#ive already warned coworkers against it

[a-sapphic-love]

🎧- e.w mindbreak

summary: in which ellie gifts reader an odd pair of headphones, and weird things start to happen.

warnings: MDNI!!!!, dom!ellie, sub!reader, manipulation, smuttt, mindbreak, hypno, bdsm, smoking blunts/ weed use, freeuse, exhibitionism, probably more that i forgot to list

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my first ellie fic- enjoy! (tips and such are appreciated)

you're at work one day, humming at your desk as you finish up a task when your coworker ellie comes up to you.

you both don't talk much, but she's always been nice to you. its kind of weird, since she's cold to your other coworkers, but you don't think too much of it.

"hey, i got these headphones and customized them for my friend, but it turns out she doesn't really use them. your old pair broke, right? so i guess you could have these." she says, smiling. such a sweet gesture!

"oh, thank you! ive been wanting a new pair!" you say, returning the warm smile, and ellie hands you a box with some black headphones on them.

you're surprised when you open the box to find pink headphones, and they seem to be a little modified. ellie is long gone so you can't really ask, but you assume it's because the headphones were supposed to be for a friend of hers.

you put the headphones on, and they fit comfortably, so you decide to just start using them. you play some music, but are confused to realize something's wrong. there's an odd frequency playing.

so you just play a different song, except you keep hearing that same frequency. you stop playing the music to see, and think everything's normal again until you listen close and the frequency is still there.

you were raised by a family that was against waste, so you decide to just suck it up and use the headphones anyway. plus, after wearing them for a few days, you find every time ellie sees you with the headphones on, she just looks so excited. probably just really happy to see you using her gift.

however, odd things begin to happen. suddenly, every time you see ellie your panties get all sticky and you just want to follow her around like a lost puppy.

plus, you're getting worse and worse at your job. you start to forget things, or just simply ignore them. because now, all you spend your time at work doing is looking for ellie. she seems to already know you're getting dumber, and she helps with all the 'big girl things' you just can't do anymore.

"hi, angel, you need help right?" she coos every time you come find her to do something for you. "im so proud of you for coming to get me, i know you can't do it by yourself. it's okay..." and her gentle praise only makes your cunt leak more.

your boss sees how you don't really work anymore and gets angrier, much to ellie's advantage. one day, she takes you into the washroom and shows you a video.

one big, sparkly pink spiral is plastered on her phone screen, and she connects your headphones so you can hear the audio -

"you feel so good with your little pussy all wet, all you want are some orgasms right? you don't think any more, you only get dumber and dumber..." and the video trails off.

it feels like hours that you stand there staring at the screen, hypnotized. you feel her hands on your body, touching your nipples and squeezing your boobs. "you want an orgasm right? wanna cum so bad, but you can't do it yourself? come with me, ellie will help." she coos, and your horny broken mind only wants to listen.

ellie takes you to her house, something she's been wanting to do for a long time, "just had to make sure you were dumb enough," she thinks to herself.

she brings you into her room where there's a little cage all perfect for you, with your new favourite color: pink. she ties you up, all pretty, with an even prettier pink ball gag. you squirm a little, confused. you're not completely dumb yet, and ellie's annoyed by that fact.

luckily, there's a good solution. "it's okay princess, ellie will break that mind of yours, alright?" she says, teasingly. now that she has you all for herself, she doesn't need to keep up the nice act.

ellie leaves you to struggle briefly, before coming back with a small egg-shaped vibrator. she tapes it right on top of your clothed clit, before continuing to play hypno files.

you squirm, even though it hurts with all the tight ropes, at the feeling of the vibe. not only have you gotten soo much dumber, you're also needier. without really meaning to, you mumble a series of broken pleas through the gag. you don't care that ellie hypnotized you and is actively trying to break you. all you want is to cum.

ellie smiles when she notices you moving your hips, desperate for more friction. she presses down on the vibe before sliding her hands up your shirt to rub your nipples. the look in your big, teary eyes makes her clit throb.

"come on, know you wanna cum your brains out, so just do it. cum for me angel," she teases, and it sends you over the edge fast. finally, you break, her dumb little nympho toy.

she unties you quickly and removes the gag before taking all your clothes off. "good girls don't wear clothes if they don't need to... right, baby?"

"yes ellie!" you respond, nearly drooling from how good your last orgasm was- and how badly you want another one. ellie immediately takes her pants off when she hears how you say her name. she wants to fuck you soo bad already

shit, and the look in your eyes- like not a single thought passes through your head, ever. that's how she knows you're broken.

ellie lights a blunt fast, and you find yourself practically humping the floor at how hot she is when she smokes. the air in her room seems to get heavier, and it's greenish-yellow tinted. long puffs, and she takes a few hits before turning to you. "always wanted to do this, since the day i first saw that stupidly cute little face," she whispers, chuckling.

she takes a hit, and this time she blows it in your face. you cough, disoriented by the sudden sensation but you love every second of it. and you're happy to be obedient because maybe that means another orgasm- fuck, you just want to cum again.

lucky for you, ellie does too. she picks you up and throws you on her bed, kissing your pretty lips until you can't feel them. she stops momentarily, opening her drawer and getting her strap, a vibrator, and something else you can't see.

you realise what it is when you feel your nipple get pinched harshly, ellie put nipple clamps on you. you whine a little, but come to be... okay with the sensation. you just want to please ellie, after all.

and anyway, being so good for her pays off. you know for sure when she's 8 inches deep inside of you, stuffing your face inside a pillow with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other.

"you gonna make a mess, hm? you gonna make a mess for ellie?" she says, leaning over to kiss your swollen lips. "mhm, yesyesyesyes, 'm gonna make a mess for ellie, fu-u-uckkk, els," you whimper, and you know it's exactly what she wants to hear.

the base of the strap absolutely abuses ellie's clit, and it's not long before her movements become frantic and she gets even meaner. "yeah, you gonna cum your brains out again like a little whore? yeah?" she groans, slapping your ass harshly.

"say it, say you're a stupid whore for ellie," she says, when she doesn't hear a response. she's right about to cum, she just needs to hear you admit it.

"i-im a stupid whore for ellie!" you whine, having your third- or was it your fourth? orgasm since ellie broke you. it didn't matter how many you had, you just wanted more.

ellie nearly felt the same way. having her own little toy, it was too good just thinking about the possibilities.

after that day, ellie tried out all the things she'd been wanting to do. she brought you to work with her, except now you went so you could be the cum dumpster of the office, going under tables to eat your former coworkers out until they came all over your face.

she took you to the park, so she could humiliate you by making you hump random things. she took you to the library, so she could make you ask the female staff about books while controlling the vibrator in your panties,

even at home, ellie humiliated you by making you clean or do gardening outside with a skirt and no panties. anyone sensible would have been way to embarrassed to keep doing these things.

except you didn't really have a problem with your new life, because you always got orgasms, and that was all your dumb, broken slutty brain ever wanted.

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this account supports palestine 🇵🇸❤️

do not buy any tlou games! neil druckmann, the creator, is a zionist who's funding a genocide! do not give him your money!

https://www.tumblr.com/sulfurcosmos/732456971539775488/how-you-can-help-palestine

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #gxg smut #lesbian #tlou ellie #ellie williams tlou #bd/sm kink #mindbreak #hypnoslut #hypnok1nk #hypnosub #free free palestine #free palestine #i stand with palestine #free gaza

[flipphone01st]

PLEASE write the mafia 141 idea you posted🥺I'm in love with the idea so much already!!!

Mafia 141/Bartender reader- Part one

Johnny🧼

Mostly Johnny/reader in this fic, because ive decided to split this up into different parts that will focus on different characters Like part 2 could focus of Gaz/reader.

Warning: not proof read, bad joke, swearing, alcohol and smoking, Johnny is a lil shit, and pushy, poorly written accents, (if I forgot anything that could have a warning let me know )

this is literally my first time actually writing a full fic so it's probably mediocre, FEEDBACK AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. Other then that I hope you enjoy :)

Stupid uncle, stupid debt, stupid bar. You hated this, but you suppose its your own fault. If only you had just closed the door when your uncle showed up at your door begging for help because he had gained massive debt to one of the most infamous crime bosses in the city... Johnathan Price...if only you had just said no and didn't drive your ass down to Price's club and demand to speak with him, didn't try and bargain for your uncle...maybe then you wouldn't be forced to work for the bastard...

Two hours...thats how much longer you'd have to spend standing behind this bar. You swear to god, if other drunk yells at you you'll shove a jigger down their throat, and your 'coworkers', if you could even call them that, weren't making your life easier. If anything they were hellbent on making it worse. "Yer lookin' a bit peely wally." Johnny chuckles while cleaning a margarita glass, it was just him today, said Kyle was off doing something for Price, you didn't want to ask what.

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing in confusion and slight annoyance "..huh?"

"Means you look like shite." He clarifies.

You sigh and stand up, nudging an empty box away with your foot "thanks... asshole." You grumble. He chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender, "Awe come on, I'm just funnin' with ya. You look fine, a wee bit red in the face, but that's it." He grins, you didn't hate him, he could actually be quite hilarious sometimes... sometimes...You roll your eyes. He laughs and takes out a cigarette, lighting it up. "Ya want one?" He offers.

"no...I thought price didn't like us smoking around the drinks.."

"Aye, he doesn't." He shrugs, taking a drag of his cigarette. "but what ol Pricey doesn't know won't kill em."

"mm.." your nose scrunches in disgust at the smell. you take a small step away, not wanting the smoke to settle on your clothes. He blows smoke out the side of his mouth, away from you "yer no fun ya know that?" You scoff, "pft..I can be fun.", while crossing your arms, and leaning back against the bar with your lips shaped into a slightly grumpy pout. "Oh?" He chuckles again, leaning back against the bar himself "can ya? Let's see, tell me a joke."

you think long and hard "uuuuuuuuuuuh..ok I got one. What do you call a fake noodle?" Johnny squints his eyes "...what?"

"....an impasta..."

"..."

"..." You're both silent, completely silent.... just staring at each other...

"..." Johnny sighs "that joke was dogshite."

Your shoulders slump forward in defeat "I know." He chuckles, "Well at least yer aware." before taking another drag of his cigarette. before looking at you with the most smug grin you've ever seen "but that also just proved my point...yer no fun, pipsqueak."

"Pipsqueak?" You raise an eyebrow as your eyes narrow

"Yeah, you heard me. Yer a wee'un." He teased, god you wanted to whip that stupid grin off his equally stupid face. "you're not even that much taller than me."

"I'm seven inches taller than you." He points out.

"...nuh uh.."

"Fuck ya mean, nuh uh?" His eyebrows furrowed as he tries not to laugh, on the other hand, your brows furrow in annoyance. "I mean, nuh uh."

Johnny chuckles, and places his hand on top of your head. He then leans down, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours "dena it alllll ya want..." His eyes were locked with yours, the faint smell of cigarette smoke almost making you recoil in disgust. he leans even closer, you try and lean back but you're stopped by the bar. "...yer still a pipsqueak!" then ruffles your hair aggressively.

You slap his hand away, glaring at him while fixing your hair. "Jerk! Don't do that again." you grumble, and to make matters even worse, you feel your cheeks heat up a bit. "Awe, someone's all hot and flustered now." He smirks, giving you a small jab with his elbow "c'mon now, I was just joking around, relax."

You groan softly and roll your eyes, pushing him away and walking to the other side of the bar, trying to find anything that you could use to ignore him. Johnny grins, quickly putting out his cigarette and following after you "see! that's exactly what I'm talking about. Such a grump...don't tell me yer so boring that ya don't even like a bit of harmless flirting?"

"go away, Johnny." You don't look up from the drink you were pouring for a costumer "Aww, c'mon. I'm just tryna lift yer spirits." He wraps his arm around your shoulder "you like me don't ya?" He grins, not expecting a positive answer.

Your eyes widen and you move out from under his arm "no." Was your immediate response, your voice stern. Johnny grins wider and moves to stand right in front of you, leaning right up and practically invading your personal space. "Don't lie to me now. I bet ya daydream about me, don't ya? About all of us? Me and the lads, hm?"

Your face goes red "what?" He grins, almost deviously "you think I haven't noticed the way ya seem to float off into lala land while staring at me or Kyle work? When Simon's gotta rough up some jackass? Or even when price is literally just in the room with ya? Don't try to dena it, pipsqueak...just can't keep us all out of yer fantasies eh?" His hands slide their way onto your hips, he didn't seem to care about the bar patrons laughing and ooing, some even getting annoyed that the two bartenders were flirting with each other instead of enabling their alcohol addiction.

Your brain felt like it was short circuiting, it had become uncomfortably warm. If you were a truther..you'd admit that despite hating these four men...they were kinda hot. But you're a god damn liar and you'll be one till the day you die! "i-i!..no..no way!.. you're crazy! There's no way in hell id ever like any of you like...that.."

"Mm...sure... I'm definitely crazy." He leans even closer, his voice a whisper as he presses his body into you, the two of you basically chest to chest "...crazy about you." He leans down to try and steal a kiss, you're eyes widen comically large but thankfully before you could even react the gruff voice of Simon makes Johnny freeze just before his lips could graze yours "That's enough, you two 'er supposed to be workin, not swapping spit." He glares at Johnny, you didn't notice it but there was a slight hint of jealousy in his dark eyes... you didn't notice, but Johnny sure as hell did.

Johnny quickly backs up from you, and then looks at Simon with a smug grin on his face "Jeez... Yer no fun either, Si. We were just messin' around." Simon stares him down, not breaking eye contact with Johnny for a good two minutes, until finally letting out a deep sigh "just keep it outside of work..." then glances at you, "Price said you're free to go for today.."

You nod "uh..thank you." You awkwardly stutter, still trying to process what just happened and understand how it made you feel... were you embarrassed? Very. Were you necessarily uncomfortable?... strangely enough...no, you weren't uncomfortable. Simon nods then walks off into his little office behind the bar, Johnny watches him go, then his gaze wanders back over to you "Sooo, ya gonna head off then?"

"yeah.." you answer, somewhat shyly. Johnny nods, a quick look of disappointment on his face before he masks it with a smile "alright, then...have a good night, pipsqueak." He shrugs playfully, and begins walking off to serve a poor bastard that had been trying to order a drink for the past five minutes. ".. you too, Johnny.." you mutter while walking out from behind the bar to towards the break room to get your stuff and finally leave....what a weird ass day...

END OF PART ONE. Please let me know what you thought

#task force 141 #cod mw2 #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #eventual!gaz x reader #eventual!ghost x reader #eventual!price x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #mafia 141 #mafia au #soap x reader #soap mw2 #taskforce 141 #mw2 x reader #gn!reader

[invidiia]

flags headcanon // picture this:

albatross LOVES metal, or just any loud music in general. doc on the other hand, knows just how bad it is for one to have music blasting in their ears at the highest volume.

a common sight for the flags was watching albatross sit down, lost somewhere in his own head with headphones on, the music so loud you could faintly hear it if you were a couple feet away.

while pianoman was seated on top of a pool table conversing with lippmann, who sat in a chair next to him, chatting away..

while iceman sat in the corner, silently smoking and fixing the record player on the end table..

while chuuya propped his head up on his palms, reading a random magazine, every once in a while checking his phone, before silencing his notifications because he was getting spam-texted by you know who..

while everyone else was doing something else, albatross was seated on a sofa, leaning against the cushion, glasses bobbing up and down on his face while he blasted music into his ears at full volume.

doc is sitting across from him, legs crossed and reading some book about medical stuff. nothing that he doesn't already know. however, it was a little hard to focus on the book with the faint sound of drums and guitar coming from his coworker's headphones.

"albatross," doc moved forward, calling his name to get his attention. he wasn't yelling, but it obviously wasn't loud enough for the other to hear.

not being able to focus wasn't necessarily doc's issue, more of the fact he didn't like that albatross could damage his ears like this. he needed to be able to hear, didn't he?

doc tried again and again to get his coworker's attention by calling his name, but nothing worked. he looked around the room, everyone else was absorbed in their own things, paying no attention.

after a few moments, doc stood up from his spot on the sofa, stepping around the iv pole he kept next to him and walked behind albatross. without warning, he snatched the headphones off his head and held them in his hands, messing with dials until he found a way to turn them down.

albatross finally noticed when doc took the headphones off his head. "hey — doc, what the hell?! i was listening to that!"

doc only sighed, turning the volume of the music down to something more reasonable. "you're going to damage your hearing if you keep listening to music that loud," he spoke in response to albatross.

"it can't be that big of a deal," the other man huffed, taking his headphones back and putting them around his neck, but not turning them back up. doc was definitely right.

not a ship unless yall albatross x doc shippers want LMAO

#bsd #bsd flags #doc bsd #albatross bsd #bsd lippmann #pianoman bsd #iceman bsd #flags bsd #stormbringer bsd #bungou stray dogs stormbringer #this isn't a ship post but it can be if that's how yall doc/albatross shippers view it #have your crumbs #i know yall dont get any content of these guys anyway

[dokifluffs]

Always | Miya Atsumu

Pairing: Atsumu X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: implied yandere 😳, fluffy? angsty

Author’s Note: ive been getting yandere and haikyuu vibes as of late 😗

Warnings: implied yandere!! language, manipulation of emotions, toxic! 

The house felt so still, so empty. If there was an old clock, you were sure you could hear it while standing in any room in the house. Your eyes burned staying open but your mind and body wouldn’t let you sleep, not without him by your side, his touch easing you into sleep as he traced shapes into your back or the feel of his fingers patting your head, the sound of his heart beat slowing down in your ear as he slept beside you. You couldn’t sleep without Atsumu.

You yawned for the nth time, your dried eyes burning as they teared up from your yawn. The house felt like it was sleeping already while you saw awake, the room and house dim as you sat beside the single source of light that was currently on, the lamp.

Just as you rested your chin on your arms hugging your knees, the sound of keys jingling caught your attention. You stood from your seat on the wrinkly worn leather couch and approached the door, not minding the blanket as it pooled onto the ground. The carpet sunk beneath your feet as you walked, the fibers sounding and feeling like a strange sand.

“Welcome home,” your heart swelled, smiling seeing Atsumu step through the door. He was finally home and it just meant you were that much closer to sleeping easier.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing up?” He scowled as he set down his things, exhausted from a long day of work. He got stuck in traffic this morning which made him the tiniest bit late but his boss was unforgiving, always sure to pick on him and flaunt his tardiness or anything that was off. It didn’t help when his coworker bumped into him, spilling his coffee all over his papers. All he had been thinking about all day was to just come home and sleep, starting a new one tomorrow. “I told you to be in bed asleep at 11:30, why can’t you do that?” He spit as he advanced toward you with a couple steps.

It felt like your body was frozen in place, your feet and hands were getting cold, your words and thoughts stuttered and stiff in your head, caught in your throat before you could even try to say anything.

“Don’t you love me?” He asked, his voice going up toward the end. “Cause it sure doesn’t feel like it seeing you awake, against what I fucking said.”

“I-“

“I told you to be in bed by 11:30. That was nearly two hours ago, Y/N. Can’t you do anything right?” He glared down to you, twisting the knife he had inside to keep you with him.

“I- I do love you,” you squeaked, your voice wavering and unsteady but all you could hear were the rumbles- the sound of the tears blurring your vision, your head suddenly lighter. You felt so broken as you spoke, honestly not knowing if you were saying it out of love or fear or both for him. “I- I do love you, Atsumu...” it felt like a piercing in your heart that went deep, going in slowly.

“Then why the hell are you not asleep upstairs in bed?” He raised his voice just a little as you cowered, his anger and stress from today getting the best of him, he didn’t even notice how shaken you were. He turned away and held the bridge of his nose between his eyes, his other hand resting on his hip, gathering himself.

Your breathing quickened and it looked like the corners of your vision were blurring, the door behind him was suddenly a dark, blurry blob, your thoughts all fuzzed you and mixed with random words flying by. Love, Atsumu, anger. Your legs gave in without your realization until your knees hit the ground, the carpet rubbing harshly against your bare skin. You pressed the palm of your hands to your squeezed shut eyes, tears leaking down your cheeks. You took in short, sharp breaths, crumbling down every time you breathed out.

When he turned back around, all the anger he felt simmered away. Guilt replaced the anger, now burning him on the inside. “Y/N, I’m sorry for snapping on you,” he sighed as he knelt down, stroking your forearm, your skin as soft as any silk on the back of his fingers. “I had a rough day at work,” he reasoned. But his words felt like they weren’t getting to you.

You moved away from his touch, breaking. “I-I do love you, Atsumu. I’m only awake cause I can’t sleep properly without you.” You sobbed, your voice shaking and your lips trembling, the tears glistening down your cheeks, slipping out of your parks on the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he tried to take your hands from your eyes when you pulled away again with greater force. “Ah don’t be like that~” he tried to brighten the mood but still refused his touch. Atsumu loved you, he did. He truly did, but he hated it when you rejected him in any way, shape, or form. Especially now when he knew he was in the wrong and apologized. You should’ve accepted it and made up by now.

“Y/N.” His entire voice changed, your cries and entire body instinctively reacting to it, freezing hearing your name being said in that tone. “Come here.”

You hesitantly removed your hands from your eyes, bone-chilling fear running down your body, raising goosebumps all over your arms and legs as you looked up to him. His eyes were dead and cold looking down to you as he knelt. “Don’t make me say it again,” he grimaced, everything about him different from before, different from the Atsumu you knew now and reminding you of the Atsumu you once knew, the one you had to know, the one he trained you to fear.

You moved your body into his open arms and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs wrapping around your waist. With a heavy, relieving sigh, he embraced you in his arms, burying his nose into your shoulder as he took your scent in that mixed with a hint of his from the shirt you wore which was one of his. He told you to wear it whenever you were home.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asked. He squeezed you hard in his arms for a brief moment, savoring the feeling of your warmth through his dress shirt that he had to wear for work. “Aw, shh,” he hushed you, running a hand down your back repeatedly. You didn’t make any noise but he could feel your tears making a wet spot on his shoulder, your hands gripping his shirt.

Entering the bedroom, he shut the door behind him with his foot and sat you down on the bed, the mattress dipping to your weight. He left you without a word and showered briefly, back to you in no time. All he wore were his boxers, his hair damp and fresh, his body practically steaming from the hot water. The mattress dipped and the springs within whined beneath his weight. He laid onto his pillow and flipped open the covers and opened his arms, inviting you in.

Your eyes were puffed up and red, burning more than ever. You laid partially on top of him, your head resting partially on his chest and shoulder, close to his head.

“I said sorry, Y/N, I really am.” He had the arm you laid under looped around you, his hand rubbing your arm soothingly as he brought the other to your face, his thumb rubbing your reddened cheek as you hyperventilated, your arm draped over his torso. “Don’t cry anymore, baby, okay? You know I love you.” He leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead as you nodded slowly on him, calming down the best you could. “And I know you love me too. Now get some sleep. I’m here.”

He stayed awake despite his own fatigue til you were sound asleep, your breaths tickling his skin, his touch never lingering yours and legs tangled together beneath the covers. “I’ll always be here,” he whispered to your forehead.

~~~~~  Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else! 

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu x reader #dokifluffs #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu miya atsumu #inarizaki #haikyuu!! #haikyuu yandere #atsumu yandere #miya atsumu yandere

[softly-potter]

Iniquity

Summary: Draco's having a hard time coping with the world post-war, and he uses sex and alcohol to get by. It never occurred to him that Hermione might be coping in a similar fashion. 

Pairing: Draco X Hermione

Word Count: 17,065

Warning: smut, language

A/N: Find the rest of the chapters here; Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV

-

Part I

September 19th, 2000

My love,

It is with great regret that I am writing to you. Please know I do not wish for this, but your father is the final word in decisions like this. He's aware I am unhappy with choice, but when has your father ever heeded my words?

We can no longer support you. With the constant drinking and nights out, I'm afraid your father has decided to halt your access to the family account until you either marry or sort yourself out. I do so hope you do that, my love. You are my brightest joy, but your actions these past few months with the Malfoy money has angered your father. I am so sorry, Draco. Please write back soon.

Mother

"Absolute bitch and arsehole," Draco scoffs, crumbling his mothers parchment in his hand and holding his other hand above his head. Pansy is snoring loudly atop of him, her naked frame pressing into his side that he finds sharp and annoying.

It was nearly ten in the morning and Draco knows he's late for work, but the fire whiskey hangover is pounding behind his eyes and he has just been informed that he no longer will have a steady flow of income. His job at Flourish & Blotts has merely been something to occupy himself with, a pastime, and in no way can it keep up with his lavish lifestyle. With an exasperated sigh, he shoves Pansy off of his chest and stands up, looking around the room for his clothing.

"Draco, what the hell?!" she gasps, nearly falling off the other side of the bed from the force, glaring at him and pulling the covers around her bare chest.

"Don't be modest now," he sneers, finding his trousers and putting them on. "You were all overjoyed to bare yourself last night."

Eyes wide, Pansy stands quickly, swearing, "Fuck you."

"You already did that."

"I'm leaving."

"Good. I never asked you to stay."

He begins to brush his teeth when he hears her slam the door and he rolls his eyes, knowing she'll be calling him later tonight while saying whatever she needs to in order to stay in his good graces so he'll fuck her again.

Exiting the bathroom, he swears under his breath as he feels a sharp pain on his foot. He lifts his leg to find one of her earrings on his floor. Rearing his arm back, he throws it against the wall. He hopes she doesn't call.

-

By the time he enters the bookstore, he's almost certain he's lost the job, the third one this year. He scans the store, his eyes flitting over a group of elderly witches quickly before he lands on his bushy-haired coworker, silently rearranging a stack of books.

"Busy morning, Granger?" he asks, leaning against the bookshelf as he watches Hermione Granger push a book into its rightful place.

"No thanks to you," she huffs, giving him a glare before she walks away, her back to him. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he follows her, eyes glued to her backside.

It isn't that he fancies Granger. No, it's more that she...puzzles him. She's quite bland, not changing much since their days at Hogwarts, her hair still wild and bushy and she still carries herself in the "I'm-smarter-than-you" fashion. But she has certainly matured, filling out in all the right places that sometimes when he was alone, he pictures her lips parting in an 'o' of pleasure.

"We actually weren't terribly busy," she says, pulling him out of his daydream. "So I told Mayjoy you went on a delivery. You're lucky our boss likes me, because I'm not sure if he entirely believed it."

Draco pauses, staring at her. She had covered for him?

He folds his arms defensively, cocking his head to the side. "I don't need you covering my tracks, Granger," he hisses, contempt filling his voice. It's so like her to do that, sticking her freckled nose in other people's issues. "I'm not your pet project."

"Pardon me for being nice," she quips, not looking at him, and placing another book onto its shelf. Draco can feel his self-control coming to an end. "I didn't realize you were capable of taking care of yourself since, you know, Mummy and Daddy clean up after you."

In three steps he's behind her and he places his hand on either side of her frame as she turns to face him, her eyes suddenly wide in...what, fear? No, that isn't it.

"You'd be wise to watch your mouth when addressing me, Granger," he sneers, his face inches from hers, so close he can play connect the dots with her freckles.

"Or what? You'll do what, exactly?" she shoots back, to which he raises an eyebrow at her bravery. "I always pick up your slack around here, minding the register, and cleaning when you're late or hungover or both, so no, I won't watch my tone. I will do so when you deserve it."

Her words strike a cord in him and she dips below his arm and moves away before he can react, leaving him leaning against the bookcase in bewilderment.

"Fuck you, Granger!" he hollers, but she's already out of eye view, and he swears under his breath, brushing his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Where does she get on in talking to him that way, and why does it make him hard?

#dramione #toxic relationship #draco malfoy #draco x hermione

[waspenned]

scenes from an italian restaurant • part seven • peter parker

you’ve never seen peter like this before. apparently, now is the time to be honest with each other. • 4k

warnings: a tiny gun whoops, some suggestive language but no smut, swearing

now playing: honesty by billy joel

part one / previous

a/n: IT TOOK A WHILE BUT THE NEW CHAP IS HERE my b ive been swamped LOL join my taglist for a wee message from me when I upload new fic xx

If it was any other time, the expression on Peter’s face, marred by his waiter’s cloth, would be hilarious. However, your brain is still dealing with the emotional whiplash of the moment, every fuse in your brain simultaneously shorting out and melting the whole thing into a puddle. Your ears ring with panic, the both of you completely still, sprung like a trap ready for prey.

“That was like, a rat, right-?” You whisper, and Peter shushes you, eyes wide, grip tight on your hips. His eyes are on you, but his focus is clearly somewhere else, the hairs on his forearms pricked up, and you can practically see him calculating. It’s semi-ridiculous, the both of you naked from the waist down, but the heartbeat pounding in the back of your throat is making it hard for you to see the comedy.

When you say his name, a soft murmur, he straightens a little, taking in a sharp breath. He seems to have figured out whatever he was deducing in his head, and he helps you down, setting you on the floor and gathering your uniform trousers and underwear.

“Pete, it’s probably nothing-”

“Get dressed.” He whispers, barely audible, a finger over his lips, and you comply almost robotically. It’s odd, the way he’s moving, tiptoeing around all silent, like some sort of cat. He’s always been strong, you knew that, but every step is incredibly controlled as he redresses, limbs tense and firm like a gymnast. You’d have to ask about it later, if he'd had any training. He’s over at the door in an instant, while you’re still struggling with your fly, cracking the door open a sliver and peering through it. You attempt to speak again, fill the awkward, crushing silence, only for him to shush you.

You’d be lying if you weren’t a little disappointed, the anticipation of everything still wound up in your gut like a coiled spring, your flesh still hot and sensitive to the touch. Everything else has been replaced by a sheer, dreadful feeling, though - oscillating wildly between the anxiety of maybe being caught nearly fucking your coworker in the pantry, and the embarrassment of nearly fucking your coworker in the pantry. Maybe this whole thing was a blessing in disguise; nothing good would have come of whatever was about to happen between you two, no matter how bad you really, really wanted it - and still maybe, kinda did. You could brush off a kiss (well, in theory) but you can’t brush off knowing what Peter looks like naked, how he feels in your hand, how he sounds when you find just the right pace. The acrid burn of regret is already charring your tongue, your face burning in the pitch dark.

Oh, God. Peter has seen you naked.

“Uh, so, about the-” You begin, barely at a whisper, deciding to do damage control to avoid as much awkwardness as possible. Trying your best to tiptoe over to the door, Peter shushes you again, clamping a hand down over your mouth. Almost instinctively, he’s pulling your body close to his, tucking you in to his chest and wrapping an arm around you. He’s still staring intently into the crack in the door, pupils moving a mile a minute. If it was any other moment, you'd be melting away into his touch, but the tenseness of him is seeping into you, your heart pounding.

There’s a horrid, weighted moment of silence, waiting for whatever it was to make another noise, or for the coast to be clear, and you can feel Peter’s heartbeat strong and paced against your shoulder blades. The clock in the dining room ticks, ticks, ticks, and what must be a century passes.

And then, another noise.

Peter’s hold on you tightens, and he jolts from the door, shutting it over and pushing you into the furthest corner of the pantry. It’s unmistakable what the noise was, you heard it hundreds of times a shift, and only now do you fully realise just what’s happening. In the front of Joe’s, the till must be about forty years old, the numbers worn away with countless greasy, callused fingers, then drawn anew with a sharpie. It’s sticky and rusted slightly on the drawer, and makes a heavy groaning sound when it’s opened, followed by the rolling of the hinge tracks and the tinkle of quarters rattling in the chipped plastic drawers.

And unless Joe’s has suddenly become haunted, someone is in the front of the diner, and they are opening up the cash register.

“Oh my God.” You’re panicking, eyes wide, voice only just reigned into a hissing whisper-shout, watching Peter root through all of his pockets, then his apron. Then, he starts ransacking the pantry, clearly looking for something.

“Please, you have to be quiet.” He’s almost begging - he was doing something akin to begging not five instants ago, but this was different, more selfless. Whatever moment you had was long gone; replaced by an awful, palpable fear that lingers in the air like smog that burns your lungs. There’s no time to mourn the almost, because Peter’s practically turning the whole pantry upside down, somehow completely silently.

“Oh my God, the diner’s being robbed.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Oh my God.” You can’t help it, your brain is barely working now, sparking and smoking from having to shift gears this quickly, and you can’t really bring yourself to say much else. You’ve been scared before - Sal offered to drive you home once, and you only barely lived to regret it - but that seemed trivial, surface-level. This was something rawer and colder, deeper, a flood of pure fear. Your hormones are all over the place, drowning you, the adrenaline slowly plummeting you from arousal to a pent-up, jumpy sense of terror. Checking your pockets, you notice a distinct lack of your phone.

You’re doing really well at the whole manager thing so far. Good job, idiot.

“I don’t have my phone.”

“Me neither.” Peter’s looking you up and down, frowning, like he’s weighing things up in his head, but you’ve got no idea quite what. He seems to come to a decision though, pulling a folding chair from a gap in the shelves and propping it against the door to wedge it shut.

“We’re, uh, gonna just have to stay put and wait for help.”

You can’t help it, but through the panic, you’re rolling your eyes at him. It’s definitely the safest plan of action, but something irks you about just having to sit there and let some random rob Joe’s dry, twiddling your thumbs. Something irks you even more about who ‘help’ might come from, because if you couldn’t call the police, there was only one other person who ‘help’ could possibly be.

“Oh, from who, Spider-Man?” It perhaps comes out more venomous than you mean it to, and Peter’s alarmed, more panicked by the idea of Spider-Man than an actual, genuine burglar stealing his wages.

“No!” He blurts out, before taking a breath and trying to wrestle his voice back to a whisper. He’s hesitant, trying to style it out, but it’s just sort of awkward and stilted. “I mean, maybe - I don’t know!”

“I was joking, man, why would he help us?” Suffice to say, your opinion on Spider-Man hasn’t improved since you last spoke about him - if anything, Peter’s joined the ranks of your coworkers in poking fun at your Spider-based opinions, elbowing you and bringing you tiny house spiders he finds in the dirty corners of the diner, holding up the glass and coaster he caught it with. The jokes were fine, you could handle them pretty well at this point, but the actual presentation of insects was far too much - they were weirdly attracted to Peter, you think. He never had too much trouble catching them and if anything, he liked being able to set them free outside. He’d always have this funny look on his face, the same expression as when he’d serve a customer a perfectly fried egg, like he’d done a good job and got to be all proud of himself.

Now, though, it seems his patience with you is finally beginning to wear thin. It’s oddly serious, more serious than talking about his Uncle Ben, and even more serious than when he was fully ready to have sex in the diner’s pantry, kissing you hard against the very same shelf that had nearly crushed you a few months prior.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” His voice hits a tone you’ve never heard from him before, something lower and straighter than usual, roughed by the hushed volume of it. You feel your stubbornness kicking up for the first time in a while with him, wanting to dig your heels in.

“Neither do I, but Spider-Man’s not gonna be at Joe’s of all places, Peter. Why would he care about us? There’ll be something blowing up across town that’s more important.”

“What is your problem with him?” Your tone ignites something else in him now, and it seems you’ve finally managed to strike a nerve with him. If it was still the summer, the younger, bitterer you would have rejoiced at finally getting a rise out of him - but now, it just produces some sort of sinking feeling in the pit of you.

“He doesn’t rescue people in real life, we’re not special. We’re two normies in a shitty diner on the closing shift - he’s got bank robbers to stop.” You can tell Peter wants to say something, and part of you wants him to argue with you, but he won’t. His face shifts, it's minuscule but you see it anyway, and he swallows whatever he wants to say, taking a breath instead.

“Please, we have to just hide and be quiet, okay? We’ll call the cops when they leave.” He’s trying to save the situation, and even though he turns around, you can tell his brain is computing, calculating how to barricade the door, or lock you in - keep you safe. You’re scowling now, and you grab at his arm, spinning him back towards you again - he doesn’t fight you, just looks alarmed. Guilt twists in your gut.

“What? No way dude, those are our fucking wages - we don’t get paid if they get stolen.” That rings in Peter’s head, you can see it echoing around behind his eyes, and his expression shifts slightly. It sounds dramatic, but it was true - the diner was old school and family-run, there was no ‘upper management’ or well of resources to pay you from. If there was no money in the till, there was no money going into your bank account. This usually meant that your wages were quite high, because the staff was so small, and Joe’s was popular with the city - but getting robbed before you had managed to lock the money in the office was a certain downside.

“So you want to get shot?” Something in you drops.

You didn’t know there was a gun involved. What seemed like pretty moderate danger had now escalated very quickly, and you weren’t quite sure what to do about it.

“They have a gun?”

“I mean, I don’t know!”

“Oh, Peter!”

Somewhere in the past, you’re stuck in the staff room, watching the kitchen slowly fill with smoke and left to wonder if your coworkers even got out of the diner unharmed, unable to help. In the present, you feel like you owe them something, some level of risk, to get even. People need that money, you need that money, but other people have, like, kids and shit - so you’re going to make sure they get it.

Ah, fuck. Goddamn whatever complex you have going on at the moment. Goddamn crime. Goddamn Spider-Man especially.

“Stay here.”

“What? What are you doing?” Peter watches you with a grave look on his face, pale and ragged, as you search through the cupboard clutter for anything that may be of use. You find a large pizza pan - maybe useful as a shield? - stained brown from the oven and heavy in your grasp. It’ll do, and you realise with a biled taste in your mouth that it’s really all you have to defend yourself. Pete grabs at you, tugging at your uniform shirt in an entirely different manner now; you know whatever expression he has on his face will wrench your heart from your chest, so you avoid looking at it despite the comfort it usually brings you. 

“You’re not going out there.”

“I’m the most senior member of staff here, you have to do what I tell you to.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Just stay here, Pete. Please.” He’s trying his best to be defiant, but you’ll get your way - you don’t really have another choice. You’re technically responsible for him, the restaurant, and the wages currently being ripped from the till and stolen from the people you’ve worked with for years. Spurred on by some stupid sense of duty, and what can only be described as a flight response to the intimate moment not a few minutes prior; there’s nothing else to do about it, you have to keep Joe’s safe, and this - apparently - is the only viable way your brain can cook up right now..

“I’m in charge, okay? I’m in charge of you, and the rest of these people, and I have to look after them.”

“Stop it.” Peter’s eyes are wide and oddly shiny, too glossy for you to look at comfortably, and you avoid his gaze as if to give him privacy in whatever moment of emotion he’s experiencing. This just seems to upset him more, and he takes your face in his hands, his palms warm against your cheeks, the skin roughed from labour. “I’ll deal with it, okay? Let me do it.”

“Pete, these people rely on me to look after them and make sure they get paid. I’m their manager.” You’re trying to get away from him, no matter how much his touch quiets the panicked thumping in your chest, and he looks at you like you’ve broken his heart. “And with that role comes responsibility-”

Peter pales almost instantly, his face falling, tears springing to his eyes. Something inside you rips into a deep chasm at the sight of him, his voice intense and desperate.

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence. Please.” He’s tugging, grasping, at you now. Fingers scrambling along your skin for anything to hold tight. “You can’t go. Not after you’ve said that.”

The moment is raw, and there’s something underneath his skin that you seem to have pricked, some nerve you’ve accidentally struck. You’re trying to find something to say, to make it better, but you can’t think of anything.

“You can’t. I can’t lose-” Peter cuts himself off, his words dying away on his tongue. He’s looking you up and down, hands flexing at his sides. For a millisecond, you can tell he’s considering something, fingers stretching towards his palms. Then, nothing. “Please.”

And before he can protest any further, you’ve slipped through the pantry door, and slid the metal bolt into the slot on the doorjamb, locking it behind you.

The diner itself is eerily quiet and dark, brief flashes of light coming from the robber’s cellphone light as they illuminate the cash register. The atmosphere is thick, but you can hear the rustle of dollar bills in their hands, even though you’re a good few meters away from them. Crouching, you sneak across the kitchen, to the serving hatch, then dare to take a peek.

You can see a dark figure now, dressed in black, stuffing the day’s earnings into a backpack, backlit by the streetlights. All of a sudden, everything’s very real, and you feel as if your heart fell out of you a good while ago - like you left it with Peter on the pantry floor. This was no longer a hypothetical matter of moral duty, this was happening and it was happening now.

And somehow, the only part of your brain still working (the part that isn’t focused on the way your skin tingles after Peter kissed it) has decided that if the real Spider-Man isn’t coming, you’ll just have to be Spider-Man instead. A lot easier to say than do, probably.

Waiting until the intruder has turned away, you scurry along the floor, crouched low, until you can get yourself pressed flat along the back wall, and under the counter behind them. Your fingers are cramping from holding onto the pizza pan so tight, slippy in your nervously sweaty grasp. You adjust your hold on it, though you’re not quite sure what you’re going to do with it. You really should have thought this through. You probably should have stayed in the pantry with Peter.

Then, on the ceiling, something moves.

You swear for a second, that there’s a big, dark mass, creeping along the ceiling like a cockroach; the sight of it sending a bolt of fear through your spine. It’s something eldritch and awful, all limbs and joints but still vaguely human under the shadows cast over it. The stranger, nearly finished with their ransacking of the cash register, drops the wad of cash they were clutching, gasping at the shape on the ceiling. The bills fall inches from your toes, and the thick, hard hands of a man come scrabbling into view to try and collect them. The back wall is cold and hard against your back as you press yourself into it, tucking your body in on itself to make yourself as small as possible.

You think he’s still looking at whatever’s on the ceiling as he tries to gather the money, because he only hesitates when his fingers accidentally brush one of your undone laces.

Fuck.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as he stills, as he turns his head to look down. You can’t see his face, just hear his rattling breath and the rustle of his clothes, watching his hand collect the rest of the bills and then inching towards your foot. Your mind is racing, trying to decide whether or not to attempt to kick him, his dirty fingers outstretching towards your ankle as you push yourself further and further into the back wall.

That is until an odd thumping sound pierces the diner - rubber on tile, and silk shot through the air.

The stranger makes an odd sound, gravelled and rough as his hands, straightening up. Then, there's a strained grunt as some force slams him backwards against the back counter, the cutlery clattering in the trays. You’re scrambling out from behind his legs in an instant, checking the ceiling again for whatever thing you saw. It seems to have disappeared without a trace, but the stranger isn’t bothered about it anymore, because he’s regaining his footing and looking straight at you. You’re not sure if you recognise him or not, he’s just sort of generic-looking, but he’s freaked out, eyes alight like a caged animal. You attempt to gather the momentum to vault the serving counter, but it’s like you’re moving through syrup, your legs weighted and stuck.

He’s wiping some odd, tacky substance from his chest that you can’t make out in the low light, something that clings to his fingers like glue, then he’s reaching into his pocket and grabbing around for something you’re not sure you want to see. There’s movement behind you, in the front of the house, and someone calls your name from miles away, but you’re too focused on whatever’s about to happen in front of you. You blink, and a series of things happen.

One; something sends you stumbling to the side, a firm force planted into your shoulder blades, the warmth of it blossoming on your skin. You manage to catch yourself on the edge of the back counter before you fall into it and hurt yourself.

Two; there’s a gunshot, and the shattering of glass, a hair away from where you were just standing. The sound reverberates within you, turning your bones to puddles, and humming in the pizza pan that has managed to stay in your hand this whole time.

Three; you look up, and you’re greeted with none other than the business end of a pistol, a dark, unblinking eye. In that same moment, something flies into vision - some white streak of fluid - and rips the gun from his hand, sticking it to the back wall.

Four; before you can process anything that’s just happened, your body takes its own initiative, and slams the pizza pan down on his head. Whoever the fuck was in the diner is knocked out cold now, collapsing in a crumpled pile at your feet.

Your hands are still shaking when you come to, looking at the white substance that seems to have stuck the guy’s pistol to the wall. It’s thick and tacky, it forms tendons and limbs, it stretches its fingers out across the wallpaper like a hand, the gun nestled in its palm. It’s stringy, like the stuff you found on the jar in the pantry, all those weeks ago, after you sent everything tumbling to the floor and Peter caught you.

Looking in the direction of the gunshot, you almost want to laugh. On the photo wall, one of the frames has been blown to pieces, the bullet buried deep through the plaster right where your shocked, reindeer-antlered head would have been. You suppose you got your wish after all. Maybe you could get Sal to keep it with the hole instead of replacing it with a new one; make up some bullshit about preserving the history of the diner. You’d have to show Peter.

Peter.

“Peter!” You say his name in a gasp, shocked back to the situation at hand, unsure if he’s safe or not. What if more people came in through the back and ransacked the place? Stabbed him up? Left him for dead on the kitchen floor? Despite this, you still hope that when you look behind you, he won’t be there. You don’t even want to think about what could come after.

You’re turning, hoping you just spoke out loud to an empty diner; you’re turning with no idea what you’re going to do, about Peter or the ceiling monster you apparently now have to deal with.

“Are you okay?”

Great. You’re not sure to be upset or relieved.

Peter says your name about a hundred times, between strings of fervent apologies and other anxious ramblings. His hair is ruffled into a wild thatch from raking his fingers through, his face sparked into a hybrid of focus and panic. The vice on your chest relaxes from sheer relief that he’s close to you and unharmed - then immediately clutches you again when you realise he did the exact opposite of what you asked.

And then there’s that gaping pit in your stomach. The one that’s been growing since you had to lock yourself in the staff room and plug the door with old tablecloths to stop the smoke from getting through.

He’s alert and wound tight, that beautiful brain of his working a mile a minute; his hand is outstretched towards you, his eyebrows furrowed low. He’s still mumbling and you’re not listening, your ears ringing from the gunshot; his voice just adding to the din.

“Peter.” You say again, dumbstruck, and he cringes, screwing his eyes up as he keeps talking, the whole thing coming out in one long sound. Something simmers under your skin and in your gut.

“I’m sorry, I know you told me to stay, I’m sorry, I just kept thinking about Ben, and the gun, and-“

“Peter.”

“And what you said before, I couldn’t just sit there knowing you could get hurt, and after I lost-“

“Peter!” This one cuts through to him, puts a stopper in his mouth. You’re mad, that’s what it is, and the adrenaline pumping through you doesn’t help. It’s confusing, you can’t quite pinpoint what you’re mad at, but it’s got you wound up - so you pick something to vent your frustration at; your hand flung towards the white shit on the wall, glueing down a weapon that could have killed either one of you. “What the fuck is that?!”

Peter flinches. Strong, brave Peter flinches at you. He’s small, tiny even, shrinking under your gaze and betraying his every emotion with his eyes. He’s caught, cornered, backed into something he couldn’t possibly get himself out of.

“Is that your question for the day?” He asks, breathless, and you grow more exasperated.

“What?”

“Is that your question for the day?” When he repeats himself, he’s louder, but his still voice trembles. Usually, he fidgets, but he’s unnaturally still - rigid in what you can only describe as not a fight or flight response, but a freeze. “Because if it is, I have to be honest.”

You don’t want to push him, but it seems like you’ve fallen into your old ways of snark and bitterness, because you’re snapping at him, even though his reaction makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, it is! Does it matter?”

He’s upset - you’ve upset him, you horrid thing. Peter opens, then closes his mouth, and repeats this a good few times before he finally settles on what he wants to say. He’s shaking, you can see it in his hands as he turns to check that the intruder is still out cold on the diner floor.

In that same moment, you realise what all this mysterious tacky stuff has been - what you found on that jar, what’s glueing the gun to the wall. You’ve seen it before, splatters of it on the sidewalk, hanging from streetlights and awnings, trailing in the wind from skyscrapers. It’s not glue, or streamers, or spray paint - it’s a web.

Peter Parker takes a breath, and holds your gaze.

“I’m kind of sort of Spider-Man.”

#penned. #printed. #spiderman #spider man: no way home #spider man #tobey maguire #tom holland #andrew garfield #tasm #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider man x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x reader #the amazing spider man #the amazing spiderman #fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spider man fanfiction #fanfic #nwh #sm nwh #spiderman: nwh #spider man: nwh

[allexthakatt]

Sub!spencer Reid x plus sized fem!reader ?

Like the reader catches s1 Spence touching himself while holding a pair of the readers underwear he stole last time he was at the readers house? And then fucks him? Also mommy kink if possible?

I'm gonna hit the ground running, I see 😂 I hope you don't mind I used a mistress kink instead of a mommy kink.

Not my gif ^^ GIF IS BY @ropoto

I'll do it! Thank you for your request!

Pairing: S1 Spencer and ✨Plus Size✨ FEM! Reader

Warnings: heavy SMUT. ⚠️MINORS DO NOT READ!! ⚠️⚠️ Oral (female receiving), hair pulling, mistress kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) Pretty much just filth lol

Panty Raid

Readers POV

What a day. Shitty boss. Shitty coworkers. Shitty customers. All I want to do is snuggle up on the couch with my loving boyfriend. That is if he's even home, anyway. Ever since he started the new job at the BAU, I hardly see him anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm so proud of him for being a big hot-shot FBI agent. I just miss him, you know? We've barely had time to have sex either. Ive been getting pretty tired of just using my toys. A dildo doesn't even come close to the absolute magic Spencer's cock does for me.

As I walk into our shared home, I'm taken by surprise to see Spencer's satchel and shoes by the door. I wasn't really expecting home, but I'm certainly not going to complain.

Although I know Spencer is home, the house is eerily quiet. My senses are immediately on high alert, and I get prepared for anything. However as I inch closer to our bedroom, the silence dissipates into soft moans. Now I'm on high alert for a completely different reason. My mind suddenly wanders to very dark place, but I was now relieved as I peeked in the room to see what exactly was going on. The sight is definitely something I'm excited to see.

Spencer's spread upon our bed, one hand gripped tightly in his own hair, while the other hand making quick work grinding his dick against my pink lace panties. His chest heaving up and down as quiet grunts leave his throat. Huh. So that's where those panties went.

As I watch my boyfriend use my panties to get off, I feel a certain wetness start pooling in the ones I'm wearing now; and it takes very little more time for me make myself known.

"Having fun there, sweetheart?"

He shoots his eyes open with his face pure red. "H-hey! I didn't think you'd be home this early!" I point to the clock on the nightstand beside him. "You didn't think I'd be home at 6 'o clock? What, were you too caught up in your little daydreams, sweet pea?" I make sure to use the cute nickname I always use when we're getting frisky.

His eyes go even wider. "N-no, darling. I-I guess I got a little.. Carried away..." I slowly make my way to the bed. Making sure to puff my chest a little but to accentuate my breasts. "You can say that again. Tell me, what were you thinking of? Touching yourself all alone in our room. You know the rules, sweet pea. Am I going to have to punish you for being a bad boy?"

"N-no! -ahem- I mean.. No, my love. I promise wasnt gonna finish. I-I promise I wasn't... gonna..." By the time he finishes his little rant, I'm already peeling off my shirt, showing off my pink bra. The bra that originally goes with the panties he was currently using to get himself off.

I start crawling on the bed, sitting right next to him and leaving over. Giving him a clear view of my cleavage. "Mm I don't know, love. Seemed like you were pretty close there. I think the punishment is going to have to take place. But if you do what mistress says, maybe you'll get a reward, hm?"

His eyes like up like a Christmas tree. He knows when I say mistress, there's no turning back. It's sweet seeing the love of my life so desperate and hot and bothered for me. Almost sweet enough for me have mercy on him. Almost.

"Lay down. Now." He does what he's told and lays flat on his back. "Y/n please I promise I'm gonna be a good boy- ah.." I pull on his hair, interrupting his sentence. "That is not my name. If you're such a good boy, you'd use your manners." He nods and I can see a little smirk form on his sweet, kissable lips. "Yes, mistress. I'll be good."

I smile and lean down, kissing him while he attempts to take my bra off. I allow it as I just want to get to the fun part. Meaning me. On his face.

I lean in his ear, barely running my hand down his cock. "Why don't you prove your good behavior and show me what this pretty mouth can do?" He moans in my ear, desperately trying to hump into my hand. I hold his hips down and pull his hair a little more. "So needy. So desperate. You gotta show me a good time first to get your reward~" he nods his head fast and wantingly. "Y-yes ma'am. Please, mistress let me taste you. God... I want you so bad. Please... please.."

I pity him and sit up on my knees, swinging one leg over so I'm straddling his face. Because of my thick thighs, I try my best to keep them as spread as possible. I love him, but he is a little scrawny. I don't want to kill him!

The second my pussy is over his mouth I feel a wet tongue absolutely ravage my cunt. His long fingers run up and down my thighs, gripping them occasionally. My god he's so good with his mouth. It feels so much better than what my toys will ever do.

"Ah.. Oh fuck sweet pea. God you're doing so good..." My praise encourages him to go faster, going back and forth from shoving his tongue deep inside me to lightly sucking on my clit. His hips thrust up into the air, cock hard as a rock begging to have the same treatment. Spencers hard grunts vibrate my pussy, pushing me even further to my orgasm. I lean over and grab his hair hard.

"Fuck! Oh baby, just like that. YES! Oh my GOD You're doing such a good job. Ah, god sweet pea don't stop. Please please please don't stop... AH!"

Suddenly I feel as if the knot in my stomach just snapped loose, and my orgasm hits me head on. I lean my head back and moan out his name. Eyes closed and wanting so much more. Letting him lick up my juices, I slowly get off him. Finally looking at his face. His smile wide and wet with proof of the ride I just went on.

"God, Spence. I love your mouth... I think you have well deserved your reward~" His smile gets wider as I lean in and kiss him once again. Tasting myself on his tongue.

"Please, mistress... Take care of me..." He pleads. I oblige and scoot myself lower onto his body. Making sure he's lubricated, I lick my hand and gently rub my saliva on his cock. He instinctively thrusts up into my hand, warning a stern look from me. "Don't push it, sweet pea. This is a privilege, don't make me take it away." He mumbles a sorry, and I pull my hand away. "What was that?" Spencer leans his head up, "I'm sorry, miss! Please ride me! God I need your pussy so bad!"

I smile. Instead putting my hand back, I lower my lower body on him. As he's almost inside me I look to him. "Are you ready, sweet pea?" He grabs my thighs and squeezes. "Yes please, miss. Please!"

He did say please.

I lower myself fully onto his shaft. Feeling his fill me up so beautifully. "Oh, god, mistress. You're so sexy.." He praises. I lean over and run my nails along his chest, careful not to go too hard. "That's it, baby. That's it. You're doing so well, sweet pea. So so fucking well." I know he won't last too long, given how hard and red he was when I first came home. But I'm going to make him last as long as he possibly can.

"Oh.. Oh mistress! Fuck... Im not sure how much longer I can last.. Please.." My nails dig just a little deeper. "Don't you dare cum yet, Spencer. You're supposed to be my good boy." He tries his best to nod. Agreeing to be good. Just to be a brat, I squeeze my pussy around him. "Shit! Oh baby please! Please! I wanna cum so bad! Please mistress! Let me fill you up!" I put both hands on the wall in front of me. Giving my hips more room to twist and bounce. "Just a little longer sweet pea. You can do it baby. A little longer."

That familiar knot builds up again. I try not to go too fast to chase my own orgasm. However my hips seem to have a mind of their own, practically twerking on his dick. He leans his head up and buries himself in my boobs. As that knot comes close to breaking, I figure it's time to let him chase his own endgame. "It's okay baby. You can cum now. Fill me up, sweet pea. Make me yours."

He groans into my breasts. Gripping my thighs harder as he thrusts up to meet my hips. That knot finally breaks and I clench around him, his orgasm following soon after. "Oh! Baby, yes! That's it baby.. Oh fuck! that's my good boy!" He mumbles groans and grunts into my chest as he cums, filling me up in the process.

We stay like that a bit longer, enjoying each other's presence in the moment. After a couple minutes I decide it's time get off him. His now soft cock glistening with a mix of our messes. "Ah.. Thank you, darling. I missed you so much." He hugs me as I lay next to him. I kiss his cheek; "I missed you too, my love." He looks at me and gently kisses my forehead.

"So. You wanna tell me why you stole my panties?"

----------_--------------------

I uh.. Got a little carried away 😅 I really hope this was good. I have not written smut in liberally ages let alone fan fiction at all! Please let me know what you think and send more requests!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #mgg #plus size reader

[burnedbyshoto]

spiral

— Honestly, what could go wrong when you’re lusting over your close friend and you’re locked in a box with only one way to get out? Well, not a lot, honestly.

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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, gloryhole, dirty talk, praise, fingering, sexual tension, reader is a pervert, quirk use during sex (spinning cock lol)

word count: 2,695

a/n: this is the second gloryhole fic ive written, but its completely different from the last time because its like not a cult fic LMAO!!! anyways, I think yall basic shouto and bakugou stans could do well to stan this class 1-b man because when I tell you he is another deviation of the two of them personality wise.... I mean it! 

day 5 main kink: gloryhole

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If you had known precisely what you had just gotten yourself into right now three hours ago, you would have laughed at yourself. Without a doubt, there was no questioning that the predicament you had concealed yourself in was one that would bring you great shame once this wall was gone, but for now, you would deal with it.

At the bitter age of twenty, having graduated from the hero department over in Shiketsu High, you had been almost shocked when you were reached out upon by the graduating class over at Yuuei, to come and join their agency. You had accepted it with caution, unsure if you could live a life paycheck to paycheck that was as new as they come. But, it was a decision you would come to never regret.

Or at least, not until right now. 

You had been on patrol with your coworker turned friend, Kaibara Sen, hero name: Spiral.

His quirk was an interesting one. A quirk that allowed him to gyrate -- spin -- every limb and ligament on his body. It caused some pretty asshole moves in close combat that not only stung with the piercing metal on his gloves but also sent you flying away. Countless amounts of times, you had pinned him only to spun around like a spinning top and slammed back into the practice mats.

You hated it.

Or well, you hated his quirk in a sensical way (note: do not attempt to beat him through a crowd, he always wins). In the nonsensical, coming of age brain of yours that had been for the most part silenced due to Shiketsu’s no-dating-policy, but as you grew fond of your coworker, frequent workout buddy and sparring partner, you couldn’t help but wonder just if… well… if he could spin his cock.

You would be lying if you said you had never imagined what it could feel like. You wondered if his cock was curved, or if it was straight. Would the veins be prominent? Too many times, when watching quirk-plot porn videos, you found your mind lingering onto his ability, which leads you to scream into a pillow, your hormones both skyrocketing and plummeting in your horror. 

You weren’t a perv, you like to remind yourself as you changed into your hero costume. It was merely a rational, human thought! Humans were curious beings, after all! Sure, Kaibara was attractive, and his voice was… so low, deep, and raspy that sometimes you would try to – NOPE NOT A PERV!

Blazing hot cheeks drummed in time with your hammering heart as you finished dressing, hoping to get out and clear your mind with helping out the community as a hero! You were a hero!

Not a perv!

Nodding to yourself in the mirror located in your designated locker, you slammed it close and left.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately, Kaibara was already dressed in his costume and waved at you in greeting as you approached him.

“Afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up!” you flustered, your back stiffening as you continued to stomp ahead, readying to leave the stupid agency and get your afternoon rounds done. 

You weren’t a pervert!

With three years since graduating from high school, three years of this agency having been founded, and three years of becoming friends with the esteemed and infamous class 1-A and 1-B from Yuuei, you had learned one thing for sure. This group of Yuuei students seemed to attract the worse kind of trouble like a moth to a lamp.

Without a doubt, you knew that was the reason why you had Kaibara somehow ended up in this horrible, ridiculous quirk from a child that just so happened to manifest their quirk out in the open. And of course, it would be the most humiliating shit to ever happen in the entire world of quirk apparitions.

“Uh, the mother said it’s probably the father’s quirk!” came the apologetic, nearing frantic voice of Deku from outside the steel box both you and Kaibara were trapped in. 

You couldn’t even see Kaibara’s face, and the perv in you screamed over the lack of even having his body pressed against yours! No! Nothing! As a matter of fact, there was a divider between you and Kaibara, a giant wall with a hole near your crotch area.

“I can’t believe you idiots got yourselves trapped in this!” came the amused, annoyed, and somehow antagonizing voice of Ground Zero. 

“Shut up!” you screamed back. “They looked at us, and it happened! It’s not like we touched the kid!”

“Y/h/n,” Kaibara’s voice sighed, and you felt your face ignite at the sighful tone on his raspy, deep voice. You pouted at the slight scold in his manner and felt yourself looking down in shame as he continued. “Don’t argue with Ground Zero. Hey, Deku, how we get out of this?”

The both of you were silent for some time, the outside world quiet as you waited for an answer.

“Oh, um, I don’t think you’re going to like it…” Deku’s voice laughed awkwardly from outside the box, and you frowned.

“Just tell us.”

“I-It’s uh… it’s a quirk called Gloryhole!” Deku squeaked, and just as you knew the successful and well-recognized pro hero outside of this box was undoubtedly red in the face, you felt your already warm face turn into an inferno. “I-I-It’s exactly… ohmygod!”

“The shitnerd is apparently a fucking perv and can’t finish his stupid sentence. Anyways, this quirk only works on shits like you with unresolved sexual tension and only removes after you use it,” Ground Zero’s voice barked from outside the walls.

“KACCHAN!”

“Shut up, Deku!” Ground Zero fired right back, and you could feel your body trembling at the news. Oh no, your perverted mind finally caught up to you in the worst of ways?! Although he did say unresolved sexual tension, that could totally be onesided, right? “We’ll be back in an hour, get it done, or fucking else.”

They left you, and you realized that despite your panicking pitched breathes, there was no noise coming from Kaibara’s side.

Oh no, this was all your fault! 

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

“You, uh,” Kaibara spoke softly, and you felt your hands clutch onto the fabric above your breasts. “You have unresolved sexual tension with me?”

“No,” you denied immediately, your forehead crashing against the barrier between you and Kaibara at the blatant, stupid lie. “Yes. Ugh, I do, but that wasn’t something I was planning on telling you!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s embarrassing? What was I supposed to say when you pin me against mats during sparring sessions? ‘Hey, Kaibara, does your cock also spin? If so, can you fuck me with it?’”

You slap your hand across your mouth, eyes going wide in your panicked embarrassment. That mouth of yours was genuinely going to get your tongue cut off or lips sewn together one day.

It’s silent for a bit, but there’s a sound of clothes ruffling. The rate of your heartbeat seemed to increase exponentially as you saw something shift from the view you had of the Gloryhole. “Well, if you want to find out, I’ll be more than willing to give you a demonstration.”

The pervert you may or not be did not hesitate to respond back.

“Please?”

And you watched as his shadowed figure approached the hole, and a pink-headed cock pushed through the hole into your side. You watched with a gaping jaw at the still-growing cock before you. Without a doubt, it was more than seven inches and was glorious, gravity defyingly curved upwards. It was proud as it was thick, and you watched as the underneath of his cock scraped across the bottom.

A soft grunt strangled in his throat at the cold, rough sensation, and you watched a small, glistening bead of pre-cum appear from the slit on his head. You’re not sure how quickly you dropped to your knees, but you did know that your mouth took him on completely. Within the first drop of your mouth on his cock, you enveloped at least half of his cock in your mouth. A loud bang hit the wall, and you felt a warmth in your chest, knowing that you had already affected him.

Your lips and mouth glided against his length, your tongue pressing and lapping at the underneath of the head of his cock, trying to cock to become as hard as it could be, because it was still growing. A particular needy, near sloppy suck of yours, sent a loud, dizzying guttural noise from Kaibara’s side. A noise that sent liquid heat spilling into your cunt as your hand gripped the base of his cock, bobbing your head slowly, as leisurely as you would allow yourself.

His taste was indescribable, faint yet had you licking his length for more, trying to cover your tongue in his pre-cum. 

But the issue with a proud curving upwards cock, was that you found it awkward to choke yourself down his impossibly stubborn curve as he began to thrust his hips to meet your mouth and travel into your throat. Grunt, gasps, and growls seemed to be growing in volume and repetition on his side of the wall as you relaxed your throat, chokes, and gags sounding wet and sloppy on your side. 

“Fuck, just like that, wait up,” Kaibara moaned, a thud coming straight above your own head, letting you know that he had pressed his head against the wall. The thumping of his hips on the wall was slowly becoming musical, white noise as you bobbed your head further along his length, throat vibrating with your need to make him feel good. And the weirdest, most surprised splutter came from your throat as his cock spun in direction.

Once curved upwards, making it nearly impossible in the space to take his cock all the way down your throat, was now downcurved. It stretched your jaw out entirely as he didn’t bother to pull away to do it, and your throat stretched out in a way you had never experienced before as you coughed and staggered against his length. But, it was a pain that made your clit throb and allowed his cock to go even further down your throat.

You did what you could only do once your throat stopped hurting, and the sheer pleasure of having your throat stretched out in a more desirably wait set in: you moaned.

It was a long, pitchy noise that you swore you could feel against the steel wall that your free hand supported you against. Your toes curled at the way his intensely thrusting hips faltered for a moment, undoubtedly turned on by your noise if the twitch in his cock said anything about it. You moaned again, and again, and again. You continued to do so against his snapping hips until Kaibara was practically snarling your name with the intention and muttered promises of what he would do to you once the barrier was gone. 

Your mind was gone at the point, the promises of fucking you against the window of his apartment that overlooked the Tokyo skyline had you shoving the pants off your hero costume down. Your hand on his cock tightening in its grip, but the one manipulating your pants off, sunk into your cunt, thumb on your clit. 

A mewl left your lips as you began to play with your wet heat, and you drove your mouth and head closer to the hole, enthusiastically taking him in further and further. 

“Imma fuck you so good when we get fucking out of here,” Kaibara promised, teeth undoubtedly pulled into a snarl, his thrusting in bizarre speeds as you tried to keep some piece of sanity as you continued to finger fuck yourself, all too pleased with him absolutely using your mouth. But, you registered his words just well enough to respond back, choking an agreeing noise as you bobbed your head enthusiastically. “Had I known you just wanted that slutty pussy of yours to be fucked, I would’ve done this with you ages ago. Would’ve pinned you down on that mat, and claimed your cunt as my prize.” Your eyes rolling back in your hormone-induced euphoria, your own dirty fantasies having played that scene in your mind countless times. “I want to hear you choke on my cock more, I want to hear the saliva and drool leaving your mouth. I know you’re fucking your cunt, so do it well enough you’re moaning like a paid prostitute. I promise you, I’ll make sure you never want to see another cock again that isn’t mine!”

A choking, hiccuped, and wet breath expelled from your mouth, and you hadn’t even realized you were crying at the moment. But, you agreed, head bobbing in your agreement.

And so, it continued. 

You pushed forward, his length reaching new depths of your throat until you had your nose smashed against the metal, cold wall. Your throat manipulatively squeezing and milking his throbbing cock, tongue, and teeth rubbing against his protruding veins until Kaibara was stuttering out your broken first name. 

The wet noises of his saliva drenched cock meeting your drooling throat and mouth grew louder with every slap, and you wanted more. You needed more.

“Fuck, y/n, you take me s-so fucking good. I think you have me entirely in your mouth like the fucking little pervert you are,” Kaibara hotly laughed, a soft thudding from near your chin sending your mind in a feral daze of how it was probably his balls. “Doing so well with my directions, you really do deserve to be fucked properly after this.”

A low, lewd whine strangled from your throat, your hot, swollen lips sucking harshly against the base of his cock as he continues drilling, and the melodic moans from his mouth made it all worth the fact your lips and nose are starting to tingle from the sufficient lack of oxygen. But it’s also your curling, pumping fingers in your cunt that add onto the headrush you get, the slick and essence coating and dripping from your pounding fingers send you into a series of keen and mewls against his cock. And you can perfectly find each sweet little pleasure spot. 

You were close, and by the consistent twitching and throbbing of his cock and the thick coating of precum on your tongue, Kaibara was too.

With your impending orgasm, you felt your body begin to tense up, shaking, and moaning with the tipping sensation you loved. And Kaibara, entirely lost in his own passionate, horny endeavors, shook as he slammed into you again, again, and again.

With a fiery determination, your cheeks hollowed out on his length as he pulled out, a resonating “fuck!” screamed from his lips as your tongue swiped at the salty silt on his cock, and it was all over.

You came on your fingers with a loud, pitchy scream, and thick, hot ropes of cum spurted from his cock onto your awaiting mouth, dirtying your face slightly in his heavy ejaculation. Swallowing the cum, a shiver ran down your spine as you quickly cleaned the remaining cum on his cock. Slowly, you removed the fingers in your cunt, and you shuddered at the pulsating heat form your core as you dropped to the floor as his soft cock disappeared from the hole. 

Laughing softly, you looked up at the ceiling of the box that was slowly disappearing, allowing fresh air to enter the sex smelling box.

“So, how about dinner?” Kaibara asked, and you chuckled, running a hand through your abused face.

“I don’t think I’m hungry.”

“No?”

“You might’ve proved you can spiral your cock,” you began, turning your head to look at Kaibara, who was collapsed on the floor, barely put together as the two of you locked eyes. “But I still would like to try it out for real while you properly fuck me. After that, if I’m hungry for food, I’d love to go for dinner.”

He laughed, his hand running through his sweaty locks.

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

#kaibara sen x reader #kaibara x reader #kaibara smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

[sodasback]

Slapped

ER Nurse Rafe x ER Nurse Reader

Warnings: Cursing, physical violence

Not my GIF. All Credit to owner/creator: @the-mighty-div

You walked into the med room, just needing to catch your breath. The only other person in there was Rafe. You walked in, dramatically slumping your shoulders. “Aghhhh!” you all but yelled. 

Rafe looked up from the computer in the med room to you with a surprised expression that quickly turned sympathetic. 

He chuckled a little. “Rough day, baby?” 

You just looked at him and nodded, on the verge of tears, but not wanting to cry at work. 

He looked over your shoulder out the window that was in the door, before leaning against the shelves that were kind of out of view and pulling you into his chest a tight hug. He rested his cheek on top of your head. He felt you stiff as a board in his embrace. 

“You can cry, ya know?” He said softly. 

You shook your head. “You know me, if I start I won’t stop and I got stuff to do. My patient is crazy noncompliant and giving me a really hard time.” You explained, reluctantly letting go of Rafe. 

“You wanna switch?” Rafe asked sweetly. 

“No, Rafe. We can’t do that.” You said. He already knew that too. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked, pouting and feeling helpless. 

“Give me a massage tomorrow when you come over?” You asked. 

“You got it babe.” He said pecking your cheek. 

-

“Can you guys be nearby as witnesses? This patient is refusing everything and getting really combative.” You asked your charge nurse, Edgar and Rafe.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Edgar asked. 

“Heart failure patient. Non compliant with his meds. Came in for shortness of breath and weight gain. Signs of hypokalemia. Super tachycardic. I need to draw blood so I can check his potassium. His BP when he came in was through the roof so I need to give him a IV metoprolol and lasix. He’s refusing everything now.”

You approached your patient with your coworkers standing nearby behind you, but not enough to seem threatening.

“Hi Mr. Kaplan, I have some medication that’s going to make you feel better, but I need to take your blood pressure first.” You tried to explain sweetly.

“No! Leave bitch!” He yelled. You took a deep breath.

“Sir, I understand you’re upset, but you can’t talk to me like that. I’m trying to help you. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want, but I don’t know why you’re here in the hospital if you don’t want any treatment.” 

“I said get out of here you cunt!” He shouted, standing up and taking a step toward you. You took a step back and Edgar and Rafe were immediately between you and the patient. 

“Page Dr. Strong” Edgar told you, even though you were already dialing. 

“Woah. Hey, you don’t talk to her like that. That’s not okay.” Rafe said, trying to stay calm. “You need to sit down, sir.” 

You went and grabbed AMA paperwork in case this patient really didn’t want treatment he was free to leave against medical advice, while the overhead page for Dr. Strong went off and security, a pharmacist and a psychiatrist were walking toward where your patient was. 

The Dr. Strong team had gotten the patient to calm down and the doctor explained to him again how important it was to take the medications. 

The doctor left to take care of something else, so a while later, you again came with your supplies to hopefully get everything done and the patient stable so he could get admitted upstairs. 

“Mr. Kaplan, I’m back. I just need to take your blood pressure real fast, it should only take a second.” 

He didn’t say anything and just glared straight ahead. You approached the side of his bed slowly and grabbed the blood pressure cuff to wrap around his arm. 

“Okay, I’m just putting the cuff on, okay?” You said as you started to touch his arm, the back of his hand collided with your face. 

“Don’t touch me! You bitch! I don’t want anyone here to do anything to me! Leave me alone!” 

You gasped holding your cheek. 

A lot of people saw it happen. Rafe was there in a second with murderous eyes and clenched fists, but luckily Edgar was fast enough to walk in front of Rafe anticipating this reaction. 

“Take care of Y/N” Edgar told Rafe, while he and the charge nurse tried to deal with the patient while paging the Dr. Strong team again. 

“Shit” You cursed at the sting as you grasped your cheek and tried to understand what just happened. Rafe immediately softened looking at you. You looked so small as you held onto your reddened cheek. He put an arm around your shoulder and ushered you away and sat you in a chair at the nearby nurses’ station. You were still kind of in shock. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling in front of you. You closed your eyes and shook your head trying to suck it up.

“Yeah!” You told him trying to sound confident. 

“Hey Estephany, can you grab her an ice pack? Y/N, stop, look at me.” He said more sternly. “You sure you’re okay?” He asked.

“Yes, Cameron, I’m fine” You assured him and tried to stand up. 

Rafe pushed you back into the chair. “Uh uh. Stay right here. You’ve been injured at work. So you need to be assessed.”

You rolled your eyes at him using those words knowing now you had to do all the workers comp formalities.

Rafe gently reached up and pulled your hand away from your face. He inspected your cheek and under your eye as Estephany passed him an ice pack.

“It doesn’t look like you got cut anywhere” he said.

“Yup! See? Totally fine!” You confirmed, trying to get up again.

“Y/N, sit your ass down and let me check you out.” You smiled at the choice of words but you knew he didn’t intend to try to flirt with you right now.

“Okay, we’ll if you’re gonna check me out, then I guess I can sit here and look pretty.” You decided, straightening your posture and flipping your hair over your shoulder.

Rafe glared at you but it broke into a small smile he couldn’t hold back as he shook his head and pulled out his pen light.

“Look at my nose” he said, tapping his nose. You felt your heart melt as Rafe treated you like a patient for a second and you thought about how many times you’ve both said that to patients. You knew he was checking your neuro status and to see if you were concussed since the patient who slapped you was pretty big and strong. But you were focused on the butterflies in your tummy at your caring, some would argue overbearing new boyfriend, and his sparkling blue eyes. 

“Nose, Y/N.” He reminded you when you were still swimming in his eyes and then he checked your pupil reactions. “Can you tell me what day it is?”

“I can tell you every One Direction song Niall Horan plays guitar for?” You offered.

“That doesn’t tell me anything. You could do that even if you were in a coma. Come on.” 

“Rafe” you groaned, now finding this ridiculous.

“What day is it, Rookie?” He asked more firmly.

“It’s Thursday ...which by the way, means it’s been 4 days since the last time you fucked me, which is way too long in my opinion.” You whispered the last part.

Rafe widened his eyes. “Shhh! Frickin trouble maker!” He scolded, looking around to see if anyone nearby heard you. 

“See? Now, you know my memory is intact, I can count, I know what day it is and my sex drive is healthy.”

"I never had doubts about the last part, dirty girl.” Rafe teased quietly as he placed the ice pack on your cheek. 

“And I’m the one that needs to sush!” You protested in mock offense at his comment. 

“No but seriously, are you okay? ..like emotionally?” Rafe asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You nodded. “Promise.” 

-

You were walking out of work when Rafe and Edgar caught up to you. 

“Hey Y/N do you need a ride home?” Rafe asked. 

You looked at him truly confused. “Why would I need a ride home?” 

“You got smacked in the face.” Rafe said like it was obvious. Even Edgar furrowed his brow at him. 

“It happens.” You shrugged and chuckled. 

“Yeah, Rafe I think Rookie over here can handle driving 2 miles.” Edgar joked. 

“Text me when you get home?” Rafe asked you quietly, despite all 3 of you knowing that Edgar knew about you and Rafe. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Y/N.” Rafe warned. 

“Yes, Cameron, I will text you in 10 minutes when I get home.” You said, exhausted by Rafe’s overprotectiveness, even though it still made you all warm and fuzzy inside. 

-

“Bro” Edgar said to Rafe when they got in the car together.

Rafe looked at him expectantly. “What?”

“You gotta be careful man with this whole situation.” Edgar said, gesturing to Rafe and where you were getting in your car in the parking lot.

“What are you talking about?” Rafe continued to play clueless.

“With Y/N man. You’re too protective of her at work dude.”

Rafe just scoffed and shook his head.

“What would’ve happened if I didn’t step in front of you tonight?” Edgar asked.

Rafe was quiet for a second, “I probably would have beaten the shit out of that patient and lost my job and nursing license.” He admitted.

Edgar gave him an I-told-you-so smile. “This is why you don’t fuck your coworkers, bud.” He said, turning the key in the ignition.

Rafe shook his head again. “It’s not like that dude-“

“Yeah, I know, you’re in love with her.”

“Well- I mean- I don’t know if I’d go that far. We’ve only known each other-“

“Oh my god. Shut up!” Edgar groaned, “You fell for her the first day she started working here and you know it.” Rafe just smiled to himself. “You just have to be careful Rafe. She’s not made of glass. She’s a badass. She can handle herself. You can’t be protective of her here. You’re gonna get yourself in a lot of trouble. ....And plus it really makes the whole secretly dating each other thing superrrr obvious bro.”

“Do you think anyone knows?” Rafe asked.

Edgar shook his head, “Nah, I don’t think so.” Even though Edgar knew pretty much everyone knew from day 1.

Taglist: @moniamaybank @abbyj1822 @october-cameron @hernameisnoell @railmerafe​

#rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #Rafe Cameron x Nurse!Reader #ER Nurse Rafe #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fanfiction

[kookdbean]

unbothered

a/n: another addition to so it goes! just little snippets of acts of service between jungkook and oc. this takes place over the first school year together. also, if you guys have any ideas for more drabbles, pls send them in! enjoy! warnings: mentions of food consumption, coffee consumption, hints at students family life.

series masterlist

i.

It's Friday, the end of the second week of school.

The past three days, Jungkook and you have been arriving at the same time. You'd wait for one another, catching up from the day before since you parted. He'd crack a joke about how he wasn't sure what tires him out more, his roommate's stupid shit or waking up early five days in a row.

Today, you're running twenty minutes behind; twenty-five minutes before school started.

Teeth brushed and face washed were your first two priorities this morning. You were able to throw your hair up into a messy updo; not having enough time for the full routine, only patting moisturizer into your skin. It would be enough to make it seem like you put some effort, right?

It's after you've parked, backpack hanging over your shoulder, tote bag hanging low from your hand, that you spot Jungkook's car and freeze.

Did you leave him waiting?

Clocked in, you make your way to drop off your belongings in your room as fast as you can. No one stops you in the hall, a small sigh of relief leaves you. Who knows how long Ms. Lee Ji-Wan, a second grade teacher who literally beams sunshine, would have kept you if she spotted you.

A moment, just a small moment you allow yourself. A moment where you're not rushing yourself, worried about being somewhere, in the comfort and stillness of your classroom. Hand rubbing your nape, head slowly rolling out to the side. Just a moment.

And it's not ruined, not when you hear three soft knocks on your door before sliding open.

Jungkook's head is poking in, his wide eyes searching the room before settling on you. His eyes quickly look you over before he allows himself in, door closing behind him.

"You didn't wait, did you?" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, your hand moving down to rub your fingers against your collarbone.

"Not long, no," Jungkook reassures you, not staying still.

"Jungkook," you frown, reaching over to your desk for your coffee, that you realize you forgot when your fingers wrap around nothing, balling up into a loose fist.

"Here," Jungkook laughs, moving his hand from behind his back. An iced coffee.

Hands instantly clasping against your chest, big eyes and a hopeful tug of your eyebrows; your facial expression reading, "is that for me?" Jungkook laughs, holding the coffee out to you, shaking it to show you that it's real, and it's for you.

"I got here just before you, actually. I was in the mood for some expensive coffee and figured you'd like one, too," Jungkook explains, that smile never leaving his lips.

ii.

The end of a meeting is always such a relief.

The quiet, exciting buzz that comes with the meeting being called to it's end, almost like an exhale that relieves your body from the weights of the world for just that moment; weightless and carefree.

The chairs being pushed away so teachers could stand, the sound of shuffling paper and occasional crumple, quiet chatter while some people gathered together, others just making their way of the room. Talk of lunch plans, upcoming events (personal and 'professional').

That was feeling is what you look forward to at the start of every meeting.

It's the feeling you relish this moment. Tae-yeon rubs your forearm, telling you she'll see you after the day ends before rushing off to join Jae-eon, physical education teacher. You look after her, standing up, watching as the pair makes their way out of the room.

You turn back towards the center of the room, eyes scanning the room until you spot Jungkook.

Jungkook's not in the spot he deemed as his unassigned assigned seat during meetings, but at the front of the room, talking to the principal. His body language is animated; his papers on the chair closest to him, hands moving regardless of close they are to his body. You could see how his eyes widened and his tone came off as serious, passionate.

You can't help but watch. You can't help but wonder what he was so passionate about, what he was sharing with the principal.

You can't take your eyes away, not until they bow to each other and the principal is turning towards you, to make his way to the exit behind you. Quickly, you duck your head and a quiet wish leaves your lips, "have a good day, sir."

"You waited," Jungkook simply says, your head turning upwards and eyes automatically moving to his face.

"Yeah," you hum.

"You didn't have to," Jungkook reassures with a small smile, folding his small stack of papers in half and tucking it under his arm. He makes his way towards you, hand gesturing towards the door.

"Yeah, but I wanted to. We always go to lunch afterwards," you state.

"Oh," Jungkook falters behind you. He watches you make your way to the door, turning midway when you don't feel his presence.

"You wait for me," you shot back, a teasing look on your face.

"Yeah, because I haven't been sucked into a teacher's clique," Jungkook defends jokingly.

iii.

You're looking over the math worksheets from this morning, red pen in one hand, chopsticks handling japchae in other.

"This is DEAN" playlist on Spotify plays softly from your computer. You hum, in tune to the music and to the taste of the japchae that your roommate, Sana, made last night.

You don't hear the door open, your face down towards the container of noodles. Cheeks full and puffed out, you throw your head back, a quiet moan, eyes closed. God, you loved noodles.

"You okay?" Jungkook laughs, taking you by surprise.

Head lowering to look at him, your eyes are wide and don't bother chewing, just watching as Jungkook gets closer.

"I thought you had lunch plans," you struggled, slowly chewing and swallowing, repeating the process until your mouth becomes empty again.

Jungkook laughs again, reaching over to twist the cap off your bottle of juice open before handing it to you.

"Take it slow."

You wave him off, taking a sip, eyes looking him up and down.

"You didn't met up with your friend... Seokjin?" you ask curiously, hoping you got the name right.

"I did," Jungkook nods and taps his finger against your desk, "but Jin-hyung had something come up."

Your lips pout, brows furrowing, "Sorry. I know you were looking forward to it."

"It's fine, I know where he lives," Jungkook cackles, placing a small container in front of you, "but just as I promised..."

"Is this the cake he made last time?" You gasp hopefully, pulling yourself closer.

There's a glimmer in your eyes, it makes Jungkook laugh quietly, shoulders shaking and nose scrunching up as he nods.

"He gave me some extra after I mentioned that I shared it with a friend from work," Jungkook smiles, popping the lid open.

What you didn't know about Jungkook that his hyung(s) did was that Jungkook only shared food with people he really cared about.

iv.

Since the days Jungkook and you used to just magically show up at the same time to school and wait for each other so that you could enter the building together (neither you or Jungkook know that the other peeked at the time when they realized that arrive at that time, thus the new addition to their daily routines), you've both had the other's phone number.

First, texts were exchanged when one of you decided to go for a coffee run, always asking the other if they wanted something.

Then came the texts to tell the other that you were running late (you showed up ten minutes before the school day started just to find that someone turned on your computer).

Following that were the texts that came in the evening. The "what was the name of the website that you those pens?," "what was the dish you mentioned Namjoon made for dinner?," the "I have roommate cake and coffee tomorrow morning!!!"

You remember the first time Jungkook took a sick day, after the winter break, after you'd deemed yourselves friends and not just coworkers.

You're in the teacher's lounge, lips hovering over your water bottle. You're pretending to pay attention to your phone, thumb scrolling against the screen as if you're on social media, but in reality, you had your conversation with Jungkook opened. Subtly trying to type out everything you were hearing in the teacher's lounge.

"before you call me a child, I just have to say... you chose the wrong day to be absent, mr. jeon."

Jeon Jungkook: what is this? are we fourteen? are you trying to get me to wonder what the day is like without me?

You scoff to yourself, trying to bite back a smile.

Jeon Jungkook: when I woke up again this morning, it was already 10am, and the first thing that popped into my head was that it was two hours into the school day and math is almost over.

A laugh leaves your lips, the noise from the nearby teachers becoming quiet as they looked over at you.

Eventually, your texts ranged throughout the entire day. From the morning texts asking if the other wants coffee, texts swapping recipes in the late afternoon, to just asking about weekend plans and just...talking to one another.

v.

"I'll have you know, Jeon Jungkook, that my Saturdays are sacred," you gushed, waggling your finger jokingly.

Jungkook snorts, pushing the cart past you, leaving you standing there. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder at you, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

"No one forced you to tag along," Jungkook points out.

"You're right. But, you also know that I cannot and will not turn down a lunch invitation," you sigh dramatically.

"Ah, so when you see my face, you see a money bag?"

"Didn't you hear? The way to someone's heart is through their stomach," you sigh, hand over your chest, walking closer to where Jungkook's stopped.

Jungkook's looking at things that he can gift the students in the after school art club. You both had already gotten little gifts for your respective classes, but Jungkook had told you that he wanted to give his art kids some supplies so that they'd be encouraged to keep doing art; supplies that parents couldn't afford or in some cases, didn't want to purchase.

"I have three students who go to high school next year," Jungkook murmurs to himself, scratching the back of his neck, "but I don't want the rest of them to think I don't care about them."

"What were you planning on getting for them?" you ask gingerly, hands running over the different sketchbook covers.

"Taehyung was able to get some good quality mixed media sketch books from the art museum. They hold workshops every week and he found some extras," Jungkook turns to look at you, a hint of a soft smile, "so I was thinking a basic watercolor set, some pencils, color pencils?"

"Mmm, maybe leave the water colors for the ones going to high school? Not that you don't trust the younger ones, but water colors seems like some more responsibility," you comment.

Jungkook hums back in acknowledgement, moving to stand next to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his proximity, your heart racing when you catch his scent.

"You added erasers and sharpeners?"

"Pencil set."

"Hmm," your eyes scanning down the aisle. You spot chalk hanging at the end of the aisle, hand reaching out to pat Jungkook's bicep before quickly moving down the aisle. Adjusting your bag onto your shoulder, you dramatically gesture towards the various packs of chalk.

"Not only can they make art in their sketch books, but out in the neighborhood," you try telling it to him like a salesman at a car dealership, "art that can be remade, reworked. Sidewalks, driveways, whatever!"

Jungkook can't fight off the laugh as he doubles over, his laugh echoing around him.

His laugh is contagious, it might be your favorite sound. It has you breaking character, your laugh joining his; a symphony that could bring crowds together, one that people never wanted to stop hearing.

"What? It's not good?" you defend yourself through giggles.

"Did I say something?" Jungkook chuckles, pushing the cart towards you, carefully placing several packs of chalk in.

"Did I win myself some dessert?" you turn away to peek at the other aisles.

"That already came included with the lunch offer. You, my friend, have won yourself something even better."

You realize Jungkook's movement until you hear his voice right in your ear.

"You get to pick one thing from the store and I'll buy it for you."

You shiver, stepping away from him, overwhelmed. You try to brush off the way the back your neck heats up, your heart beats a little faster, your hands get a little clammy. Just a moment to compose yourself, yet, a moment becomes too long when the hairs on the back of your neck fall back down and his scent is no longer surrounding you.

You look up with wide eyes, watching Jungkook make his way into the aisle that had "acrylic and oil points" written at the top.

"Wait!" You call out, trying to catch up to him, "you can't judge what I pick!"

tagging: @yslkook

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x oc #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #so it goes

[subterfugespecialist]

Stumbled into Anguish Blind

Patton was grateful for his job as a paramedic. Saving people was worth all the stresses to him. But he never thought one of those people would be his own son.

@badthingshappenbingo​ Prompt: Ambulance Ride

AO3 Link

Pairing: Familial Moxiety, Prinxiety

Warnings: Gun shot wounds and blood but not terribly graphic depictions of them and the shooting takes place off screen, a character in pain, near panic attacks

Word count: 3032

I am not a medical professional. I did do research but please forgive it if it’s not 100% accurate.

While Patton was grateful for the job he had, he couldn't recommend it to just anyone. Being a paramedic was hard, and incredibly stress inducing. To hold the life of someone in your hands was terrifying. But saving peoples lives - that made it all worth it.

Patton had helped and saved many people during his years as a paramedic - but he never once thought he'd have to save his own son.

That day was supposed to be a happy one. After Patton helped Virgil work through his anxiety of driving, he finally got his license. And with this newfound freedom, Virgil had been able to get a job keeping stock at the art store, with perks such as discounts and limited interactions with customers.

Patton was so proud. Virgil was going to go out with his boyfriend, Roman, and use his first paycheck to look at upgrades for his drum-set. Afterwards, Patton was going to treat them to dinner.

He was glad they weren't embarrassed to spend time with him, like some teens would be. He was blessed with such a great pair of kids.

During breakfast, Patton explained what Virgil needed to do with his paycheck at the bank. After repeating the steps a few times, Virgil felt fairly confident. And Roman was going to be with him, anyways. It seemed that boy was scared of nothing - least of all social interactions.

But how were any of them supposed to know there would be an armed robbery that day?

How were they to know that a gun would be shot?

When Patton got the call and heard the location of the incident, he almost shouted in panic.

"Please," he prayed as the ambulance sirens blared. "Not the kids."

He and the other paramedic, Harley, ran up the ramp with the stretcher as police officers yelled for people to move out of the way.

When they ran inside, it took everything Patton had to not collapse on the ground and scream.

Virgil was on the ground, breathing heavily as he clutched onto Roman's arm. Roman was on his knees, holding his jacket against Virgil's chest.

Patton was grateful Roman's favorite color was red. He thought he would actually faint if he had to see more of his sons blood than was already visible.

It wasn't until Patton knelt next to Roman, now able to hear the soft assurances he was whispering to Virgil, did he notice they had arrived.

"I'm sorry," Roman managed to choke out through his tears when he saw Patton.

"No, no. It's not your fault," Patton manage to say, fighting to speak through the the tension building in the back of his throat. He replaced Roman's hand holding the jacket. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"Dad?"

"Hey, baby. I'm right here. Everything's gonna be okay."

Roman pushed himself back and watched as Virgil was lifted on the stretcher.

"You're okay, honey," Patton found himself repeating as they boarded the ambulance. "You're okay. You're okay."

Virgil grasped at his dad's hand, and Patton had to bite his lip to keep from crying when his son whined as he pulled his hand away.

"Sh, sh, it's okay. I need to put the oxygen mask on you. I'm still right here."

Patton placed the oxygen mask as Harley cut Virgil out of his shirt. He felt Virgil's hand grip tightly on his shirt in place of his hand and Patton really wanted to cry right now.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't. This was his most important patient. He had to be professional.

But it was hard to be when Patton could barely hear himself over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. He and Harley replaced Roman's jacket with a proper gauze to keep the pressure, and Patton couldn't help it as a few tears escaped his eyes as he watched Virgil's eyes squeeze shut and his teeth grind in pain. Patton wanted to sob every time he placed a bandage and Virgil winced.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm not trying to hurt you. This is helping, I promise.

It wasn't long after until Virgil's eyes closed and his body went slack.

"Virgil? Virgil! Come on, honey, stay with me," Patton cried as he worked on an IV. Why couldn't he do more? Why was there so little he could do in this ambulance why couldn't he just fix his boy-

"His breathing is destabilizing. We need to give him an endotracheal tube," Harley said as he immediately set to work. Patton's hand moved on autopilot as he helped, and more tears did fall as he watched Virgil's chest move up and down from the tube. That wasn't him breathing it was the machine because the bullet had pierced his baby's lung.

The trip to the trauma center had never felt so long. Had it always been this long? Eventually they were finally able to get the door open and bring Virgil into the trauma center where the waiting doctors took the stretcher from them and rushed Virgil in for emergency surgery.

It wasn't until Virgil was out of sighed did Patton collapse to the ground and finally let himself cry.

His sobs carried down the hallway, and Patton didn't even care that his coworkers were staring at him. The nurses were staring at him. But how could he possibly care when he couldn't be with his son-

"It's going to be okay," Harley said. When had Harley sat next to him? When did he curl into his knees? "You did good. They're going to fix him up in there and everything's going to be okay."

"He's hurt and I can't even help him-"

"Hey, you did help him. No, you weren't able to remove the bullet yourself but you kept your head on straight and got him here in good condition."

Harley pulled Patton up from his knees and held him in a hug. "It's okay, Patton."

Patton rested his forehead on his shoulder. "Thank you. For your help."

"You are very welcome. Come on, now. Let's get you off the floor."

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Patton was, understandably, not on call for the rest of the day. He had paced around the waiting room for the first ten minutes of waiting, but he was exhausted from stress and collapsed into a chair - elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands.

He didn't look up until he heard frantic footsteps coming down the hall. He panicked for a moment, worried it was a doctor with bad news, but saw it was only Roman.

Patton stood as soon as he saw him and the two met in the middle of the room, Patton holding Roman tightly against him as Roman buried his face into Patton's chest.

"I'm sorry," Roman whispered into Patton's chest. Patton felt tears soak into his shirt. "You trusted me with him and I couldn't even-"

"Hey, no no no," Patton murmured as he led Roman to the chairs. "None of this is in any way your fault."

Roman let out a sob, and Patton pulled him back against him. Roman was a tall boy, but here in Patton's arms he seemed so small.

"And you knew exactly what to do. He was hit in a very critical place, and you saved him from a lot of blood loss by putting pressure on it. I- I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't done that. Roman, you helped him as much as I did in that ambulance."

Roman's tears turned into quiet sniffles, and Patton lifted a hand to gingerly wipe the tear streaks off the boy's face.

"Is he okay?"

Well, no. But he was okay as he could be.

"He's doing fine," Patton assured. "The surgeons are going to take good care of him."

That seemed to finally make Roman relax. He nodded and sat up, wiping his eyes of the last of his tears.

"How did you get here so quickly?" Patton asked.

"I took Virgil's car. He gave me the keys because he didn't want to drive from the bank, since traffic was going to get worse in the afternoon. You know how busy Main gets. I hope you don't mind."

"That's just fine, Roman."

Patton wasn't going to chastise him for driving with only a permit. Not now.

About another hour passed. At one point Roman rested his head on Patton's shoulder, and of course Patton didn't mind. It was nice to have the grounding weight resting on him as he texted family members about what happened.

He felt guilty for not calling, but there was no way he could talk about it and not break into tears again.

The two snapped their heads towards the entrance when they heard footsteps walking down the hall. A doctor walked in and saw them.

She was one of the doctors that took Virgil from him.

"Mr. Sanders?"

Patton nodded.

"The surgery is finished. Everything went fine. He should wake up soon. I can show you to his room."

Patton and Roman quickly stood, and the doctor grimaced.

"And what is your relation?"

It took a moment for the dazed Roman to realize she was talking to him.

"Oh, uh, I'm Roman. I'm his boyfriend."

The doctor, who Patton was now close enough to he could see her name tag read Dr. Taylor, shot him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, but only family is permitted in before he wakes up."

Patton saw tears build back into Roman's eyes, but he just nodded.

"Okay. Yeah, sure," he said, mouth trembling as his fists clenched his jeans.

"I'll come get you after he wakes up," Patton said, placing a hand on Roman's shoulder.

Roman nodded again, and Patton gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before following Dr. Taylor out of the waiting room and down the hallway.

Patton couldn't ignore the sound of Roman crying as they walked away.

"The bullet shattered one of his ribs, but besides that, and the penetration into the chest, thankfully no other major damage occurred," Dr. Taylor said. "We had to give him a chest tube due to some internal bleeding, though the endotracheal tube we were able to replace with an oxygen mask. So he should be able to speak when he wakes up."

Patton had to focus on counting the clicks of his shoes on the tile to keep his breathing steady.

The two stopped in front of a door and Dr. Taylor put her hand on the handle.

"He's on some pretty strong painkillers, but he should still be cognizant when he wakes up. If anything happens, press the red emergency button by the bed and me and the other doctors will come rushing back."

"Thank you," Patton managed to say through the rising dread in his throat. Dr. Taylor opened the door for him.

Patton stood in the entryway until he heard the door click shut behind him. Once the click snapped him out of his trance, he rushed towards the bed and immediately burst into tears.

There was his baby. Virgil's face was pale but thankfully no longer grimaced in pain. His chest was gently rising and falling, no longer due to a tube down his throat. And though Patton had seen similar sights before plenty of times, seeing all the tubes stuck in his baby's body made Patton collapse on the chair by the bedside.

God, what he'd give to take Virgil's place. To take all his pain away. Patton rested his head in his hands, trying yet again to stop his crying.

"Come on," he thought. "You have to be strong. For him."

He took a deep breath, and the pressure in his throat weakened slightly. He could do this. He could be strong.

But all that resolve fell as soon as he heard a soft, weak voice say “Dad?"

"Virgil!" Patton cried as he leaned towards him, being careful to be gentle as he took hold of Virgil's hand. "Hey, sweetie. I'm right here. I'm right by you."

Virgil's eyes blinked as he got used to the lights. A slight grimace of pain was back on his face, but at least he was awake.

Patton barely managed to catch the hand Virgil lifted towards his oxygen mask, being preoccupied with wiping his tears. "No, kiddo. You need that."

Virgil's hand dropped against the crisp bed sheets. Virgil looked at his hospital bed and all the tubes stuck in him, and Patton's heart shattered as he started crying.

"Shit," Virgil hissed as he lifted his arm with his IV.

"You know, we were just leaving when they ran in," Virgil said, a pained smile on his face as he laughed, though there was no humor in it. "If I hadn't been such a chickenshit and just went in when we got there instead of needing a pep talk from Roman to go into a bank then I wouldn't have-"

"Honey, deep breaths," Patton said as he stood and very gently wrapped his arms around Virgil, holding him as tight as he could without fear of hurting him. "Do not blame yourself." Matching tears fell down Patton's cheeks. "None of this was your fault. There was no way you could have known this would happen. I will not let you continue to beat yourself up about this, understand?"

Though Patton could feel tears falling onto his shoulder, Virgil nodded.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Patton whispered. "I love you so much, you know that?"

"I love you, too, Dad."

There was nothing Patton wanted to do less than let Virgil go, but he could imagine the hug couldn't be the most comfortable for him. So after placing a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head he sat back down, but grabbed hold of Virgil's hand again.

"At least I don't have to run the mile in gym anymore," Virgil said after a beat.

Patton started laughing. It was hardly from the joke, but more so from the relief that was washing over him that yes, Virgil was hurt, but he would be okay. He was awake and joking. Virgil started giggling along with his father, and once they would stop, one could start laughing again and the cycle started all over.

Eventually, they both calmed down.

"No, I suppose you don't," Patton smiled. "I have yet to contact the school. But I'm sure they will understand your... predicament. And I'm sure your friends will be more than happy to help you with your notes.”

Virgil's smile suddenly dropped and his eye's widened as he jolted up, wincing from pain but not retreating.

"Roman. What happened to Roman??"

"Roman is fine," Patton assured. "He's in the waiting room right now."

Virgil visibly relaxed and sank back against the bed.

"Would you like me to go get him? He's anxious to see you."

"In... in a minute," Virgil said as he closed his eyes. "I want to see him, really, but you know he can be..."

"Enthusiastic?"

"Loud."

Patton chuckled. "Okay, baby. Just tell me when.'

One of the nurses walked in, and he was delighted to see that Virgil was awake. While another nurse came in to talk to Patton about Virgil's road to recovery, the first nurse checked some vitals, seemed satisfied, then gave Virgil a bit more painkillers. The painkillers seemed to help Virgil's mood, and he sent Patton to fetch Roman.

Roman's head was in his hands when Patton walked in. He looked up as Patton walked towards him, and when Patton nodded, he bolted out of the chair down the hallway. Patton had to hurry to catch up.

After opening the door for roman, roman rushed to Virgil's bedside, and Patton came in to see Roman pressing kisses all over Virgil's face while crying.

"Oh, Virgil, thank God you're okay," Roman said, openly crying as he placed his hands on Virgil's cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart, darling, love, I was so worried about you-"

Patton didn't even listen to the rest of what Roman said - He had to keep himself from laughing at the two of them. Roman was waxing poetic while Virgil sent mortified glances to his dad. But Patton thought it was pretty adorable, to see a teenager talk that way.

"Yes, I'm fine," Virgil said as he made weak attempts to push Roman off him. "I'm happy to see you but please stop, you drama queen."

Roman laughed and pressed one more kiss to Virgil's cheek before stepping away.

Roman didn't even seem embarrassed as he turned back towards Patton with a large grin. He just put a chair right next to Patton's and promptly sat to take Virgil's hand.

"Remus wants to come see you, too," Roman said as Patton went to sit next to him. "He's on his way with Janus. And he already asked if he could keep the bullet."

"Nope. If anyone gets to keep the bullet, it's me."

Patton shot him a look as he sat next to Roman.

"What?" Virgil asked. "It'd be badass."

"Okay. I excused the first swear word, but you are very much nearing the swear jar again, mister."

Patton was going for stern, but he just couldn't stop smiling. And he wasn't really upset - not when he got Virgil to smile.

"Remus may fight you for it," Roman continued.

"He can't fight me. I was shot."

"I don't think that'd stop him."

"True. He did throw Jason down a flight of stairs even after he broke his leg."

"He did what?" Patton asked. Virgil smirked at the horrified look on his face. "Why would he do that?"

"He was making fun of Janus.”

While Patton didn't dislike Remus, and he was glad Virgil had such a good group of friends, he was very happy Virgil was dating Roman and not his twin.

"And don't let him know I told you this, but he was really worried about you."

"Aw. I knew he loved me."

Virgil looked at his dad with a large grin on his face. And seeing Virgil smile again, really smile, well, that was enough to let Patton know that everything was going to be okay.

Prompts are open for both Bad Things Happen Bingo and general prompts :)

#sanders sides #moxiety #familial moxiety #prinxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #my writing #virgil #patton #roman #virgil fic #roman fic #patton fic

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 2: Survivor’s Guilt

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is confronted with the stakes of losing an important coworker and friend as the reader gets injured during a chase. But grief and hospitals aren’t really his scene. The reader finds out the extent of her injuries and condition, leaving her shocked to the core.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, angst and some fluff

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DEA agents were hurt and killed almost daily, that was just the way things were with the cartel. Pablo didn’t care about who they were or what their legacy was, married or not, children or not, to Escobar they were just the enemy’s pawns. Javier Peña was well-aware of this and therefore rarely turned his head when another death within the office was called. He didn’t do funerals, he did women and drinking instead. In a time of war there was no time for grieving, he believed it to be a weakness of the flesh much worse than indulging in the warmth of a prostitute or colleague every now and then. This had become a routine for him and while it ate away at his conscience he never once considered giving up his bachelor-lifestyle. Never until today.

The narco screamed as Javier tackled him to the asphalt, brutally bending his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs around his wrists. He opened his mouth to yell something out to Carillo when he heard the echo of two gunshots, followed by a cry. As his ears registered the pitch and tone, he made it out to be you. His head shot up immediately, already in desperate search of the source of your whereabouts.

Carillo took the detained from his clammy hands, leaving Javier to find you. Everything went quiet and all he could hear in that moment of utter panic was his obscene breathing and rapid heartbeat. When he rounded the corner, seeing Steve’s back turned to him, a pool of broken glass and legs he could only assume were yours he felt his heart drop. Murphy was frantically babbling into his radio as Javier stepped closer, the blood on the floor sickening.

He stood still next to Steve, watching the way your relaxed body laid in his arms, unmoving. “Is she-“

“No”, Steve replied quickly, beckoning for Javier to take his spot. “Stay with her, I’m getting the med kit from the car.”

He hesitantly sat down on his knees, the glass scraping against the fabric of his jeans as he gently pulled you onto his upper thighs. He spotted the burnt fabric on your vest and thanked his stupid teasing for having secured it earlier. It was as if you were just asleep, eyes closed, a peaceful look settling on your features. That’s what he told himself, she’s just resting, it’s been a long day, she’s fine, just tired.

Usually when you were sprawled out in his arms it was after another heated round of mind-numbing sex, naked and glistening with sweat. He thought of the way you looked then, skin glowing with pleasure, lips curled up in the most mesmerizing smile, eyelids fluttering closed as he trailed his long fingers over your chest. Rather than being covered in each other’s sweat, he found his hands stained with your vibrant-red blood and rather than trailing his fingertips across the curve of your breasts his left hand rested on the back of your head, hair sticking to itself from the mixture of sweat and blood.

It was a horror, the otherwise so lively and feisty woman appearing dead. The more he thought of it, the more he started shaking, panicking, checking for a heartbeat despite hearing your soft breaths. He couldn’t stand the idea of never getting to apologize to you, never having you curled up against his chest again, laughing about something stupid. The mere possibility of never seeing you at that desk again, stuffing your mouth with whatever the kitchen had to offer, completely dropping the “ladylike” act in front of your two partners, it tugged right at his heartstrings.

When Steve returned, putting some balled up spare clothes underneath you to keep them from cutting you up even more, Javier was dead silent and pale with terror. He gave his fellow agent a death glare when he gently shifted her body back to the floor, his arms tightening around you. “We need to get her vest off and check her chest”, Steve commanded, Javier finally loosening his grip, allowing you to lay on the makeshift “bed”.

“Ambulance?”, he breathed.

“Still on the way”, Steve huffed as he carefully undid the several buckles and straps on your vest.

As the two frantic men were bickering back and forth accusing the other one of not being careful enough or being a blatant idiot you slowly came to. A soft whine left your lips as you blinked a couple of times, the bright daylight inducing the absolute worst headache you ever felt. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, asking a myriad of questions while you were just trying to put two and two together. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move an inch, your entire body just aching and seemingly on fire. As you registered the severity of your fall, your breathing started to speed up, the two fussing men not helping you with your oncoming panic attack. Javier rested a bloodied hand on your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he was whispering something to you, in Spanish, fingers stroking back and forth in a gentle motion. You tried to speak but found yourself unable to, a tear of frustration falling out of the corner of your eye.

“Cariño, quédate conmigo, por favor”, he muttered, “Está bien, la ambulancia llegará pronto.” (Stay with me, it’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon).

He hadn’t been this soft with you in weeks and the longer you stared up at him through your heavy eyes, the guiltier he felt about it. With every blink your eyes struggled more and more to open again, your body urging, begging you to just rest. You were defenceless against yourself, the sustained injuries asking just too much of you, and soon you were out again, breathing steadying once again. Javier bit his tongue trying to ground himself and keep calm as he heard the wailing sirens in the distance. Steve had been taken your vest of by now, lifting your shirt to reveal nasty bruises on your chest, the vest had saved your life. Javier said a prayer right there and then, thanking whatever entity up above responsible for saving you, for letting you stay with him.

When the paramedics took over and removed the two of them from the scene they were in a trance-like state. Steve had been through this before, back in the states he’d lost his partner, which had proven to him just how powerful drugs were. Death was just a part of the job, but losing a partner, that shit was personal.

 How they managed to get to the hospital unscathed was beyond anyone’s understanding, but as Steve sat in the waiting room with sweet Connie holding his hand, Javier was angry. It should’ve been him, he had told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen. They didn’t even catch the guy, which maybe wasn’t the worst outcome, seeing how Javier would have absolutely murdered him with his bare hands.

“Javier just sit down, this isn’t helping anyone”, Connie spoke up, clearly having had enough of the man’s continuous pacing. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee or something, you could be here another couple hours.”

She did have a point, you’d been in surgery for little over an hour and with every passing minute his need to just run off was getting more and more prominent. But he knew that the doctor could walk through those doors any minute as well, so he wanted to stay put, for you.

Upon seeing his partner’s lack of movement, Steve stood up. “How about I go get us those coffees then”, he offered.

Being alone with just Connie, a close friend of yours, made him feel even more nervous. Luckily for him the doors swung open before any kind of conversation could be started. Revealing the doctor that had rushed you away earlier. Your two friends went to stand, politely nodding at the doctor.

“The patient is stable, she suffered a broken collarbone which we managed to fix into place during surgery. She also sustained a concussion and a laceration to the back of the head which has been closed up. And uh she has some contusions among minor cuts over the body, nothing to be too worried about.” Javier and Connie sighed in relief. “But I need to speak to Steve Murphy, he was listed as Miss y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“That’s my husband, he’s gone to get some coffee, should be back any second”, Connie replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Can we go see her?”

“The patient’s waking up just now, so she’ll be out of it for a little bit.” With that he led them to your room, carefully opening the dim room, quickly adding that it had to do with the smack to the head you’d suffered.

Javier and Connie sat on either side of the bed, the doctor quickly leaving the room almost bumping into Steve on the way out. When he introduced himself the doctor whisked him away, presumably to have that confidential chat.

A quiet sob drew Javier’s attention back to the scene in front of him, nothing that Connie had started to cry, carefully holding your hand in hers. “Careful with that, we still need that back at the office, evidence”, he joked, eliciting a sad smile from his friend.

“Just look at her Javi, she must’ve been so scared.”

He looked at the IV’s in your left hand and the several bandages covering your body. “She’ll be alright Con, I promise.”

Steve re-entered the room with heavy steps, head hanging low and he looked at his wife. “Connie, a word, out in the hall”, he sighed.

She quickly wiped at her eyes and left the room, following her husband outside. He was alone with you now and felt incredibly out of place. You were the one to make situations less awkward and insufferable, you were the one to lighten the mood with some stupid joke or story about something back in the States. You, you, you – anything and everything was you, it was like his fucking world revolved around it- her. The poor man wasn’t able to deal with the near loss of you and his feelings, so he did what seemed best to him, pressing a quick kiss to your head and booking it, leaving you alone.

The simple touch had its desired effect, eyes fluttering open just as he walked over the threshold of your room, disappearing into the Columbian night. As you blinked a couple of times, vision somewhat blurry, all you could feel was pain, intense pain from your shoulder. Just as you tried to sit up a bit more the Murphys walked in, Connie quickly rushing over to your side and forcing you to lay back.

“Hey, y/n, hey, you’re in the hospital”, she explained slowly, gesturing at the several wires and monitors.

“Ja-Javier?”, you croaked out, throat completely dry and scratchy.

Steve poured you a glass of water while speaking: “He must’ve left. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted and all but we need to have a chat.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute bomb Steve was about to drop on you, those three little words changed everything. You – are – pregnant. Normally people would be nothing short of euphoric hearing such a confession, but to you – a woman with no partner and a job in one of the most dangerous places to be – it was a death penalty.

You had stayed in the hospital five more days, fellow agents coming to pay their respects, but you were just in a state of utter shock and frankly denial. You had argued with doctors and nurses, demanding they’d take your blood again and do it right. But no matter how much you protested and wanted it to not be true, you were in fact pregnant.

Five whole days of friends and colleagues supporting and loving you, even a call from your fucking parents at some point, but no Javier. Connie and Steve hadn’t pried for information, prioritizing your recovery for now, but you knew fully well your old friend had his suspicions. They hadn’t told anyone else, and as of yet it was just you, them two and the medical staff that was aware, already way too many people for your liking.

On the fifth day nobody visited, as per your request, you’d be moving in with Connie and Steve for the next couple of weeks, your concussion-induced vertigo and left arm requiring almost constant assistance, or as you saw it: babysitting. So, you’d told everyone to fuck off until it was time to go to hopefully get some time to yourself, time that you could spend in your own head. As you sat up on the hospital bed, half dressed, incapable of putting a shirt over your head, you broke down. It wasn’t necessarily the shirt that made you this upset it was just everything; the accident, the fact that you were pregnant and most of all him. He hadn’t even made an effort to visit you, to check up on you.

Or so you thought. You see, while you were out in that bed, life at the office just continued where it left off, Peña and Murphy still sitting at their desks and going out in the field. Only now they only ever talked about three things; new leads, that new bar downtown and you. Well to be completely honest, Steve didn’t really ever mention you but Javi.. he couldn’t shut up about you, bugging his poor co-worker on the daily, trying to get at least some information out of him. Steve had gotten so fed up one late night that he’d tossed the case files at the other man’s head, telling him to go to that damned hospital instead. After that he stopped asking and was left to brood and mull in his bed, kitchen, shower, basically anytime he was alone. Surely you wouldn’t want him there, considering what terms you were on, but would it be so bad for him to just swing by, talk to you for half an hour or so, see how you were doing with his own eyes? He deemed it best to leave you alone and not give you more of a headache. But by Saturday afternoon, the day you were supposed to be emitted, he couldn’t help himself. He got in his car and just drove there, hastily parking his car as he ran up to your room, stopping at the door as he heard your muffled weeping.

The soft knock interrupted your heartfelt moment, you saw his reflection in the windows, unable to turn your head around. “Can I come in?”, he asked with a small voice.

“Y-yeah”, you answered, trying to cover yourself with your good arm.

He wordlessly walked over to you, quickly gathering the shirt from the floor and stepping closer. “Guide me.” Javier tenderly helped you into your shirt, following your every instruction and checking if he was doing okay every time you winced. When you were dressed he sat next to you on the bed, holding the hairbrush you’d handed him just seconds before. “I-I’ve never done someone else’s hair, are you sure you want to look even more of a mess?”, he joked.

You quietly chuckled, fidgeting with the hair tie in your hand. “Can’t get much worse anyways, just be careful with the ends.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as he brushed through your untamed hair, profusely apologizing every time the brush would get tangled, making the both of you laugh a little. It was a small win, just a sweet and innocent moment with the most dangerous man around, at least to you. He struggled to comb it all back, clearly not used to performing even the easiest of hairstyles. Eventually your hair did end up in something akin to a ponytail, at least he tried. After he zipped up your bag for you and checked the room for anything left behind you tried to slip on your shoes, a pair of tennis shoes to be exact, ones you frequented due to the nature of your job. Chasing narco-men wasn’t exactly ideal when wearing heels, so yes, you lived in flats. He soon got on his knees in front of you, helping you in your shoes and tying the laces for you, not able to watch you struggle any longer. The two of you didn’t talk other than the occasional “does this hurt” and “what now”. He offered to drive you home, but you explained Steve would be picking you up in a bit, informing him that you’d be staying over at their place, but a floor away from his own door.

“I should probably go then – unless you need anything else”, he said, hands in his pockets.

You went to stand, losing your balance a bit and steadying yourself by holding on to the frame of your bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you help me to the entrance, I’d rather wait there.”

With his arm wrapped around your waist, by means of support, totally nothing else, he helped you get downstairs, to the entrance. He’d insisted you stayed inside, telling you about the dangers of being alone. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him you had worked here just as long as he had, making him jut his hip. It’s then that Steve pulled up out front, quickly walking over to the two of you.

“What the hell is he doing here?”, Steve asked you, eyeing his partner up and down.

“He was just visiting and now he is leaving, see you Monday, Murphy”, Javier scoffed as he patter the man on the back, walking off without another word.

As Murphy helped you in his car he quirked an eyebrow at your messy hair; “Peña do that to you?” You nodded. “What’s that all about?”

“Survivor’s guilt”, you chuckled.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @pedritomando​ 

#javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine #javier peña x reader #illicit limerence

[yongtxt]

hundred [johnny]

word count: 4.5k words

characters: boxer!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: blood/wound/stitches mentions, johnny hates hospitals but he likes the pretty doctor, [im not a doctor nor a boxer pls dont say that i have info wrong because I Know]

author’s note: i know this isnt long to some of u but to me it is and i havent written this much for so long im so proud of myself for finishing this:( it isnt that good but this is the first long fic ive written in a while and shhsdjk also i needed to get this out of my system ive thought about this au since that jcc came out where johnny and hyuck was doing muay thai plssss (i couldnt find a better gif tho) ok this is getting too long / feedback is appreciated tysm

Johnny Suh hated hospitals with a burning passion.

It wasn't from a past trauma nor was he afraid of it, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of it really was. If he had to make a guess, it was probably from the accumulation of the little things, the insignificant factors people would usually dismiss but bothered him enough that it contributed to the big hatred he built for hospitals.

Maybe it was the distinct smell of hospitals, it reeked of death and old people. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the fluorescent-lit hallways, always gloomy and heavy. Maybe it was also the fact that the fees were so expensive and yet the food they provide tasted horrible, even the coffee was a hit or miss. The only upside he could think of was people get better in hospitals, but even that wasn't assured.

Despite how much Johnny despised hospitals, he always finds himself coming back. If he wanted to get better, he had no choice but to go. He would endure the gruesome process over and over again whether it be to treat his wounds or to stitch his cuts.

With his jaw littered with small bruises and his lips busted at the corner, he sat impatiently on the hospital bed as he waited for his doctor. He was fiddling with his fingers, knuckles bruised the same way his face was. He looked beaten up, he always did.

The clothes he wore contradicted the state he was in, they were fresh and laid back. He looked like a college student from the way he dressed. A delinquent more like, if one considered his cuts and bruises. Before heading to the hospital, he always makes it a point to shower and make himself appear presentable to the public. Although no one really bothers to take notice of his effort, only him.

The sliding door opened and Johnny's attention shot up from his phone, his gaze meeting with yours. Your head popped in, peaking through the small crack you made. Your eyes lit up in recognition as it always did whenever you see him.

"Youngho-ssi?" You spoke almost as if it was a question, voice barely above a whisper to make sure you were in the correct room, about to tend the correct patient.

Johnny didn't understand why you always did that, call out his name as if this was the first time you were seeing him. At that point, you've been already acquainted with him enough due to his numerous trips to the hospital. Either way, he nods every time.

You gave him a small smile, widening the door enough so you could enter. You wore a white lab coat, a name tag pinned to your chest and a stethoscope hung around your neck. You were small, although anyone compared to him was bound to be comparatively smaller – that wasn't the point, you looked young and that never fails to astound him every time you go through the door.

You had a clipboard in your hands, scanning through what he assumed to be his condition that a nurse had written earlier after a quick checkup and disinfection of his open wound. Your lips were formed on a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. He continued to stare at you with such amusement.

"You don't have to answer my question, Youngho-ssi, but why are you always here?" You finally broke the silence, startling him in the slightest. You never bothered to ask before, always just offering smiles and small talks while you did your work; maybe his sudden regularity of coming to the hospital recently made your curiosity peaked.

He couldn't blame you. Anybody would be curious why a 24-year-old man keeps coming back to the hospital with no clear explanation.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat, he never liked saying his job. He said, "I box for a living."

"Ah, that makes sense!" Your eyes visibly glimmered, absentmindedly jotting down notes on his medical records. "My coworkers and I thought you were in a gang or something."

"I don't think I would be allowed to be here if I was." He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

"Seo Youngho, 24, minor lip laceration in need of immediate suture." You read of his data from the clipboard, almost comically. It was medical terms he was unfortunately already too familiar with, to him, it basically meant that he had a busted lip that needs to be sewed shut.

"You can just call me Johnny. Youngho sounds too formal to me." He said nonchalantly. You nodded your head to his simple request; it probably was best if you got to know him better since he frequented the hospital so much.

"Alright, Johnny. We'll start the process now, okay?"

With keen eyes, he watched you slip on a pair of surgical gloves. You grabbed a tissue from the metal tray that sat beside him and began folding it into squares. He felt his heartbeat quicken, he hated getting stitches or any form of medical treatments for that matter, but as morbid as it was, he thought of it as punishment for his recklessness in the ring.

"Isn't boxing just, I don't know, senseless violence?" You asked, tone dripping with pure innocence and unadulterated interest as you gently dabbed away the remaining dried blood the nurse failed to clean earlier.

"It's a sport, it's how I bring money to the table." He pursed his lips, ignoring the twinge of pain that surged through his nerves. He visibly relaxed when you placed a hand onto his shoulder to reassure him.

Ever since the first time you got assigned to him, the first thing he took note of was the softness of your hands. You handled him as if he was fragile glass, despite how he easily towered over you. He felt pathetic as a 24-year-old but your gentle touches would greatly help put him at ease.

"I guess. I didn't mean to be rude." You were hesitant, Johnny could tell but he was glad you didn't push on any further. He couldn't handle explaining his occupation when you were about to pierce his skin. "Okay, Johnny, now that your lip is clean and the anesthesia had seeped in, we'll start. I think you know how it goes by now."

"Make it quick, please." He nodded, squinting his eyes shut at the mere contact of a surgical pen grazing over his gaped lips. You were relieved that his cut wasn't too big, you couldn't stomach the idea of putting him in too much pain for longer.

As you picked up the tweezers and string of nylon, you couldn't help but laugh at the six-foot boxer in front of you who was clearly petrified of getting stitches, "This will be done as soon as you know it. You won't really feel it because of the anesthesia, remember? Now count to a hundred backward for me."

Once the numb feeling of nylon dragged through his lips, he swore he saw white spots flicker in his vision. His eyes immediately watered and he tried his best not to squirm under your hold, beginning to count to a hundred backward like you had instructed him to. You admitted it to him the first time you stitched him that it was a trick that you learned from your pediatrician friend. Despite it being for children, it helped to get him distracted while you focused on your job.

Minutes felt like hours, Johnny had been fighting the urge to punch something, anything, to release tension and nerves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a peak and tried to take his attention away from what was currently happening on his lip. His gaze landed on your pretty eyes, how it was narrowed in focus and how your lashes perfectly framed it.

This wasn't the first time he'd observe you up close, there had been many occasions in the past that you had been too close for comfort in order to tend his wounds. It had been too many that it was almost as if he was close to memorizing your features. You were not only beautiful but you were also a smart and capable doctor.

Eventually, you finished and started to rub ointment on his sore lip — the finishing line.

"Try not to eat anything spicy or hard. You know the drill." You grinned at his suddenly pale features, ripping off your gloves as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the room. "You're good to go. Be careful next time."

He let out a shaky breath, clearly still winded up from the procedure, "I'll try. Thanks again, doc."

-

The punching bag felt great against Johnny's fists. There wasn't a feeling in the world that could compare to the impact of leather slamming against his skin. He could last hours mindlessly pummeling the bag if his stamina just allowed him to.

Hyunsik, Johnny's manager and personal trainer, drew away from the punching bag he held in between his arms. He let out a breath and held out a hand to motion that Johnny has done enough.

Johnny was hurting, Hyunsik could see that much. The bandages he had wrapped for the boxer's fingers were turning into a shade of red that they were all too familiar with.

Hyunsik clicked his tongue, "You should've used your gloves."

"How can I grow stronger if I keep relying on them?" Johnny rolled his eyes. His muscles needed a boost and this seemed to be the only logical way to strengthen them — a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Someday you're gonna fracture your hand and you'll be forced out of the ring. Remember that." Hyunsik huffed, his voice stern. "Take them off, I'll clean the blood off."

Johnny reluctantly did as told, unfurling the bandages wrapped around his fingers. The pain was excruciating when the fabric grazed along his tender skin, he winced at the unsightly view of his reopened wounds.

Hyunsik led him back outside of the ring to the benches where the first aid kit was. He made the boxer sit down so he could start cleaning off his wounds. It looked horrific, more so than it usually did and he had no choice but to break the news to Johnny.

"It looks really bad. You need to go get that checked in the hospital and have it sewed back." Hyunsik said, taking a wet towel and carefully dabbing it across Johnny's bloodied knuckles.

He didn't want to go to the hospital. Going to the hospital to have his wounds treated meant that Johnny would be medically required to take days off work to let his hand heal. Johnny frowned, "Don't you have an ointment or something that could help? I can't afford to lose a day of practice."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hyunsik rolled his eyes. "As your manager, I want you to be in top shape for your match next week, even if it means sacrificing a day or two for you to heal."

Johnny could only nod. He sat through Hyunsik's lecture on the changes he should make to his dietary plan and the exercises he should do during his temporary break. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything about it but nod along.

The incoming match that was set next week would make or break his career as an underground boxer. He didn't have the option of missing it because of some measly reopened wounds. If he had to rest to get better, he had no choice but to suck it up. This was his fault anyway for pushing himself too much.

Johnny showered in the locker rooms and changed into nicer clothes that didn't reek of blood and sweat. His hands were stinging but he shook it off.

He ignored the concerned looks other boxers were giving him and begrudgingly made his way to the hospital to get himself checked in. You wouldn't be happy to see him all bloodied again, he thought.

-

Much to Johnny's surprise, it wasn't you who was assigned to him. It was a much older doctor with graying hair and a nose stuck too far up in the air. She was rude and condescending, her lack of politeness to her patients was quite appalling. If Johnny wasn't in such a bad mood, he might've complained already.

God, this day couldn't get any worse.

With a meek voice, Johnny asked where you were and at the mention of your name, his doctor gave him a narrowed look. She sneered, "She's handling much more important cases. Does she know you?"

"I think so." Johnny gulped, unsure of the answer himself.

The doctor's grip was tight and she was hasty. It was as if she was trying to speed through the process to just get it over with. Johnny wanted to cry because he was starting to get traumatized by this doctor's procedure, he didn't want to hate the hospital more than he already did.

He internally screamed for your name as he watched the doctor pull on the gloves. The sliding door harshly whipped open and there you were in all your glory, like an angel sent from above to save him from the devil incarnate who was about to pierce his skin.

You were panting and the sheen on your forehead made it obvious that you ran your way to his room. Johnny's heart leaped with glee.

"Unnie, I'll handle him." You said, unable to catch your breath as you made your way inside. "I think the ER needs you more than me."

The doctor seemed hesitant at first but you tried to convince her otherwise. She eventually agreed and left you with Johnny who had a cheesy smile on his face the entire time since you've arrived.

"So Johnny, what happened this time?" You asked, picking up the clipboard that sat next to him on the bed.

"I overdid the punching during training and it reopened some old wounds on my knuckles. It hurts like a bitch."

You pulled a face, "That's a bit intense."

He chuckled, "It's normal."

"Can I please see it?" You opened your palm so he could place his hand on yours. You observed his cuts and the scabs that were beginning to form around it, it was too deep to let it heal on its own so you made the verdict that he needed to get it sewed back together ⁠— as unfortunate as it was since he was a boxer and he needed his hands to box.

You tugged on a new pair of gloves and began the painful procedure, Johnny started counting down even without you instructing him to. You quickly got to work and stitched back his wounds with your lip in between your teeth

Johnny felt squeamish, he could never get used to the feeling of stitches. His eyes were glued shut and he mumbled numbers like it was mantra.

Once you were done, you smiled fondly at your work. You managed to get by with fewer stitches and you felt pride swell up in your chest. Johnny noticed and, as lightheaded as he was, couldn't help but smile as well.

"You're pretty good."

"At stitching?"

Johnny nodded with his cheeks flushed, he made a mental reminder to smack himself in the head later for such a crude comment. You probably thought he was an idiot now.

"I sure hope so." You chuckled, making him blush even deeper if that was even possible. "It's part of my job."

Johnny shook his head in embarrassment, his dark hair bouncing from how vigorously he did it. He mumbled, "That sounded really lame and not smooth, I'm sorry. Please forget I opened my mouth."

You could only chuckle as you apply the ointment around his knuckles. He wanted the ground to open up and just swallow him whole.

"Please let this heal completely, Johnny. Don't apply any strain on your injuries for a couple of days and refrain yourself from carrying anything heavy so that the stitches won't rip." You said, carefully placing down his hand back on his knee. You were gentle as ever, Johnny swooned. "Absolutely no punching for a while."

"I have an important match at the end of next week. Is there any way to speed up the healing process?" Johnny asked, his eyes were almost pleading at you and you blinked at him in surprise.

"Apart from what I just said, there's really nothing else you could do." You pursed your lips, watching his expression visibly deflate. "If you want to have even a sliver of a chance at winning your match, I suggest you do as I say. Your stitches won't take too long to heal, I promise."

If Hyunsik was there with him, he would've probably already scolded him but the point would be the same. He had always prioritized Johnny's health above winning.

"Okay, doc. I'll do my best." Johnny said, defeated.

"You know, I always see the aftermath of your matches and your training. I want to see you in the ring next time when you're not bloody and beaten up yet." You smiled at him and you swore that all the color that was previously drained from Johnny's face came rushing back. "If it's okay."

"Are you serious?" Johnny asked, almost dumbfounded. Did the pretty doctor he'd been crushing on for months really just asked if she could watch his match?

You nodded with the same hue of red now tainting your cheeks.

"O-Of course! It's on Saturday next week! Please come and cheer me on!" Like a little kid, he excitedly rambled on about the details about the upcoming match and you nodded with the same enthusiast as you wrapped bandages around his hands.

You weren't from his world so everything he said sounded foreign to you. The terms he said, the infamy of his opponents, the prominence of it all — you were eager to learn it if it meant seeing him this happy.

You've always known that he hated hospitals. It was clear from the way he acted during your first meeting. He was stiff and tense, the body language he exuded just screamed that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. As he visited the hospital more and more, you noticed the hatred never faltered. He only became better at hiding it from you.

To see him so relaxed and carefree within the four walls he hated with all his being, it was a breath of fresh air and the feeling you had in your chest grew stronger.

"You're good to go. I promise to see you in your match." You were jotting some last-minute details on the clipboard and you missed the way Johnny kept grinning like an idiot. "As much as I love seeing you here, I hate that you keep getting yourself injured. Keep out of trouble for me, Johnny."

You left the room without letting Johnny say another word.

Fuck, Johnny realized he hadn't asked for your number.

-

Johnny's match started in ten minutes. His heart was pounding in his ears, he almost couldn't hear what Hyunsik was shouting to him.

The underground stadium was filled to the brim with people, he felt more nervous than he did during his first boxing match. A lot was at stake for this win, he needed the belt. He was desperate for it.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?" Hyunsik raised his voice, aggressively slapping Johnny's cheeks together in his hands so he could focus on him. The boxer's mind was fleeting and it was his job to pull him back to reality now.

He hadn't seen you since last week and as much as he wanted to go back to the hospital to see you, he refused to badly hurt himself in the days that led up to the match. Johnny scanned the crowd for your face but he couldn't see it. You weren't there.

At the lack of your turnout, he failed to mask his disappointment. Hyunsik let out an aggravated groan and pulled the boxer on his feet to berate him further.

"Johnny, please for the love of all things holy, look me in the eye."

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I'm listening."

"Good because your match is starting soon and I need you to win this. All your hardships and sacrifices boils down to this match, you hear me?" Hyunsik bellowed, trying his best to keep his voice louder than the cries and chants of the audience. "Show them what Johnny Suh is capable of!"

Johnny nodded fervently, forcing himself into a state of serenity of peacefulness. He let out heavy breaths to even out his breathing as his team surrounded him, prepping him for what was about to come.

Hyunsik raised his hand at Johnny. He had five minutes left until his match started and he wasn't calming down.

"Can I please have some water?" Johnny asked and his medic stumbled on his feet to fetch him a bottle from the nearby cooler. He couldn't help but let out a shaky chuckle, his team seemed tenser than he was.

He downed the bottle as soon as it reached his hand. His hand was shaky. Goddammit, why was he so nervous?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Hyunsik making his way over to the barricade that separated his corner to the rest of the stadium. He arched his neck in a way that would let him take a peek what was so important that Hyunsik had to leave his side when the match was starting in a few minutes.

It seemed like Hyunsik was trying to stop a girl who was forcing her way in through the barricade. His stomach lurched at the sight of her familiar face.

As if he was acting purely on instinct, Johnny shot up from his seat and ran towards you. Hyunsik held up his arm to stop him from going any closer to you. You could've been a deranged fan, for all Hyunsik knows.

"Johnny-"

"I know her."

Hyunsik was startled at his response and started to profusely apologize to you. You looked nothing but smug and Johnny let out a breathy laugh that helped unravel the knots in his stomach. The boxer quietly motioned for him to take his leave and Hyunsik hesitantly did as told only after tapping his wrist as a sign that time was ticking.

You bowed at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry I'm late! There was this damn patient-"

"It's okay. You're here now." He cut you off, a cheesy smile on his face. You easily reciprocated it back.

"I just came down here to wish you good luck." You said with the usual confidence in your tone gone and now replaced with a sudden timidness and bashfulness. "Not like you need it or anything."

"Where are you sitting?" Johnny asked, noticing that you were struggling to keep your attention on his eyes. He peered down and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, he chuckled.

You pointed near the walls of the stadium and he strained his vision to see so far away. He pursed his lips and let out a noise of discontent. You said that it was the only seats available because you were so late.

"Why don't you sit here with them? They wouldn't mind." Johnny said, jutting his thumb over to his team who was furtively watching his interaction.

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. I want you to see me win up close."

You blushed a deep shade of scarlet and Johnny grinned at his successful attempt at a flirt. Was it even a flirt or was it an ego stroke? Either way, it didn't matter because you were smiling at him. You were easing his nerves and you didn't even know.

"I got out of my shift early so I wouldn't be in the hospital later to stitch you up." You teased, softly prodding his shoulder blade.

Johnny playfully puffed out his chest, "I don't plan on getting too injured today, I wanna look cool in front of you."

"Whatever you say, Johnny."

"But I'm nervous. I'm actually really nervous today." Johnny mumbled as if he didn't want anyone else in on your conversation, gone all traces of his cockiness as his heart thudded erratically against his chest when he heard Hyunsik's call of the last minute until he has to go inside the ring.

You gingerly reached for his taped hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Just count back from a hundred like I always tell you to. You'll do fine."

"Wait for me after the match, okay?" And so you did.

Counting down the numbers, Johnny clambered inside the ring and the bell rang to signal the start of the match. Being in the medical field meant that you were against all forms of violence so you couldn't really watch the entirety of the match without feeling sick to your stomach. Johnny didn't care, he was just happy that you kept your promise and was cheering him on.

It was hectic and everything was happening all at once. It was loud and everybody was screaming. This wasn't your world, it was Johnny's and your heart fluttered at the thought that he was willing to let you in it.

Eventually, the match ended in Johnny's favor and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up in the air. You had the biggest smile on your face, similar to Johnny's who now had a shiny belt slung over his shoulder. All his hard work and all his trips to the hospital paid off.

"Congrats on your win!" You exclaimed, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

"I wanted you to see me get the belt." He admittedly sheepishly, reaching out to hold your wrists in his bruised hands.

"Aren't you hurt in any way? We can drop by the hospital if you want." You asked, checking to see if he had any major injuries but true to his word, Johnny was inflicted little to no injuries during the match, exclude the few bruises on his jaw and a busted lip

"Actually, I'd rather we get some coffee instead." Johnny said, the small smile on his lips making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I don't date my patients." You smirked at Johnny's crestfallen expression, softly shoving his side to make it known that you were only joking.

Johnny pulled a face, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding once he realized your joke. He played along, "I think you can make me an exception, I don't usually invite people to my matches."

"So this is about getting even, huh?" You were teasing him and now your faces were merely inches apart but before Johnny could even think of leaning in, you spun around and grabbed his hand once more. "C'mon then, my treat!"

Johnny let out a laugh. A boxer and a doctor, who would've thought?

#johnny #johnny suh #johnny seo #nct johnny #nct 127 #nct #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny au #nct au #johnny angst #johnny scenarios #nct scenarios #johnny fluff #nct fluff #nct timestamps #johnny timestamps #johnny fanfics #johnny x reader #nct x reader

[iamdeku]

Broken Ribs and Whole Hearts

Description: A Deku x Reader where the reader is a nurse who finds an unexpected guest in her emergency room. A continuation of this post.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/some light gore. Talk of painkillers administered by a medical professional. Fluff.

It was safe to say that when you woke up this morning you weren’t expecting to find the life of the number one hero in your hands.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t worked with heroes before. You had plenty of experience with them, since they had a way of getting themselves hurt. That being said, you’d never worked with this particular hero before, and you were a little bit starstruck.

You wouldn’t call yourself a fan of Deku, but you weren’t not a fan. You saw him on the news all the time, but that was virtually impossible to avoid since he seemed to find his way onto every crime scene. If there was someone who needed help, Deku was there.

Right now though, he was here, bleeding out.

You had heard about the fight from your coworkers. It was hard to avoid hearing about a battle on that scale when you worked in a hospital. You had already been getting civilians in for treatment, but the heroes came last and were, naturally, priority since their injuries tended to be far more severe. Deku was no exception to this rule, and when he was rushed through the doors you were quick to fill your empty hands, not even realizing who he was until you went to assess the patient.

You jolted back a little bit in surprise, seeing the shock of green hair and bleary green eyes peering up at you. In your moment of surprise leaning over him, he cracked a blood-smeared smile.

“Are you an angel?” He asked softly.

“He’s delirious from the blood loss,” you declared, quickly getting to work surveying the rest of the damage. “Several cracked ribs, and I think he may have punctured a lung.”

As you continued to rattle off instructions and commentary, Deku continued staring at you. You, unwittingly, had become his lifeline. He kept his eyes open out of sheer desire not to look away from you. You were so capable, not faltering once after your initial shock. He was in awe of you.

Eventually, Deku was rushed into the operating room, and then he had no choice but to go under. When he woke up though, lo and behold, it was you there, checking his vitals and adjusting some things.

He opened his dry mouth, preparing his cracked voice to speak. “Well if it isn’t the prettiest nurse in all of Musutafu.” 

You jump slightly, not having expected him to wake up. You fidget with your hands, a nervous habit.

“Oh, hello Deku. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse.” Deku would have shrugged, but he knew from experience that would make things worse.

He turned his eyes to the rest of the hospital room, taking a look around. He was in a standard hospital gown, which he joked was his “back-up uniform”. An IV fed drugs into his arm as necessary, and he knew he must be on some pretty good pain killers if the slightly hazy feeling in his head and the warm confidence in his chest were any indication. 

“So, any chance you’ll go out on a date with me?” he asked.

You stiffen in surprise, but then grin teasingly at him. “Wow, the morphine is talking pretty loud today, huh? Who knew the number one hero was such a light-weight? Maybe I should lower your dosage.”

Deku winced. “Please don’t. I have a high pain tolerance, but not that high.”

Your beautiful smile turned to a look of concern.

“Are you in any pain right now?”

Deku quickly shook his head, which actually did cause him some pain from the force of the movement. 

“I’m fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s working great.” He smiled encouragingly at you.

You visibly relaxed from where you stood by his bedside.

“Okay, well just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m sure you know the drill, but you can just press this button right here for help.” You showed him where it was.

“Any chance I can get your number before you go?” He asked hopefully, unwittingly throwing you into cardiac arrest.

“I will take away your painkillers, Mr. Midoriya,” you threatened over your shoulder as you walked out.

Little did either of you know it, but Izuku was going to be spending a lot more time with you. His tendency to get injured on your shifts almost made you believe he was doing it on purpose. You asked him once when he was drugged up, but he would admit to nothing, only giving you a slightly loopy smile before falling asleep.

Once he was settled into his hospital rooms though, he made no secret of it. He would blatantly request you, or rather, “the prettiest nurse in Musutafu.”

“You know I have a name right?” you asked, looking at his chart like you didn’t have it basically memorized.

“Yes, I just happen to think this more fitting. I can stop if it bothers you though.” 

Suddenly your confident hero had turned into a Christmas tree, whole face from the neck up turning red as a cherry. Feeling a desperate need to sooth him, you hurriedly corrected yourself.

“No, this is fine! I mean, I can’t really complain, can I?”

“Pretty sure you just did,” he teased.

You two continued on in this way until you would nearly consider yourself friends with the hero. In fact, you had started a routine of eating lunch with each other after an incident where you had both been in the hospital cafeteria at the same time and had sat together. Since then you had repeated the encounter a few times, though never exactly on purpose. You had even gone to dinner with him once, just as friends, to some fancy new restaurant he claimed to need a date to, since eating alone was ‘boring’. You had grown into a comfortable rhythm with him over time, and then it happened.

It was the first rain of the season, and you had your window open to let in the smell. You were peacefully making some soup in your kitchen on your night off. Your gray sweats clung to your hips, comfy t-shirt wrapping you up under the warm lighting of your cozy kitchen. The cheerful paint of the walls beamed at you as you swayed softly, humming along to the song on the radio.

All of your peace was shattered the moment Deku fell through your window, hand clutching his side, at the exact same moment your tea kettle screamed at you. You quickly moved it off the heat, nearly sloshing water onto your usually steady hands before rushing across the room to your fallen hero.

“Izuku!” you gasped, turning him over on the floor.

He smiled up at you, not looking nearly as concerned as he should be.

“Hi.”

“Why are you here? You should be in a hospital.”

“I just wanted to see you.” He reached up to cup your cheek in his warm, broken hand.

“You can’t be here Izuku. You’re hurt.”

“You’re my nurse. You’ll take care of me.”

He smiled at you with so much faith it cracked something in your chest. An overflowing font of affection for this man, this hero, welled up in you, begging to be let out. You thought of every time you had seen him broken, the implicit trust he had in you to piece him back together. To take care of him. 

You swallowed down your tears, mirroring the smile on his face, trying to be as brave as he was. “You have a stab wound in your side. It doesn’t look too deep, but you still need serious medical attention.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

He was staring at you, those deep green eyes brushing up against your soul, flirting with your deepest secrets, dancing around the unspoken truths weighing down your tongue, things you both knew. Things neither of you could say, as far as you were concerned, but Izuku Midoriya had always had an open heart and a loose tongue, and so he said them slow and easy, honey slipping through his teeth and coating his cracked lips.

“Kiss me.” 

“That...that wouldn’t be very ethical of me.” Despite your words you are leaning in, nose brushing his.

It is not a demand, not a question, not a request. It is a gasping, haunting, wavering plea, he is begging and you are teetering on the edge of a cliff you wouldn’t admit existed until you were borderline tumbling off of it.

"Can I...?"

This time it is a question, and you find yourself drawn into him. He is the Jupiter to your Io, and you are lost to a constellation, entwined in your own milky way. Your shadow blends into his, pressed flat against the grain of your wood floors, as your lips whisper against his. It is barely a touch, just a taste of what is to come, but it is all the permission he needs.

He surges forward to kiss you, and it is something foreign, something incomprehensible as he catches you with his chapped lips. He tastes of bitter, salty blood as the rush of his breath fills you, slipping down your throat and curling through your lungs. You have never done this before, never felt whatever is warping the planes of your chest and the contours of your heart. It is as though you have met yourself in him.

It is a ravaging sort of feeling, even though the kiss itself is achingly soft, heartbreakingly slow. He is so gentle with you, as though you are the breakable one here, when in fact you have had to put him back together too many times to count. You allow it though, you allow it because you have seen firsthand how Izuku Midoriya’s large, scarred hero hands touch everything with this sort of gentle kindness, a piece of his heart slipping through the spaces between his knuckles and digging into the pads of his fingertips. 

When you pull away it is slowly, reluctantly, a smile taking over your face. Izuku's smile matches yours, his eyes sparkling as he reaches up to brush a thumb across your lip, a light laugh escaping him. It is this action that brings you back to yourself, snaps you out of your haze as his thumb streaks blood across the swell of your mouth. Your body jerks back away from him suddenly, and worry flickers over his face.

"Izuku Midoriya! How dare you distract me like that! Did you think I wouldn't take you to the hospital if you kissed me?"

He has the nerve to look a little guilty.

"I don't need to go, really. It will just inconvenience them."

You grind your teeth. "We. Are. Going."

And over time, Izuku learns that eventually, all roads lead to the hospital. Because all roads lead to you.

#bnha #mha #deku x reader #prohero!deku #nurse!reader #deku #izuku midoriya

[watermelonsugawara]

Leave Your Mark

❥ warnings: nsfw; needles (tattooing), pain kink is that what u call it? LMFAO IDK, semi public sex???, handjob, fellatio, slight edging, face sitting, fingering, mild dacryphilia woops, unprotected sex, creampie

❥ characters: iwaizumi x tattoo artist!fem!reader

❥ a/n: so i had this idea and it was originally meant to be ukai x reader ,,,, BUT ive never written about iwa yet SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO i thought it was his time to fuckin SHINE

ALSO i half assed my editing so dont bully me <///3

❥ summary: you’ve given countless thigh tattoos to clients before, but this specific client had a particular liking towards pain.

wc: dude idek like 3k+ ?? JFJSJDJDH

...

The familiar chime of the tattoo parlor doorbell caught your attention as you finished cleaning your needles. You were the one closing up shop, so you knew that there’s only one reason for the ringing of the door, your last client of the day.

You’d seen him in the shop before, but he had gotten a tattoo from one of your coworkers. Nevertheless, he caught your eye even for the short moments you saw him passing through the shop. He was undeniably attractive, so it was even better to see him up close when he discussed tattoo details with you in previous meetings.

“Nice to see you again, Iwaizumi,” you said as you sauntered behind the counter. He nodded in greeting as you shuffled through a binder to find the tattoo you designed for him. A dragon, surrounded by cherry blossom flowers. It was a pain in the ass to draw but you were enthralled to put the art somewhere permanently.

Iwaizumi leaned forward against the glass counter to get a better admire your work. His shirt wrapped tightly around his biceps just right, the thin material giving subtle hints to his toned shoulders and chest underneath. Always so handsome upclose.

“You ready?” You smiled at him, motioning him towards the tiny nook of your tattooing station.

“Yep, I’m very excited,” Iwaizumi grinned back. Unbeknownst to you, the actual tattoo was only half the fun for him.

As you finished gathering your supplies, Iwaizumi stepped out of his jeans and lied down on the leather bench. You kept your routine speech short as the dark-haired man relaxed into the cool black material, knowing you’d have to review aftercare with him at the end of the session anyways.

Everything went like clockwork— shaving, sanitizing, tracing. The tattoo was centered on his right thigh, and you couldn’t help but notice how thick his thighs were as you traced the image. The occasional flex of his muscles under your touches only added to the curiosity swirling in your mind. Probably a strict workout regime, played a sport or two in high school.

Your silent admiration for his body was short-lived as you zeroed your focus towards what would be the next few hours of work. Your foot prodded at the pedal, the subtle buzz of the machine overlapping with the music playing through the shop, with the occasional small talk sprinkled in.

It’s fine. Slight fidgeting is fine; you learned how to adjust to it after your years in the tattooing business. After all, it is a bunch of needles repeatedly piercing into the skin, what other reaction would you expect? However, Iwaizumi’s restlessness was constant, his breathing erractic, even when you’d pause to wipe the excess ink trailing on his skin. Every touch seemed to make his breath hitch and the muscle of his thigh become rigid. Occasional flexing became frequent fidgeting, to the point where even at your skill level, you didn’t want your work ruined by a slip of the hand.

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” You asked as you lifted the tattooing gun off of his skin. You looked up at him, your concerned voice laced with a hint of frustration. “We can take a break if it’s hurting you too m-”

“No it’s fine, you can keep going,” Iwaizumi cut off your thoughts, his slightly choked out response catching you by surprise. He sounded out of breath, and his cheeks were flushed a deep shade.

Throughout the entire session up to this point, you had been mentally racking through the rolodex in your brain of common reactions to getting a tattoo — general nervousness, fear of needles, fear of pain. But this... seemed different. Could it be arousal? You couldn’t even be sure. And even if it was that, this surely is new territory for you.

Iwaizumi looked back at you for just a moment, but there was a dark glimmer in his eyes that was impossible to miss. Mixed with the blushing cheeks and shallow breathing, the gears finally began to move in your brain, and he knew it. His eyes screwed shut, hoping you’d hear his silent pleas to just continue with the session.

It felt so wrong to be right. There’s still a chance, though, that you jumped to conclusions too quickly, overanalyzed the look in his eyes. Yet you couldn’t even stop tourself as your eyes trailed down to the tent straining against his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight, the heather gray fabric outlining his cock deliciously.

You definitely shouldn’t have stared for as long as you did.

What the fuck has gotten into you? You knew this was wrong, that you were a professional, and most importantly, you sure as hell weren’t proud of the feeling this was giving you. Your brain was telling you to stop, but the growing wet spot in your panties brought along a much more exciting version of how this night would end. You lifted your foot off the pedal, the buzzing of your machine coming to an abrupt stop and placing on the rolling tray beside you.

“I think you do need a break,” you said nonchalantly, peeling your black latex gloves off of your hands. You waited for a response, a sign of life in the man laid on the bench in front of you, keen on getting an answer from him even though you knew you’d never get it. All you got in return was a dumbfounded expression painted across Iwaizumi’s face.

The piercing of the needles that would otherwise make people nervous actually excited Iwaizumi, the adrenaline coursing through his veins from the pressure. It was something about the controlled pain, the sharp stung along his sensitive skin that had his blood rushing straight to his cock. But he was usually pretty good about keeping his composure while getting tattoos from other artists. This time was different though— a shoulder or back tattoo was much less intimate than this one, your pretty face just mere inches away from his dick. 

“[Y/N],” he whispered, slightly surprised that he was even able to utter your name. He held his breath, partially to preserve whatever air you didn’t knock out of his lungs from your previous words, partially out of anticipation for your next ones.

“Let me help you. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” you smirked, your eyes flickering briefly at his unfinished tattoo on his thigh and back up to his face. “Do you want me to help you?”

You looked up at him with such soft eyes, while you both knew damn well that innocence was not in the cards tonight. 

He nodded as he propped himself up on his forearms, and watching your hands ghosted over his cock. You lightly squeezed as you ran your hand up and down his length, smirking as Iwaizumi’s precum created a dark spot on his underwear.

He lifted his hips and you obliged to his request without even needing to hear it. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling down to free his throbbing cock.

Fuck, he was big.

You climbed onto the bench with him, straddling his legs. His cock was heavy in your hand, your fingertips barely touching as you wrapped your small hand around the base. You licked a long stripe up from Iwaizumi’s balls to the tip of his cock, your hot tongue making him clench his jaw, biting back a groan. You flicked your wrist, letting Iwaizumi’s cock hit your tongue, the lewd slapping noises making him whimper. You swirled your tongue along the head of his cock before taking his length into your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your hands. It felt like your jaw was going to snap from trying to fit his fat cock into your mouth.

Your hands were so small, your mouth was so soft and wet; it was such a stark difference from the intense prick of the needles on his skin just moments ago. It made Iwaizumi’s cock twitch knowing you could bring him so much pain and pleasure simultaneously. 

“Fuck yes, just like that, [Y/N], fuck,” Iwaizumi groaned, watching your pretty plump lips wrap around his shaft. 

You shallowly bobbed your head before coming all the way down to try and take his entire cock into your mouth. The sudden jolt of pleasure of you gagging made Iwaizumi buck his hips, pushing his cock farther down your throat than you thought you could even take it. Your lips reached the base of his cock, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Iwaizumi repeatedly rammed his hips upwards, eager to feel you gag around his cock again. Tears were falling freely down your face, blurring your vision as you desparately gasped for air. Fuck, he was already so close.

However, as much as Iwaizumi wanted to shoot his hot load down your throat, he knew he wanted you to come all over his face even more. A soft tap on your shoulder had you quickly pulling away from Iwaizumi, coughing and catching your breath as you sat upright. You got up to remove your jeans and underwear as he removed his own shirt. Iwaizumi’s large hands immediately found purchase on your ass when you straddled him again.

“Sit on my face, please pretty girl,” Iwaizumi groaned, his hands still kneading the soft flesh of your hips and ass. He laid back against the bench once more, his eyes fixated on your pussy above him. You sat down, his tongue immediately flat against your folds to taste your juices. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking and drawing circles with his tongue, before pushing his tongue into your tight hole.

It was damn near impossible to keep yourself upright, Iwaizumi’s hot tongue pushing into you, his hands roaming all over your body, pushing your bra and shirt away to grab your breasts. You ripped off the remainder of your clothes as he rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingertips.

“Yes yes yes, Iwa, fuuuuck,” you whined, carding your fingers through his hair. The apex of his nose brushed against your clit and you rolled your hips against him, the vibrations of his moans against your cunt sending you over the edge.

Your thighs clamped around Iwaizumi’s head as you let out one last choked out moan, your spongy walls clenching around his tongue as you came.

You moved back to kneel above Iwaizumi’s hips, the fluorescent lights of the shop highlighting your juices all over his face.

“You still haven’t helped me out yet, [Y/N],” Iwaizumi smirked, stroking his cock. His other hand reached down to your cunt, pushing a finger into your sensitive hole. You sucked in a sharp breath as you barely came down from your first high, but before you could retort, Iwaizumi cut you off.

“You’re gonna need the prep, baby.” Although his voice was playful, you knew he meant it wholeheartedly, as you were reminded of the thick girth of his cock by the subtle ache of your jaw. Iwaizumi plunged another finger into you, making your thighs tremble.

You looked so fucking beautiful above him. Mascara running down your cheeks, mouth hanging open, moans echoing through the empty shop. He just couldn’t wait to stuff your tight little cunt full of his fat cock.

Iwaizumi pulled his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, spitting on his hand and pumping his length a few times as you caught your breath. He teased the swollen tip of his cock at your hole, groaning at how tight you were as you began to sink down around him.

You’ve never been stretched out like this before, hot tears resurfacing at the corners of your eyes. You gripped his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your nails digging into his soft skin. You let out a shaky sigh as your ass met his hips, nearly coming already from how his huge cock filled up every inch of your pussy.

He sat up, steadying himself with one hand behind him and the other at the back of your head, pulling you in to mold his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He moaned into the kiss as he felt you move your hips, slowly bouncing on his cock.

“[Y/N], baby, you’re so fucking-hnggg- tight,” Iwaizumi groaned against your mouth, his hot breath fanning across your face. You started to bounce on his cock at a faster pace, and with every loud slap of skin on skin, his cock brushed against the spongy spot inside of you, making you clench even more around his hard shaft.

You couldn’t even control all the moans falling from your lips, Iwaizumi’s cock now relentlessly hitting your g-spot as he rutted his hips up into you. Your cunt was sucking him in, feeling every vein on his cock drag along your tight walls.

As your mouth hung open, Iwaizumi pushed two fingers in and you wrapped your lips around them, eliciting another groan from him. He pulled his fingers out to bring them down to your aching clit, his rough fingertips rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. Iwaizumi thought you couldn’t get any fucking tighter but as he toyed with your clit, your cunt spasmed around him even more.

“Iwa please-” you cried out, feeling another orgasm creep up in the pit of your stomach.

“Milk my cock while you cum for me baby, c’mon,” Iwaizumi groaned, your erratic clenching bringing him closer to his own release.

With one final thrust into you, you came with Iwaizumi’s cock bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of cum painting your cunt white. You both cried out for the other as you rode out your highs, your hands scratching red lines into his back.

You crawled off of Iwaizumi’s lap, his cum still leaking out of your pussy and onto the black leather of the bench.

“So,” Iwaizumi sighed, catching his breath but eager enough to not miss a beat, “When’s our next session?”

...

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[twinklelilstarkey]

Goodbye - Neil {TENET}

Pairing: Neil x Reader

Words: 1.5k+

Type: Angst

Summary: Y/N decides to leave after Neil comes back injured from a mission.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death.

You walk back in the room and stare at Neil’s asleep state. He looks peaceful, just like any other night.

It doesn’t even look like he took two bullets onto his abdomen and isn’t laying in a hospital bed.

He had just come back from surgery a few hours ago, and he should be waking up soon, or at least that’s what the doctors said.

Your chest aches at the sight of all the cables connected to his body and the large bruise on his jaw. You had seen the large bandage that covered his torso when a nurse came to check his stitching, and you just can’t take your mind off of it.

You put down the warm paper cup with coffee on the side table and take your seat next to the bed once more. Your hands are freezing under the warm air of the air conditioner, shaking out of pure anxiety.

You stare at the ground while leaning back on your chair, deep in thought.

The beeping sound of Neil’s heartbeat is the only sound that surrounds your ears, filling the silence in the room.

The door of the room slides open, making you snap back to reality and look up at the nurse, who is already staring at you.

“Hi” She whispers with a quick and small smile.

You nod as a way to answer her, not giving out a smile back, before looking over at your fiancé, who is still very much quiet and not moving.

The woman walks over behind you to check on Neil’s IV and charts and you move your hand over his. His hand is warmer than yours but also not as soft, his calloused bits on his palm feel familiar to you but it has been so long that it also feels somewhat different.

It’s not the first time Neil has left for work without a word, especially during the night. But it’s the second time he ends up in a hospital bed, badly injured.

The nurse walks out of the room, taking a good look at you before walking away and you ignore her gaze.

Once the door of the room closes, leaving you in the silence once more, you move your chair closer to the bed. You lift Neil’s hand and lay it on your cheek, feeling his warmth against your skin, consuming the coldness of it.

Your gaze lifts over to his face and your eyes fill with tears.

It’s probably the tenth time you’ve cried over him and the amount of emotions you’ve been feeling ever since you’ve stepped in this hospital.

Your heart breaks and feels heavy every time you think about the call you received.

Neil’s coworkers told you exactly what had happened in the mission once you settled in the waiting room and also how you shouldn’t worry about him since “he’s strong”. But you can’t help it.

Your anxiety has been awful ever since he left, affecting your daily life profusely.

You couldn’t focus on your work; you couldn’t focus in conversations and just to make matters worse: your friends have been oblivious to everything. Making you seem like an awful person and co-worker to them.

A hospital call or even one from Neil’s workplace is something you prepared for every time he left, but the nausea and the pumping heart were still very much prominent when you got it.

A groan from the man next to you sounds.

“Neil?” You whisper while getting up from your chair and letting go of his hand to hover yours over his face.

You cup his cheek slightly to try and not hurt him and his eyes open slightly, making him groan, again, over the brightness of the lights in the room.

“Where am I?” He asks. His voice is hoarse, over being asleep for so many hours, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

You move back a bit as he opens his eyes and quickly let go of his cheek as you feel yours wet. You wipe your tears, ignoring how you possibly didn’t feel them earlier, and decide to answer him.

“Hospital” You answer, a little louder than before.

He tries to sit up but cringes once the pain courses through his body.

“Try not to move too much, you got shot twice on your side” You say.

You sit back on your chair as he grabs the bed’s little controller, quickly getting the hang of it and making it help him sit up, and you hesitate to look at him as he gets comfortable, making Neil notice.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that” You say with a small fake smile, looking up.

Neil notices the slight puffiness under your eyes and bites his tongue to not say anything out loud. Not before thinking twice. He knows how much you worry, that’s one of the reasons why he’s usually so careful in his missions.

Luck certainly wasn’t on his side this time, and he is hating every second of the outcome of it.

“Have you eaten?” He asks, concern is highly noticeable on his tone.

You nod slowly and the weight in your chest heavies the more you look at him.

“Come sit” Neil says, moving his legs over to one side of the bed so you could take your seat next to him.

You get up from your chair and take a seat right where he petted the bed, facing him.

“How bad was it?” He asks in a whisper, “When I came into the hospital”

Flashes of the nurses red tinted hands against Neil’s soaked shirt and the faint deep red trail around the entrance of the ER run through your mind.

You take a deep breath before answering.

“Bad” You answer, feeling tears fill your vision once more, making you look away discreetly.

Neil, to try and grab your attention, moves his hand and puts it over yours. His body feels rather stiff with the pain, but he tries to hide it with the best of his ability so he can focus on you for just a moment.

He notices how your eyes stare into nothing as you think about something and gives your hand a slight squeeze.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore” You whisper, so faintly that Neil almost doesn’t catch it.

“What do you mean?”

You stare up at him, your eyes meeting in the quick movement. Your eyesight is affected by the tears, that fight to drip down your cheeks, but, in a way, you can still see him clearly.

“I mean about us”

Neil freezes in time as those words leave your mouth and chills travel through him.

“It’s the second time you almost died in these missions, Neil” You say leaving out a sob, but you quickly cover your mouth in hopes to control it.

Neil stays quiet.

“You walk out of our apartment without even saying a word and disappear for months, reappearing like this” You say, trying to compose yourself in the middle of the sentence, “We were supposed to get married next month-”

“We still can” He says, moving his hands to cup your face. Shock has finally left his body and he’s back to his senses, “Don’t do this to me” He adds, voice cracking.

You sob at his words, lowering your head almost as in shame in how much you’re breaking. “I need to” You say in a low tone. Neil pulls you closer and you continue to sob loudly as he tries to hold you.

“It’s for the best… For the both of us”

“No” He says shaking his head, “No, we can get through this together”

You look up a bit at him.

“I love you so much” You whisper, “And that’s exactly why I can’t deal with the thought of you getting killed when you step out of our home”

His thumbs run though your wet cheeks slowly as the two of you stare at each other, both heartbroken.

“The doctors said it was a miracle that you survived” You say with a sad smile, “And I’m so thankful that you did, but I really can’t, Neil”

Neil’s eyes glisten with the light as one of his hand move over to the back of your neck, making you feel the wetness of your tears still on his skin.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stay?” He whispers, breathing slowly to try and keep calm.

“No” You say calmly, “Because you are not going to stop working”

He stays quiet while listening to your voice and pulls you closer by the back of your head, making your foreheads meet and your noses touch.

“I love you” He whispers, and you fight your tears.

You close the space between you and kiss him. Your lips don’t move, but neither do Neil’s, they just press onto each other.

Both of your hearts shatter with the feeling of this being your last kiss and how you can just tell by the way it feels. Your lungs burn as you breathe in when pulling away and you wrap your arms around Neil’s neck, pulling him into a hug.

Neil leans his head onto yours when wrapping his arms around you and he breathes in your smell, trying to get it through his head that it will be the last time he feels it.

You pull away after a few seconds and look over at him. A tear falls from his eye as he looks up at you. You bite your lip, pulling the ring out of your ring finger and lay it on his palm.

You move back a bit and take a good look at him once more.

“Goodbye” You say.

“Bye” He answers.

You force yourself out of the bed and quickly grab your things from the chair.

Neil stares at you, as you do it, and once you walk out of the sliding door, not looking back, he moves his gaze towards a table next to him.

Exactly where your, now, cold coffee sat.

- - - - -

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