian. He moves slowly, eyes locked on mine, trying to convince me that he’s not going to hurt me. But still, every breath he takes, every muscle that moves makes me flinch. Even though I’m sitting, I can already see that this man towers over me. His shirt clings to him, covered in dirt and sweat. It sticks to his skin, revealing the tone of his muscles beneath. As he gets closer, my eyes follow him suspiciously. I can’t tell if it’s the hot, thick air in the room or not, but the tension begins to grow as he moves behind me until I can’t see him in my peripheral anymore.

I hear his feet shuffle, and I think I can make out the sound of him kneeling. With my arms tied and him behind me with that knife in his hand, he could slit my throat right now. I squeeze my eyes shut.

This could be my last breath.

Plastic snaps, and my wrists suddenly break free from the cable tie. I exhale heavily, releasing what almost sounds like a sob. Shock and relief wash over me all at once. I hold my wrists tenderly, grimacing as I see that I have burns around both wrists.

He quickly comes back into my vision, now kneeling in front of me to cut lose my one leg that is still restrained. As he works at the plastic he glances up at me briefly, giving me one reassuring nod.

“Who are you?” My voice is hoarse and croaky from screaming. He just looks back down.

I could question him, press harder. But I’m honestly not sure if I even feel fully conscious right now. I’m completely exhausted. My body in all kinds of overstimulation. I begin to ache as I slowly come down of my adrenaline high that had been fuelling me.

“Can you walk?” He asks, standing up. I look down at my legs, wondering if they even work anymore. But before I have the chance to stand on my own, he grabs my forearms, pulling me up to my feet. He let’s go once I’m up, but I begin to stumble as soon as he’s not supporting me.

“Whoa, whoa okay” he grabs me again, steadying me. He watches me nervously as I regain feeling in my legs. The blood rushes back into them, making me feel both stronger and faint all at once.

“You good now?” He asks again. When I nod, he quickly runs out of the room, returning moments later with t shirts from a nearby clothes line.

I watch him fold the shirt into a triangle. Lifting it up to my face to tie it around my mouth and head. I flinch, pulling away from him. Recognising that I’m completely terrified he moves slowly and hesitantly, wrapping it around my head.

“It’s just to hide your face” He reassures me, then demonstrates by doing the same thing to himself.

I nod, adjusting the cloth.

“Alright. Follow me, and stay behind me” he emphasises, raising a gun aimed at the ready before darting out of the room.

Somehow, my legs lurch forward and I begin to follow him. But when I stumble out of the room, I’m met with a scene that looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie, or my worst nightmare. Except I’m not dreaming. This is real. Several dead men lay on the floor. Blood pooling around each of them. Their bodies have been damaged brutally in various ways. My breath hitches when my eyes fall over one man who has been impaled with a gardening rake that is lodged very firmly in his neck.

Did he do all this?

When the man notices I’m not following him, he turns back, rushing over to me. When I see him coming towards me, I stumble backwards with fear.

“Who are you?” I breathe, putting more and more distance between him and I the closer he gets.

He stares back at me, almost looking hurt by how fearful I am of him.

“We need to move, now” He orders me, ignoring my question again.

“Did you do this?” I shudder, glancing at the bodies nervously.

He shakes his head in frustration, before lunging forward to grab my arm.

“If we don’t go now, more of them are going to come, do you understand?” He hisses in my face.

Shaken from his force and anger, I freeze, neither complying or disobeying him.

“God-fucking-dammit” he growls. With his hand still wrapped around my arm, he drags me forward, jogging through the room, through all the bodies.

We’re moving so fast I can’t even comprehend where we are or where we are going, as he leads me through the hall ways of an apartment complex. But the longer we run the more I begin to come back to my senses. Back to my body. As we fly down the flights of stairs, I begin to panic.

Why won’t he answer my fucking question?

Where is he taking me?

I flash back to the dead bodies in the apartment just a few flights above us, and feel myself growing sick at the thought that the man I am following did that… and could easily do that to me. The stairwell begins to grow brighter and brighter as I realise we are reaching the exit.

When you get out of the building, run.

As we make it into the lobby, he lets go of my arm, using both his hands to aim his gun around. He quickly stalks to the front of the building, and I trail behind him, letting him think that I’m still following.

He stops in the doorway, strategically analysing the street ahead before looking back his shoulder at me.

“I’m going to the car, I’ll signal when you can follow” He orders me, before taking of in the direction of a small car parked across the road.

I take a deep breath watching as he rips the car door open, throwing his gun into the passenger side before running around to the drivers side. He looks up at me, waving for me to run now.

This man could fucking kill me for this. But if I don’t escape, he might kill me anyway.

With one final deep breath, and a burst of adrenaline that I didn’t even know I had left in me, I push of the door step,  taking of sprinting in the other direction. From the moment my feet hit the ground and I can hear him swearing and shouting after me. But that doesn’t stop me. Fear and desperation grows in the pit of my stomach as my legs pump ferociously. And for a moment I think I’m getting away. That is until the sound of heavy foot steps grows louder, gaining on me from behind like a stampede.

Knowing that he is closing in on me, I begin to scream, shouting out to anyone who can hear me for help. But my screaming is brought to an abrupt halt when an arm wraps around my stomach, stopping me dead in my tracks. The wind is knocked out of me, his arm feeling like I just ran straight into a steel bar. He drags me backwards immediately, both of his arms now constricting around my waist.

I try to scream with the little air I manage to get into me but my lungs feel like they’ve just been crushed. Struggling against him doesn’t work either, there’s only so much I can do with barely any oxygen.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing” He shouts, putting me back down on the ground forcefully “You are going to get yourself killed”

“Just tell me who you are!” I beg him for an answer, but he just ignores me yet again.

His rough hand is locks around my forearm in a death grip as he drags me to the car. I begin to reach for the passengers side when a sharp yank rips me away from the door handle. Shocked, I look up to realise he’s leading me straight to the back of the car.

The boot.

Panic stricken, I begin to dig my heals into the gravel road, pulling back against him. I still do not know who this man is, and what he wants with me. And there’s no fucking way I’m letting him put me in a boot. With one annoyed glance back at me, he pulls me forward. But as the prospect of being trapped in a dark boot with no idea where I’m going sets in, I struggle against him even more. Being completely winded doesn’t seem so bad now that I’m facing being locked in a car again.

We engage in a game of tug of war with my arm for a few moments, before he finally turns around. Angrily, he shoves me against the car, pointing a finger in my face.

“Listen, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get in the boot”

“I don’t even know who you fucking are?!” I exclaim, bewildered at his logic. How am I supposed to know what’s good for me when I don’t even know who this man is and where the hell he is taking me. I clutch at my stomach, hunched over at the waist. The pain is still searing and I’m struggling to get air.

Jesus Christ, did he break one of my fucking ribs?

Sure, he just ‘freed’ me from the assholes that originally kidnapped me. But how the hell do I know that I haven’t just fallen into the hands of someone even worse.

With one arm keeping me pressed against the car, he uses the other to rip open the boot angrily. Cursing to himself in frustration he turns back to me. Frightened by the sheer rage on his face, I keep my mouth shut.

“Okay then,” he breathes in my face before giving me an irritated smile as he introduces himself “I’m Tyler”

Then in one swift movement, his hands grab my waist and he lifts me up of the ground like it’s nothing. They are so big I feel them almost close around my torso completely. He hoists me up over his shoulder, carrying me over to the boot. My legs kicking legs and my fists pounding at his back relentlessly don’t effect him at all. It’s like beating a brick wall. I’m terrified at how easily this man can manoeuvre my body weight like it’s nothing to him.

Suddenly I feel myself falling backwards, and before I know it he has dropped me into the boot. I hit the interior of the boot with a thud, and the wind being knocked out of me yet again distracts me from the fact that he has slammed the door on me.

The darkness and the lack of air dawns on me very quickly. I can feel the car start up, and the rumble beneath me tells me that we’re on our way from wherever this man, Tyler, is taking me. I find myself both struggling to regain my breath from being thrown around like a human sand bag, and hyperventilating from panic all at once.

The ride becomes more and more disorienting as I try to take notice of how many turns we take, but I lose track as I start to feel sick. I don’t even notice we have stopped until the boot suddenly flies open and sunlight streams in, blinding me. But I don’t have long to pull myself together before his hands grab both my arms and he yanks me up out of the boot.

“Wasn’t that hard was it?” He hisses at me.

But I barely hear him. I’m stood there in shock as I try and come back to my senses. What felt like only an hour ago I was tied to a chair in a tiny room, with a bag over my head. Maybe the adrenaline has run out, but everything begins to hit me at once. I would run away if I could right now, try and take of again. But confusion, shock and exhaustion keep my feet firmly planted.

“Arms up” He growls and I realise he’s towering over me, holding a vest out to me. When I stand there still feeling paralysed and overwhelmed, he rolls his eyes.

“I said arms up”

His booming voice snaps me back into reality a little, just enough for me to hold my arms up like he says. He pulls the vest down over my head, tightening the straps hastily and firmly. I struggle to stay standing under his forceful pushing and pulling.

Does he even realise his own strength?

Clearly not concerned that I’m going anywhere this time, he turns away, heading back to the car. With his back to me, he lifts up his shirt. As the fabric glides up, my eyes fall over his now revealed skin. It’s covered with bruises, cuts and scars that are scattered like constellations. A large symbolic tattoo sits between his shoulder blades. This is the first time I have been able to look at him properly. To take him in. I swallow nervously as I watch the muscles in his back move, contracting and releasing.

He could kill me with one blow. Easily.

He wrestles on another shirt and straps himself into his own vest. All his moves are erratic. Angry. Even when he turns back to face me, I jolt with fright. This man is a pure force.

“Eat this” he demands, shooting a protein bar in my direction “Your blood sugars low, that’s why you feel like shit”

Somehow, even through all my exhaustion, I find myself scoffing at his comment.

“Okay, don’t eat it then” he shrugs, slamming the car boot.

“I feel like shit because I was abducted, and now I have some fucking psychopathic-“

“You sure you want to finish that sentence?” He shoots me a threatening look.

I clench my jaw shut and he watches me angrily as he pulls out a phone from his pocket.

Holding it up in front of my face, he nods at me.

“Name”

I stare at him. I still have no idea who this guy is. Or who the hell he is sending this video to.

“Name” He repeats forcefully.

I want to comply, through fear of his wrath if I don’t. But I’m also terrified of who it is he is reporting to.

“Right” he growls, shoving the phone back down into his pocket. He begins charging towards me, stopping when he’s only inches away from my face. He grabs my vest jostling me a little.

“You are in a very fucking dangerous position right now, and I am the only person who is keeping you out of that danger. So if you don’t start complying, I will start forcing you”

“I don’t know who you are”

“I told you my name-“

“What, Tyler? Oh good I know your name, now I can trust you!” I exclaim sarcastically “I don’t even know where you’re taking me!”

“I’m taking you away from the people who kidnapped you, is that not enough?”

“Really? Because this feels a lot like a fucking kidnapping right now”

He parts his lips, ready to fire back another round of words. But nothing comes out. He glares at me, his eyes locked in on mine in a death stare.

I stare back, refusing to falter underneath the raging flame that he is right now. I can almost feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Trust me. If I was going to kill you, I would have done it by now. At least then you’d shut your goddamn mouth”

He steps back from me, fiddling with his vest which I realise is loaded with guns and knives. He takes one of them out, and points it towards me. It’s takes everything in me not to scream as the gun motions my way, until I realise that he’s going to shoot me. He’s holding it out for me to take.

Trying to act like I’m not in shock, I take the gun from him.

“You were kidnapped by people who wanted to use you as a leverage to get your fathers money. I was hired to extract you from them, and return you home. And I intend on doing that, because I need the goddamn money” He pauses, nodding at the gun in my hand “So there. You get a gun. You can kill me. If you don’t believe me. Go ahead”

Surprising even myself, I raise the gun at him.

He watches me for a moment, and then, he steps forward. He doesn’t back away from the pistol pointed straight at his head. He walks into it. What the fuck.

He stares me down unwaveringly until he has gotten so close that the gun is pressed directly against his forehead.

The seconds that pass between us are slow and gruelling as I stare up at him in disbelief.

What is this death wish that he has?

It has never been a secret to me what kind of people my Dad has gotten caught up with. And what kind of people want revenge against him for the things he has done. And I know they don’t care who they have to kill to get that revenge. And Tyler knows that too. Rescuing me is a suicide mission in itself. But now he hands me a gun and dares me to pull the trigger? If he was here to kill me, he would have done it by now. If he wanted revenge against my father, he wouldn’t have killed every man back there. And like he said, he want’s his money. And money is exactly what my father has.

I lower the gun slowly as I come to the realisation that he may be telling the truth. This man is my rescuer…

As the gun falls to my side completely as I surrender to him, he smiles with a shit eating smirk.

“Didn’t think so”

He quickly turns his attention back to his phone.

“Name?” He asks me again.

“Kate” I manage to reply and he nods

“Last name?”

“Spencer”

“Birth date”

“September 20th, 1994”

He pauses for a moment, looking at me. I don’t know whether he thought I was older or younger, but something about my age catches him of guard. He looks… concerned. Like for a moment hearing my name and age reminded him that I’m just a human too. Not just a mission. But surely I can’t be that young to him. I’m 26. He looks like he’s in his 30’s. Besides all of the sweat, dirt and tanned skin that looks like leather, he doesn’t appear to be to old himself.

He shakes his head quickly, before turning the camera back on himself.

“Proceeding to extraction”

TAGLIST

@hp-hogwartsexpress​

@s-v-e-l-t-e

@chickensarentcheap​

@alievans007​

@gazzan-a​

@farihafangirls

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[lousimusician]

Sex Pollen Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter has to deal with the effects of the sex pollen plant while you have to make a decision on what to do

A/N: okay this is by far the most popular fic I ever wrote. I had a lot of problems with trying to tag everyone so I'm really sorry if I couldn't get you in, tumblr just kinda gave up towards the end of the list.

Warning: Language, Masturbation

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

"You what!" Tony hissed.

You sat down on the end of the couch next to Thor as Bruce explained to your dad the events that had taken place only minutes before, while you were fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater.

"I know." Bruce said. "I screwed up-"

"Screwed up!? Bruce you gave the kid alien viagra!" He shouted. His eyes snapped to you. "And you- what were you doing in an unsupervised lab!?"

You scoffed. "How was I supposed to know Banner brought an alien sex plant into the tower."

Tony ignored your comment, going back to Bruce, "How do we fix this? I'm not really up to telling his aunt that we've made her nephew basically go into heat."

Bruce chuckled nervously. "See, uh, that's the thing. The cure is, uh- it's uh- it's"

"Sex." Thor finished.

Tony sighed. "Of course it is." He grumbled. "Do we know if he has a girlfriend or something?" He asked.

"Well actually," Bruce cut in. "The plant kinda gives off the scent of the person you like, so it can only be with the girl who's scent he smelled on the plant."

"Okay, do we know who it is? Hopefully a girl that he already knows intimately, because I'm not letting some poor girl that barely knows him go in there."

Bruce looked away nervously, while you stared intently at your hands, your cheeks heating up. Even Thor didn't seem like the one who wanted to be the one to tell him.

Tony noticed the strange looks on everyone's faces. "What? Who is it?"

"You're not gonna like it." Bruce warned.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Bruce, who is it?"

Bruce glanced towards you, making Tony follow his line of sight. Tony's eyes widened. "Are you telling me there's a horny teenage boy trying to mount my daughter."

You groaned loudly, "Oh my God, dad, don't say mount!"

Bruce scratched the back of his neck. "Kinda."

"Yeah, absolutely not. We're gonna have to find another way."

"You may want to reconsider that Stark." Thor said. "I noticed the spider has been getting worse and it's only been twenty minutes. I think his powers may be speeding up the process."

"And what happens if this pollen stays in his system?" 

"It would become increasingly painful and uncomfortable for him. Possibly causing trauma."

Tony let out an annoyed breath. "Is there anything else I should know about this plant?"

Thor hummed in thought. "From what I know about the plant, the pollen affects the body the person affects the mind."

Tony blinked. "Okay, try that in English now."

"The pollen will only affect his body, but he'll still be able to think clearly. But if (Y/N) goes near him, he won't be able to think straight. So as long as the two stay apart he won't become a danger to Lady (Y/N)." Silence filled the room as Tony thought about what to do, but the silence was quickly ended by Thor adding his two cents. "But I do think it'd be wiser to send Lady (Y/N) in there."

"Okay how 'bout you leave the problem solving to the scientist's. Just go throw out the shrubbery Point Break." Tony said, sending Thor off. He turned to you now. "And you young lady are going to your room. And I don't want you going anywhere near the nymphomaniac. Understood."

"Understood." You echoed, rolling your eyes before heading up to your bedroom. "Oh and only women are nymphomaniac's, it's a different word for guys." You called back sarcastically over your shoulder.

"Yeah whatever." He muttered back, off to the lab.

~~~~~~~~

Peter was convinced that he was going to die in a lust driven haze.

The first few hours of being locked in his room was torture. The second he was tossed into the room, he tried to break down the door, finding that Tony Stark was very thorough with the structure of the tower, making it impossible for it to budge even under his super strength. That was when he had resorted to banging on the door and begging to be let out, begging for you.

But when that was deemed useless, his attention turned to just how uncomfortably hard he was. He leaned his head against the door, squeezing his eyes shut, groaning as he palmed himself, aiming for any type of relief no matter how minimal it would be.

"Peter." He heard you say breathily against his ear.

His eyes snapped open, looking to his left, before realizing it wasn't real. That it was just his mind running wild. That he had to be hallucinating now.

But nevertheless, he rest his head back against the door, shutting his eyes. Because a hallucination of you was better than nothing at all.

"Peter." You whispered against his ear, lips barely touching the shell of his ear, your breath making goosebumps rise. "Please, Peter." You whined, hands coming up around his waist, your head falling against his neck. "I need you." 

Peter's eyes shot wide open, and he got up, bolting to his bed. Kicking off his shoes and shedding his shirt in the process. He fell onto his bed, hands flying to undo his pants, pushing them down, boxers and all. His cock sprung up, the tip red and swollen with drops of precum forming. His head fell back against the pillow, and he closed his eyes once again, throwing an arm over them. His free hand gripping himself tightly.

You laid next to him, trailing kisses down his neck. 

You were far from real, but you were still able to make it feel like he was suffocating. His hand starting to slide up and down, to the thought of you.

Peter gripped your chin, pulling you up, crashing your lips against his. He took control of the situation quickly, he needed to or else it would drive him insane with your incessant light touches. 

He flipped the two of you over, now sitting between your legs. Your body clad only in a pair of panties. His gaze devoured you. Peter trailed a hand down over your breast, pinching a nipple before ghosting over your stomach, and lightly stroking you over your underwear. The reaction was immediate, your hips bucked against his hand, searching for any kind of friction, as you let out a high pitched moan.

"Please," you whined. "I need you so bad." You practically cried. 

It was like his brain went into overdrive from that point on.

He wasn't able to focus on one thing in particular. Flashes of you writhing underneath him as he fucked you into the mattress. Images of you on top, underneath him, on your stomach, on your knees. 

Your voice whining, moaning, screaming his name begging for a release. 

His hand sped up, causing him to buck his hips into his own grasp. He moaned loudly, alerting anyone that happened to walk past the bedroom to know exactly what was happening. He moaned your name over and over again, amongst an array of profanities as well. His sweat drenched skin, beginning to stick to the sheets of the bed.

Nails digging into his shoulders, your entire body tensing up as you got closer and closer to the edge, breathing ragged and rough. Then your head falling back into the pillow, arching your back as you finally came with a scream of his name.

As he finally came with a scream of your name.

Peter panted harshly, now covered in his own cum and sweat. Relief flooding his senses.

But only for a few minutes, before he was unbelievably hard again.

Peter let out a broken sob of frustration as an even stronger flood of arousal took over every one of his senses. And he still found that the one person that would have been able to satiate him wasn't there.

-

Peter had no idea how long he was there for, but by the time his head started to clear, he noted that it was already nighttime. Meaning he had wasted the entire afternoon jerking off to thoughts of you.

The moment his body had spent enough time away from you his head started to clear, his brain no longer dealing with the heavy fog that had been there since he smelled that fucking plant.

And Peter couldn't tell which was worse.

He was immediately filled with a sense of guilt and embarassment at his actions, but he still needed to touch himself because he felt like he'd catch on fire if he didn't.

And because he was still so fucking hard.

He had no idea how many times he had came that afternoon, the sheets drying with his own cum as more of it was cooling on his thighs and stomach. And he still hadn't felt any better, in fact he was starting to feel even worse.

He laid in bed with the shame eating away at him. It was hot and stuffy, he felt like he couldn't breathe and he was dripping sweat. He found that with any slight movement that caused the bed sheets to rub against his skin he had to fight back a pitiful moan, self conscious now by how loud he had been during the day.

Yes, Peter was sure that this was how he was going to die.

What an embarrassing ending to a superhero, he thought.

~~~~~~

You sat uncomfortably in the kitchen. The rest of the Avengers, Nat, Bucky, Steve, Sam, Thor, and Wanda had gathered for dinner, some choosing to sit at the table, or lean against the counter or wall. You personally chose to sit on the kitchen counter, away from the rest.

It was awkwardly quiet at dinner. Just ten minutes ago Peter seemed to quiet down, you hoped that maybe he fell asleep.

You were incredibly self conscious while everyone ate. You hadn't expected Peter to be so loud.

Everyone knew exactly what had happened that afternoon.

They kinda had to, he had been screaming and moaning your name and curses at the top of his lungs for four hours straight.

Your dad had stayed in the lab with Bruce to try and figure out a cure, and because he didn't care for hearing his protege crying out for his daughter.

"So." Bucky started, finally breaking the awkward silence. "He seems excited."

You groaned. "Shut up."

Bucky laughed. "You plan on joining him anytime soon?"

You blushed hard, staring at your dinner.

"Leave her alone Buck." Steve said.

"Oh I'm just kidding." Bucky responded back. 

"So what happened again?" Sam asked, still thoroughly confused by the situation.

"Bruce brought back an alien plant from your mission last week." You started. "And this kind of plant is used for their breeding process. Peter smelled it and now, well..." You finished awkwardly.

"He wants to fuck?" Bucky asked.

You cleared your throat. "Basically, yeah."

"Hey, here's a question." Nat said. "What the hell are your dad and Bruce doing? If this is normal for those aliens shouldn't there already be a way to reverse it?"

Thor exhaled loudly, gaining everyone's attention. "I suppose I'll explain it again. The only cure is for the Spider to have sex with Lady (Y/N). I doubt Stark and Banner are going to find another cure anytime soon."

You stared intently at your dinner as the others processed the new information.

"Then." Bucky said. "Why doesn't (Y/N) just go up there and, y'know. I mean it sounds like he could use it."

Your face was so warm and you felt so embarrassed, this wasn't a conversation you ever hoped to experience with them. "My dad would never let that happen, and plus what about consent. I doubt Peter's in any state to consent to that- I mean not saying that I would even help him!" You yelped. "Not that I wouldn't if he really needed it but-" 

Thor cut you off. "Actually, you would be able to get his full consent. Remember when I said that the person affects the mind. If the Spider has gone long enough without you near him, he'd be in a perfectly good state of mind to give his consent."

"How's he supposed to consent if she can't go near him?" Steve asked

Thor shrugged. "Send someone to talk to him."

"There, problem solved." Bucky said with a grin, looking at you.

"Okay!" You yelped. "Can we just slow down for a second. My dad is gonna figure this out, and there will be no need for me to... y'know."

"Well actually." Thor said again. "Depending on how long it takes there could be some lasting effects on him."

"What kind of lasting effects?" You asked skeptically.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I'd imagine he's feeling a lot of shame right now but his body is still reacting to the pollen. I imagine that can be difficult for the brain to process."

"Great." You muttered sarcastically. "Can this day get any better?"

Bucky chuckled. "Well technically it could-"

"Oh shut it Bucky." You snapped.

Wanda studied you for a second before she cleared her throat, "(Y/N), Nat. Can we talk privately for a second."

Dread washed over you, no doubt already knowing that Wanda looked inside your head. You nodded your head and followed the two women out of the kitchen, regardless.

Wanda took the two of you into her bedroom, making sure the bedroom door was locked before turning to you.

"You don't think your father is going to fix it." Wanda said.

You groaned in frustration. "Wanda, I told you to stop looking in my head." You complained, throwing yourself onto your bed.

Nat sighed, sitting down next to you. "Alright, kid. What do you wanna do about this? Do you really believe Thor is right?"

You grunted out a yes. "I trust Thor more when it comes to these alien things. And I'm just scared for Peter. Even if they do figure it out, who knows how long it'll take. We don't even know how this'll affect Peter."

"Would you help him the way Thor suggested?" Wanda asked.

You became flustered. "I-I- guess- he's my friend, and he needs help."

Wanda snorted. "That and you've liked him for two years."

You sat up quickly and looked at Wanda. "Stop with the mind reading already."

Wanda smirked. "I didn't read your mind for that one, it was just a lucky guess."

You huffed, falling back down onto the bed.

"(Y/N)." Nat said, gaining your attention again. "You and Peter are both consenting adults now. Okay? If you truly think you have a better shot at helping him than your dad, maybe you should trust your gut. I'm not telling you what to do, your consent is just as important as his. All I'm saying is to really consider your options on this, and do whatever you're the most comfortable with. Alright?"

You bit your lip, nodding your head. "O-okay. But my dad-"

"Forget about him. Peter's your friend, do what you think's best."

You nodded again. "I just need to think for a bit."

"Of course." Nat smiled.

You thanked Wanda and Nat, before heading to your own room to think about the situation.

But honestly,

You were pretty sure you had already .made up your mind.

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

S.P. Taglist:

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[lipstickbisous]

the rei brown series (2/3)

OUR LOVE REMAINS.

notes: here’s the second part!! one more after this haha. not much of a plot to these just meant to put you in your feels. butttttt, i did write this from the experience my mom had in the icu when she was a nurse.

this one is your p.o.v. and is a little bit longer but not much

i DID NOT KNOW if anyone would get offended by “latino” or “hispanic” so i used both im sorry.

LISTEN for better understanding.

also u guys REALLY LIKED the din fic so i guess...more of those?

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: while rethinking all of the choices you’ve made in your life, memories of a certain person begin to flood in.

warnings: MORE ANGST ahahaha, childhood nostalgia, fluff ending

word count: 3.3k (these are not long chapters)

masterlist

you weren’t sure what time it was (you knew it wasn’t too late) and you hadn’t bothered to check as you stumbled through your doorway, one arm holding grocery bags and the other, your purse and papers from work. your hair had been stuck in the ponytail you threw it up in since the morning, but now, it was pulling at your scalp and giving you a headache.

managing to balance on one foot, you flipped the light switch in your entryway and watched as the first floor of your house illuminated in the night. the tiny dog you’d adopted a few months ago came padding out on the wood floors from the dining room, his tongue stuck out with loud pants to relieve himself of the texas summer heat. 

with a small “hey, bub,” to your pet, you placed the groceries on the kitchen counter and slipped off your clogs, throwing them at the bottom of your stairs so that you could be reminded to take them to your room when you went upstairs. for now, you reached into the glass cabinet and grasped a dark bottle of wine. the label read a fancy word in french, but growing up in kingsville, you’d never bothered to learn the language of love. you grew up in that rich latino and hispanic culture. 

this house had memories threatening to let it crumble, you knew that, but even after your parents had moved into a smaller apartment due to medical reasons and the fact that they couldn’t afford the house, you couldn’t bring yourself to move out of this town and just ditch them there--now the house was in your name. you didn’t know why it was so hard to leave--you’d been able to leave for university, but when you came back the summer after you’d graduated, something stuck. now, it had been twenty years and you had made no attempts to even leave kingsville. 

you popped the cork of the wine bottle open and instantly met that musky historic smell of the red alcohol. you had seven wine glasses in your cupboards, but you never had any friends over. you might occasionally invite a few girls you knew in high school, but if you were to hang out with people, it would be at a bar on friday and saturday nights. you watched as the wine splashed around the glass and when it was filled to your satisfaction, you pushed the cork back into its place and left the bottle on the counter.

as you made your way into the living room and collapsed on the couch, the little dog you called yours jumped up onto the high furniture the best he could due to his tiny legs. you searched your couch for the remote, pulling over the cushions and pillows before finding it buried under the arm. you switched the tv on and and flipped through the channels before settling on fifty-one. your dog curled up next to your lap and closed his eyes to sleep.

you didn’t for what you were sure was the next two hours. the movie that had been playing before ended the beginning of a new one had started until you realized your glass was empty and dry and your eyelids were getting heavier. you leaned your head back before rethinking how the day had gone. you’d shown up to the hospital for work at the crack of dawn and spent the next twelve hours wheeling around patients, taking diagnostics, and carrying their dirty dishes.

it definitely had not been the job you imagined when you were ten. you’d played doctor with your stuffed animals and plushes before but in those scenarios, the patients had been obedient in kind. unfortunately, fate had not been so kind and, while sitting in front of the television with an empty wine glass in your hand, your fingers grazing over the sore spot on your wrist. it was sure to be bruised, the one on your calf had turned purple and yellow in the past few days. you hissed when you applied just a bit too much pressure.

i spent four years at a college i hated to have this. you’d put it all on the line to have this job. you thought that by being a nurse in the fucking icu, you’d be saving people everyday. instead, you were groped, spat out, and ignored by everyone there. you deserved a glass of wine every night.

you knew that this was not healthy at all and that you were intoxicating yourself with far too much alcohol but the way your back ached, your calf bruised, and your head pounded drowned out whatever warnings your brain sent you.

suddenly, you managed to catch sight of the atomic clock sitting on your kitchen counter. bright crimson letters read “1:30 am.”, and with a far too heavy sigh that awoke the small dog next to you, you set the glass on your coffee table (you’d grab it in the morning when you weren’t so sad) and flipped the tv off before sauntering up the stairs. even at your age, you had still been terrified of the dark--you could barely walk down to your basement without a flashlight and by yourself--but you found that you were perfectly fine walking in the pitch-black of your upstairs hallway. your dog was quick to follow behind you, jumping onto your bed and waiting for you as you emotionlessly entered your bathroom and looked at your reflection.

who the fuck were you? how much time had passed and yet here you were, in your fucking childhood home all alone? you’d found love with many men over the years, but you hadn’t expected them to last--and they hadn’t. what had you done? had you left some sort of imprint in the world at all? you were never one for kids, everyone you knew was well aware of that, but how were you supposed to live on even when you were dead? in reality, abandonment and loneliness was your worst fear along with--

oh god, you thought in a shriveled voice. you’re gonna be forgotten. 

one part that hurt the most was the news. you’d gotten better at keeping up to date with pop culture and politics, and the pablo escobar situation had you worried for one reason and one reason only--javier peña. you’d seen him on the news, the DEA agent who had made it his responsibility and top priority to catch the famous drug lord. it was nice to see that he had gotten somewhere while the only time you’d ever really traveled was to paris for a christmas and then LA to see an old friend who you didn’t even talk to anymore. 

this was your life now. mindlessly wandering around your house after work, eating microwaved leftovers and carry-out from the diner.

god, that diner. it had been one of your favorite locations in the shitty town you called home--had been. the first time you went, you were suspicious due to the fact that the actual building was a different restaurant owned by a criminal before it was a diner, but javier had practically begged you to have a late dinner with him after an afternoon spent skipping your last few periods and driving around the outskirts of town in his truck. the wind had been blowing through your hair and you hung your head out of his window, letting your arms wave around, and you could’ve sworn you had felt him looking at you. 

that was the moment you were in love with javier peña.

you knew that you had been lying to yourself up until that moment because since the first day you met javier when driving past their ranch and stopping to look at the horses, you’d been in love. you couldn’t even think about how many days were spent writing poetry about him that now seemed stupid and childish. you’d told yourself it was an outlet for your feelings, but you had really written it because you were too much of a bitch to come out and tell javi. maybe that hadn’t been your fault--you’d witnessed, first hand, javier rejecting a girl in sixth grade. you watched her nod and tell him “oh, that’s okay” but then run away into the bathrooms. javier had continued on to tell you about a new foal on their farm.

you remembered the horses. you missed them too. if it hadn’t been them roaming about in the pastures, or the great stallion that caught your attention while on that family car ride, you would’ve never met javier. you weren’t sure if he judged you for it or not, but every time chucho needed help around the farm, and javier was too much of a brat and a teenager to do it, you had gladly offered. so, chucho peña had put you in charge of the foals. there was one in particular, a small one with a white coat, that had piqued your interest. there was a day, one in the middle of the summer if you could remember correctly, where you and javi had just run out to the fields while the rest of the horses stayed in their stables. javi had been excited since his father had gifted him with a new camera, and he had spent all day taking pictures of--and to this day, you still didn’t notice it--only you. 

while brushing your teeth, carefully placing a small dot of paste on your toothbrush, you began to scrub in small circles. how long had it been since you and javi had last talked? even then, it had barely been a conversation. a simple exchanged of very few words, a goodbye that went misheard, and that was it. when you had called his home phone the next morning, instead of javi replying like he always did, it had been chucho’s voice instead, muffling an annoyed “hello?” but when he heard the exhaustion and lightness of your voice, he carefully explained that javi had already left.

you hadn’t felt heartbroken--not at first. in fact, there was barely any sadness in that tired head and upset stomach. you were infuriated. how could he? how dare he? he had been such a coward that he couldn’t even say goodbye and it angered you more than you thought it ever would--not that you had ever thought about javier leaving before because he said he wouldn’t even consider it. and now, he had left you alone your fucked up hometown that you’d always told him you hated so much. then, about three days alone without javier (which was something you weren’t used to) you’d realized that there was a large possibility this could’ve been your fault.

had you been a bad friend recent to his leaving? yes, you had been acting distant, but it was due to normal events, such as school and...the fact that you were hopelessly in love with him. it had been harder to talk with senior year ending and college coming up, but you hadn’t never thought he could just turn himself away like that. never.

and not once had javi tried to contact you. he, of course, knew your number by heart, but after all these years, he’d probably had hundreds of girls phone numbers--in fact, you were sure that if hadn’t been a DEA agent hooked with the most dangerous man on the earth, you would’ve expected him to be married already. you had gone to the wedding. you’d seen how the church was decorated, how each and every guest wore plastered smiles--just the idea of seeing javi made you giddy and you’d worn your best dress you could find. even after returning from university, javier didn’t visit or call. you also remembered hearing lorraine sobbing when her groom didn’t show.

javier was not the type of person to stand someone up. you didn’t know what he was like now, but as teenagers, if he ever had a date (which wasn’t often because even if you didn’t know it, he was hopelessly in love with you) he would arrive five minutes early. 

the one time javi did have a date, you stayed home and watched one of his favorite movies while crying. you hated to admit that the next day, when he admitted to you he didn’t like the girl that much, you were excited.

suddenly, you remembered how this was completely your fault. you had always blamed javier for never calling or writing, but then you realized that you had never made the attempt either.

“fuckin’ hell,” you whispered and washed off your toothbrush. as a nurse, you didn’t normally cake yourself with makeup, but you did wear the average concealer, mascara, and lipstick or gloss. you took one look at your reflection and noticed that your mascara was currently running. when did i cry? you asked yourself and exited the bathroom, not bothering to remove your makeup.

your room was next door and when you walked inside, your dog was patiently waiting next to your nightstand and- god, did i leave the fucking light on again? you felt like slapping yourself until your head was straight because it wasn’t right to think about someone you haven’t seen in twenty years.

you slipped off your pants, leaving you in expensive panties you’d gotten for no reason at all. you threw off your scrubs, discarding them onto the floor with a light air sound and replacing your shirt with a tank-top. your bed had been so perfectly made that it almost annoyed you. you threw yourself onto your bed and began to rub your eyes. it wouldn’t matter if you messed up the mascara because there was nothing to mess up. 

hoping the sleep would rid you of the horrible thoughts, you flipped the lamp next to your bed off and pressed a pillow to your cheek. the small dog at your feet curled up rested his eyes. you did the same.

it would’ve been physically best for your health if you had gone at least six hours of sleeping without any interruption, but one moment in the night, the phone on your nightstand began to blare its ringtone. your eyes shot open and began to burn slightly from a sudden awakening. the sound had scared your dog, who jumped to the ground in protection of whatever the source was until he realized it was the telephone. you groaned with heavy eyelids and looked to the clock. two-twenty five am. as soon as you went to answer the call, it went to dial tone. 

more frustrated than before because you really just wanted to sleep, you groaned and flung yourself back into bed. of course, now you were awake.

but then, the phone began to ring again. it had seemed louder this time and your dog barked in the most un-intimidating way possible before you threw a pillow at the spot next to him to get him quiet. you held the phone close to your ear and spoke a tired, “hello?” the line was silent and at first, you were terrified because you could’ve sworn you heard someone breathing. another one of these. “hello?”

part of this was exciting to you. while it was extremely frustrating to be awoken a few hours before you normally rose to get ready for work, your mind was racing during the silent pause between you and this stranger. who could it be? perhaps it was chucho telling you that javier could be coming home, but you cursed yourself for thinking of that man and dismissed the idea. maybe it was your mom calling to tell you how your father had gotten better and, for now at least, the cancer was gone. 

“(y/n)?”

―

while the reason behind it remained unclear, you had always loved airports. the cleaning-product smell, the diverse people, the small restaurants, even the feeling of the carpet--or the feeling of that when in an airport, you were going somewhere.

it had always been about going somewhere. javier knew this since fifth grade, that you had always wanted to just leave kingsville, texas. maybe you would move to new york, or philadelphia, or even go to london and paris. they had been silly daydreams due to reading too many of your mother’s travel books, but paris had always looked so nice. maybe even visit mexico--you’d already been well immersed in the culture.

but that wasn’t why you were here. you were here for something that was long overdue.

after the phone call that night, you javier had made sure to call each other every other day at ten o’clock pm. there had been some days where you had to stay late at the hospital or javi was chasing sicarios and didn’t get home until midnight--those nights, you would either fall asleep or just call the next day, but you both had made a good schedule. it definitely hadn’t been the same as when you were teenagers, and you didn’t expect it to be. his voice was much deeper and raspier (you knew it was because of the cigarettes, you could practically smell them through the phone) and his voice wasn’t as...lively anymore. you felt that you couldn’t say much, though, because the years had been rough to you as well.

he had told you everything. your thoughts on how he was living was wrong--he told you of the countless informants and prostitutes, how the colombian sun was definitely hotter than the texan sun and even to him it had made a difference. when you both had too much to drink and were passing back funny stories, his was that he had grown a mustache. you had laughed at that one because if you could imagine the clean-shaved, teenage boy that javier once was with a mustache, it was a hilarious thought.

all-in-all, it had still been painful to talk to someone you knew so well like they were a stranger. at first, you had asked yourself if he’d changed but you caught yourself in the stupid thought. of course, he had changed. it had been twenty fucking years and even you had noticed the faint lines starting to appear around your face. 

it had taken almost half a year of phone calls, missed and attended, happy and sad to be where you were now.

the airport bustling had also been one of your favorite things too. the countless and various voices all coming together to make a white noise that was so distinct. 

you were standing near the entrance, watching as families reunited, lovers embraced, and yet you stood alone. it had been over ten minutes since when javier was supposed to show. if you were being honest with yourself, what did you expect? he would just appear out of thin air in the middle of a crowd? you hoped the flight from bogotá had been peaceful and well. there hadn’t been any storms passing by, baggage loading problems, or anything that could possibly delay the plane, so there was no reason for javier not to be there.

unless...you began to think and it had been too late to stop yourself from completing the thought. maybe he just didn’t want to. 

like when he rejected that girl in sixth grade. like when he left you alone in kingsville. like when abandoned his bride at their own fucking wedding.

suddenly, you felt angry. your blood was boiling, your hands felt hot, the hair on your neck became irritating, and the winter heat of texas began to scorch, even in air conditioning. you ran a hand down your face, feeling two beads of sweat trickle down a path to your chin. your foot, which had been tapping for the past now fifteen minutes turned on its heel as you made your way to the glass doors.

your car was just outside. you wouldn’t even have to walk that far, and then you could drive home, cry yourself to sleep, and call javier about this some other time.

“(y/n)!”

tags: @pascalisthepunkest @javierpenaspinkshirt @gummiishark @cyarikaaa @larakasser @pedropasscals @honeyedspace @talesfromtheguild @absurdthirst

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