#on sunday i just need to make the rest but will i ....stupid brain
✧ﾟ:* 6 weeks until ♡ jaehwan returns *:ﾟ✧
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pine cones — spencer reid
summary — reader is secretly pining for spencer, but his eyes are wandering to lila archer
a/n — i needed a break from the christmassy fluff. it became unrealistic LMAO so i needed something so filled with angst it breaks hearts but i promise a happy ending x
pairing — spencer reid x fem!reader
warnings — swearing, love triangle, pining from reader, broken friendship, lying and secrets, reader degrades herself etc
you didn't know what it was like to be in love.
you were young, vulnerable. the only so-called life experience under your belt was an undergraduate degree and a few months to boast at the bau.
it was why you couldn’t describe how you felt whenever you glanced over at your co-worker, that little bubble of excitement that erupted in your stomach when he started a conversation over nothing with you.
you brushed it off as if it was nothing.
it wasn’t like you were completely unaware of the realm that was the testament of relationships. you had flings, short-term relationships when you were in college. you just didn’t know what it was really like to feel love.
he would talk to you lots, engaging in mundane and sometimes meaningless conversations when you were walking back to motels in nights during cases or on the jet, even when you went home together on those infrequent occasions together. it was rare for spencer to have a real friend the same age as him. his fast-tracked academic career forced him to make do with friends years, even decades, older than he is.
you were the same age as spencer, and for the first time ever, he had come to find that you didn’t treat him any differently or belittled him for being academically gifted; and he made sure he took full advantage of that.
you had been placed in the team for nearly a year when you first considered if you truly wanted to quit it.
he called you, out of the blue on a sunday afternoon. you thought it’d be for a catch up, but as soon as spencer told you there was a case in los angeles, you were the one to inform jj and hotch to gather everyone into the jet to meet him and gideon.
you were thrilled that spencer was the one to call you. spencer chose you.
that smug little smile on your face was never going to get past elle who sits next to you. she raises her eyebrows, almost knowingly.
"missed spencer, did we?" she whispers lowly, avoiding the ears of the rest of the team, but you had most certainly heard it, the smile disappearing from your face and replacing it with a stoic poker one.
elle giggles at your reaction, bumping your shoulder with hers. "hey, nothing wrong with a crush."
up until that day you swore you didn't feel that hard for spencer. that genius, wonderful boy who set your heart on fire without even realising it.
it looked like, at first, to be an open and shut stalkers case, finding the unsub and the target shouldn't have been so complicated.
the first sign of trouble was when you walked into the main body of the police department in la and spencer's face lit up in recognition for the upset blonde that sat at a chair, her agent hovering over her like a piece of china.
"l-lila?" he says in a surprised tone.
your eyebrows are raised almost instinctively, thoughts bubbling with questions of how the scrawny academic knew a starlet actress by name.
lila was calmed by the familiar sound of spencer's awkward stutters, and he seems to be drifting closer to her.
you shudder it off. you have a case to do, and it seems as though lila was at the centre of it.
you can't concentrate properly.
your eyes are looking constantly. staring. staring at spencer with her, how his eyes fill with concern as the team begin to learn lila is the unsub's target. eyes watching, never leaving, as spencer runs after her when she's overwhelmed. how you feel so guilty when you fill yourself with jealousy, how elle's words echo in your mind.
the best option for you was to stray away as best as possible from spencer and lila and focus on the other elements of the case, the paparazzi, the geographical locations.
spencer caught you late that night, gone 2am, trudging back to the hotel the lapd provided for the team to stay in. you didn't look up at him when he strolled to your side, a pep in his step.
you cringe as your mind wonders if that pep is because of lila.
he's talking at you, but you're not listening. it's going in one ear and out of the other, mindless nonsense about a book he's last read on the jet when he first came to la with gideon, you're guessing though.
the room gets closer and closer, the open arms of privacy drawing you in. just a few more seconds.
"spencer, i'm really tired. probably jet lagged, too. talk later?" you say, voice void of emotion.
spencer stuttered with shock. no matter the jetlag, you welcomed any conversation with him. he couldn't help but frown as he tucks a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, head cowering low. "oh, y-yeah, sure. g-goodnight, y/n."
you're barely registering spencer's voice by then, waving dismissively at him as you unlock your hotel room. "sure reid, you too."
you were dressed at the crack of dawn the next morning, sleep not thought about. you told yourself over and over again, spencer is just a colleague, he can do whatever he likes, he's a single 24 year old, let him have his fun.
but then if you really believed he was just a colleague, you wouldn't have spent the entirety of the night tossing in your bed repeating those words to yourself like a bloody mantra.
most of the day went by smoothly, surprisingly. even though on those small occasions you thought about how spencer was assigned as lila's protective detail, the case had picked up. you could keep yourself busy.
busy busy busy.
"you need to take a break." elle says behind you, eyes squinting hard as you try to retrace the steps of the murder of lila's agent.
you turn to her, a permanent frown on your lips. "i-i don't. i'm fine. she—lila needs us. she needs to be safe." you swallow thickly, and elle raises her eyebrows, not one ounce of belief in her.
she takes the seat next to you, bumping her knees next to yours. "you're a pretty girl, y/n, and spencer sees that."
your cheeks grow red in bashfulness, coughing as you fiddle with random strands of hair falling in your eyes. "do you all know, or is my embarrassment subject to just you?"
elle lets go of a chuckle from the back of her throat, "you're smart too, i'll let you work that one out for yourself."
you groan, throwing your head in your hands, wishing that your world would cave in from you. my god, that meant gideon was aware of this. the mere thought makes you visibly shiver that trailed down your spine. "i'm screwed. it's only a matter or time before derek opens his mouth. or worse— penelope!" you cry out.
suddenly those feelings were crashing in on your chest, and you gasp, because the feeling is so tight, so overwhelming, that you were almost suffocating. it was only the small palm of warmth on your back granted by elle that shook you out of your frenzy. you clear your throat, embarrassment only growing by tenfold.
"i can't tell you what to do but...it looks like you need to have a word with reid when we all head back." she advises, and you let the words sink in how water takes to a sponge.
a smile lights your face, a sparkling glimmer of hope that lights in your eyes that could only possibly be resonated with that of joy and excitement. "yeah. i-i will."
you had convinced yourself that this was worth it. that pinning your hopes on that this decision was right, was true, that your friend's words had encouraged you well enough.
it carried you throughout the day.
that beacon of light, that message, that small part of your brain that lit up with fantasy and imagination while you thought of every possible path to how this conversation will go.
that was until it was interrupted with a forceful bash to your heart.
you should have known that your oblivious, pining self would never be able to compete with the brash forwardness of the young rising actress. you should have known it was most definitely what it looked like when you come to find a paparazzi taking multiple, dozens of photos of the seemingly innocent boy with the not-so-innocent girl.
flicking through the film like it was a scandal you head read in the newspapers, but it had decided to split you instead.
elle snatched the film from you. she was frowning. she felt guilty, mostly, so wretched from even trying to encourage you to try and make it seem like spencer might have actually wanted you.
deep down you knew it was no surprise. of course he wouldn't want you. he would want her, the bright star, the pinnacle of beauty that radiated the industry, and clearly, spencer too.
you're letting derek handle the paparazzi as he slots him into handcuffs for trespassing at the very least, your eyes watching again silently. watching elle walk up to spencer, drenched, fully clothed in a fucking pool making out with the girl he's been assigned to protect, not take advantage of. she shoves the film into his wet shirt, and you vaguely hear him make up an excuse for falling in.
you scoff. it caught derek's attention.
"you okay, sugar?"
it barely registers in your mind. the best response you can give is a muffled nod, your lips telling him that you'll process the paparazzi with derek back at the police station. "just-just give me a minute." you whisper, and derek nods, forcing the guy with the camera down onto the floor to sit, beginning to lecture and grill him that will be continued in the station.
you don't know what's happening. your mind is rushing with red blood fury, you can't even process your thoughts properly. you're seeing red, seeing all those negative, jealous, stupid stupid emotions you felt so guilty for feeling for months flash again and again in your eyes, repeating as your feet carry you inside lila's home.
ironically, she's the first person you see. you're not angry at her, the red isn't from her, of course it isn't. she's the victim. the fucking victim.
still, you couldn't come to make yourself speak sweetly or politely enough to her. "where is he? reid." you seethe, and lila's eyes widen when she notices your tensed body, hunched shoulders with curled fists.
"he's changing his clothes—"
you don't even give her the time of day to finish her sentence. "where?"
"second door on the right down the hall." she sighs, defeatedly, and you continue with your mission, ignoring any pleads that passed her from elle or even gideon.
the door throws open with your direction, and spencer yelps, skinny and pale chest bare, holding a hooded jumper in his hands, jogging bottoms hanging loose on his thin frame. he tries to cover himself up with whatever was in his hands, but you didn't give him a chance.
gone was your guilt.
"have you ever heard of fucking transference, reid? huh? surely the shit head genius with a supposed iq of a hundred and fucking eighty-seven should know that?" you ask, sarcasm dripping with every word you spat at him.
spencer was heaving, his chest moving up and down heavily. he had to admit, he was scared. scared because he had never seen you like this, never heard you spoken to anyone like this, even unsubs, and he never expected to hear those words directed at him come from your mouth.
he swallows, screwing his eyes shut, trying to think, his mind thumping loud, he can't, he can't think straight. he hasn't in a good few minutes.
all he could say was a whimpered "i'm-i'm sorry, y/n." to you, looking like you were about to explode.
he didn't know why he apologising. it had nothing to do with you.
no, it's the case. he just slotted himself in the centre of this stupid fucking case.
your anger had exhausted itself now, and you back away from the boy wonder, shaking your head at yourself. you almost wanted to be apologetic, but you gave yourself enough respect to know you had every right to feel the way you did, but it could've been handled more privately than in the victims' home.
"whatever, spencer." you sigh, turning away to take the paparazzi to the station with morgan.
spencer didn't know how long you would be mad at him for.
for some period of time, the time was too blurry and full of upset for him to put an exact time stamp on it, you had almost changed completely. you went from the quiet girl to the angry girl, fuse consistently getting shorter. hotch put it to use by putting you in more interrogations.
he tried to solve it, pretending nothing had happened, that it was normal. it was what the rest of the team was doing. he tried sitting next to you on the jet, but just in time you place your case file on the seat, mumbling that it was reserved for someone.
your anger at spencer was uncomfortable. he found himself thinking about it, bordering on obsessively after about a week since he had last seen lila when they left la, keeping him up at night, twiddling his thumbs, staring up at the ceiling as he crowds his mind with you.
spencer was notorious at solving problems, he solved them in seconds. it infuriated him that he couldn't solve this problem. he would need help to connect the dots, something he struggled in doing at the best of times. he was used to being the highest in the room.
the problem consumed him so much he had forgotten about the girl that he shared that kiss with in the pool in la. and she had forgotten about him, too.
the first and only other piece of contact that he had received from the one and only lila archer was when she sent him a text three weeks after the ordeal.
hey spence, maybe you were right about this whole transference thing.
spencer wanted to laugh at the message. you were the one who drilled transference into him for thirty seconds when he briefly mentioned for two seconds and still let his feelings for lila get in the way of the case.
i'm sorry lila; i shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that.
he was looking at his phone every ten seconds, so much it called the attention from derek morgan because the genius was a known technophobe. he heard you release a huff, eyes rolling from your desk just a mere metre away.
spencer was sick of not being around you. he felt like he was wilting without you.
lila responds within the hour.
you didn't. i liked getting to know you. let's just be friends from now on, okay?
spencer almost felt relief when he saw it. one piece of the puzzle was solved, yet the majority of it was yet to be resolved as he stares onwards at you.
there surely could be someone he could confide in. hotch and gideon would be disapproving and unwilling to personally get involved in reid's life. derek might tell hotch, which he wasn't willing to risk.
that's how he ends up stalking up to elle's desk when they were the only two left in the bullpen the night night.
"i have a question." he says quietly when he approaches his friend. elle looks up from her file, giving him that look that told him not to bother her.
he's going to bother her anyway.
when he doesn't move away from the personal bubble of her, she sighs, leaning back in her desk chair. "what can i do for you reid?"
tucking his hair behind his ear, he takes a seat, and all of a sudden he can't bring himself to look elle in the eye. "i...i wanna know how to make it up to y/n. being without her has-has driven me mad." he admits, chewing on his lip in a low and whisper-like voice.
elle suddenly changes her demeanour, her eyebrows turning upwards and giving him a soft smile, leaning in closer to him, moving her case file to the side for the time being.
"you need to talk to her." she says simply, and spencer huffs, because what does she think he's been trying to do for the past five weeks, three days and 22 hours?
spencer grunts, leaning on his fist, "it's not that simple. she's avoiding me."
elle laughs, actually laughs, and spencer feels his cheeks grow red. why was she laughing? laughing at him or with him? she clears her throat, "oh god, to be 24 again." she chuckles once more, and spencer bites his lip, shifting in his seat. "listen, she only began acting difficult with you when you started acting all close and intimate with lila. connect the dots reid, and go to her place and talk to her." elle spells out for spencer, and he begins to splutter with confusion.
"wha-huh-she— what?" he chokes, and elle physically stops herself from laughing any further, once more focusing her attention on the manilla coloured case files.
"you know what to do. now shoo, i have work to do."
spencer remembers the steps to your place with his eyes closed, stepping off the metro and walking at a rushed pace. he feels his messenger bag thump thump thump against his leg as he walks with such fevour, the several heavy volumes in there being sure to leave rectangular shaped bruises against the length of his thigh and knee.
he reaches your door and pounds on it with his fist, bouncing up and down on the balls of his toes and he cannot even possibly begin to try and calm himself down. he grabs onto his satchel for some sort of restraint, the grip so hard his knuckles are quickly whitening on his already fair skin.
you have a peephole, and spencer hears quiet shuffling of bare feet on the other side of the door, and he knows you're looking right through it. he hears you sigh, tiredly, followed by silence.
he wants you to open so badly.
he needs to talk to you.
but instead you clear your throat, but even when you speak your voice is still hoarse and dry. "please go away, spencer."
the boy wonder is frowning, he hopes you're looking through the peephole. he shuffles more on his feet, fiddling with an overgrown piece of his stupid overgelled hair, trying to put his hands so some sort of use so they stop shaking.
spencer shakes his head, a bold move for him, placing his hand on the dark wood. "n-no. y/n, please, i want to talk to you."
spencer can't see, but your hand is also on the door, just where his is.
your voice is already croaking, and you wish it hadn't, silently hoping you still weren't still so infatuated with the boy. "listen, i'm sorry i shouted at you like that getting changed. it was uncalled for, and a total invasion of privacy. let's just leave it, okay? i'll see you tomorrow."
spencer wants to scream. he didn't understand why saying how he felt wasn't as easy as reciting the endless facts and figures stored in his head. he knows he can't just leave — he can't accept defeat like this.
whether you were listening or not, spencer nodded to himself, for reassurance, exhaling deeply. "i don't know if you've gone bu-but i need you to know that not being able to talk to you, make you laugh, sit next to you on the jet or go home with you had honestly driven me crazy. i-i miss my friend, y/n, and it wasn't until elle pulled me into the right direction that i may rely on you in a way...in a way that makes me believe i see you as more than a friend. i'm sorry that seeing me with lila hurt your feelings. i don't think i ever want to hurt you again—it's truly the worst feeling in my world. you're-you're special to me, and you need to know that i care very much about you, and that there is nothing going on with me and lila. you um-you were right."
spencer waits for a few hopeful seconds, trying so very carefully to listen out for any sign, any signal that you were there behind the door listening. he heard absolutely nothing. he sighs, understanding that there might really be no going back.
"i'll um— see you at work then."
the sad boy begins to walk back down the stairs of your apartment block, purposefully making sure to kick the metal stair bannister, wincing when he feels his toe smash into it.
he hates himself. hates himself for being so stupid, so oblivious, so unable to ever see what was right infront of his nose before he messed it up and lost it forever.
the genius stops in his tracks. he's hearing things, already letting his pain go straight to his head.
he hears it again though.
it's definitely your angelic voice. he couldn't mistake it any further. he turns for just a second to see if his mind really was playing tricks on him or not, but almost straight away he has the wind taken out of him with a bone crushing hug, your arms clinging around his neck like a secure lock that can't ever be undone.
spencer is blinking while he sinks in whats happening, but as soon as he registers it, his arms are reciprocating the embrace, lifting your feet from the ground as his hands secure themselves on your waist, something he wasn't aware he was capable of with his feeble strength.
spencer feels his neck getting damp from your tears, and he clings onto you tighter, shushing you and whispering words of reassurance into your hair as his fingers go through your locks.
you sniff, pulling your face back just a little so your forehead kisses spencer's, and he closes his eyes shut, imprinting this to the front of his eidetic memory.
"i really like you, spencer reid."
"if you didn't see, i really like you too, y/n."
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Prompt- He thinks he found someone better than her, but is that the case really?
Pairing- IdolYoongi X Reader
Genre- Angst (So much of it), Fluff
Type of AU- DivorceAU, MarriageAU, InfidelityAU
Word Count- 1.4K Words
A/N- Hii everyone, sorry for making you all wait so much. Thank you for your patience. As compensation, I’ll try to make the next chapter long. This chapter is mainly in Yoongi’s POV. Hope you enjoy!!
(The Taglist is open, comment down if you want to be added!)
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Yoongi<3: I'm so sorry.
You feel sick to the core. You don't know if it is the text or the alcohol that's making it happen but your head is spinning. You were doing as well as you could've done for the past few hours, you really don't need this right now. You don't want his apology. He can go fuck himself for all you care.
The anger and sorrow you're feeling know no boundary. The mix of that and the entire bottle of wine that you downed just 30 minutes ago is not a good one. You don't know how to control your emotions. You feel deranged. This overwhelming feeling makes you do something sober Y/N would never even imagine doing. You don't reply to his text. Instead, you decide to call him.
After deciding to end their date early, Yoongi drops Mirae home and returns to the dorm immediately. Normally, he would stay back at her place but today even the thought of sleeping there makes his stomach churn. He blames it on being tired as he had left for his date right after an intense session of dance practice for the group's upcoming performance.
He enters the dorm, takes off his shoes and heads straight to the couch. He plops down and rests his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. Moments later, his phone starts to ring. At first, he decides to let it ring but as it continues to ring for the second time he picks it up wondering if it's Mirae wanting to talk before she goes to bed. As soon as he peeks at the caller ID, his face turns pale. He almost drops the phone, scrambling to his room so he can talk to you without any of the other boys listening. He enters his room, shuts the door tightly and takes a deep breath before answering the phone.
"H-Hello?" He says, his words coming out with a stutter.
"Fuck you, Min Yoongi" You slur out your words. Yoongi is taken aback by the hostility in your drunk voice. He was already nervous enough while picking your call, now he's even more anxious not because of your words but because of your safety. His brain is running at the speed of a thousand thoughts per second, thinking where you are, who you're with, whether you're out alone and how drunk are you? He knows he has lost the right to question you on your life choices and it leaves a pang in his heart when he realises that he can't ask you any of those things.
So, he says the next best thing his brain can muster up at the moment, "Y/N?" he speaks out carefully, with a questioning tone in his voice. There is nothing but silence at the end of the line. He would be check if the call has ended but he can still hear you breathing. A pattern of breath he knows by heart. After a few moments, he calls out your name again but to no avail. It feels like an eternity before he finally hears a bitter but soft chuckle which is followed by the sound of your voice saying, "I'm an idiot." To this he replies, "Why would you say that? You're not an idiot."
You drunkenly chuckle again before you slur out, "What do you know? I am the biggest idiot ever. I'm literally so stupid for still loving you this much. I'm hurting. It hurts too much. Everything hurts. I don't know what to do. I've run out of excuses to give to Yeona whenever she questions why you're not here. Why am I alone every night when I go to bed? Why don't we go out for picnics anymore? Why don't we bake on Sundays together anymore? Why don't we go to that pizzeria together anymore? Why don't we kiss and cuddle anymore? Why don't you love me anymore? Do you realise how much it hurts to live with the fact that you replaced me? You replaced me with someone you've known for not even 5% of the time we've known each other? I feel unworthy. I try to stay strong but I feel like I'm falling apart. The worst part is that I'm falling apart and you're not there to pick me. I hate how I'll have to live with that now. I don't want to but I'll have to get used to this and it fucking sucks, Yoon. It sucks so much." You ask so many questions in one breath. These questions asked innocently out of intoxication are the ones that end up breaking Yoongi's heart. Finally. Finally, there is that feeling in his heart that you've been dying to find whenever you looked into his eyes during the last few encounters you guys had.
Guilt. He feels it. It hits him so hard that he cowers away. It hits him so hard that he physically stumbles back. He doesn't like it, yet it's all that he feels. He feels guilty for everything he's put you through. He feels guilty for leaving you alone to take care of his daughter, who is a live symbol of how much you both loved each other all these years. He feels guilty for being such a jerk to you all these months. He feels super guilty for leaving you for someone else when you've been nothing but loving and supporting him. How can he think of you as a liability when all you've ever done is support his dreams and be there for him through his ups and downs. It's funny how all this time you've been miserable in front of his eyes and yet it took a simple drunken phone call from you to bring him back to his senses.
"I'm sorry, Y/N." He whispers into the phone. Once again, he does not know what exactly he's saying sorry for because he acknowledges that he's made so many mistakes that one apology will not fix even a single per cent of them. You laugh, "Stop saying that, baby. You know you're not sorry." You say this so nonchalantly like it is the truth of the universe. It makes Yoongi want to punch himself repeatedly in the face. He despises himself for breaking your trust like this. The damage seems beyond repair. So, instead of trying to apologise, he asks the next best question, "Where are you, Y/N? Are you alone?" to which you reply with a hum and, "Yeah, I am alone. I am in our room actually. After I saw you at the Pizzeria, Soojin and I came back home, got drunk off of our asses and had some pizza." He can tell that you're intoxicated, considering the fact that you're talking to him like you usually would before everything happened. He tries to ignore how his heart flutters when you use the term "Our" while mentioning your bedroom. He wants to talk more. Ask you how your day was before he ruined it. Ask you about Yeona and how she's been but he knows that he's going to break down if he hears any more of your voice and so, he says, "It's late, Y/N. You should sleep now if you don't want to wake up with a hangover tomorrow. I'll talk to you when you wake up." You reply with another hum and a stretched out good night. He replied with a good night and hangs up, a sob leaving his mouth as soon as the call ends.
He thinks about everything that has happened. His deep thinking, analytical brain breaking down all the events and analysing them with great depth. He remembers how he told you he fell out of love with you and a bitter laugh leaves his crying mouth. He begins to question if all that has happened was real. He doesn't understand what was so eye-opening about this simple phone call that suddenly all his emotions feel like they've been flipped. He remembers Mirae. One of the sweetest people he's ever met. How will she take it if he speaks his mind? How will you take it if he says he's second-guessing everything? He's breaking two hearts by having second thoughts. He can't do this to you or her. It's too late to be doing this.
It's too late for everything.
@syupv @oopppss-terry @ohmykoo @aliceluckycharm @hoodalmighty @adoringinsanity @onyourxia @cuteipat @julia-pacheco-blog @loveyoongles @shadowstark @jinsearth @purpletaecup @ggukkieland @thisartemisnevermisses @mariana-mmtz @moonchild1 @spacxmann @afiaaaa19
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A few weeks ago I had a dream with Steve!! I was at a library with Bucky and we were studying for my final exams and then Steve arrived and asked me out on a date! He was so shy, ahhhh!! And guess what happened afterwards! Exactly, I woke up! :') Anyways, it was so super sweet and idk maybe you can use it for a short drabble or something! How you like it but I also wanted to share it bc s o f t ! 💓
pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
a/n: thanks for sharing this with me, anon! this is really cute, i gotta do something about it 😩 [wc: ~1k]
“Bucky,” your tone came out as a long, overdramatic whine, drawing out the Y. One arm laid out on the wooden table, your cheek resting on it. Your tired eyes were nearly droopy.
To say you were exhausted was an understatement. No, you were ready to hit the bed and sleep for three weeks straight. But with finals looming over your head, that dream was far from becoming a reality. Not any time soon, anyway.
Instead, you were in the library with your friend, Bucky, closing hours upon both of you and you had way too much to study, still. You know that once it’s time to leave, Bucky will make you continue the study session in his apartment. But you just couldn’t read the same material without anything going inside your head.
So you do the only thing that you can. Resort to annoy the hell out of your buddy so that he pays you little attention. Because even after calling his name, for like, three times already, he hasn’t looked at you once.
When you kick his shin lightly, he finally gives in. With a heavy eye roll and a sigh, he looks at you with equally tired eyes. Grumpy even, due to only running on copious amounts of coffee all day.
“What?” he deadpans, dropping his pen.
“I’m bored-uhhhh.” It’s a childish groan, a little too loud for a library.
“Go, stretch your limbs, take a walk. Flirt with that librarian you keep eyeing every five seconds. Do anything, but give me a break from all that whining.”
“Every five minutes,” You correct him, the rest of what he said, entered one ear, disappeared out the other.
“Potato-potahto.” Bucky yet again, seemed disinterested, eyes back to his book.
“I wouldn’t get anything done if I stared at him every five seconds.” You muttered.
“As if you got anything done anyway.”
An offended gasp from you as you hit a lighter looking textbook on his arm.
“Leave me alone.”
“Since when did you become so studious?” you said, pouting and crossing your legs. It wasn’t a question you needed an answer to. He went back to studying and you went back to... erm... ogling the beautiful, golden-haired librarian. Steve Rogers.
Under the bright yellow lights of the library, he looked even more enchanting. You don’t know what is it about this specific guy. Maybe it’s his honeyed smile or those kind blue eyes of his. Maybe it’s that huge, chiselled body of his. And the tight shirts he keeps wearing. You haven’t had a single interaction with him except for checking out and checking in books that you borrow. And yet, you want to tell him everything about yourself.
It’s not that you’re shy. It’s just that he seems different. Different from the boys in the university, from those stupid frat boys. He has this sweet charm about him that pulls your attention every time you hear his voice. Deep and gruff yet magnetic and soft enough to lull you to sleep.
God, he’s dreamy in every single way.
You don’t have the courage to talk to him because he’s just too sweet for you. Just too kind. But how long till you keep crushing on him? You gotta make a move someday right? And with the way his desk is always crowded with potential prospects hangout around him – it’s the quickest way to lose him to them. Not talking to him when you know you have the confidence would be a total waste of opportunity.
So you gather some books, you don’t care which – and get up. You ignore the horrible cracking of your knees and back and walk towards the reception desk, land the books with a heavy thump and rest your elbow on the hardcover.
“Hello!” you chime.
He turns in his chair, eyes averting from the screen of the desktop computer, fingers halting their typing.
“Hey, what can I help you with?”
Oh, that million-dollar smile of his tugs at your heartstrings. Your brain goes blank for a second and you’re blinking like a fool. Twice before something knocks at your head – your own damn mind telling you to speak up.
“I, uh, need to borrow these.” you pat on the tower of books twice.
“Let’s see,” his smile fades, a more serious look on his face as he takes the books from under your arm and asks for your college ID. You hand it to him, sliding it with two fingers on the desk. He smiles again because it’s just so easy for him – that it brings a frantic blush to your cheeks.
Oh, god, you feel like a teenager.
Get your head straight! You tell yourself.
You clear your throat and lean on the desk, thinking of something to say that will end this conversation with you at least getting his number.
“I was just –”
“I can’t let you borrow these.”
You’re cut off before you could get anything out because he speaks at the same time.
“You’ve already borrowed six books and they’ve been due since Thursday,” he informs you like he’s giving you some bad news when it really doesn’t matter. “I’m so sorry but I’m gonna have to charge you a small fee before you can borrow anything else.”
“Why are you sorry? It’s my fault I forgot,” you said amused, cheek on your palm, looking so intently in his blue eyes, you want drown in them.
“Um, it’s a habit. Sorry –” You raise an eyebrow. And his eyes widen, and before he knows it, the word is tumbling out of his mouth, “Sorry!”
“Oh, my god, you just can’t help it!” you burst into a fit of laughter, covering your mouth to keep it down.
“I just suck at this. I apologise for everything, it seems. And then I apologise for apologising.”
“I just witnessed that. God, you’re adorable.” You didn’t think before saying that. And the way his cheeks flare up violently makes you wonder what all kinds of compliments would melt him into a puddle.
“Anyway,” You sigh, palms drumming on the wooden desk twice, “I just came here to talk to you. The books were just an excuse.”
“Oh, um, so you don’t wanna borrow them?”
“Nope,” you’re glad your usual confidence is back, “I’ll tell you what I want to borrow though.”
“Your time for a cup of coffee this Sunday?” Real smooth, Bucky would be proud of you. You will definitely tell him this later.
His eyes spark up in surprise, it was hard not to laugh again, you maintain your cocky, shit-eating smirk – because you have him right where you want. Dumbstruck and absolutely in awe of you.
“Wow, did you just hit on me?”
“Blatantly, yes.” You’re grinning now, a wild twinkle in your eyes.
“So that’s not your partner over there?” he points his thumb backwards, at your best friend.
A loud snort leaves you, despite yourself, “Bucky? Oh my god, that idiot? No, he’s just my best friend.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” he smiles, nods, contemplates, finds a piece of paper somewhere under the desk where your eyes can’t reach, you hear some scribblings. “Good to know.” He slides a small note your way, the same way you slid your ID. You grab it, but don’t open it just yet.
“I like tea, though.”
“Good to know,” you repeat his words, tipping your hand like a fucking hat. “I know just the place outside the campus.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“It’s a date.”
Once your backs are to each other, you take a peek at the note and you do a little celebration dance, moving your feet and throwing your arm up, the one that contains his phone number. Bucky looks at you and shakes his head once you reach him.
“Now, study, you monkey.”
so i added a little twist of my own, if that’s ok with you, anon. and i tried to write this as gender neutral as possible, so lmk if i need to tweak anything bc it’s the first time i tried writing from that perspective. also, i only know how my college library works, so pls excuse the inaccuracies asdfgdkjkdf
tagging some of my buddies, @borkingbarnes @divine-mistake @sventeen-daybreak @softtbucky @bubblebuckys @belladonnabarnes @annathesillyfriend
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I wrote this at 2am because I got the idea and decided why tf not write this, it’s also very much my way of avoiding sleep 😌 Enjoy!
Genre: Comfort, Fluff
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x gn! reader
Warnings: a bit of cussing, stress, mentions of taking medication
It was another night of you staring at your laptop screen, the bright light shinning in your eyes giving you you’re third headache of the week. You have no idea how long you’ve stared at the same worksheet, maybe an hour? 2? You lost track after the clock hit 11:30 pm.
Typically you’d be asleep by now, as it was a Sunday night -well Monday morning by now- but here you were doing some assignments you had managed to forget about. You totally blame Kaminari for this, if he hadn’t decided to make a stupid bet with you in Mario Kart you’d be sound asleep by now.
An annoyed sigh left your mouth as you rested your elbows on the wooden desk, letting your face fall into your hands and your eyes close. You were beyond tired even after drinking 2 cups of coffee and taking your medicine, both of which were supposed to make you focused or at least conscious.
Running your hands through your hair you leaned back in your chair, resting your arms behind your head as you stretch your back a satisfying pop filling your ears.
You glanced at your phone, thinking if you should really wake your boyfriend up. Your heart drops as you look at the time, 1:15 am, you have training first thing in the morning and at the rate, you’re going you’ll never finish this work.
Taking a deep breath you grab your phone and dialing his number and holding the phone up to your ear, heart beating loudly as you listen to the first ring then a second then a third. By the 5th ring you begin to think he isn’t gonna pick up, but as you move the phone away you hear the ringing stop then the sound of sheets shuffling.
Bakugou’s voice makes your stomach do flips, you’ve heard his morning voice, plenty of times, but damn it never fails to make your heart skip a few beats.
You quickly clear your throat as you realize you had begun to daze off.
“H-Hey, sorry for waking you up, but um do you think you can come over?” You ask, looking down at your lap watching as you mess with a ring on your pointer finger “You don’t have to, I just can’t get this assignment done and it’s due today and I don’t wanna-“
“Give me 5 minutes”
You’re cut off by Bakugou’s voice, a hinge of annoyance laced in his voice before the call drops.
You feel awful for waking him up, maybe you should have called Kirishima instead. With a sigh you set your phone down on the desk, glancing back towards the clock as you wait for him.
The 5 minutes felt like hours before you finally heard the soft knock then the door finally opening, a tired Bakugou slowly walking into your room. His hair was still the usual unruly mess, the only difference was the fact he was wearing the red and black flannel pajama pants you bought him for the holidays last year.
“This better be good for waking me up at 1am, what do you need?” He asks, closing the door behind him and raising a hand to rub his tired eyes.
“I need help finish these assignments, can you please help me?” You turn toward him, scooting your laptop in his direction, watching as he looks from you to the screen before nodding slowly.
“If I help you, I get to sit in the chair, so move”
You roll your eyes as you stand out of the chair, pushing it towards him lightly, the chair squeaking as he sits down.
After about 5 minutes of you standing next to him, you move his chair, sitting in his lap and facing the laptop. You’re both silent as he writes down each math problem flawlessly, your brain confused on how quickly and easily he’s able to figure out all of this shit.
Of course, he doesn’t make it that easy for you, after every other problem he makes you work it out and do it yourself, letting you use his past ones to help you finish it.
It isn’t until almost 3am when you finally get done, your eyes heavy with exhaustion while Bakugou is rather wide awake from you waking his ass up. Your head rested against his shoulder, your face in the crook of his neck as he began to close out all of the tabs you had managed to open.
His hand slowly running up and down your back, letting you snuggle closer to him, his body heat not helping you stay awake. The soothing sound of his breathing, and the soft ticking of the clock lulling you to sleep.
Although Bakugou wouldn’t dare admit it, he adored the way you’d fall asleep in his arms. He loved the way you scoot closer everytime he moved, your arms wrapping around his middle and fingers hugging tightly to his shirt.
Closing the laptop quietly, he barely lifts you, trying his best to not wake you. His hands gripping your thighs as he walks to your bed, laying you down softly and covering you up. He thought for a moment to leave and return to his room in order to let you sleep peacefully, but decided it against due to the walk back to his room.
He carefully climbed over you, getting comfortable before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to his chest, a soft hum falling from your lips as managed to move impossibly closer to him. A simple “goodnight” leaves Bakugou’s mouth as he gently kisses the top of your head before letting himself fall back asleep.
taglist: @katsulovee @blazedbakugou
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Ok I know cigarettes are like.. BAD ok. But I keep having this thot about riding javi on his stupid ass couch as he smokes a cigarette and you just take it from his lips and smoke as you quite literally ride him into the couch. He thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
Hazy Vision (Javier Peña x f!Reader)
Summary: After a long weekend together, Javier has to go back to work. You really miss him.
Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), lots of dirty talk and innuendos, references to a lot of sex outside of what happens in the plot, creampie, language, mild overstimulation. LOTS of talk of cigarettes and smoking. brief mentions of food and alcohol. afab reader.
A/N: you broke my soul, anon. and for that I love you.
p.s. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @theteddylupinexperience!!! hope u have an awesome day and that this is a sufficient gift lol
It’s hot as hell in Colombia, and your air conditioner broke.
Javier is gracious, of course. He’s your boyfriend. He cares for you. He’d do anything for you, even with nothing in it for him. It’s a bonus to him that you’ll get to spend the foreseeable future at his place, since every repairman in the country is working at full capacity.
Another bonus is you wearing his clothing. At first, it was funny to him. You didn’t grab any extra clothing when you first came over, so it was natural that you’d grab a shirt of his to sleep in. Then the morning came, and you wandered around his apartment in a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt. He had to admit, you looked stunning like that. So casual, carefree, painfully domestic. You’d pounced on him in bed after two coffees and insisted that you spend the weekend in bed entirely.
So you did. Saturday was spent mostly nude in his big bed, your head pressed to his chest or occasionally to his lips. When Javier asked if you wanted to run to your apartment for more clothing, you’d pouted. “But it’s hot outside. I don’t wanna go all the way over there.”
As much as you enjoyed your own clothing, there was such a charm to wearing Javi’s. His clothes were big on you, even as they pulled tight on his thick arms and broad chest. They were comfortable too, and smelled just like him. It was a perfect comfort when he was at work and you sat bored in his apartment.
Javi sighed and asked if you’d like him to go get some. You gave a wide grin, and he begrudgingly made his way to your apartment. He packed you a bag of enough clothes for a week, and promised you if the air conditioning wasn’t fixed by then, he’d do it himself. And when he got back, he’d absolutely wreck you.
When he returned, he made good on his second promise and the two of you spent the whole day in his bed. A few lazy rounds of sex, lots of little kisses, and murmured words of affection into the other’s ear.
It was so perfect that it was really no surprise that Sunday came and went the same. You’d showered in the early morning, and Javier joined you. Shower sex occurred. Then you made breakfast and ate it in bed with him. You dozed in and out of sleep together for a few hours too. When noon rolled around, Javier treated you to a wonderful hour of his face buried between your legs, eating you out and never stopping. More sleep. You watched some television, snuggled, talked about the week behind you and the week coming up.
You ordered and ate takeout for dinner, also in bed. You finally drifted off late at night and groaned as Javier’s loud alarm woke you.
“Don’t go to work, baby,” you whine, throwing your arms around him.
“I just spent two days in bed with you. What more do you want from me?” He murmurs sleepily, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair.
“All of your love and affection,” you say cheerfully, as if it’s not hard to give. Javier has already found it isn’t difficult with you. You’d had it since the moment you met.
“Cute, very cute,” he chuckles and taps your ass as he gets out of bed.
Even with the air conditioner pumping chilled breezes through the apartment at full speed, it’s as if the heat outside has settled inside of you. Your skin isn’t sweating but you feel flushed, stifled by all the clothing you’re wearing. So you strip down a little, heading to Javier’s room for something light.
As you remove your top, you smile as you see your favorite of Javier’s shirts. It’s a bright magenta, and you slip it over your shoulders. It’s a light material, but you leave it unbuttoned, exposing your lacy white bra beneath it. You keep the white shorts you’re wearing on. Looking in the mirror, you wish there was a way to show Javier how good you look right now. Instead, you settle for the fact that it’s… fuck, it’s only 4.30?
You’re restless. You’ve done plenty today: cleaned Javi’s kitchen, watched some telenovelas, read from an interesting book you were making your way through, organized his bedroom, and it’s still only 4:30. If you’re lucky, Javier will get home around 5:15 at the earliest. You know his job is demanding; he could be there all night.
Desperate for anything to do, you turn to one of Javier’s vices. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the counter, you make your way to the couch and plop down, resting your feet on his coffee table. You take out a single cigarette and ignite it with the little flick lighter Javier keeps on the end table.
For the next ten minutes, you breathe slowly, inhaling and exhaling the nicotine. Your eyes slip shut as your head rests against the back of the couch. You’re tired and lazy and still so fucking warm for some reason.
The night passes painstakingly slowly. You watch the 5:00 news, then the 6:00 and the 6:30. Finally, around 6:45, the doorknob jingles and Javier enters.
You’re cooking dinner by then, the stovetop sizzling with something good. It smells wonderful, he notes as he drops his briefcase and keys by the door, but there’s something even more enticing in the kitchen.
His radio is playing loudly, and you dance around the kitchen to the music as you cook. There’s sunlight filtering in through the windows, the last rays of the summer sun starting to descend. The large shirt fans out as you twirl, revealing the soft bare skin of your lower back. You’re already driving him crazy and you don’t even know he’s home.
He walks into the kitchen, and you look up with a grin as you see him. “Hi, Javi,” you sing as you wrap your arms around him, on your tiptoes. “Missed you today.”
“Missed you too… is that my shirt?” He asks, and you laugh happily, looking down at your outfit.
Javier finally processes the rest of the look and it sends a chill down his spine. Your breasts look so perfect, as if they’re perched there just for him. They are, but he doesn’t know that yet. “Yeah. I know we have the A/C pumping in here, but it still feels so hot,” you shrug, turning back and stirring something in the pan.
Javier wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin perching on your shoulder. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmurs.
“I think it’s making me pick up some of your habits,” you giggle and nod to a glass of whiskey to the right of the stove. “I’ll pour you one. You keep stirring these,” you tell him and kiss his cheek, sliding out of his arms.
He gets changed eventually, out of his work clothes and into a t-shirt and a rare pair of shorts you never knew he owned. It must be hot at the Embassy, you consider, and even though it’s cool in here, the effects linger. He must feel the heat the same way you do.
The two of you sip your glasses of whiskey as dinner cooks, and Javier’s eyes rarely leave yours. When they do, they’re on your chest or your ass in those little white shorts.
“Go sit down,” you tell him as the food finishes. “It’s almost done, and it’ll need to cool before we can eat it.”
He nods in agreement and meanders to his couch, lying down lengthwise and sighing. You glance over at him and smirk a little. You’d planned this all day, been missing his body and his strong arms. His warmth was missing when you attempted taking a nap in his bed. He was right where you wanted him, lighting up a cigarette. The food is done, just needs to cool now.
“I was so restless today,” you smile as you wander similarly to the living room. He takes in your legs as they stand in front of him, rubbing a hand up the back of your thigh and admiring what he sees.
“And why was that?” He asks before blowing out a cloud of grey from between his lips.
You shrug. “Missed you. Had nothing to do, really, since this isn’t my house. But mainly I missed you.”
He grabs at your thigh, thick fingers pressing into the soft flesh, and you smirk down at him. You straddle him, stealing the cigarette from his lips. You let it dangle between yours and smile down at him.
He looks up at you, dazed. Between your hips hovering above his and the nicotine slowly buzzing its way into his brain, he’s beyond contentedness. “Missed you too, sweet thing,” he murmurs, splaying his fingers across your thigh. Your hands are similarly pressed to his chest, fingers spread wide against the cotton-covered skin, skin that you can tell is warm and turning pink from a rush of blood. “Got to take you whenever I wanted this weekend. Had to wait all day to get home and fuck you again.”
His words make you shiver, and you pass the cigarette back to him. When he takes a drag in, you grind your hips across his slowly. “How was work today?” You ask, though you really don’t care. You know the answer when it comes to Javi: stressful, annoying, frustrating, tiring.
He shudders too, and you can feel his cock hardening beneath you. “Shitty,” he sighs. “Fuckin’ Stechner. I swear to god, I’d let the narcos take him.”
You chuckle softly, starting to drag your hips across his aching crotch. “They wouldn’t want him. They’d want someone like you,” you mumble, leaning down over him. “That would really bring the gringos down.”
He’s in Heaven, he really must be. Your tits hang in front of his face, and you steal his cigarette and take another drag, your hips continuing to grind into his. There’s the smell of cooking from the kitchen and in all honesty, Javier is blissed out already. “No they wouldn’t.”
You giggle and kiss the side of his face, giving him the cigarette again. “Mm, maybe you’re right. Too stubborn. Or your girlfriend might go crazy and go after them from withholding her boyfriend’s dick from her.”
Javier chuckles lazily, taking one last drag before stubbing out the remains in the ashtray. “Wouldn’t make it 24 hours before you’d kill them all. You know how you get when you’re determined.”
You nod, lifting your face to kiss his lips slowly. It takes a few moments, passionate and deep and tasting of cigarettes and that whiskey. You pull away and his eyes dart between yours. “I’m going to get up, and you’re going to take off your clothes,” you mumble, your lips only millimeters from his.
He smirks up at you and steals one more kiss. “Then get up and let me undress,” he murmurs, and you stand to the side for him.
He chuckles and sits upright again, pulling down your shorts and admiring the panties beneath. He rubs his fingers across your folds through them, and he can already feel your wetness gathering. “Oh fuck me, honey.”
“You can if you get your own clothes off,” you tease and pull off his t-shirt yourself. He pushes off his shorts and boxers, kicking them aside as it reveals his rock-hard dick. You smile and lick your lips a little. “Lay back down.”
He does exactly that, smiling. You slip your panties off and straddle him again, your breasts bouncing in your bra with the movement. His pink shirt follows you along, and he can’t help but run his hands up your sides, admiring you in the hue. “Pink is your color.”
“Only when it’s yours,” you giggle, dragging your hips into Javier’s erection. He shudders and you guide yourself to rest with his dick pressed into your folds. “You ready for me?” You ask, fingers splayed on his chest again. This time, they lay on his caramel-colored abs, making you smile at the juxtaposition between now and just a few moments ago; blue fabric separated your hands touching him, now you can only feel bare skin.
“Go ahead, baby,” he assures you, his large hands grabbing your hips and lining you up.
It doesn’t take more than a second for you to sink down on him, moaning and tilting your head back at the feeling as you slowly take more and more. “Javi,” you whimper softly, toes curling at the sensation. “You’re so fucking big,” you whine, and it’s true. He is, his dick almost painfully long as it presses up and into your cervix already.
“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, his eyes closed as he takes in the sensation of you on top of him.
“Light another cigarette,” you order him, his cock fully sheathed inside of you. He nods, sitting up to reach the pack, and both of you make soft noises at the grind it gives, the base of his cock against your entrance.
He flicks the lighter and holds it to the little white stick. The end glows orange. “Good,” you nod and begin to lift yourself up and push yourself down as Javier takes a long drag from the cigarette.
You involuntarily tighten at how fucking good he looks beneath you, a light sheen of sweat starting to form on his forehead, smoke trailing from between his lips. “Javier,” you groan, your eyes slipping shut as you begin to bounce on him.
He knows exactly what you want, what you need to make this all that much better. His free hand no longer rests on your hips but circles your clit with two fingers. “There we go, baby girl,” he moans out at the way you sound from the motion. You sound wrecked, and he can’t get enough of it. “Mm, fuck, take what you need from me.”
Javier opens his eyes to look up at you. The sight is fucking magnificent: your tits bounce against that white lace, the pink fabric of his shirt draped against your sides. Just when he thinks you couldn’t look even hotter, you snatch his cigarette.
You cry out his name again and again as you slowly take a puff, the sensation too much to bear. Gripping the cigarette with your teeth, you press both hands to his chest and ride him faster, harder.
Your face is furrowed in concentration, sweat sliding down one temple. A bit of grey smoke obscures your face to him, but it’s still a fucking sight to behold. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and needed and more, a girl like you wearing his shirt and smoking his favorite cigarettes while you bounce on his dick, that sexy body moving along with his.
He can’t even thrust up into you. You’re grinding your hips down with every time you bottom out, his dick pressing right against your g-spot. He can’t even try. It’s fucking amazing. One of his hands reaches up to allow you to take a drag from it. It’s incredibly intimate, not just the way you’re obliterating him but the way he holds the cigarette to your lips. He takes it away for you to puff the smoke from your lungs then brings it back.
It doesn’t take long with the combination of everything. You shudder and pass the cigarette off to him fully, too occupied with what you’re doing. “Fuck, baby,” you whimper, his fingers pressing faster against your clit. “Really close.”
“Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his own puff from the cigarette before stubbing it out to his side on the coffee table. His long arms can easily reach. With a hand now free, he grips your waist and guides you up and down on him, just the way you like it.
His hand drifts higher, reaching your neck. He doesn’t squeeze or grab, just rests it there. Holds you in place, almost. It feels good, his hands roaming your body, and you cry out in pleasure.
“Come on, honey. Cum for me,” Javier urges.
Only a few more seconds pass before your peak washes over you, sending you into sheer bliss. Javi’s fingers don’t slow in the slightest, and he takes this opportunity to begin thrusting up into you as your bouncing involuntarily slows.
Your hand slides over where his rests on your neck, lacing your fingers through his. You cry his name and your head falls against his hand, eyes fluttering with pleasure.
Javier is now the one in control once more. He brings both hands to your hips and thrusts up into you, his movements sharp and harsh. His hips smack yours and the tip, buried deep inside of you, hits your g-spot, sending you into a pleasant state of overstimulation. “Fuck, Javi,” you whimper, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.
Everything feels so warm and tender, your walls oversensitive now. It doesn’t matter to you in the slightest; rather, you relish it. You bring one hand to your clit and rub it yourself, shuddering. “Come on, Javi,” you plead, regaining yourself and working your hips back against his.
It’s all so good and so much and overwhelming. He can barely use any of his senses other than touch, can barely hear you as his head spins with the feeling of teetering on the edge. “Gonna cum, baby girl,” he groans, and you work your hips harder into his, desperate for it.
He can tell, and it makes him lose control. He spills hot and deep inside of you, the heat rushing through his body expunging the warmth that’s built inside of him all day from the goddamn Colombian summer. “That’s it, fuck,” he cries out as the orgasm rolls through his body.
The feeling of his cum spilling inside you is just enough, in tandem with your fingers. You cum a second time, your walls squeezing him tight, milking him dry of anything he can produce. “Javi,” you whimper, and he only notices you’re cumming for the second time when a warm gush rushes across his hips.
“Fuck, good girl, baby,” he breathes out as he comes down from his high, you equally as overwhelmed on top of him. After a few moments of heavy breathing, you remove yourself from around him and lie there, pressed to his chest.
Javier’s legs are bent at the knee, surrounding you on either side of your thighs. They press into you, and you lay on top of him with your ear pressed over his heartbeat. It’s still frantic, but it’s coming down. Javier wraps his arms around you, a finger tracing slowly up and down your spine through that damned pink shirt of his.
“Why do you love this shirt so much, hm?” He asks, breaking the warm and tired silence between you.
You chuckle. It’s certainly not what you expected to be asked, but you like it. “Kind of think I look like you when I wear it. I think what you saw just then is what I see normally. You on top of me, fucking me hard, sometimes with a cigarette.”
“Oh, you looked just like me,” he laughs sarcastically, shaking his head. “And when I have I ever fucked you while smoking?”
“Just like you,” you repeat in a soft and happy murmur, a small smile gracing your face.
“Jesus, you really must have missed me today,” he chuckles softly.
“Withdrawal, I guess. You leave me, I have to pick up another vice. I sat here smoking for a while today.”
“First of all, I did not leave you,” Javi chuckles softly. “And really?”
You shrug. “It just came to me to do it. It wasn’t great or anything, but it was something to do. To pretend you were there with me.”
Javi sighs and kisses the side of your head. “Well, should we go eat before the food is fully cold?”
You laugh. “I think it’s already cold, Javi.”
@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale/ Fem-Reader / random female BGC
Summary: Ransom is still trying to get the upper hand in your frenemies with benefits relationship, and failing miserably.
Warnings: Cheating (kind of but not really), explicit language, explicit sexual content (threesomes (MFF), oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex), alcohol use, SMUT, 18+!
A/N: Still working on my promised Geralt fic but wanted to give you gals something. So here is yet another fic in my Torturing Ransom Drysdale series. I have so many fun ways to torture this man floating around in my head that this is going to be the well I go back to when I have writer’s block. Feedback, reblogs, and likes always appreciated! Tagging @stargazingfangirl18 as I know she a Ransom hoe and @pananegra as I know she loves the dynamic between these two as much as I do! Please let me know if you want to be added to my permanent taglist!
You pulled up outside of the wooded lodge about an hour prior to game time. You were pretty sure Ransom just wanted you there for some naughty pre-gaming before his asshole friends showed up. His typical routine for Pat’s game days was to drunkenly call you at halftime, begging you to come over and “suck his cock so good” while his entourage made lewd suggestions in the background.
You pulled the 12 pack of Sam Adams out of your trunk for their basic asses, along with the pack of good craft porter and some jello shots, and headed up to the house. You had been a little surprised when you heard from Ransom, he was still pissed at you after you sent him the filthy video last week while he was out with his parents and hadn’t contacted you after the good round of hate-fucking you’d indulged in that same evening.
You were surprised to see another vehicle there, especially a rundown little 1999 Honda Accord, and you just smirked to yourself. Of course Ransom was playing a game with you. You walked through the unlocked front door and slammed it behind you, curious to see what punishment this vindictive man-baby was hoping to inflict on you.
“I brought the beer!”
“Great, come on in and pop it in the fridge!”
You heard the lewd sounds of flesh slapping together as you neared the kitchen, along with small feminine whimpers and moans. You rounded the corner to find Ransom balls deep in the bartender from The Burren and he flashed a stupid, wicked grin at you.
“Don’t mind me and Wanda, here, Y/N. Just having a nice pre-game warm-up.”
“Nice to see you again, Vanessa.” You grinned at the poor girl, who at least had the decorum to look slightly ashamed of herself. You opened the fridge to put your drinks in to cool. “Jesus, there’s nothing to eat in here. Hope you and your idiot friends are good with pizza and nachos.” You scolded him as you pulled up your phone to order more food.
“Hope you’re planning on sticking around sweetie, it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to aside from the frat boys. Don’t really see why you needed me here this early, Hugh.” You opened yourself one of the good bottles and headed out to the living room to turn on the pre-game show, not turning when you heard Ransom growl behind you as he set a punishing pace. You just hoped he let that poor girl have at least one good orgasm.
Ransom had been glaring at you throughout the whole game as you chatted away with that bitch he had brought home for the express purpose of torturing you. You hadn’t even given him the satisfaction of looking surprised when you walked in on him fucking her, and then you had the audacity to invite her to stay for the game. He ground his teeth as you tossed your head back, laughing at something she had said as you lightly placed a hand on her knee. Were you flirting with her?
He had missed another play as he heard his idiot friends groan at a call on the screen and made appropriate, frustrated noises to cover the fact that he wasn’t paying attention.
“You fucking believe this, Ran?” one of the sycophants asked him incredulously.
“Not even a little.” He hissed between his teeth as he watched you lightly play with the bartender’s hair. You felt him watching you and threw him a wink that made him even more angry.
You stuck around after the game to clean up as you didn’t have it in you to leave the mess left by this group of spoiled rich boys for Ransom’s housekeeper. You were scrubbing dishes and glassware after everyone else had left when you felt a heavy presence behind you.
“You going to help me with this, Hugh, or just fucking stand there?” You asked, not even bothering to turn around
“Oh, Y/N. Still trying to act like you’re not even a little hurt I was fucking another girl right in front of you?” He said wickedly, doing his best to ignore the fact that you were calling him the name he hated.
“We’ve said we’re not exclusive sweetie. But maybe give your partner a head’s up next time that you’re into voyeurism. I think you may have embarrassed Vanessa.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that bitch.” He spat at you, failing miserably in controlling the anger he felt at having failed to get under your skin, yet again.
You finished drying the dishes and turned around to face him, a look of reproval on your face.
“I know, baby, because you’re fucking obsessed with this pussy.” You jeered at him. “Oh my god, Ransom, you really thought bringing some poor girl into your games was going to get me. Your desperation is starting to show.”
He growled and stepped into you, wrapping one hand around your throat as he assaulted your mouth with his, shoving his tongue down your throat.
“I don’t think I’m the one who’s desperate, sweetheart. Why else would you keep putting up with this shit?” He tried to shove his other hand down the front of your leggings but you grabbed it and drew it back hard.
“No.” You said, simply, pulling away from him.
He looked at you incredulously. “No?! This is what we do honey. I play some game with you, I fail, and you let me fuck your brains out after.”
“Sorry, sweetie, you already got you dick wet today. I’m tired from socializing with those moron friends of yours so I’m going to go home, take a nice bath, and sleep like a baby thinking about your right hand keeping you company for the rest of the night.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips then sauntered out the front door with a laugh.
God you were frustrating. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being right, but his cock was aching and he didn’t feel like giving himself blue balls.
You’d been ignoring him for five days.
The longest you’d gone previously had been three. Even if you didn’t actually set up a date, he could usually count on you to respond to one of his filthy messages, even if you just told him to fuck off. You hadn’t even opened the most recent dick pic he’d sent you, and that almost always got a rise.
He was starting to get blueballs from being without you when he finally felt his phone vibrate when he was at dinner at the Thrombey estate with the rest of his family. He did the smart thing this time and excused himself to the bathroom to open your message, and was extremely glad he did.
You were laying on your bed in an absolutely obscene pose, legs spread wide with your hand shoved down the front of your panties. You were wearing a lingerie set he had never seen before. Blood red lace and mesh that covered everything but hid nothing. He felt his mouth fill with saliva and his cock started to ache at the sight of you.
Come over, now.
His mind started racing with possible excuses he could give his family for leaving early but the only feeble lie he could come up with was that he was getting a headache. He could tell none of them believed him but he didn’t care, slipping his coat around his shoulders as he headed out the door with a huge grin on his face.
Don’t you fucking move. He texted back, pulling his keys out to start up the Beemer.
He drove like a maniac and had made it to your condo in just under 20 minutes. He opened the door and heard moans coming from the bedroom, and he started stripping as he headed down the hallway, loving the fact that you were getting yourself ready for him. He wrenched open the door just as he was removing his sweater and felt the smile freeze on his face.
“Hey baby, you remember Vanessa?”
You had four fingers sheathed inside the same bartender he had fucked before the Pat’s game and she was letting out an inhuman shriek as you gave her what must have been an earthshattering orgasm. You grinned up at him from in between her legs as she rode it out, giving out soft little whimpers as she came down. He turned on his heel and started to stomp off to the kitchen, unable to believe he had fallen for this.
“Shit, be right back honey.” He heard you give the bitch a soft kiss before you followed him and clenched his jaw so tight he was worried something might snap.
“For what, you got me back. I’ll just get myself a drink and lick my wounds while I listen to you fuck that slut all night.”
“You misunderstand what’s happening here, baby.” You shook your head softly at him. “I felt a little bad after blue balling you on Sunday and figured this would be a good way to make it up to you. And it’s a good thing Vanessa’s a slut or she might not have gone for it.”
“What happened to her being ‘some poor girl’?” He asked, trying not to give in too easily as you started kissing his neck softly and pulling him back to the bedroom.
“Please, I’ve known Vanessa for years and she is absurdly proud of how slutty she is. She lives for this type of shit.”
He had a hard time coming up with any good reasons to say no as you knelt behind the bartender, leaning her against you as you pulled down her bra so her breasts were exposed and started to play with her nipples as you bit at her neck, making her gasp wantonly.
“See, Ransom, I’ve got her all warmed up for you.” You shot him a wicked grin as you moved one hand back to her cunt and ran your fingers over her slit, coating them in her arousal and making her whine.
Ransom sighed. He would have to be a special kind of idiot to say no to this.
He slid his jeans and boxer briefs down his hips and left them in a pool on the floor before coming to kneel in front of the two of you.
He wrapped his hand around the back of your head and tangled his tongue with yours over the girl’s shoulder before you gave him a small nod and handed her to him. He kissed her hungrily and brought a hand down to play with her nipples as he felt you shift yourself on the bed until you were laying with your head between the two of them. He let out a groan as you took the tip of his cock in your mouth, gently running your tongue over the slit there as you started taking him deeper and deeper. You used one of your hands to play with the girl’s pussy and the other to fondle his balls.
He heard a light slap and the bartender came suddenly, crying into his mouth and shaking when you slapped her clit. You were sucking on his balls now as one hand pumped at him before you snaked yourself behind him and started kissing your way up his back. You helped him lay Vanessa down as she rode out her orgasm before guiding him to her entrance. She let out a moan as he dragged his length along her folds, mixing her arousal with your saliva before breaching her with just the tip as he gave you another kiss over his shoulder, grinning against your mouth.
“Please, Y/N, I wanna taste you.” She groaned as Ransom started fucking into her faster, making her tits bounce each time he rutted up into her.
“You sure you can handle it pretty girl?” You asked her, biting your lip. She was already starting to look pretty fucked out and you didn’t want her passing out on you.
“Mmhmm, god…” Ransom was grinding into her now, making her writhe underneath him. “Yes, please.”
You bent to give her a soft kiss before crawling up to straddle her face. She shoved the crotch of your panties aside and dove in, dragging her tongue up and down your slit a few times before latching onto your clit and making you groan. You leaned back on your left arm to give her room to breathe as you ground your pussy against her face.
Ransom loved watching you like this. Your face was completely blissed out as you rode that bitch’s face and he could see the muscles in your abdomen twitch as she brought you closer to your release. He started fucking into her even faster and she let out a cry that you quickly muffled by driving your mound into her open mouth. He moved his thumb to start strumming her clit and move her along faster. He wanted to be inside you.
Vanessa came apart suddenly underneath you but still managed to fuck you with her tongue. She was hitting your sweet spot over and over and when she had ridden out her orgasm, she brought up her hand to rub soft circles into your clit. You stopped caring about her breathing for a second and dropped your full weight onto her face, gasping. Ransom caught you as you fell forward and kissed you hungrily as he came inside her, growling fiercely into your mouth with his release.
He slid his softening cock out of her and moved himself to the side, pumping his hand along his length to make himself hard again while he watched to two of you. You gave him a wink before diving forward and shoving three fingers into that bitch’s cunt. He heard her let out a muffled cry from between your legs. You started fucking them into her roughly as you lapped up his cum leaking out of her, never breaking eye contact with him. He let out a low moan at the sight.
You moved your mouth to her clit and latched on at the same time she started driving her fingers into your clit harder.
“God, Van, you’re so good at this. I’m gonna make you come one more time then give this pussy a break, ok sweetie.”
The only answer she gave you was a soft whine. The two of you writhing against each others’ faces was enough to send Ransom over the edge again and he muttered a soft “Fuck” as he came all over his hand. He wiped himself on the sheet before setting back in to watch the two of you finish.
It didn’t take long. Vanessa came apart first, her pussy clenching and fluttering around your fingers as her body went rigid with pleasure. You were right behind her, your spine curling inwards as you collapsed against her with a scream. You slowly rolled off once you had come down, and the poor girl just stared glassy eyed at the ceiling.
“I think you broke her, Y/N.” Ransom said with an evil grin as he drew you to him, his hand reaching behind your back to unhook your bra before he ripped it off your shoulders.
“You ok there, Van?” You asked breathlessly. He was kissing your neck now, mouth sucking softly to draw bruises on your skin as his hands skimmed down your sides before reaching your panties and tearing them off you, leaving you in only your stockings.
“Yeah, I think I need to tap out though. This was great.” She gave you a sloppy, fucked out grin as she rolled off the bed, watching Ransom draw his fingers up the insides of your thighs as he mouthed at your breasts, hungrily. “I’m gonna take a shower then head out, we should do this again.”
The only answer you gave her was a soft cry as Ransom buried his face in your folds, his tongue lapping kitten licks against your clit. You wound your fingers in his hair as you arched yourself into him and Vanessa gave you a small smile as she headed into the bathroom.
“Fuck, baby, that feels amazing.” You cooed at him, wrapping your thighs around his neck as he started fucking you with his tongue. “Can’t believe I used to have to coerce you into giving head.”
“I mean, I can stop if you really want.” He said teasingly before sucking on your clit, making you sigh.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” You were so close. You started grinding yourself into his face as he sucked even harder. He shook himself slightly to bury himself deeper and that was all you needed. Your back arched you off the bed as you came violently, gushing your release into his mouth as your muscles vibrated with pleasure. He kept himself there as you rode yourself out, grinning against you.
You relaxed your thighs and released his head. He crawled back up you and kissed you deeply before flipping you over suddenly, making you yelp gleefully at him.
“Alright sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you good now. You ready to scream for me?”
He bit your ear with a grin and slammed into you, and you gave him the scream he wanted.
“Fuck, Ransom. Move faster.” You begged him, jutting your ass into him as he started a slow, steady pace.
He gave a throaty chuckle and wrapped one hand around your throat while he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent as he picked up speed, ramming into you hard and knocking the breath out of you.
“This what you wanted baby?” He asked, moving a hand underneath you to strum at your clit as you tried to catch your breath.
“Shit, yes. More.” You whined at him.
“God, I love when you beg sweetheart.”
He drove his thumb into your clit and you came apart with a shriek. He felt your body roll underneath him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked you, making you sob. Your cunt clenched him like a vise before fluttering around him and he came inside you with a hiss before collapsing on top of you.
The two of you laid there, tangled with each other for what seemed like hours. Once you had finally caught your breath, he planted a kiss where your neck met your shoulder and drew himself out of you. You rewarded him with a sigh and peeked through your hair at him with a grin.
He caught sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen cunt and bit his lip with a moan.
“Don’t fucking move.” He instructed you.
You gave him a throaty laugh and buried your face in the pillows, snapping up when a camera’s flash lit up the room.
“Jesus Ransom, what are you doing?!”
“What, I wanted something to remember this night by.” He gave you one of his devilish grins as he put his phone back in his coat before pouncing back on top of you and flipping you over, nuzzling himself into your neck.
“You’re such a perv.” You scolded him half-heartedly. You could feel yourself starting to get drowsy. “You should buy me breakfast in the morning for this.” You said, not thinking it through.
“Yeah, well, surprise me with threesomes more often and you’ll get all the breakfast you want.” He wasn’t thinking about it either. “Even when I lose my games, I still win.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hugh.” You gave him a playful slap as he moved to spoon you and pulled the blankets over the two of you.
You dozed off in each other’s arms and didn’t panic until the morning when you realized you had broken two of the biggest rules in your arrangement: no cuddling and no sleepovers.
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Summary: The team notices Bucky sneaking off the compound every weekend. Now they’re standing outside of an apartment in Brooklyn while Redwing spies out the window.
Warnings: Language, smut, sex tape, daddy kink
Pairings: Bucky x Black!Reader
(A/N: This is a rewrite of Bucky’s Secret Life because 😬. Anyway enjoy. Likes and reblogs are great thanks.)
“C’mon, aren’t you a little curious?”
Steve huffed and rolled his eyes as Tony nudged him. Bucky had been acting a little stranger than usual. If they didn’t have a mission he was leaving in the evening on Friday to come home Sunday nights. This had become a weekly basis kind of thing to the point where he didn’t even show up to parties unless it was something completely mandatory.
It’s not like Steve had never asked him about it. Bucky was his best friend and of course he was curious why he was so hush hush. He hadn’t been expecting for him to freeze up and stutter his way around giving him any details.
It was killing Sam the most because of course he was nosey as hell and between the three of them, he hated not being in the know. Natasha was even curious. Wanda kind of knew, but that’s because she couldn’t help the things she saw. Besides it wasn’t her place to tell.
Because what Wanda had been seeing when she’d get a glimpse into his mind were filthy. Absolutely fucking filthy. The images flashing into her mind of him and the same naked woman that he was doing unspeakable things to. It played like porn, but they were clearly memories. She stayed quiet because it was none of her business.
“Why don’t we mind our own business,” Bruce suggested. “Bucky’s been through a lot. Maybe he’s just unwinding.”
“Bruce is right.” Steve smiled at the scientist, appreciative at him for speaking up.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, shrugging her shoulders. “Is he, though?” She replied. “What if he’s doing something dangerous. He could still be having issues.”
“True,” Rhodey finally giving his input from his spot at the table beside Tony. “We would rather be safe than sorry.”
Steve groaned. “Fine.”
Steve reluctantly trailed behind Natasha, Sam, and Tony as they followed Bucky the next weekend. They went about their day as normal as possible. They didn’t want him to get suspicious. As soon as he’d left they had Friday give them the word so they could make their move after. Sam had even had Redwing follow after him.
“Guys, Bruce is right. We should leave it alone,” Steve tried to reason with them as they’d finally ended up outside of an apartment in Brooklyn.
“No,” Sam said, as they tried to act nonchalant waiting for someone to open up the door. “We’re here let’s do this.”
Bucky placed his hands underneath your ass, balancing himself as he rammed into you. Your hands were splayed above your head as you took it. For someone who literally couldn’t get drunk he found something so intoxicating with the way your breasts bounced with each thrust. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to capture your nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the brown nub.
You could feel yourself getting so close, but you weren’t allowed to come without permission. Since you weren’t in the mood to be punishes you obeyed him. You wanted to be a good girl for him this weekend after the way he’d made it hard for you to sit after you acted like a brat last time.
You’d made dinner, but it had been abandoned in favor of him dicking you down. He just couldn’t wait any longer to have your tight pussy wrapped around his dick. The plan was supposed to be a romantic evening with a home-cooked meal like you usually did on Friday nights. Saturday’s were usually for junk food as you spent the day either binge watching shows and fucking. It was the routine when he wasn’t busy with work.
It sucked that it felt like you’d never have a life outside of this apartment, but Bucky only needed a little bit longer. He needed to make sure there was nothing that could hurt you once your relationship became public. He’d seen to many romances end in tragedy and it scared him. He’d be damned if something bad happened to you.
His cock was stretching you wide open. “Fuck me, Daddy,” you moaned, leaning up so you could wrap your arms around his neck and then press your lips to his. He didn’t let up as he let you fall onto your back. He moved his hands from your ass to your legs to bring your knees to your chest.
He was so much deeper in this angle. Your head was swimmings you moaned into his ear, throwing your head back. “God, yes!”
“That’s it, Doll,” he moaned, leaning down to kiss you again. His tongue was in your mouth and you struggled to keep up because of how hard he was fucking you. Fuck you love it when you were at his mercy. In these moments it felt like he owned every inch of you.
The knock on the door brought the two of you out of your bubble. Bucky didn’t let up, though, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and leave when you didn’t answer. He needed to make his girl cum first. Whoever was on the other side could wait.
She nodded with a whimper, feeling too blissed-out to even do anything, except for what you were told. You were so close. The way you tightened around him. Pussy hugging his dick like it was afraid to let go. You whined as your juices seeped out of you.
“Can I cum?” You whimpered out.
“Yeah, Doll.” He grinned down at you through his pleasure. He couldn’t help himself. You were to damn cute like this. All spread open taking every inch of him. Those noises sounding so good coming out of your mouth as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.
You cried out, hips moving to meet his thrusts. That coil finally snapped in your stomach as you came around him. Metal wrapping around your neck while your fingernails dug into his back,
He was determined to make you cum again. Except there was another knock on the door. This one louder, angrier. Bucky groaned, irritated already at whoever was interrupting. “Fuck,” he mouthed, jaw clenching. “I’ll get it. You stay right here, okay.”
You nodded unable to use your words as he pulled out. He covered you with the duvet, kissing your forehead lovingly as if he hadn’t just rearranged your guts. He slid on a pair of sweats and a red t-shirt - yes he kept clothes at your apartment. It was easier so he didn’t have to pack anything. Besides he knew you were wearing his hoodies when he wasn’t around. Yes even though you spent most of your time together naked, it was just more convenient.
Your head was resting on your pillow as you watched him walk through the door with half-lidded eyes. A dopey smile had spread across your face, snuggling under the covers as you waiting for him to come back.
Bucky looked through the peephole, then backed up seeing Steve on the other side. “What the fuck...”
“Bucky, c’mon, we know you’re in there,” the blond said through the door.
“We?” He frowned before opening it, but not undoing the chain. He could peek out just enough to see Natasha who was standing beside him with a little bit of Sam behind her and what he assumed was Tony next to him by the sudden waft of Axe Body Spray. “What are you doing here?”
Tony huffed. “Just let us in.”
He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You guys should leave.”
“We’re just making sure you’re okay,” Nat said, trying to at least get a glimpse inside. It looked like a normal apartment, but Bucky’s body was blocking whatever else she could see.
“Gotta make sure you aren’t doing anything dumb,” Sam said.
“We were worried,” Natasha added.
Bucky scrunched up his face even more. “Worried about what?”
Just then you screamed from the bedroom. Bucky’s heart dropped as he heard you because if anything had ever happened to you he’d probably murder someone. His first thought was that they followed you which led to someone following them as he ran back to the bedroom.
You were standing there with one of your many throw blankets covering you. So you were okay. As he walked over to you, he grabbed your hand. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“There’s something in the window,” she breathed, now standing behind him for cover. Whatever it was, her super soldier serum, metal armed boyfriend could take care of it.
They finally felt victorious as Bucky fully opened the door. Until Redwing was thrown out. “Sam, what the fuck!”
“Hey!” The other man gasped, seeing his beloved bird on the ground before picking it up to cradle it into his arms.
“Who was that?” Natasha asked with a smirk on her face now.
“My girlfriend! I’ve been seeing someone! Is that a crime.” He threw his hands up. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to date.”
Steve raised his eyebrows and sighed. “See I told you guys this was stupid.”
Tony pouted, crossing his arms like he was disappointed. “I was so sure you were being brainwashed again. I was actually ready for a little action.”
“It’s not his brain being washed,” Sam said with a similar smirk to the one Natasha wore before frowning as he looked down at the slightly broken Redwing. Bucky wanted to hit him so bad.
“Baby, is everything okay?” You asked, walking into the room with wobbly legs after hearing her boyfriend raise his voice.You’d slipped on the matching sweatshirt to his sweatpants. It was really baggy. Hitting you mid-thigh. All he could think suddenly was that god you better be wearing panties. Or else you’ll be getting that punishment you’d been trying to avoid this weekend.
“Yeah, Doll. They were just leaving.” His face softened. Although you saw him in a sexy dominating way, you never saw him genuinely angry. Even the few times you’d argued he never even raised his voice. He was so afraid of scaring you away that when he was around he softened himself. So now that you were so close he had to show a little restraint.
“So, this is her!” Sam asked, surprised as hell at seeing that Bucky really was hiding a girlfriend. “Hi, I’m Sam and you are?”
“Y/N,” you replied, politely, offering up a small smile. Yet on the inside you actually wanted to run and hide. This was not apart of the plan for when you finally met everyone. Besides you probably looked like shit after what Bucky had just done to you.
“I’m Natasha!” The red head chirped so unlike herself leading the four men to look down at her like she’d grown another head.”This is Steve and Tony.”
It wasn’t very often that Tony Stark was speechless, but there he was as quiet as a mouse. All because the tin man had a girlfriend. A cute brown skinned girlfriend who was wearing his clothes.
“Doll, why don’t you wait for me in the room,” Bucky said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay, D- Bucky...” you caught yourself leaning over to kiss his cheek before doing as you were told.
He stared at her to make sure she got in the room before opening his mouth again. “Now will you leave. I’ll deal with you all and we can maybe have a team meeting about how important privacy is.” He glared at Tony who loved those little meetings about whoever was putting coffee grounds into the sink.
It was Vision.
Until it became a fun little game for everyone to do to irritate the shit out of him. It was terrible yes, but his reactions were so, so, so entertaining.
The three grumbled to each other as they started to walk away, while Steve stood there shaking his head. “Sorry about this, Buck. I told them to leave you alone, but you know how they can be.”
“It’s fine.” He sighed. “I was just hoping to keep her all to myself for a little while.”
“She seems nice,” he said.
“She’s amazing,” he had to stop himself from gushing about you because he hadn’t been able to before and he was pretty sure he could go on for hours.
Steve couldn’t help, but smile. “I’m glad to see you happy.” After all the shit Bucky had been through it was nice to see him adjusting.
The two finally said their goodbyes and Bucky finally got to shut the door. He went back to finish what he’d started with you, needing to make sure you were wearing panties under that sweatshirt before coming out to greet his friends. He knew you could be a little tease and you needed to be put in your place.
Steve jogged to catch up to his three nosey teammates who were almost out of the entrance of the building. He really was happy for Bucky. He deserved to be happy.
When they’d made their way back home, Sam decided to review the footage on Redwing while in the kitchen. At first, it was just the general views of him walking down the street and then the subway. “Well, at least we know Bucky is boring.”
Steve looked over his shoulder shrugging at the footage that was just Bucky walking to your place. “You should probably just delete it now.”
Sam fast-forwarded it as his friend got to your apartment, punching in the code to be let in. “I dunno, it’s kind of funny to see Bucky walking around like a normal person.”
“And, he never noticed Redwing??” Steve asked as Natasha came to peek with them.
“That’s kind of weird. I would think Bucky would be more aware of his surroundings,” she noted.
Sam shrugged. “Clearly no-” he stopped speaking as he saw what the camera had suddenly focused on.
“We should probably talk to him about that,” Natasha said, taking a bite out of her protein bar. “We should invite her here, though. It’d be nice to have another girl around. Me and Wanda get so bored listening to you guys sometimes.”
Sam’s mouth went into a straight-line while his eyes widened watching as you the women he’d only met for five minutes had gotten on her knees with Bucky’s metal hand grabbing you by the hair stuffing his cock down your throat. Your nose was pressed to his pelvis as he held you there before he started fucking your mouth.
“What is it?” Steve asked, quickly noticing how silent Sam went.
Natasha leaned over to take another look at Sam’s screen just as Bucky had pulled you off to toss you on the bed and smack your ass. “What the... Sam! Delete it!” She gasped seeing Bucky impale you with his cock from behind, smacking your ass again.
You were very clearly enjoying how rough he was being with you as you bounced back against him, arching your back so you could take it.
“I’m trying! It’s not letting me!”
“What is it?” Steve asked, now looking again himself, seeing you the women he’d just met being fucking railed by his best friend. Bucky was saying something that they couldn’t make out, but the way he’d stopped moving only for you to buck back against him, it must have been absolutely filthy. “What the hell!”
“I didn’t know!”
“Make sure it gets deleted.” Steve sounded so exhausted. If they’d listened to him in the first place this wouldn’t have even happened.
“I’m trying!” He repeated, pressing different buttons on the panel.
“It’s kind of hot actually,” Natasha surprised them with saying. “I wasn’t really expecting Bucky to be like this.”
“What were you expecting?” Sam asked stopping to look at Natasha with his face all scrunched up.
Neither of them had ever seen her blush, but there she was. Face almost as red as her hair. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about him since the Red Room.”
“Wait, what?” Both of them asked, but Natasha had already started to walk away from them as if she hadn’t even said anything. Or like she hadn’t just seen a video of Bucky fucking you raw. They didn’t see the glazed over look in her eyes as she let her imagination run wild.
“What’d you guys f-” Tony asked, right when Bucky had flipped you onto your back with his hands under your ass, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. “What... the fuck... actually... wow...”
“I know. I think I might ask Bucky if she has a sister or something.”
“All of you are monsters,” Steve said. Inside he was very intrigued, but he wasn’t about to say that outloud. “Make sure it gets deleted.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam said with a sighed.
“Captain Buzzkill.” Tony pouted.
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the secret charm of forbidden things | a. b.
summary: you piss off your professor
pairing: professor!andy barber x reader
warnings: professor/student relationship, student humiliation (nothing serious), fluff, smut (+18 pls), daddy kink, spanking, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (and like the most unoriginal plot); let me know if i missed something!
word count: 3,478 (approx)
a/n: i really tried to avoid writing this shit but my brain just wouldn’t let it go, so i’m really sorry for this. also, i’m not a smut writer so this couldn’t be more poorly written. sorry for that too *nervous laughter* i hope there are some readers out there who enjoy cliché stories lol. oh and i know nothing about criminal law so i just skimmed through the Mass. laws and picked the easiest thing i could create a question of. anyway, if you do read this, i hope you’ll enjoy it and let me know what you think! every kind of feedback is appreciated!!
You’re browsing the internet, looking for some quality e-shop that would offer lingerie you’d like. Or more importantly, he would like. And since your focus is completely on the phone that is hidden from the professor’s eyes (or so you think), you miss the call of your name.
“Miss (Y/L/N)!” the stern and this time louder sound of a male voice brings your attention to the man that it belongs to, standing only a few feet from your seat, thanks to its place in the front row. His expression is hard, a clear sign that you’ve been caught and you shrink into your chair, your cheeks becoming warm. “If you want to pass my class, I suggest you turn off the phone and focus on the lecture.”
You do as you’re asked and put the phone away but you don’t expect him to address you again.
“So since you seem to have enough knowledge that you don’t even need to listen to me,” he pauses and comes closer to you, crossing his arms. “Tell me what the punishments for organ trafficking are.”
You hold your breath, not even realizing it as you’re trying to think of the correct answer, however, that’s a little difficult with him towering over you, and your eyes can’t help but flicker to his crotch that is aligned with your vision. When you look up again, there is an amusement painted over his face which you almost miss to notice.
The professor keeps looking at you expectantly and when you don‘t say anything more, his chest heaves in a deep sigh, and his eyebrows rise as he looks at the floor in disappointment. “You’ll be having a hard time getting clients, Miss (Y/L/N),” he tells you and goes back to his desk to lean his backside on it.
Okay, you weren’t paying attention but you also thought that the times when professors publicly humiliated students had been left behind. So, now you are not only embarrassed but also pissed.
You just roll your eyeballs and slightly shake your head, taking a pen and doodling in the open notebook laying on your desk in order to calm yourself down and trying not to think about the judgemental stares being sent your way.
“Does anyone here want to remind Miss (Y/L/N) the consequences of organ trafficking?” he asks, before fucking Amelia raises her hand with her all too sugary may I, professor Barber? and you nearly lose it. You watch him as he sweetly smiles at her and prompts her to answer. She does, correctly so, and while she’s going into details, he lets his eyes wander and rest them on you from time to time. You never avert your eyes, glaring at him, hoping he takes notice of the annoyance written all over your face, but he just smirks when she finishes talking and he looks back at her.
“You’re a brilliant student, Amelia. I think you deserve a reward for the hard work.” When he stresses the word reward, he gives you a glance, and you can’t keep your eyes from rolling, again.
“Alright, class, that’s it for today. Don’t forget to send in the paper that’s due Sunday. Enjoy your weekend.”
You pack your things, shoving them into your bag before storming towards the exit, but you don’t make it too far when the professor’s voice stops you in your tracks.
“Miss (Y/L/N), a moment, please,” he says as he gathers his things. You sigh, closing your eyes as you mentally prepare yourself for what’s to come. Turning around, you make your way towards him.
“I believe we need to discuss your work ethic.” when you remain silent, he continues. “Great, since you don’t have any objections, you can follow me into my office.”
You do as you’re told and while you wait for him to unlock the door in the corner of the auditorium, you catch a glimpse of Amelia giving you a smug smirk. Mr. Barber finally opens the door and extends his arm, letting you in before him. You enter and stop in the middle of the office, nervously fiddling with the hem of your pleated black skirt as you hear a soft click signaling that the door is now closed, followed by the snap of the lock.
You gulp, your heart beating faster as you continue to stand there and try not to give away your nervousness. The only sound that follows is the echo of his footsteps as he walks past you and to his desk, putting his stuff on the wooden surface. He doesn’t say anything, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the sleeves of his moss green dress shirt up to his elbows and the veins of his forearm are left on full display.
“Mr. Barber, I—“ you finally speak up but he cuts you off, making his way towards the comfy-looking couch sitting alongside the wall opposite of you.
“You wanna tell me what that was about? You know I have a no-phone policy in my class, right?” he sits down and spreads his arms on the back of the sofa.
“I’m sorry, I was just—“
“You were just what? Looking for some skimpy underwear to tease me with during the lectures?” the blood rushes to your cheeks and you look to your left, not able to hold his gaze anymore. “As much as I’d enjoy that sight, I’m still a little disappointed in you. The question wasn’t that hard.” He’s closely watching your every reaction as your body squirms, your thighs discreetly rubbing against each other. “You know, Amelia truly is a great student. She’s slowly becoming better than you since you seem distracted for most of my classes. What reward do you think I should give her?”
And that is what causes you to run out of patience and your head to snap to where he is sitting. Bingo, Andy thinks.
“Are you fucking serious, Andy?” you say with a raised voice. If you blinked, you wouldn’t even catch the smirk that formed on his lips for like a millisecond.
“Hey!” he scolds “Watch your tone.“
You ignore him.
“Since when do you humiliate your students in front of the whole class, huh?” you confront him angrily “It was a dick move, Andy, you know that! And then the bullshit with Amelia? If you want her to wet your dick, just ask her, I’m sure she’ll be up for it.”
“Come here,” he says calmly which unsettles you because you expected him to be furious given the way you’d lashed out at him, but you roll your eyes anyway and turn to leave, however, the sound of your name coming from his lips stops you. “(Y/N).” you inhale deeply and turn back to him. “I said, come here.”
You come up to him, still keeping your distance so you don‘t stand between his spread-out legs. “What?” you bite.
He huffs out a laugh. “You’re walking on very thin ice, sweetheart.” He says and you feel your belly doing flips at the nickname. “How about you lose the attitude and come here like I instructed you to.” You cross your arms over your chest.
“How about you go fuck yourself.”
And that’s the last straw. Andy Barber is a very patient guy but when it comes to a bratty behavior like yours right now, he tends to lose his temper pretty quickly.
He swiftly leans forward and grabs your wrist, yanking you between his thighs. You have to catch yourself on his broad shoulders as you stumble from the firm tug, your stomach flush against his chest. His hand grabs the strap of your bag, putting it on the floor before his fingers fall to the back of your thighs, sliding up and up until they rest just below the cheeks of your ass, holding you against him.
“You wanna be a bad girl today, huh?”
You frown and click your tongue. “Jesus, Andy, I’m not in the mood for this.” You start pushing against his shoulders to put a distance between you, failing miserably.
“Sweetheart, you’re not even trying. You think I’m stupid or what?”
“I’m serious, let me go,” you say, but you don’t even sound convincing to yourself.
“You’re not in the mood, you say?” he asks and you nod your head. “Then why do I smell you all the way here, hm?” his fingers creep higher, playing with the lacy hem of your panties. He snorts. “You’re desperate to get fucked, aren’t you?”
By now, your panties are drenched. After what he did to you in the class, you tried so hard not to be turned on by him, but it’s impossible. Andy is a very attractive man, very intelligent and in combination with his sinful mouth, you just can’t bring yourself to not want to be fucked by him.
He doesn’t break eye contact when he hooks his fingers into your underwear and slides them down your legs, until he leans forward, his cheek brushing your hip so he can pull them all the way down himself. You step out of them and his back straightens up, putting the piece of ruined fabric into his pants pocket.
“Get over my knee.”
“Andy, come on. We’re in school. Can’t you just fuck me now and spank me later?”
“Oh, so suddenly you are in the mood?” he raises his brows “Get over my knee. Now. You don’t wanna piss me off more than I already am.” He says sternly.
You unhurriedly move from in between his legs but you’re too slow for his liking. Before you can react, he’s once again yanking you by your wrist, twisting your body in a way that makes you fall over his thick thighs. One hand gently settles on your throat, holding your head up, and the other starts tickling the back of your knee before slowly creeping up your thigh, tucking up your skirt, until you feel the cool air of the room brush against your wet pussy.
You clutch his pants in your hands, and when his palm leaves your skin you prepare yourself for the first blow. Instead, he gently sets it down on your butt again just to caress it, but even that unexpected touch has you jerking forward. He laughs and before you know it, the hand lifts itself up and strikes your right cheek. This time your body jerks rightfully but the fingers around your neck tighten, preventing you from moving too much.
“Not so tough now, huh?” he strokes the sore skin. “How many do you think you deserve?” you shrug as best as the restraint allows you to. “If I remember correctly” he pauses, just to brush his fingers against your pussy lips, smiling to himself when he feels the arousal leaking out of you “You weren’t paying attention in the class.” He spanks your other cheek. “You were using your phone even though it’s forbidden.” For that, the next hit lands on your right cheek again and you don’t think before you dare to open your mouth.
“Really? You are gonna lecture me about what is and isn‘t forbidden? You’re fucking your student for God’s sake.”
“Just for that, I’m adding 5 more to the ones for raising your voice at me, lying to me, and disobeying me.”
He spanks you for everything he listed, caressing your sore butt in between each hit and you are on the verge of crying, the tears in your eyes about to fall down your cheeks. When you think he’s finished, you release a relieved breath, but suddenly, he strikes you three more times, without any break and you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut, the tears finally rolling down.
“That was for the eye rolls I received throughout the day.” He says angrily before leaning down, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispers. “Now, what do you call me when we’re alone?” You just need a minute to catch your breath to reply but he’s not having it. “Answer me right now, or I’ll spank your ass raw, you won’t even be able to sit right. What do you call me?” he asks again.
“Daddy.” You whimper quietly and he smiles.
“Good girl.” He forces your body up with the hand on your throat and throws you on the couch, but before you can make yourself comfortable, he flips you on your stomach and grabs your hips, pulling you up so your ass is in the air.
His touch disappears for a moment and when you adjust your head to be able to get at least a little peek at him, your cheek pressed into the couch, you see him loosening his tie. He grabs your arms and crosses them at your wrist on the small of your back, tying them together with the piece of fabric.
He kisses each palm and then continues up your bare arm, licking, sucking, and biting, until his lips reach your shoulder covered by the short sleeve of your white t-shirt. “You okay, sweetheart?” He knows you are, but just to be sure.
“Yes, daddy.” You smile and he tugs the neckline of your shirt away for a second just to kiss your skin.
Then, he kneels on the floor behind you, coming face to face with your weeping cunt and he needs to adjust himself at the sight. He curls his fingers around your thighs and starts kissing them, getting closer to your core and his eyes close on their own accord when he inhales your smell. His lips finally make contact with your lower ones, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance before he pulls away and hums, leaving you trembling.
“Andy!” You whine from the loss as your frustration grows, and he bites the tender skin of your ass.
“Baby, call me Andy one more time and you won’t be coming for a very long time.”
Your breath shudders when you exhale. “I’m sorry, daddy.”
If it was any other time and any other place, he would take his time to properly punish you, but someone could knock on the door any second and he’s honestly been dying to devour you all day.
He spreads your cheeks and leans forward, finally burying his face into your cunt, his tongue finding the little bundle of nerves and you moan, your eyes rolling in your head from the feeling of his soft tongue relieving the ache combined with the feeling of his rough beard scratching your inner thighs.
Andy takes the bud between his lips, sucking harshly and you buck your hips, causing him to grunt and the vibrations go straight into your clit, more slick dripping from your hole. He doesn‘t let a single drop go to waste as he licks up to your entrance, slurping the juices along the way before he starts plunging his tongue in and out of you. You bite your lip, trying not to make too loud sounds.
“That feel good?” he pulls away to ask, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he waits for your answer, rubbing your clit in quick circles.
“So good, daddy. Let me cum, please,” you whimper and he smirks.
“You’re lucky we’re in my office right now, otherwise I’d take my sweet time to take this sweet pussy apart,” to emphasize it, he thrusts his thumb into you and pinches your sensitive clit between two fingers, another moan escaping your lips. “I wouldn’t let you cum until you were crying and screaming out apologies.”
He slides his thumb back down to your clit, quickly circling it as he dives into you again, massaging your walls with the soft muscle until the knot in your belly starts tightening and you bite on the cushion to prevent yourself from screaming as the dam finally breaks and you’re cumming, Andy drinking up everything your pussy has to offer and he needs to force himself to pull away, your taste almost too addictive.
Before you know it, the sound of his belt clanking reaches your ears and a moment later, you feel his hand on your hip while the other gets a hold of his cock, positioning the tip at your entrance before pushing himself slowly into your heat. He groans while you mewl, filling you to the hilt and giving you some time to adjust to his size.
He starts with slow thrusts once he feels you constrict around him and the hand that isn’t bruising your hip grips the knot that holds your wrists together, giving himself leverage when he begins to quicken his pace.
“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. So tight.”
And he feels amazing, too, his cock reaching all the right places, the familiar tingling reappearing again as your thighs start to quiver. He leans over you, his chest to your back as his hand on your hip slides down and starts rubbing your clit.
“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” his warm breath hits the shell of your ear. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy squeezing around me. God.”
“Please, daddy.” You mewl and he growls at your innocent voice, picking up his pace even more so, his thrusts becoming harder and your tied hands grasp his wrist.
“Cum for me, baby. Cum for daddy.” He nips at your ear and with a few more thrusts, you’re cumming again, not able to hold in the moans anymore. He rides you through it, chasing his own orgasm and when you feel his hot cum filling you up, he stills, his breath brushing your cheek as he pants.
Once he comes down from his high, he kisses your jaw and stands up, pulling himself from your heat and you hiss at the feeling. He puts his cock into his boxers and zips his pants before he unties your hands, revealing the light red marks on your wrists. You stretch your hands a little before you bring them under yourself to lift yourself up, your skirt falling back down around your thighs and covering your now-glistening intimate parts.
Turning around, you stay kneeling on the couch, looking up at Andy with those big eyes that make him weak in the knees. The corner of his mouth lifts at the sight of your fucked out state, your hair is messy, there are imprints from the cushion on the cheek you were lying on, and the wet trails from your tears are almost dried.
He leans down and kisses you slowly and deeply as his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, his other hand gently cupping your cheek. Jesus, he doesn’t know how you do it but his dick is already twitching in his pants so he breaks the kiss because otherwise, he’d have to fuck you again. He pulls you up on your feet and bends down to pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before his hands fall to your hips. You smile and adjust the strap.
“So, when will I see you in the new number?” he smirks.
“Well, I didn’t even get to pick any,” you reply with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “And I have Mrs. Harper next and I wouldn’t dare to use my phone during her class since her punishments are actual punishments.”
“Are you saying my punishments are ineffective?” he feigns shock.
“I’m just saying if you fucked every student for using their phone, they’d be doing it on purpose, professor.”
He laughs and pulls you closer. “That would be exhausting. But those kinds of punishments are reserved for my favorite student only.”
“Should I be worried? You seemed pretty delighted with Amelia.” you joke, but half of you is a bit insecure because Amelia is a pretty girl with glowing skin and a brain big enough to impress him. And like the amazing person Andy is, he sees right through you and gives you an adoring smile before his lips touch your forehead, your eyes fluttering close.
“You are my favorite student. Nobody else,” he assures you once he pulls away.
Your smile widens and your belly twists at his sappiness, but you wrinkle your nose when you suddenly become aware of the slickness between your legs.
“I need my panties back.”
He snorts and shakes his head.
“I’m gonna keep them.” Your jaw drops. You have two more classes today, you can’t go that long with Andy’s cum leaking out of you! “Oh, you thought your punishment was over? I want you to come over to my place right after school. And don’t even think about going home to change.” His stern voice is back and he takes your chin between his fingers.
“I hope you finished your paper. We have a long weekend in front of us.”
a/n2: thank you for reading!!!!!❤️❤️my other works can be find under #writer luci !☺️
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No time to lose || James Potter x Ravenclaw Reader
The second one-shot I’m writing on here, I’d be happy to take constructive criticism! As you can see I’m a sucker for James, he’s a sweetheart :)
Warnings: none, just pure comforting fluff <3
There was nothing better than my boyfriend running into my direction, all sweaty from the quidditch game he recently won, a huge grin on his adorable face. His nose red from the crisp autumn air.
The colorful leafs on the ground made his brown hair and skin glow. His eyes were shining, as always.
He pressed his heated cheeks to my left temple while almost crushing my rips in a tight hug. He was spreading small, breathless kisses all over my face. I laughed, wiping my face demonstratively.
I cupped his face with both of my hands, kissing the tip of his nose.
Oh, how I loved quidditch games won by Gryffindor (although I was a proud Ravenclaw). And oh my, how much I loved the excitement that radiated off my boy. There was nothing better than the love and happiness this man gave me.
“Get your ass in the shower, Loverboy!” Sirius’ voice was coming somewhere from behind us. But James just held tighter onto me and murmured something into my ear.
“You two can snuggle later, I’ll keep y/n safe while you’re gone.” Now Remus’ voice was coming from the same direction, a slight hint of mock in it.
“Oh, sod off! You two stick together like chewed gum.” I laughed, turned my head and slowly got out of James’ grasp.
Marlene, Dorcas and Alice had silently joined our little group and were audibly giggling at all of us. I felt a warm hand slip into mine, looking up I could see James’ warm eyes resting on me.
A feeling, just as warm as James’ body next to me, rose in me, so much love and comfort. I poked James in the side to make him move, a sign that meant “Move and hurry up!”
His eyes went wide, an expression of understanding pulled his dark lips into a knowing smile. “No time to lose,” he whispered when he walked past me.
Remus came up to me and linked arms with me, “Don’t want you to get hurt when Jamesie isn’t around, right?” I snorted at his overly sweet voice and the nickname he gave my boyfriend (he acted like he hates it but secretly loves the intimacy). “I think the only one who needs protection is our ‘dear’ Sirius,” I said while pointing at the black haired Gryffindor, who was currently being tackled to the ground by Marlene.
“As always, you’re right y/n. Wait for me!” He shouted and ran to help Marlene. I shook my head. “How old are you guys again?”
“Sirius’ brain has the size of a pea and he acts like a 4 year old.” Dorcas was smiling widely at me. She had such a beautiful soul.
I jogged over to her, took her hand and spun her around two times. Her dreads were shining in the afternoon sun. I got why Marlene was so in love with her.
15 minutes later we had arrived at the Gryffindor common room and I hadn’t even sat down when someone lifted me up and carried me out of the warm room.
The smell of the shampoo I had given to James (I made it myself, he cried when he opened the package) made me realize that it was him who was now pressing me to his chest. I buried my nose in the crook of his neck.
There were no words. We both knew what we wanted, what we needed. I spread kisses on his jawline, just like he did not long ago, and I could feel his still tense muscles soften up under my palms.
Whispering stupid, with love filled, words, we arrived at the typical place we used to meet at: an abandoned but huge guests room (that’s what we suspected at least) We, James and I, had discovered it on accident on one of our Sunday morning walks. We had stumbled into one of the walls and activated some kind of mechanism. We used it for many different... activities. But today all we needed was time for ourselves and silence.
There was a bed, pearly white and shiny bedposts, a carpet that felt like you were walking on cooling silk and clouds, a desk which had a different color every time you looked at it and floating stars, clouds, suns, raindrops or even rainbows in the air (depending on the time and weather outside)
The whole room was filled with magic, I adored it. James loved watching the stars shining above us and making small comments on the constellations they formed. Sirius had taught them to him years ago.
We took off our shoes and fell onto the bed. James eyes immediately closed, I could feel the exhaustion radiate off of him.
His hands were slung around my upper body, mine were brushing through his dark curls. I still couldn’t believe how lucky I was. Not only with James, but also my beautiful friend group. They really had saved me.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face, dreaming of our promising future.
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My Darling Cat Roommate
lmao this isn’t lambden, as the title may suggest. sorry folks
@stinastar hit me with some feels over and modern roommate au where Geralt just doesn’t know what to do to make Jask feel better and this happened.
Warnings: We go into some Seasonal Affective Depression stuff here so like be careful with that if it triggers you, jask beats himself up a little, mentioning feeling numb at things that usually bring him joy, i swear in this one. I haven’t changed, dont worry lol
Jaskier trudged home from work on Friday, exhausted but relieved he had the next week off. He wolfed down the leftovers Geralt had heated up for him and almost fell asleep on the couch before Geralt hauled him up and walked him into his room, where he promptly fell asleep on top of his duvet in jeans and his shoes. Sometime around when early morning coffee workers were getting up he undressed and snuggled under the warm blankets.
When he woke to Geralt making a smoothie he was prepared to launch into a full ‘morning people’ rant, only to check his phone and realize it was 2pm. So, maybe he’d needed rest.
It was still grey enough out that he shrugged and went back to sleep.
When he woke up again it was dark and the TV was going. He wrapped up in his comforter rather than putting on sweats and shuffled out to the kitchen only because his stomach growled when he tried to roll over.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Geralt called over his shoulder as he floated past with the pasta he’d left in the microwave.
Jaskier just grunted a small “Thanks,” before he disappeared back into his room. He scrolled through various apps as he ate and rolled back into bed.
He might have fallen asleep, he might not, but he certainly didn’t get out of bed until his bladder absolutely demanded it on Sunday morning.
Geralt intercepted him in the hallway before he could make it back to his room, “You feeling okay?”
“Hm? Why?” Jaskier took a moment to respond, staring at Geralt like he’d grown a second head. He knew his hair was probably greasy but he couldn’t look that bad.
“You slept all day yesterday.” Geralt looked like he was diffusing a bomb rather than talk to his roommate, “Did something happen at work?”
Jaskier just shrugged, “I’m just tired.” And a little numb.
Geralt nodded, “I’m headed to the store. You sure you don’t want me to pick anything up for you?”
“I’m okay, Geralt…” he sighed, slipping past his brick wall of a roommate to slink beneath his blankets once again and make himself as small as possible.
It was late January and the Seasonal Affective Depression was in full swing. He should have bought that fucking happy light when it was on sale. Should have bought the Vitamin D tablets he saw last week. Should have let Geralt drag him to the gym a little more when he felt the initial dip. Should have blah blah blah. He thought over every little thing he knew would have helped that he just hadn’t done and sighed, pulling his blankets tighter around him. He knew he wasn’t going to do any of it until it got bad enough that his hair would stick to his forehead once he hit this point. Might as well hurry it along so it could be over with.
Geralt knocked on his door, snapping him out of his mini spiral. He hummed, not even bothering to turn over until he heard the rattle of the doorknob.
“I know you didn’t want anything, but… uh. I was in the bulk section. Got you the peach things.” Geralt’s voice was lower and softer than usual as he raised the frankly massive bag of peach rings for emphasis before he set them on Jaskier’s desk.
“Than-” Jaskier coughed when his voice came out raspy and broken, “Thank you.”
Geralt leaned against the doorframe for a moment, a curious frown on his face, “Bake Off is on in an hour if you wanna watch it.”
Jask forced a smile and shrugged, “We’ll see.”
Geralt pursed his lips and nodded, pausing a moment before pushing off the doorframe, “Okay.”
Jaskier stared at the peach rings for a while after Geralt closed the door. Eventually he compromised with his brain and rolled out of bed onto his knees, waddling a couple of steps until he could reach the rings then launch back to bed.
Normally he would have almost cried with happiness that Geralt had gotten his favorite treat. He loved it when Geralt did little things for him or thought of him enough to give him something, but he felt rather indifferent as he shoved the twentieth peach ring in his mouth.
Without warning his door opened just enough for a plate to appear and be gently set on his desk.
Geralt muttered, “For the sugar high…” before his hand disappeared and the door once again shut.
Jaskier almost smiled when he saw the neatly arranged concentric circles of Totinos Pizza Rolls on the plate. He got to his feet to fetch them this time.
Around ten that night there was another knock at his door that pulled him from an hour long scroll through tiktok.
Geralt held a big grey bundle in his arms, “Do you- Uh. I thought- weighted blanket?” He held his arms out with a hesitant smile.
Jaskier sat up, “But don’t you use it to sleep?”
Geralt shrugged, unfolding the bean-filled blanket and laying it over Jaskier’s legs, “I’ll be fine.”
Jaskier stared at the ceiling for a while after he left, confused by Geralt’s suddenly attentive behavior. He would have expected the grouchy man to enjoy the silence that came with his bad days. For how much Geralt complained about his loud music, he certainly wasn’t expecting gifts.
Geralt left a note in the kitchen Monday morning saying he’d made Jaskier a breakfast sandwich with instructions on how to warm it up without it turning soggy. Jaskier stood in front of the panini press reading and rereading the note as he heated his breakfast like it was in Old English. He ate at the kitchen table this time, annoyed with the crumbs in his bed, and counted up all the little gifts he’d been brought. He could come to only one conclusion.
Geralt was part cat.
He’d stopped functioning and Geralt kept bringing him mice.
He smirked and sent him a quick text, “Thanks for the breakfast. 👌 V good.”
After breakfast, he decided maybe he could change his pajamas, but he stayed tucked under Geralt’s weighted blanket for most of the day. Every now and then Geralt would text him something stupid Eskel or Lambert did, or a meme he found on his break, and every time Jaskier would grin and send back an emoji. Words were out of reach but Geralt frequently only communicated in emojis and one-word sentences. He should get the message.
Jaskier fell asleep around two, really asleep not just the fitful light sleep he’d been having the last couple of days. He was rousted from a dream about a talking panini press by Geralt tripping over a pile of laundry and softly swearing as he tried to right himself without crashing into the bed or Jaskier’s lute.
“Geralt? Darling, what are you doing?”
Geralt finally caught himself and nearly blinded Jaskier with a smile as he straightened up, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Jaskier sat up and scratched at his hair, “Yes, but doing what?”
“Oh! Yeah. Uh. I-” Geralt, still grinning, pointed to a small fern in a bright orange clay pot sitting on his windowsill.
“You got me a plant?”
Geralt was practically beaming when Jaskier glanced back at him.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a cat?”
Geralt snorted, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “You’re feeling better?”
Jaskier tilted his head, “I think so? What makes you say that?”
“You called me ‘Darling’.”
A hesitant smile crept on Jaskier’s face. There was an echo of the usual all-consuming warmth spreading in his chest that he usually felt when Geralt smiled at him. He may indeed be feeling a bit better. Come to think of it he actually wanted to shower.
“I taped Bake Off. If you’re feeling up for a trek to the couch,” Geralt offered, forced nonchalance dripping from every word.
Jask nodded, “Let me shower, then we can finish off the peach rings.”
Geralt’s smile nearly stopped his heart, a sure sign he was nearing the land of the living again, “I got lasagna on the way home too,” he chirped as he jumped up and made his way to the door.
“Hey, Darling?” It felt a little forced and goofy saying the pet name like that, but Jaskier just couldn’t help himself, “Thank you.”
Geralt’s smile softened, “Anytime.”
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my girlfriend’s got a gun
Fallon Carrington x Reader
Word Count: 2,185
Prompt: Maybe one where we're Fallon's girlfriend, but also at the same time her bodyguard/personal assistant to keep up a facade since she doesn't want anyone to know about the reader. - @another-fantasy-world
Summary: Three scenes of Fallon and R dating.
“I don’t want to see that happening anymore. If I have to ask you again you’ll be fired,” Mr. Carrington said peremptorily.
You nodded your head, clutching the iPad in your arms tighter to keep yourself from fidgeting, “Of course, Mr-”
Your shoulders relaxed the slightest bit when you heard the voice of your girlfriend, her heels clicking on the floor until she was standing beside you, a few feet away, “Why are you trying to fire my PA?”
“Fallon, she comes out in almost every single one of the photos that the press takes of you. She is not your babysitter. It’s ridiculous, a quarter of the articles that have been written about you in the past five months have been speculating that the reason you broke up with Michael was because (Y/n) drove you apart and-”
“What is your point, Daddy?” Fallon challenged, her arms crossed. “She’s my personal assistant, her entire job is following me around.”
“Going to clubs, parties, and galas with you is not in her job description,” He said, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. “She doesn’t need to be there.”
You felt uneasy, the two of them talking about you as if you weren't even there.
“No, but I want her there. There’s no harm in befriending your staff,” Fallon said simply, eyebrows raised, as if she wanted him to argue with her because she knew she would win.
“I’m the one who gives her a paycheck, so it isn’t up to you. I’m not having this conversation again,” She left Blake with no room to say anything else, her eyes flicking to you for a moment. “(Y/n), go get me a coffee and come up to my room so we can discuss the schedule for this weekend.”
“Yes, Ms Carrington,” you nodded, taking your leave before either of them could say anything more to you or each other.
You made it to Fallon’s room five minutes later. You’d taken a bit longer in the kitchen because you had to bug one of the chefs so they would give you a croissant for Fallon.
You knocked on the door with your knuckles, waited two seconds, and then opened the door to see Fallon in one of the lounge chairs in the corner of her room, doing something on her phone, “You took a long time to get here,” She said without looking up.
“Sorry, I was getting you a croissant,” You walked over and placed the plate on the low table that stood in between the two chairs before taking your usual seat from when the two of you went over her schedule, on her bed bench that was at the foot of her bed.
Fallon slid her phone underneath one of her thighs and smiled softly at you as she took the plate into her lap so she could eat the baked good, “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” You shook your head with a small blush spreading on your cheeks from the way that she looked at you, unlocking your iPad and pulling up the schedule. “Your father has two meetings scheduled for you this weekend, one Saturday and one Sunday-”
“Cancel the one on Sunday, he knows I don’t take more than one meeting during the weekend unless it’s urgent,” She interrupted before taking a bite out of her croissant.
“Okay, Sam requested that I add ‘go to the mall with Sam’ on your schedule, so I fit it after the meeting on Saturday, but of course, if you want it to be cancelled I can always do that. Steven asked that I make a dinner reservation for him, you, and Sam, for the Seafood Room on Saturday night-”
Fallon interrupted you, once again, with noises of protest as she tried to swallow the bit of croissant she had in her mouth quickly, “Not happening, you know Saturday night is our night.”
“I know, but you haven’t gone out to dinner with them in two months, and besides it’s almost Steven’s birthday.”
“I don’t care, cancel the reservation,” Fallon said sternly, placing the plate back on the table once she had finished crossing her legs at the ankles.
You sighed and nodded, “Alright, and finally, Sunday is the banquet for the children’s organization I told you about on Monday.”
Fallon’s eyebrows furrowed at the way you said it, “But?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you,” You bit the inside of your lip, nervous for the reaction she was going to have.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “You have to stop letting my father get to you.”
“He’s right though,” You shook your head, opening a tab to search up her name. “Look, there’s articles about us all over the internet.”
“When will you learn that I don’t give a damn about what the press says? I’ve been scrutinized by them since I was a child, I can handle it. I don’t care if they call me lonely and desperate or if they say that you’re trying to ‘befriend’ me for money or whatever it is they’re coming up with.”
“You read that one?” You asked, a wince on your features.
Fallon sighed, looking between your eyes before standing up and going to sit beside you, taking the iPad from your hands and putting it behind her so she could take one of your hands in her own, “Do the articles bother you?”
You bit the inside of your lip again, nervous habit, before speaking, “Kind of.”
“Okay,” Fallon nodded, trying to think of a solution. “I know you aren’t used to this stuff and keeping us a secret is probably really stressful for you... If doing this - us, is too much, I understand-”
You frowned and shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes at the idea of what she was trying to say, “No, I love you, I love us. Stupid articles are nothing, I can ignore them.”
“I don’t want you upset over this stuff, baby,” Fallon frowned a bit and reached the hand she wasn’t holding yours with up to cup your cheek, running her finger along your cheekbone. “Although I don’t exactly think you should be reading these articles, I know you do whatever you want, but if you read one that bothers you, you come to me and I’ll make the calls I need to get it taken down, okay?”
“Yes, darling,” You smiled softly and nodded, leaning into her hand.
Fallon smiled, “For now I rather enjoy no one knowing about us. It’s so private and I guess it feels more intimate in a way? But, I do eventually want to announce that we’re dating, so I want to tackle these issues now so you’re hopefully much more comfortable in the future.”
“Of course, baby,” She smiled softly and leaned forward to kiss you languidly.
You sighed into the kiss before she pulled away slowly and kissed the corner of your mouth before sitting back, “So, I’m either going with you, or I’m not going at all. It’s a shame that all those children will have to suffer the consequences of your decision,” She said, making a face.
You rolled your eyes, and ducked your head to hide your smile, “Fine, I’ll go, asshole.”
Fallon grinned and clapped her hands, she had known she was going to get her way, but was happy that you weren’t miserable about it, “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, my love.”
Your brow furrowed when you got a call from Fallon at around 5:30 while you were out running an errand for her. She was supposed to be in a late meeting with her father, Jeff Coulby, and a few investors for Carrington Atlantic, an odd and dangerous mix of people.
You answered the call and heard it connect to the bluetooth of the car, “Hello?”
“Can you come get me? Please,” Fallon asked, her voice sounding a bit shaky on the other line.
“Yes, of course, where are you?”
You pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road of the address Fallon gave you, “Okay, I’m here, babe. Can I hang up now?”
Fallon let out an ‘mhm’ and ended the call, and it took you 30 seconds to see her walking out from between two buildings towards your car, which you unlocked and waited for her to get into the passenger seat and close the door before you spoke.
“Are you okay?” You asked, outstretching your hand and tilting her head towards yours when she wouldn’t look at you.
“‘M fine,” She nodded, her eyes watering.
“Okay I get that you didn’t want to talk about it over the phone but don’t think for a second that I’m believing that crap. You look like a kicked puppy.”
She groaned and closed her eyes for a moment, “There were no investors. Just Daddy and Jeff-”
“Hold on, since when do they tolerate each other?” You asked, resting a hand on her knee.
“I don’t know but they apparently do now. Or at least, when it’s convenient,” You could almost hear her roll her eyes as you turned forward again to pull out of your parking space.
“What did they do?” You urged her on and took your hand off her leg to put it on the center console, but she quickly grabbed it and laced her fingers with yours before putting your hand in her lap.
“They cornered me about something I leaked to the press, not Crystal related this time, and- the whole thing was really embarrassing, I don’t really want to get into it right now.”
You squeezed her hand gently and nodded, “Okay, that’s perfectly fine. Though I have to say I had no idea you leaked something, I haven’t checked any articles in like, two days.”
Fallon chuckled, “Oh boy, just wait til you read these.”
“Screw you, I’m not going anywhere. I need to talk to you about the C-R-A-Z- why does the crazy lady have a gun?” Fallon asked, her jaw slack.
You were on your way to follow Fallon into the dining room, but stopped when you heard what was going on. You turned on your heel, quickly and quietly walking towards where you knew Fallon kept her gun.
“She’s not crazy, she’s been faking her brain injury,” Crystal replied calmly.
“Why fake such a miserable life? Actually- that’s a rhetorical question. I think I know exactly why. I think you’ve been faking lots of things.”
“Sit down,” Claudia said, gun pointed at Fallon.
“You never had a brain injury, did you Claudia?” Fallon asked, shaking her head.
“Of course I did, I almost died,” She said quickly.
“That’s true, she and Mathew were in a terrible car accident,” Steven interjected.
Crystal cut in, too, “I remember it.”
“I bet,” Claudia spat before turning her head back to Fallon. “That was the night I found out he was cheating on me, I just didn’t know who the other woman was.”
“All you knew was that one minute your husband was cheating, the next he wasn’t going anywhere because he had to take care of you, and then you got better,” Fallon said with a raised eyebrow.
When you got close enough again to be able to hear, you heard Fallon speaking, “Girls can be engineers, too, Dad. When I was a kid I told you I wanted to be one so you introduced me to Mathew, who told me his wife was an engineer. That was before your accident, of course.”
You smiled to yourself as you listened, God you loved her. You clicked the safety of her handgun off, just waiting for the right moment to come in.
“You killed him, you killed Mathew,” You heard Crystal say.
“No, I loved him. You killed him,” Claudia replied, which made you furrow your brow and you almost let out a scoff at how ridiculous this lady was. “He told me he was leaving me even though I was sick.”
“Even though you were faking it,” Fallon corrected.
“He didn’t know that. You took him from me, and once this snake ran me over, I saw my chance to do something about it-”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” You said, stepping into the room, the barrel of the gun pointed straight at Claudia, using one hand to aim and the other hand used to steady the gun, just like Fallon taught you. “but I think you guys have let her pity party run for too long.”
And with that, Claudia faltered and you took your shot, shooting the gun right out of her hand before giving Fallon her gun, “I think this is for you.”
Fallon smiled proudly and took it, taking her aim at Claudia, who was not left defenseless, “I wouldn’t try anything,” She said with a smirk once she saw Crystal pick up the gun Claudia had been pointing at her. “Not sure if you’ll be able to pull it off as well as you pulled off the brain injury.”
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Heyheyheyy, just binged your blog and can I just say I'm in LOOOVE with your writing style?? Like it's so unique and nicely detailed muahhh thank you for all of your hard work. Anyways, I was thinking of a todoroki fic where he has a crush and really likes them/her(??) And he wants to get closer to them but he doesn't know how because he's socially awkward blepp, so it's jus him trying again and again to get his crush's attention BUT PLEASE MAKE IT SO HE DOES GET THEIR ATTENTION IN THE END AHA
”i thought you hated me”
pairing: shoto todoroki x female reader
cw: fluff, slight angst, kissing, language
word count: 3100+
a/n: hi thank you so much for the support anon, it means a lot, hope you enjoyed this
summary: in which todoroki has a crush on you, and whilst trying to get closer to you his social awkwardness kicks in, making it harder and harder to not mess up whilst talking to you, but in the end he finally confesses after a whirlwind of a week
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The wind rushed past your skirt, you could almost feel it lift up, quickly bringing your hands to stop it from flashing anybody. Todoroki noticed after walking with Midoriya to class, you were with Ururaka talking about what you wanted to do next Sunday. His eyes gazed at your palms pushing against the fabric, he felt a cool wind come and knew the back of your skirt would lift up. He walked a bit quicker, Midoriya barely noticing as he spoke, before he was just beside you.
“Hey Y/n.” Midoriya noticed you and Ururaka, he went past Todoroki and went to talk to the girl. You mumbled a hey back before gazing at Todoroki, his eyes concentrated and piercing at how your hands tried to straighten out the skirt.
“Hi Todoroki.” You smile about to wave at him, even though the two of you were close enough that a wave was unnecessary.
He took his blazer off, tilting your own head in confusion at the action, “here.” He passed it to you but even then, you were till puzzled by the action, “wrap it a…around you, the wind might lift your s…skirt up.”
He scratched the back of his head, you smiled at his instruction, wrapping the blazer that smelt of him. It was always a sort of fresh crisp air in the early mornings of December and a fire blazing in a forest type of scent. It engulphed your nose, thanking the boy before trying to make conversation, “last night was tiring deciding roles for the festival.”
“Yeah, it should be a good stress reliever, you’re dancing aren’t you.” Your heart warmed at him remembering what you were going to do.
You were about to say the thing but Kirishima and Denki had come up to you both and started conversing with you two, the blazer still wrapped around your waist. You missed talking to just him and he seemed to want to talk to you, well that’s what you thought. He wouldn’t have come up to you or offered the blazer if he didn’t want to spend time with you.
Arriving at the classroom, you undid the blazer, watching Todoroki go straight to his seat. You held it tightly in your hands, “thank you again for letting me use it.”
“Of course, you can keep it.” You gave a confused look.
You spoke deadpanned, “It’s your school blazer.”
“I…I…” Before he can say anything, you had heard Aizawa come in and rushed to your own seat.
Todoroki began to think what the actual fuck is wrong with him, you can keep it, it was a fucking school blazer not a pen, he put his head in his hands looking down. This wouldn’t be the first time this week he’d say something that came off a bit weirder than usual but even then, his stuttering and social awkwardness was kind of cute.
You were at lunch the next time you saw Todoroki; he had spent the whole night thinking about what he said, how he really had just wanted to tell you how much he liked it. He noticed you sitting beside Ururaka, taking the seat opposite next to Midoriya, you and Ururaka were talking about your plans on the Sunday, he had overheard yesterday. It seemed like the two of you were going shopping, he watched you bite down on the apple, your soft fingers wrapped around the red core. Your soft plump lips being licked to savour the sweetness, “oh hey Todoroki.” You waved having noticed him.
His breathe hitched at how you smiled at the boy, even putting the apple to wave at him, he waved back before looking down. He continued listening into how you spoke between the group, even conversing to Iida, before landing back on him. “Are you okay?” You spoke with concern, gently kicking his leg to make him pay attention.
“Yeah, I’m f…fine.” He was normally composed but at the sight of you, your soft locks of hair had made him melt.
You nodded, before standing up, the rest of the group in their own worlds, “come on.” You put your hand out, his eyes widened, “I don’t bite.”
He nodded taking your hand, he had imagined how soft your hands would be, but now holding it, the ways your fingers trapped his own. You both left the hall, and you took him outside, “Y/n.”
You turned to face him, you had been dragging him along without realising, “I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine, you can do whatever.” His eyes widened at what he had just said, why was he saying such stupid things, what did that even mean.
You gave a soft chuckle, before feeling the cool air hit your face, the exposure of sun running across your face. “I thought you needed some air.”
“Yeah, you looked down.” You turned to face the boy, his eyeline not meeting your gaze, his hair seemed a bit messier and you remembered him being a tad bit late in the morning. You had hoped to walk with him, but it was fine, you had now at least.
“Oh, I wasn’t, just tired.” You nodded, trying to catch his eyes, he spoke again, “actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you?”
“Go on.” He watched the tenderness in your smile how your teeth peaked through, he loved how comfortable you were. How you didn’t worry and took everything on with a grin.
He started to speak, “I wanted to k…know if you wanted to g…go o…” He didn’t know how to finish it, he watched your eyes on his own and in a moment said something he was going to regret, “get the supplies with me and Kirishima.”
Your mouth fell, you had expected something else, something more between the two of you. You put on a smile, seeing him play with his fingers, a collection of rings embodied between his veined hands. You loved the rings, even having gone with him to get some before summer had come, but that didn’t count as the both of you being alone. It meant nothing, it was a short two-minute trip and you both just talked about your lives, it wasn’t what you wanted. What you needed.
“Sure, we’ll go Thursday.” The façade of your grin was gone at the sight of seeing it was time to go back to class, “I’ll catch you later.”
You walked away, your shoulders had been tense and you finally let them fall. Maybe you should ask him out instead, then he might say yes, maybe he was trying too, or maybe he really just wanted to ask you to come with him and Kirishima to get supplies.
The day had been a bore and you had grown excited for tomorrow, even if Kirishima would be there. It was still spending time with the boy; it was still being around Todoroki and that’s all that you had really wanted.
You spotted him walking to the dorms alone and ran up to him. “Hey Todoroki.” You smiled at him; it was the same one that melted him in one the spot. But he kept his composure smiling back as you spoke, “I saw that cool move you did on Deku.” You praised the boy.
You had been watching him, his brain was going into overload, you had watched him and noticed him. He felt his heart raise, “Thanks.” He scratched the back of his head, “I saw your win against Denki.”
Smiling at the boy you began to tease him, “aww where you watching me?” This was your chance to ask him out, start with some flirting and then ease into the asking out.
If only it was as easy as you had thought, “no, no, of course not, I wasn’t staring at you or anything, I, I just saw Denki pissed and that’s all, I don’t watch you or anything.” He was rambling and you looked at him with your mouth open.
The opportunity to flirt back had been ruined and you decided to be more upfront, his face had gone beat red. Why had he rambled so much, why did he keep talking about watching you. He didn’t want to be seen as a creep to you, yeah maybe he was watching you but how could he say that to you.
“Oh, well I wouldn’t have minded if you did.” He looked confused but continued listening to you, “we should hang out sometime.”
You had said it with ease, but Todoroki hadn’t caught on, if he had been thinking properly maybe he would have. No, defiantly if he had been thinking with his normal smart brain he would’ve understood, he would’ve made it into some sort of joke and said that it was his job to ask you out. But he became a mess under you, and he spoke something regretted once again.
“We are hanging out, tomorrow, remember?” You watched his nose scrunch in confusion and your own eyes wide.
“Yeah, I know b…” You were about to continue but you both had arrived back to the dorms and Midoriya and Iida had come up to you both, “yeah I’ll see you guys later.”
You left the situation and most of all you were confused if he was saying it to be nice or if he was genuinely unaware of what you had asked. You shrugged it off, maybe tomorrow, he’d ask you out, maybe.
Kirishima had swinged by your room, seeing you putting on some shoes. “You didn’t have to come with us Y/n.”
“No it’s fine, Todoroki asked.” You had gotten over the events of yesterday, Todoroki hadn’t however, he had been pacing in the kitchen. So in thought about the events, why was he acting like this, acting awkward. He needed to get rid of it and fast, he saw Bakugo walk past and shouted his name.
“What do you want Icy-Hot?” Bakugo raised an eyebrow a sneer on his lips.
Todoroki looked at the boy before taking a sharp breathe, “punch me.”
“What?” The confused Bakugo walked up to him, “where?”
“My arm.” Todoroki closed his eyes, waiting for the punch, Bakugo didn’t even question it, complying due to being able to hurt someone.
He swinged his fist right to Todoroki’s upper arm, “Oww.” Todoroki squealed opening his eyes, he felt better, maybe Bakugo’s punches had some power of their own. But he was glad, he stopped being nervous and awkward.
“Let me know if you want me to do it again.” The blond walked away, and the pain began to set in, it stinged and he felt like Bakugo used his quirk to cause more damage. He rolled his shoulder to lessen the pain seeing you and Kirishima walking down from the elevator.
He noticed how close you two were, how easily you both spoke with one another. Did you like him, he tried to disregard the thoughts, but the way you’d knock against Kirishima’s shoulder made him concerned.
“You two ready?” You both nodded, walking out from the dorms. It was easy to get permission to leave for the festival and as the three of you walked towards the craft shop that was ten minutes away.
Kirishima began the conversation, “she’s a real life-saver agreeing, isn’t she Todoroki.” He knew of the half haired boys feelings for you and was trying to help, stressing the trying.
“Yeah.” It was blunt and Todoroki was in his own thoughts, his own world, did you like Kirishima, what could he do to make you like him? The oblivious boy stayed quiet, Kirishima shaking his head knowing this was going to be a lot harder than he expected.
“Why don’t you two get this stuff?” He passed the list, easily ripping it in half, “and I’ll get this.”
“Are you sure, that looks like a lot?” You questioned, Todoroki watched you, would you rather have gone with Kirishima. It put his mood even lower, but he saw Kirishima walk off into the store and you still with him. “It’s long, we better get started.”
He nodded, grabbing a basket, “about yesterday.” He didn’t know where he was going with this, but then again Bakugo’s punch had given him some confidence, if he could get through the punch of an angry body then he could ask you.
“Oh yeah.” You hummed grabbing the stuff and chucking it into the basket.
He watched you kneel digging out the best option from the back, his eyes warmed, even in a position where you struggled to reach you still looked as pretty as ever. He bent down, putting his hand where yours were, your fingers grazed his, as he grabbed the material that was needed.
You both stayed kneeling, you stared into his eyes, they were perfect, beautiful even and even the scar, it was an apart of him. Something that you had fallen for, his personality, kindness and everything about him, every detail down to smallest of scars to the biggest. You didn’t care, you saw him for him and the close gap between the two of you made your eyes soften. You saw a small crinkles under his eyes, it was adorable, moreover your hand had reached to cup his face.
Just as you were about to touch his cheeks, he spoke, “I wanted to apologise, I didn’t want to go out with you here.” Your heart shattered at those words, you had tuned him out in your head after the ‘with you’, you moved your hand away. Standing up and the realisation of how Todoroki had phrased the sentence had dawned on him. “Wait Y/n…”
Before he knew it, you were gone, he genuinely hadn’t meant to say it like that, he wanted to tell you he wished he had taken you out properly and now a whispered “fuck” under his breath was all he could say. He had messed it all up, you had run off probably crying and it was all his fault. He wanted to run after you, but knew you needed time and that when he saw you next, he’d explain it all. Prove that he didn’t mean what he said.
He hated you, you just knew it, you had ran straight back to the doors, running into your room and sobbed the entire night. He didn’t have to be so cruel about it, the words replayed in your head. You couldn’t think of any explanation, he didn’t want to go out with you ever.
You walked dully into class, your hair tattered and uncombed, your eyes dull and tired. The normal happy you who greeted your classmates, instead stumbled inside and collapsed into your chair. Todoroki had watched the entire movement, even the class had noticed your lack of awareness throughout the day. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to go up to you after class. But you left quickly not meeting people’s gaze, he wanted to talk at lunch, but you were nowhere to be.
Hell, he even asked to swap partners but was dismissed, he watched you fight against Denki using your quirk to your might and then glumly hurrying out back to the dorms. He had tried, he had wanted to talk to you but how could he confess, when he had made you feel like this.
His next bet was your room, it was private, and he could confess without the worry of anybody. “Bakugo.” Todoroki spoke seeing Bakugo walk in with Kirishima.
“Punch time.” Todoroki nodded and Bakugo charged at the man, punching the other arm. Kirishima looked at the scene and didn’t dare asking about what the two idiots were doing.
“It’s only one punch, idiot.” Todoroki muttered using his quirk to make Bakugo stop punching the ice shield around his arm.
Bakugo shrugged walking back to Kirishima, Todoroki really needed a new method than to get the angriest boy alive to punch him when he needed some confidence. He began walking to your room, you had been closed off since everybody arrived and now was your time.
He saw Ururaka come out from your room a confused look on her face, “hey Todoroki, Y/n said she doesn’t want to see anybody.” You hadn’t told her of the events, or she would’ve probably been angry at the boy. He nodded but continued on with his path, Ururaka not bothering to stop him knowing how much you liked the half haired boy.
He stood in front of the door, hearing the music come out from your room. He stayed listening before knocking, “Ururaka I told you…” You stopped mid speech seeing the boy.
“Can I come in?” You nodded, letting the boy into your room.
You sat on the bed grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around your body, he stood there watching how adorable and comforted you looked. “I wanted to apologise, i…I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Okay and what did you mean then?” You muttered looking down.
“I didn’t want to take you out to a craft store with Kirishima…” He looked down, “I wanted to take you o…out for real, on a d…date.”
Your eyes widened, looking at the boy, he felt a relief wash over him. He had confessed and you looked at him lost, “you wanted to take me out.”
He nods before coming closer to you, sitting beside you, his gives a soft smile. A tear falls down your cheek, it wasn’t the same as the ones you had had the prior night. It was relief that he didn’t hate you, that he wanted you, liked you and that it was just a misunderstanding. “I thought you hated me” It was spoken with a tone of sadness, he felt guilty looking down and speaking.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to…”
You interrupted grabbing his hand that had been on your bed, “I’d love too.” It was a soft whisper and he noticed how your body had come closer to his own.
How your breath fanned his face, how the blanket had dropped from your shoulders. The way the loose shirt fell down your frame, your exposed shoulder and the way you licked your lips at how close you were. You both tilting your head, feeling the need for each other’s lips, the soft movements to one another, bringing each other’s mouths closer and closer before finally feeling united. The soft lips that he had dreamed to be his were finally on his own.
Your hands seemed rougher than normal but even then, ingrained onto his cheek he felt your thumb caress his face. His own hands on your waist, the sensation of the soft kisses before hearing you give a nimble moan at how he felt on you. His tongue guiding your own inside your mouths, it was seductive and filled with lust from the waiting and confusion that had occurred the past five days.
He had confessed, he had asked you out and now here he was, making you his.
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hi!!!!💘 here have another “ian processing things” ficlet inspired by this post i saw today by zo @grabmyboner <3
(contrary to zo’s amazing post, ian does not have a new instagram in this to fuel the slight angst🤕)
He was having a weirdly good morning when it happened— it was Sunday, and he and Mickey had woken up late tucked together in a warm cocoon under the sheets, legs tangled and bodies pressed close, with Mickey breathing out huffy, just-waking-up breaths into Ian’s neck that tickled his skin until Ian had rolled onto his side and playfully shoved him away.
They’d laid under the sheets for what felt like hours, lazily scrolling on their phones, with Mickey letting out puffs of air through his nostrils in a silent chuckle every time a particularly outdated and stupid meme came across his Instagram Explore page— and of course Ian had to combat Mickey’s intense glee at holding up dumb Instagram memes too close to Ian’s sleep-bleary eyes by clicking open his own phone and thumbing over to the pink and orange app on his home page, to try and find some other stupid shit that would make his groggy half-asleep husband laugh.
It was then, when he opened the app and passively flicked over to his notifications, when he saw the memory:
See your post from 6 years ago today.
Before Ian even clicked on the thumbnail of the picture, before he touched the pad of his finger to the blurred, too-small image beside the words bolded in black, he felt the telltale tightening creeping into his chest— the one he couldn’t really explain most of the time, the one that snuck in and left his heart rattling and pounding against the walls of his ribcage despite the shaky, measured breaths that he tried to sip in and out to fight the rush of feeling.
But out of curiosity, or maybe a little bit of self-sabotage, he clicked on the image—with Mickey still obliviously smirking at his phone screen beside him in the bed, his free arm draped casually across Ian’s chest. So Mickey didn’t notice, really, when Ian pulled up the full post on his own screen— a pixely photo, taken on a now-outdated iPhone in the hazy darkness of the Fairytale.
Ian’s pale skin, the strobe lights bouncing off of it, was the only really visible item in the foreground— and in the shadows behind him, a group of unfamiliar faces. It didn’t even really look like him— his heavy-lidded gaze was murky, definitely hopped up on some bizarre cocktail of drugs quickly taken in a dirty bathroom stall with shaky hands. Ian— Ian in the photo, Ian at the club— was leaning sloppily against the chest of a grey-haired stranger in a dark button-up; glitter on his hollow cheeks, a barely-there mesh top, smudged eyeliner almost masking the purple shadows under his eyes. A black feather boa wrapped tight, too tight, around his neck— an older man with his hand snaked around Ian’s waist, another with his fingertips tangled in the end of the boa.
The tightness was still there, a rubber band wrapped snug around his chest. Aside from the shame and disgust swirling somewhere in his gut at seeing this stupid fucking picture, the thing that Ian felt most was the annoyance welling in him, thick and heavy— what fucking person couldn’t look at a picture of themselves being a stupid teenager? What type of person still felt the aftershocks, like fire and ice and fucking bee stings swelling under his skin, just by looking at a fucking old Instagram post?
“Hey man, are you good?”
Mickey’s phone was now face-down on the blanket, his body twisting under the sheets towards Ian. His eyes flickered to the phone clenched tight in Ian’s hand, undoubtedly searching for the reason that Ian’s heart was thrumming just a little bit too quickly under where Mickey’s hand was still limply resting on his chest.
Ian tried to swallow down whatever was in his throat, whatever was on his tongue. “It’s fine. Just thought I deleted all these old pictures and shit.” And despite that, he couldn’t really look away. “I guess I only got rid of the ones with the sleazy comments. And the videos or whatever.”
Mickey’s brows furrowed. They both weren’t really social media aficionados— if anything, they’d only really gotten into it recently, after the wedding and the move and needing some way to keep the rest of the Gallagher clan plus Kev and V in the loop about their various gardening endeavors and pictures of Baz sleeping, and to see Lip and Tami post baby pics of Freddie and his new little sister. Ian had rebooted his old Instagram account, the one he’d made in his final moments of high school and posted heavily-filtered pictures with Mandy on before joining the army. When he’d started working at the club back then, the Instagram quickly became a place to drum up business, to post specific photos and to flirt with clients in the comments— and he thought he’d deleted all of them when he redownloaded the app, keeping the pictures of a freckled 15-year-old Ian and removing the rest up through youth center brunches with Geneva. Apparently he’d missed this one, and all the memories that could come flooding back with it— and neither he nor Mickey had really noticed.
Mickey’s eyes stayed frozen to the screen— cautious, thinking. “Just fucking delete it, man.”
Ian thumbed over the red delete button, sending the picture into some sort of pixelated oblivion. But even that couldn’t really scrub the image out of his mind— the fingers pressed into his hip, the scratchy feathers tangled around his neck, the now-heavy boulder lodged in his chest. He ran his free hand through his hair, trying to ground himself in the face of whatever weird floatiness he was feeling—tugging at it, just a little.
Mickey reached over— gently plucking the cell phone out of Ian’s white-knuckled grasp, placing it beside his with a soft thud on the bedsheets. Running his own hand through Ian’s hair— a hand that was gentle and slow, a hand that slightly dulled the buzzing in Ian’s brain, soothing the pain at the roots of his hair.
Mickey opened his mouth to protest Ian’s apology, but the words kept spilling out. “I don’t know why seeing stuff like that still makes me feel like shit. It’s like I forget it actually happened.”
He was healthy now— he was stable. He had an apartment with his husband, and a dog, and a savings account. How could he feel so fucking good one second, be laying in his bed from Ikea under a fucking duvet next to the love of his life, and feel so shitty in the next when he looked that version of himself in the eye?
It was stupid— it was so fucking stupid, but the feeling didn’t stop. He closed his eyes— he tried to focus on Mickey’s fingers, still scratching a slow pattern onto his scalp.
“You’re okay, Ian.” He let himself release a slow breath as he absorbed Mickey’s words. “You’re not there anymore. You worked fuckin’ hard to get here.”
Ian forced his eyes open. Mickey squeezed his wrist, tangled their fingers.
“I wish I could erase all that shit.” He hated how thick his voice sounded.
“You already did, Gallagher. Look where the fuck we are right now.” Mickey gestured to their white-walled apartment, their minimalist furniture.
Ian breathed out a throaty laugh. “Yeah. I guess.”
Mickey pressed a quick peck of relief to his temple, and Ian felt the warmth of it trickle down his spine. “You don’t gotta think about that shit anymore. It’s still gonna be there— but you’re filling everyone’s fucking Instagram feed with fucking tomatoes these days. You definitely ain’t the same person you were back then.”
Ian felt the corners of his mouth creep upwards. “You love my tomato pictures and you know it. And you love my captions even more.”
Mickey rolled his eyes— and leaned in close, settling again against Ian’s chest.
“Yeah, I guess I fuckin’ do.”
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sugar never tasted so sweet
02: I’m counting on you!
f!reader x msby
tags for this chapter: slight misogyny
summary: Before the match, all of MSBY Black Jackals are going through their own personal dilemmas. Atsumu is focused on how Suna Rintarō knows you and what you are to him.
word count: 3,443
a/n: wow! I did not expect all of those sweet messages on the first chapter. this is the first time I ever had this much feedback on my content before. please feel free to tell me about your opinions on any chapter! I love reading your responses and can always add some of your suggestions in future chapters. thank you to everyone who answered the previous poll, incase you were wondering, childhood best friend won by a landslide!
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Adrenaline rushes through everyone’s bodies in the large locker room, the air is so thick with tension that you’re sure it could be sliced. It is an exciting day for the MSBY Black Jackals, today marks the first time in which they get to see their potential sugar baby. Hinata was the one who initially saw your profile and decided that you would fit perfectly with their own wants and desires. After everyone got the opportunity to look through your photos and talk to you a bit, they all collectively agreed that they just had to meet you.
Was it wrong for the team to create a profile using their financial manager as a fake sugar daddy, probably yes. However, it would be a bad idea to sign up as themselves on a website like this. Not only sugar babies might think that they’re a catfish and get the profile taken down, but it would cause a huge scandal for their team and own personal careers. It is an unnecessary risk, they’re sure you’d understand once you become aware of the situation.
“Okay, as you already know today we’re playing against the EJP Rajins. This team is extremely skilled in defense, having strong blockers and a superstar libero.” Meian breaks the silence in the locker room. “Atsumu,” he calls out, the setter looks up from his lap to the captain.
“Yes captain?” Atsumu fiddles around with the gym bag at his feet, labeled in bold letters MIYA. The other phone in which they are able to talk to you is calling his name to pick it up and see your replies.
“Any words about the way Suna plays? Didn’t you two play on the same team back in high school?” Meian flips through the statistic sheet that their coach gave them prior to the game. He doesn’t expect Atsumu to answer his question. The setter is too preoccupied with wanting to see your face in person and up close, not on a phone screen. It’s not like Meian can blame him, half of the team, including himself, is wanting to run out there to talk to you and get to know you better. They can’t though, that’s the current problem. There’s a game to win and then everyone can meet you.
“Looks to me here that Suna’s offensive skills increased greatly, his spikes are rated 10/10 and serves are 7/10.” Inunaki comments, noticing how his younger teammates’s attention spans are decreasing rapidly. He shares a look with Meian, and gives him a nod in conformation.
“Focus!” Meian claps his large hands together to snap the team out of their daydreams. While Meian does this, Inunaki hits the back of Atsumu and Bokuto’s heads.
“That hurt you ass!” Atsumu whines, trying to sooth the pain away by rubbing circles on the spot in which Inunaki hit.
“I’m sorry! I’m just really excited!” Bokuto shouts eagerly and stands up, puffing out his chest.
“Aren’t we all?” Tomas adds, tying his shoelaces together, getting ready to go out of the locker room.
Meian checks the large clock that’s above the entrance door, quickly deciding now would be a good time to leave. “Okay, time to leave everyone! Get out!” The captain ushers the players through the door, making sure to turn off the lights. Hinata, like usual, is the first one out the door with Barnes hot on his trail.
The group quietly waits by the court’s entrance until the introduction theme starts booming through the speakers. On the queue, a nearby staff member gives Meian a thumbs up signaling they can come out. Meian runs out, immediately greeted by the tremendous amount of cheers and hollers. This is a feeling that will never get old for Meian, coming out of the locker room feeling all tense only to be pumped up by the crowd. Clearly the other members also feed off of this attention, Bokuto and Hinata run out together. Hinata points to the left as Bokuto points to the right, the fans enjoy their ritual and scream out their names. Then the duo switches to the other side, Atsumu joins in, chest sticking out with pride.
Barnes is the first one to notice you, your bright lanyard stands out in the crowd, specifically for that sole reason. It does help that he is at 6 feet and 9 inches though, practically anyone is noticeable to him at this height. It’s exciting for him personally and for the team to see you and separate you from the mass of cheering fans. Barnes has to calm himself down before he gets too excited and goes over to you.
“Meian,” Barnes nudges the captain standing next to him. Meian stops waving to the fans for a moment and leans over to listen. “She’s here. She came!”
“What? Y/N?” Meian asks, Barnes nods happily. “Where?” The captain scans the crowd for the lanyard, instantly spotting you. His heart begins racing, now he really has to show off and impress you. Meian claps his hands together and whistles for everyone to come together. Of course Atsumu is not listening, too busy waving to a group of girls, and making a heart with his hands. Sakusa nudges the setter in his ribcage and motions him to the rest of the waiting team.
“Y/N came,” as the words leave Meian’s mouth Bokuto and Adriah immediately break the circle to look for your figure.
“Knock it off, will ya?” Atsumu clasps both of his hands on each of their shoulders, as if he wasn’t looking for you earlier either.
“Okay, she’s with Aizawa in section 2. We all have a perfect view of her, so someone.” Meian momentarily stops and looks at Bokuto, “Doesn’t lose focus on the game and looks around like a lost puppy.” Bokuto has to restrain himself from trying to defend his pride, since the last time they encountered a potential sugar baby he got a bit too eager to meet her and ended up getting into one of his depressive states way earlier than expected.
“We’ll meet her after this match, yeah?” Oriver nods to the team as Meian continues on.
“So let’s win this game, boys! There’s a lot of people counting on us. Break on three.” Meian puts his hand in the middle of the huddling group as everyone puts their hand on top of his. “One, two three!” On Meian’s count, they broke and shouted Rajins, as the other team shouted Black Jackals. The match has finally begun and all of the players line up on either side of their respective bench.
Hinata’s knee can’t stop bouncing, the anxious nerves are finally settling in for him. He is one of the newest members to join MSBY Black Jackals, so not all of the fans love him as much as other veteran players like Inunaki or Barnes. A thought that has been on Hinata’s mind ever since they agreed on finding one sugar baby to spoil, was the possibility that she won’t be as interested in him compared to Sakusa or Meian. It’s something so stupid and mundane, no matter how many times he tells himself that she will care about them equally, he doesn’t truly believe it. His thoughts are cut off when the announcer starts talking about EJP Rajin’s record. Hinata places a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder after Suna’s name is mentioned.
Atsumu brushes Hinata’s hand off of his tense shoulders, giving the orange haired man a reassuring smile. Hopefully it’ll calm Atsumu also, even though he doubts it. As Suna’s name is called out and his old high school friend separates from his team, Atsumu watches his figure walk down the court. What shocks him is that you also separate yourself from the crowd and lean further over the railing, to the point you almost look like you'd fall off. Your eyes seem to sparkle underneath the fluorescent light, you’re giving Suna the look you’d give someone after you haven’t seen in a while.
Those intrusive thoughts begin making its way back into Atsumu’s brain. All of those times he’s been told that he’s not good enough or the lesser twin swirls around, forcing him into a dazed state. He can’t find himself able to look away from watching you interact with Suna. The middle blocker’s hand seems to fit perfectly inside yours, would Atsumu’s be a better fit than his? Of course it would, Atsumu tells himself.
Sakusa keeps a close eye on the other teammates, each seeming to go through some mental dilemma currently. He wants to flick their foreheads at how tensed up they are. He concludes that it might be the need to impress you, that they need to be deemed worthy of your affection. That’s not the case with him though, you’re just merely another person to boss around.
The wing spiker isn’t too fond about sharing a sugar baby, let alone have one. He doesn’t see what the appeal is of giving a stranger his hard earned money. For what exactly? To have some company and the occasional sex escapade?
Finally their announcer begins talking about their current record. Meian’s name is called first, the captain runs by all the fans, waving often to those who shout his name. It’s become a routine Sakusa has become accustomed to. Monday through Friday are filled with practice, every other weekday is weight training. Saturday is game day so the team goes out to eat for breakfast at the local cafe, then return for a quick stretch before playing. Sundays are endurance building days, spending time running or swimming, pretty much anything cardio related. So it’s going to be interesting on how the addition of you is going to be worked into the schedule. Sakusa will be extremely upset if his personal schedule is messed up.
A light tap on Sakusa’s shoulder startles him, too caught in his own mind regarding what he should do tomorrow.
“What?” Sakusa hisses, barely glancing over his shoulder to look at Hinata. He’s unable to notice that Hinata is as antsy as ever, just waiting to be introduced to the stadium filled with adoring fans.
“You seemed out of it, Sakusa-kun. Atsumu is next to be announced, I didn’t want you to be distracted when your name is called.” Hinata replies smoothly, just itching to touch the volleyball and play.
“I wasn’t. But thank you.” Sakusa mumbles the last words. He’ll always hate saying thank you or pleasantries. It’s just something he’s not used to saying, but over the course of years he learned how rude it was not to say it.
Atsumu’s name rolls easily off the announcer’s tongue while going into detail about the setter’s career. He wants to laugh at how smug Atsumu is, striding down the court, giving an eat-shitting grin at the horny fans who definitely only came to watch Atsumu. It seems no matter where Atsumu goes, there will always be a girl dying to get on her knees for him.
Sakusa quirks an eyebrow up at the way Atsumu’s name leaves your lips, eyes gleaming in adoration. How typical, another sugar baby who’s only focused on Atsumu. What’s new? His brown eyes analyze you delicately, taking your hand into his, pressing a kiss to the soft skin, sending a wink before joining the rest of his team. Sakusa wants to gag, Atsumu trying to swoon you is such a, well, Atsumu thing. Judging by the way you gush to Aizawa Yuu shows that you’re just eating up the attention. He can imagine that Atsumu is getting an earful from Meian, the captain’s tight lipped smile is definitely something Sakusa has seen before when someone does something stupid or acts too rowdy. To a well trained eye like Sakusa’s, you can tell Meian is whispering something to Atsumu, probably lecturing on how reckless his action with you was.
“Sakusa Kiyoomi, #15, wing spiker/outside hitter!”
He lets out a sigh of relief that it is finally his time to be introduced, quickly tuning out the announcer’s voice, Sakusa takes off his mask. The cold air of the court bites at his cheeks while he searches for the hand sanitizer, making sure to lather it on all the commonly missed crevices. Sakusa falls into the comfortable routine, high-fiving the coaches, keeping his head held high while walking out, and occasionally waves to the fans. However he does not think you’ll call out for him, wanting his attention. That stone cold facade falls for a moment, eyes widening in shock only to return back to the comfort of his expressionless face.
At least Sakusa knows better than Atsumu or any of the other guys when it comes to interacting with fans. Give them something to think about for the rest of their lives, a wink, a smirk, or blow a kiss to the crowd. That is how you gain loyal followers who devote themselves to you. Compared to Bokuto or Atsumu, Sakusa doesn’t want any of that “god complex” or bullshit similar to that. He only does what management tells him what to do and in return he plays volleyball.
“Sakusa, play well!” Three simple words that leave your mouth, a mere saying of encouragement. It would be a lie if Sakusa were to say he wasn’t stunned, that nagging spot in the back of his mind tells him what he has to do. Without a second thought Sakusa has the smallest of smiles on his face, a steady hand forms a thumbs up.
He ignores the gasps that leave other spectators’s mouths, and continues on walking to his other teammates. Failing to notice how much in shock he left you in, mouth gaping in awe, eyes blinking slowly. You sit back down in your seat to take in what just happened. Yuu hands you an unopened water bottle, urging you to drink from it. Reluctantly, you take a few sips and close the bottle, holding it in your hand.
“Let’s give one of the newest Jackals a Jackal welcome! Hinata Shōyō, #21, wing spiker!”
Hinata holds his breath when his name was announced, he is the last player to be introduced before the game officially begins. Filled with glee, Hinata does his usual high fives with the coaches and waves up at the stands, listening to all the cheers. This will never get old, he still feels the same excitement from his first professional match.
His eyes dart by your seat, not wanting to bring anymore unnecessary attention towards you, he continues on walking. You look even more beautiful in person, Hinata thinks to himself. The feeling of hotness reaches his cheeks. Oh my god am I blushing? Hinata tries to calm himself down but only worsens the problem.
Meian lets out a sigh of relief, everyone is finally here and the match can finally start. He combs a hand through his hair, swearing to himself that the boys are going to cause him to grey prematurely.
“See, I told you it wouldn’t be a problem. You stress too much, Shugo.” Adriah pats his captain on the back.
Not that Adriah can’t say the same thing, if not counting his sweaty palms. He quickly wipes his hands on the uniform’s shorts. Earning a grunt of disgust from Sakusa, Adriah glares at the shorter man.
“Oi! Shut up Omi-Omi, don’t be prancin’ around actin’ like you weren’t stressed. You’re gonna go bald and I’m gonna steal all of your fans away.” Atsumu teases, clearly enjoying the look of frustration on Sakusa’s face.
“Oh my gosh! Is that Bokuto Kōtarō? Ah it is! I used to like Sakusa but he’s bald now. Ooo, look at Bokuto’s luscious locks! I wanna run my fingers through it.” Bokuto chimes in, impersonating a female’s voice with a surprisingly high pitched voice. He clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes to the bickering duo.
“Guys, knock it off.” Meian shushes his younger teammates, weakly smiling at the frowning referee.
The referee gives each of the captains the okay to get into their starting rotations. Bokuto looks up from his spot towards your seat, he smiles to himself at how focused you are. Both of your hands cupping your cheeks, even though he’s far away Bokuto can see the glint of excitement in your eyes. They have to win against EJP Rajin, not only for their sake of going to the championship but for Bokuto’s own personal gain.
Bokuto knows that this is not high school anymore and does not have to push himself to be scouted anymore. After all, he is on the Jackal’s team, a favorite to win the finals, already having a twelve consecutive winning streak before Bokuto officially joined the team. Akaashi constantly tells him to stop worrying about the past and his doubts, but Bokuto is still hurt that Sakusa stole his spot for the top 5 aces in high school during his senior year. There are no hard feelings between the two but Bokuto envies the younger man, only if he tries harder he’ll succeed. Perhaps Bokuto can win you over Sakusa.
The sound of the whistle snaps Bokuto of his overthinking, realizing that Suna is currently serving. Bokuto looks once again back at you, hoping that you will be his good luck charm. Before looking back at Atsumu standing next to him, he clears his throat and faces the net.
Atsumu jaw clenches at how relaxed Suna is, envious at how he gets to touch the ball first. Suna’s eyes flick at your figure in the crowd before serving. What were you to him? Atsumu has to get to the bottom of this, not only for him but for the team as a whole. They can’t have any unnecessary competition, he won’t allow it.
Adriah gives out some encouraging words, he is finely tuned with noticing a decline in his teammate’s morale. It has become a habit of his even since junior high, quickly able to get the team back on track. For some reason he is having no luck today regarding this match, no matter what he says Bokuto is still in a rut. Bokuto has gotten a lot better with controlling those “emo mode” episodes since high school, however, they still do occur sometimes. An example would be right now, he clumsily misses the set Atsumu gives him. Everyone on the team knows how Atsumu becomes when people don’t hit his sets, oftentimes going on a mental raging fit and eventually has to leave to cool himself down.
“You can do it Bokuto! I’m counting on you!”
Your voice is like a melody to Bokuto’s ears, he instantly feels a boost of self confidence. Just comprehending what you actually said, he swiftly turns around and points to you in the stands. Bokuto makes a fist and shouts in agreement. With a wide smile on his face for the rest of the match, Bokuto manages to score the final point, leading the Black Jackals to a victory score of 2-1.
As the separate teams return to their locker rooms, Atsumu says a hello to Suna. The two old high school teammates catch up with each other before Atsumu brings up the question that was on his mind throughout the match.
“So who is that cute chick to you?” Atsumu decides to play it cool without raising any suspicions. He takes a sip of his water and continues. “You know the one on our side? I think you held her hand, hmm? Ya like her?” Luckily Atsumu is a great liar so Suna can’t really see through it.
However, Suna is aware that Atsumu is acting strange, but he rests his theories down. “Oh, Y/N Y/L/N? She has been my childhood best friend since she was in like Pre-K. Why, you want me to set you up?”
“Nah, I was just curious. How come I never heard you talk about her to me or the team over at Inarizaki?”
“I did. You just didn’t listen half of the time.” Suna chuckles at how offended Atsumu becomes. Before Atsumu can tell Suna off, Barnes grabs his teammate’s arm and drags him to the locker room.
“Stop picking fights, you need to take a shower and change clothes. We are officially meeting Y/N in a bit. Do you want to make a bad impression on her?” The older man lectures Atsumu who stands in defeat and is not resisting anymore.
“This isn’t over Rintarō!” Atsumu shouts over his shoulder, all Suna does in response is laugh at how overdramatic Atsumu has always been.
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oh my god I absolutely ADORED lucid and born slippy, so the chance to prompt you with something is so so exciting!! as always, no pressure, but how about something about undressing each other? i've always LOVED the unlacing/undressing tropes in capri, and I bet it would be incredible applied to some lovely drarry. do with this what you wish!!!
sidjdjfnndkff thank you, and thank u again for this ungodly prompt. if there’s three things i love, they’re captive prince, drarry, and soft smutty tropes such as the one u hath so kindly bestowed upon me.
i accidentally made a fair few lucid references in here (prizes for all who can spot them, the prize is a poem about u as composed by me) so i suppose, if you’ve read that one and so wish, u can consider this part of the same universe. or smth ://
maybe i’m just hideously unimaginative when it comes to topics for my banter. anywho
rated e, 1732 words.
The thing about Draco’s work robes, is that they’re buttoned all the way up to the throat. Which, hm, doesn’t sound like an issue in and of itself. But becomes one, of sorts, when Harry is overcome by the need to unbutton them every time he lays eyes on pale, elegant throat, the column of it under stiff black fabric.
The thing is, that Draco looks so austere, so tightly laced, and the thing. Is. That Harry just wants to unlace him.
Draco is, of course, not austere. He’s in fact very, erm, flexible. Pliant. He told Harry once, when they first starting fucking, that his body reformed around Harry’s, and he liked the way he went malleable in Harry’s hands.
“I can’t do that with anyone else,” Draco said. Then frowned. “That didn’t make much sense.”
But the buttons. The buttons. The high-necked buttons. They give Draco a look of frigidity, that he’s not to be spoken to, touched (all in a very sexy, aristocratic kind of way, of course), and it’s so bloody hot that Harry’s taken to banishing his glasses and burying his head under a pillow when Draco dresses in the mornings, just to stop himself getting so hard he goes properly blind with it.
Draco asked him, the third time he burrowed under the bedclothes like a “demented ferret” (glass houses, Harry said), what he was doing.
“The buttons,” Harry murmured. “Want to undo them.”
“You sick, kinky twist, Harry Potter.”
Harry unearthed himself, at that. “Shut up? It’s not about the buttons, you horror. It’s about what’s underneath the buttons.”
And then more teasing, and Harry had it up to here and said, “I’ll burrow again.”
So Draco sat next to him on the bed, robes all secured, and said, softly, but still smiling like a git, “Tell me, love. Why the buttons?”
“You’re just—they’re, you know. So—God,” and then Harry had reached out and rent the sides of Draco’s robes apart, the little cloth covered studs clattering over his polished walnut floors, and pulled Draco down on top of him, and fucked him right there until Draco was late for work, and later still because they’d had to spend half an hour charming the wretched things back into place.
Now, Draco says, “the buttons are still wonky from that little stunt you pulled.”
Harry can see only Draco’s legs (crossed over each other on the couch, back flat on the ground, because Draco feels it centres him to drape upended from the furniture at the end of a long day) from where he’s decanting the wine in the kitchen. “I’ve always been pants at tailoring charms.”
“Was that a pun?” says Draco, sounding pained. “I’m leaving you, if that was a pun.”
“But then who will do your bidding? Aerate your wine, iron your silk pants—”
“I’ll get a house elf.”
“—not finished, suck your brains out your cock, make you pasta with butter and cheese when it’s cold and you’re in a mood—”
“I’ll get a gigolo, too.”
“I still wasn’t finished,” Harry says, and Levitates the wine into the living room in front of him.
Draco says, “did you get the right glasses, this time?”
“You’re very funny,” Harry says, because after months of trying to educate Harry, Draco has finally accepted that his one true love is cheap beer, and sorted all the wine glasses he keeps at Harry’s flat into labelled little boxes. (‘This is a coupe, Potter. If you bring me red wine in it again, I’ll throw it at you.’ ‘These are for dessert wine — after dinner, before a good hard boffing.’)
“Why don’t you just go snag one of those fucking — sommiliars.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, happy because Draco’s wearing his work robes and speaking French and looking all twisty, and it’s Friday night, and there’s wine and music from the record Draco put on, and Harry gets to untwist him.
“Did you know,” Draco says, arching his back into a luxurious stretch before rearranging himself right side up and plucking a glass from the air, “that Amantea is starting her own firm.”
“Quite. It’s a pro bono thing, evidently. You know she’s been on the exec’s for months about how they direct all their mandatory hours towards corporations, not, you know, people who actually can’t afford legal counsel.”
“‘Course.” Harry distinctly remembers being cornered by Amantea when Draco brought him along to last year's Christmas drinks — he was a decent few in, and Draco kept palming at him through his formal robes when no one was looking, and he thinks he may have agreed to some kind of public crusade in the name of her cause that he doesn’t remember the details of to this day.
“Merlin, that’s incredible. She’s just quit, then? Starting it from the ground up?”
Draco nods, sips his wine. “She asked me to come with her. Ford, too.” And then, into his glass, “Said yes.”
Harry chokes, and Draco smirks at him behind the rim while he expires into his Pinot. “Bastard,” Harry coughs.
“Mm,” Draco hums.
“That’s—fuck, hang on—that’s great, love. Draco, it’s brilliant.”
“Really?” Draco says, tangling his fingers in Harry’s. He can see now that he’s doing that Very Draco Thing where his eyes go a bit too wide and his tongue keeps darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Cause I haven’t quit yet.”
“Of course. I think it’s really, really incredible.”
Draco rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Any more of that, and I won’t go near your cock for a week.”
“I’m proud of you,” Harry says, smiling.
He leans on his haunches, hooks a blond tendril behind Draco’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, Draco. Everything you are.”
“A month. A year! Harry,” Draco complains.
Harry snorts. Sits back. “Fine. So would you still be doing all the same work?”
Draco nods. “I’d still be a defence counsel. I’d just be, you know. Not getting paid. At least, not for a while.”
“Good,” Harry says. “We’ve got a horrific amount of money, between the two of us.”
“I’m glad you think so, because we’ll be living off your salary alone. What’s the going rate for darling of the Wizarding world?”
Harry walks his fingers over Draco’s knee, daubed in the heavy black wool of his robes. “Several million a year darling. Are you excited, then?”
Draco shuffles around so he can rest his back against the couch, keeping Harry’s palm pressed to his knee with his own hand as he moves. “Yes. Very. I love my job, but the fees they charge our time at are outrageous. I was always thinking, Mother and I wouldn’t have been able to afford that right after the war. Had we even been allowed a solicitor, but don’t get me bloody started.”
Harry thinks that’s Draco down to his bones. He gives cold little glares to people he doesn’t want to talk to, and shrinks in on himself like a turtle whenever Molly tries to hug him at Sunday lunch, and he’s selfish about stupid things, like letting Ron have the last of his chips at pub night.
And then he does things like drop lunch by Hermione’s office when he has afternoon meetings with the Wizengamot, or quit the job he loves so much, where he’s finally respected and secure, to work for free with Scary Amantea because he actually cares about the abysmal state of the Wizarding justice system, or rent out an entire Muggle theme park for Harry’s birthday, because he’d said, off handed, one night in Draco’s arms, that he’d always been left behind when the Dursley’s took Dudley as a child.
“You’re so nice,” Harry says.
Draco frowns. “Take it back.”
Harry says, “Won’t,” and gives him a good, slow kiss that tastes like wine. Wine from a proper glass.
“I have bad news, too,” Draco says into Harry’s lips.
Harry can’t think of how anything could be bad, wrong, when Draco’s mouth is so soft and so close, but he murmurs, “What,” anyway.
“No dress code, at the new firm.”
Harry pulls back, stricken. “No more buttons?”
“Less regular buttons,” Draco amends, and Harry places a protective hand over Draco’s clavicles.
“This is completely tragic,” Harry says.
“Dare I say, Potter, you’ll just have to make the most of them. While you can.”
Harry nods, leans down again, a hand either side of Draco’s hips, and kisses him again.
When he pulls back, it’s so he can get his hands on the reeling column of buttons that runs from Draco’s navel to his Adam’s apple.
There was a certain carnal appeal in tearing them off him that first time, but now Harry likes this. His hands on Draco, his mouth following. Pushing the silken studs through the loops, undressing Draco inch by milk white inch.
“Yes,” Draco says, as Harry licks and nips his way down every bit of skin he exposes. When Draco swallows, Harry feels the movement of it roll beneath his palm. When Draco’s legs fall open, Harry mouths at his hip bone as it shifts under his tongue.
Harry disrobes himself with slightly less worshipping finesse. Pushes the tailored cloth off Draco’s shoulders, helps him arrange himself underneath Harry, ankles clasped lazily at his back. Fucks him slow, and sweet, and two more times.
Really, Harry doesn’t know why the robes do it for him so utterly and completely. They look kind of like the type of thing a vicar would wear, which is also what Harry remembers thinking when he saw Draco in his dress robes at the Yule Ball (although now it’s more a very rich, very sleek sort of vicar vibe, and less of the fusty, I-took-a-celibacy-oath-at-thirteen-and-am- now-seventy-two thing he had going back then. With all the velvet. Draco looks much better in silk. Anyway.)
On that, it’s probably because it’s a reminder that it’s Malfoy who he’s with. Malfoy, not Death Eater, tormentor, but pale limbs, plush, pink mouth and naked vulnerability before him. It’s how far they’ve both come, and how Draco presents himself to the world — so far away from what Harry gets to see. What’s Harry’s. What’s theirs.
“Also,” Draco says, when Harry tells him this in bed that night, “I look positively indecent in black.”
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Lust | Lee Know x Reader
I had plans to make this kinky as all hell, but I somehow ended up going the opposite direction with this. oh well, it was still pretty fun to write. I’m also sorry if there’s parts of it (or all of it?) that don’t make any sense. I didn’t proofread it at all and my head was just empty while writing it.
I was kinda liking it at one point, then I overthought about it and now I think I hate it but I put in all this time so it’s getting posted. I just feel like it kinda went all over the place
Warnings: officemate! au, sexual tension (maybe? Idk, i tried), fem! reader, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), protected sex (yay!) there’s like a split second of softdom! Minho, but other than that moment there’s not really any dynamics.
Word count: 4.6k
It didn’t take a genius amongst your co-workers to be able to tell what was going on between you and Minho. Everyone could see the way you looked at each other. They could see the way you took extra time at the printer, considering it was right next to his desk. You would stand there for longer than necessary, just watching him work. How his fingers would type away on his keyboard, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. God, what you would do to have his fingers inside you.
No, you can’t think like that. He’s just your co-worker. He may be hot as all hell, but this is a professional environment, right?
It was also painfully obvious to everyone how Minho looked at you the same way. Just as you would spend extra time at the printer, he would spend extra time at your desk whenever he had to hand you some files. He would try to make some idle chit-chat with you, but really, he was just staring at your lips the whole time. While you would admire his hands and arms, he would admire your lips. He often found himself wondering just what your mouth was capable of.
Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t only see you as some pretty thing around the office. He also admired your dedication and work ethic. He loved how much effort you put into your job to ensure you produce the pest quality of work. But he wasn’t stupid, he could see just how hot you are.
But he’s not allowed to think of you in that way. He’s not allowed to spend many a night imagining your hand, your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his hand. After all, you’re just co-workers. And it’s all professional, right?
That’s what you both keep telling yourselves.
It’s a normal Friday, not long before midday, and you’re zoning out at your desk, trying to figure out what the hell you were going to do over the weekend. You’d originally had plans to meet up with a few friends, but they all cancelled on you, leaving you with nothing to do on the approaching Saturday and Sunday.
You’re dragged out of your thoughts by someone waving a small folder in front of your face.
“Hey, earth to y/n?” You snap your attention onto the figure in front of you, quickly realising that it is, in fact, Lee Minho who’s standing at your desk. You hurriedly fix your posture, sitting up straighter and clearing you throat quietly before responding.
“A-are those some more files that need doing?” The way you stutter over your words has you internally cringing, hoping he can’t tell the effect he has over your body.
“Yeah, they’re the latest invoices that have come in. These ones need to be paid by Tuesday and then these ones need to be paid by Thursday,” he explains to you, holding up the two separate folders in his hands.
Reaching out your hand for the folders, you feel your fingertips brush against his once you grab them. You withdraw your hands as quickly as possible, feeling your heartbeat pick up slightly as the subtle contact. Your gaze lingered on his arms for a moment, his sleeves rolled up just the way you liked. Minho is so effortlessly attractive that it’s unfair.
You pry your eyes away from his forearms, away from the veins you can see running along his arms, instead looking at his face. The moment you look him in the eyes, however, you can’t help but think that maybe staring at his arms would have been the better option. His eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him, but the way he was looking at you right now, the way he was staring so intently at you, had you cowering slightly under his gaze.
“So, you had lunch yet?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, resting his hands in his pockets.
“Not yet, was just about to head up to the cafeteria shortly,” you reply, your eye focus being caught by his stance. You can picture it, him standing over you just the way he is now, hands in pockets, forearms visible, smirk on his face. Just imagining him standing there like that, looking down at you like you’re some sort of prey while you’re on your knees for him. Slowly undoing his belt and-
“Well, I was gonna head up now. Wanna join me?” you are once again pulled from your wandering thoughts by Minho, but the damage had already been done. You could feel your neediness throbbing in your pussy, your slickness slightly coating your underwear.
“Uh, sure,” you say, quickly locking your computer and grabbing your lunch.
You walk with Minho back towards his own desk so that he can pick up his own food before making your way up stairs to the third floor. Once you both make it to the cafeteria for the shelves. You grab your mug before making yourself a coffee, Minho doing the same next to you.
You both head towards a back corner of the large room, finding two seats at a small coffee table. A small conversation begins between the two of you, somewhat awkward, but not uncomfortably so. The occasional silences weren’t left empty, instead being filled with lingering glances at one another.
You make it through all your food and just over half of your coffee before it happens. Disaster. Minho has looked away from you for just a moment and the sunlight cascading through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows hit him in just the right way. It made him glow in the light, distracting you while you took a drink from your mug. You weren’t focusing on anything but how delicious he looked in front of you, ending up with you tipping your mug up to far and spilling it all down your front and onto your lap.
Your small yelp snaps his attention back to you and you both just stare down at your soiled clothes. Heat rushes to your face when you realise the exact repercussions of what’s just happened, and the heat spreads when you notice that Minho has also realised it. Your white blouse drenched in coffee; the material becoming see through. Minho’s gaze lingers on your chest for a moment too long for between normal co-workers, your bra entirely visible through the now coffee-coloured fabric.
Minho clears his throat before speaking. “Uh- I’ll g-get something to help clean that up,” he stutters out, standing up as quickly as possible before rushing off to grab some napkins. It’s not long before he returns, a whole stack in his grip.
He places them on the table, taking his seat again. Picking a couple napkins back up he turns his whole body towards you. Your breathing stutters when he leans in close to you, your eyes looking deep into his as he freezes in place.
He’s torn. Torn between wanting to help you for your sake, wanting to help you for the sake of being able to touch you, and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and he wonders if you can hear it too. Especially with how close the proximity currently is between you two.
He takes a deep breath before making a decision about whether or not to help you clean up. He reaches his hand out, carefully beginning to dab at the spilled drink on your lap, fully expecting to be told to stop.
You tense under his touch, but not out of discomfort. It’s the way his hand moves along your thigh that has you frozen. Your thigh. One of the more sensitive parts of your body, and his hand is rubbing back and forth along it. The contact causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the heat begin to pool in your core.
“Um… Make sure to soak these clothes before you wash them. That should help get any stains out,” Minho says, trying to ease the tension.
“Oh, yeah, thanks. I’ll be sure to do that,” you reply, his voice snapping you out of your stupor. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore your growing arousal.
Minho has to fight back his own increasing need at the sight of you nibbling on your lower lip, wanting little more than for it to be his own teeth tugging at the soft flesh. But what really gets him, is you taking a few napkins and beginning to dab at the coffee on your shirt, unintentionally pulling his gaze back down to your chest. Now he was fighting back groans, trying desperately to let the sounds die in his throat before you get the chance to hear them. That would be too embarrassing for him to handle.
It’s not long before you sigh a heavy sigh, giving up the hopes of being able to save your outfit and keep your presentability for the workplace, accepting it as a lost cause. Minho stops his own wiping at the sound, looking at you instead, waiting for you to speak.
“You know what, this is a mess. I might as well just head home for the rest of the day. There’s no point sitting here at my desk all day like this,” you say, looking down at your clothes. “Besides, most of my work is done for the day anyway.”
It’s only when you lift your head up when you finish speaking that you realise just how close Minho’s face is to your own. Close enough for you to feel his breaths against your cheek. Your eyes dart down to his lips, but only for a split second, not wanting to make your arousal so obvious. Minho, however, notices. But luckily for you, he decides not to say anything about it. Yet.
“That sounds like a good idea. Uh… here,” he says, removing his blazer jacket and holding it out to you.
You reach out and grab it, your fingers once again momentarily connecting with his as you take the item he’s passing you. You both rise to your feet and you give him a confused look, wondering why he’s handing you his blazer.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to walk around with a see-through shirt,” he explains in response to your unspoken question.
The heat returns to your cheeks at his statement, quickly pulling the clothing item on and buttoning it up, making an attempt to cover yourself.
“Thanks,” you say. There’s some part of you that doesn’t really want to cover yourself, that wants Minho to see you. But you push that part aside. After all, you’ve got to maintain some sort of professionalism. “We should probably head back down now.”
You both gather your belongings, taking your mugs over to the dirty dishes rack and placing them in along with all the other dishes. Yet another silence befalls the two of you as you make your way back down the stairs to your floor, the quietness neither comfortable nor awkward. Something in between.
Finally reaching your floor, you make a beeline for your desk, aiming to grab your bag and get out of here as quickly as possible. But before you grab your things and head into your boss’s office to say that you’re leaving early, you pause, turning back to Minho again, stopping him before he gets too far away.
“I’ll get your jacket back to you on Monday if you want. I’ll even get it cleaned to make sure there’s no coffee on it.”
He takes a moment to think, once again torn between options. One being just saying okay and letting you just bring it to work with you on Monday. And the other option… Well, if the way you were almost whining when he was touching your thigh earlier is anything to go by, then the second option might just work out for him. Fuck it.
“Or you could bring it over to my place? Tonight? I-if you want to,” he says, making sure to keep his voice only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting any nosy co-workers listening in.
Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you think of the possible outcomes of you going over to his house, albeit under the guise of simply returning his blazer. You can already feel yourself growing wetter at the thoughts running through your mind. You blink rapidly, shaking your head slightly to yourself, remembering that you have to answer him instead of just standing there daydreaming all day.
“You’re in luck. I was gonna go out for a few drinks tonight, but my friends all cancelled on me. So, it turns out that I’m available,” you say, fighting hard to keep your voice steady and to not let on just how needy you were.
“Well, you could always have those drinks with me while you’re over,” he offers, stepping closer to your desk.
You both smirk at each other, knowing exactly what the outcome of tonight will be. Minho searches around your desk for a moment, eventually finding and grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He scribbles something down before handing it to you.
“That’s my address. See you at 7?”
“Sure thing, see you then.”
He smirks at you again before finally heading back to his own desk and you finally head off home, being sure to stop in and let your boss know you’re leaving.
Before long, 7 o’clock rolls around and you’re sitting in your car, parked on the road-side, opposite Minho’s house. Checking yourself in your rear-view mirror quickly, you make sure you look presentable before getting out of your car, his blazer draped over your arm. You’re somewhat nervous as you approach his front door, reaching up and knocking. It only takes a short moment before the door swings open, revealing Minho. He steps backwards, holding the door open as he gestures for you to enter. You step past him and into the house, taking in his appearance while he closes the door behind you.
His outfit is simple, a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but to you he looks damn fine. His jeans are tight enough to show off his thighs while not being too tight that it would create any struggle to remove quickly. That’s handy. And his shirt leaves his delicious arms on display. You look up at his face just to see him staring at you in the same way you were just starting at him. Like you’re the single best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“Hi,” you say, bringing his attention back to the current moment. He blinks a few times, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts.
“Hey, you look really good.” He gestures towards your dress. You chose one that was simple, yet effective at its job. You wanted to wear something that showed off your legs, something that would get his attention. And judging by the way he kept looking you up and down, it was working.
“Here’s you blazer,” you say, holding it out for him.
“Oh yeah, thanks,” he replies, having already forgotten that he’d even let you borrow it in the first place. “I’ll just go put that away. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
He dashes off down the hallway, presumedly towards his bedroom. To take the moment alone to take in your surroundings, noting how Minho’s house had a very homely feel to it.
You take a seat on the couch while you wait for him to return. And it doesn’t take him long to do just that, already walking back up the hallway towards where you are. He heads to the kitchen first, grabbing a couple of glasses.
“I have some wine here. Want some?” he offers.
“Sure,” you say, knowing that soon enough the drinks will be abandoned in favour of other activities.
It’s not long before Minho approaches you, two glasses of wine in his hands. He hands one to you before taking a seat in the spot next to you on the couch. Directly next to you. He’s so close that the side of his leg rests against yours, but you’re not complaining.
“Try not to get too distracted by me again,” he says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “We wouldn’t want you to spill another drink.”
You both laugh at his teasing statement, but your mind focuses on the word again and you realise that he did know the causing of today’s earlier mishap. Well, that’s a bit embarrassing.
The next short while is filled with more idle chit-chat, a measly attempt at wasting time before getting down to business. The entire time you’re talking, Minho’s arm is resting along the back of the couch behind your head and he’s very shamelessly eye fucking you. In his defence though, you’re doing the exact same thing to him.
“Do you want another glass?” Minho asks when you finish your wine, placing his hand that’s not currently resting on the back of the couch on your thigh. You let out an audible breath as his hand softly caresses the flesh, the feeling sending pools of arousal directly to your heat. As his fingers slowly trail further up, beginning to disappear under the skirt of your dress, you know that he’s not really offering you another drink. It’s his way of moving the conversation along, of asking you if you’re ready to do what you truly came here for.
And you’d be damned if you weren’t ready.
His fingers continue to travel higher, skimming along your inner thigh, avoiding where you desperately need him. You bite your lip, trying to stifle a whimper. It doesn’t work, and it instead draws Minho’s focus to your mouth. And he’s back to thinking about your mouth, how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The idea alone has him growing painfully hard in his jeans. Hell, he’d do anything to have your lips on him, in any way.
“M-Minho, please,” you whisper, wanting him to stop his teasing caresses and finally touch you the way you want. The way you need.
“Please t-touch me.”
“Touch you? I am touching you,” he says, stopping his hand’s movements and instead just resting it in place.
“No, please touch my p-pussy,” you say, your hands coming up to cover your face, embarrassment coursing through your body, causing your face to heat up.
Normally, Minho smirked at you, getting a kick out of how flustered you are.
“Ah, I see. Well, if you want that to happen then you have to prove to me how much you want it.”
And that has you whining.
You quickly manoeuvre yourself so that you’re straddling Minho’s lap, tired of waiting for him to provide you with some much needed friction. Your hands rest on his shoulders, his own flying to your hips when you slowly, experimentally grind down on him. Your actions get the best reward, in the form on a shaky moan from Minho, and that’s the moment you can tell that this whole thing is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you.
When he told you to prove it, he was expecting you to just get more flustered. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to make such a bold move. You roll your hips against him again, this time drawing a moan from yourself. One of his hands slides up your back, grabbing the zipper for your dress and slowly sliding it down. Once he has it undone, he pulls the dress up and off your body, revealing your lack of bra underneath. Shit, he hadn’t even noticed earlier that you weren’t wearing one, he was too distracted by your legs. He looks up at you, his own lust-filled eyes meeting yours, watching you lean in closer to him. Closer, and closer.
And then your lips – those oh so pretty lips – were on his own, moving together in a rush of adrenaline and lust. There was no delicacy in the kiss, only pure wanton desire as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. You’d both been waiting for this for so long. Craving it.
His hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh. He’s quick to stand up, keeping you held up, your legs wrapping around his torso. He carries you down the hallway, only breaking the kiss for a split second at a time to make sure he didn’t bump into anything, before he would dive back into your lips. Your kisses were intoxicating, addicting. Minho just couldn’t get enough. Even when he finally made it to his bedroom, dropping you down onto the bed, he still doesn’t pull away. It’s only when you pull away for breath that he stops, you both panting deeply from the lack of oxygen for so long.
Your hands glide across his linen-clad chest, the fabric warmed from his hot skin. He groans lowly at your touch, desperately wanting more. One of his own hands finds it’s way to your breast, his thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple.
His touch is soft, gentle. He’s testing the waters, wanting to figure out what you like, what touches really get you going. He knows he’s on the right track when your back arches slightly at the contact, and he grazes his thumbs over the nub again, harder this time.
You can feel how soaked you are, your underwear beginning to stick to you uncomfortably. You buck your hips upwards, trying desperately to get some sort of solid friction going, the aching between your legs bordering on painful. Sensing just how strong your need is, Minho pulls away from you, moving down the bed until he’s laying between your thighs, his fingers already dipping into the waistband of your underwear.
He wastes little time in pulling the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side. And now, finally, after so long of wanting it, he’s able to gaze upon your pussy, glistening with your juices.
“Holy shit, you’re so wet you’re dripping,” he exclaims, looking up and making eye contact with you. And it makes you clench around nothing when you look at the man that’s remained on your mind with his head between your thighs.
“Only for you,” you reply, even your voice dripping with need. Minho looks back down at your soaked cunt and, in the split seconds before his touch, every nerve in your body and mind comes alive with electricity. He licks one long stripe along your entrance, and the moan you let out is obscene. And he loves it.
Minho is filled with a new determination, a determination to make you moan over and over again. To have you feeling so good that you’re screaming his name.
He circles his lips around your clit, working the nerve bundle with his mouth while he brings a hand down to work your entrance. He slides a digit it, immediately curling it in search of your special spot. He quickly adds a second finger, continuing his search for your g-spot. He knows he’s finally found it when your hands go flying to his head, threading into his hair, tugging hard. He groans at the sensation, loving the way your hands feel in his hair. God, everything you do just turns him on, and he begins to unconsciously rut his hips into the mattress. He continues working your core while you moan uncontrollably.
“F-fuck, Minho. I’m s-so close,” you manage to whimper out, but he already knows. The way your walls tighten around his fingers over and over tells him everything he needs to know.
“Do it, baby. Cum for me,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice, your orgasm washing over you with more force than you expected. He finger-fucks you through your high, only stopping when your body stops convulsing in waves of pleasure. He pulls his hand away from your core, a whine escaping you at the empty feeling. If he could make you cum that hard with just his fingers and mouth, how on earth are you going to survive cumming on his cock?
He crawls back up your body, placing his arousal-coated fingers at your lips. You open your mouth with no hesitation, immediately sucking the digits in, swirling your tongue over them as you sucked. The sight alone almost had Minho cumming in his jeans. For so long, all he’s wanted is your lips around some part of him, and while he also wanted to be graces with the visual of you sucking on his cock like your life depended on it, he was more desperate to just fuck you.
He wastes no more time in ridding himself of his clothes until he’s completely bare, reaching into his bedside table draw for a condom. positioning himself above you once again. He’s about to open the condom packet before you stop him, taking it from his hands opening it yourself. He moans when you slide the condom down his length, your hands feeling better on his cock than his own ever could.
The moment you lie back down, he lines himself up with your entrance, not wanting to go another moment without being inside you. He pushes into you, not stopping until his hips rest against yours, the room filling with moans as your bodies finally connect. His cock stretches your walls so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other.
After a brief pause, he slowly pulls back you, only to thrust back into you. He repeats the motions, gradually settling into a solid pace, not to fast and not too slow, a perfect balance of the two.
He drags his lips up the soft skin of your neck placing sloppy kisses as over, being sure not to leave any marks. As much as he wanted to mark you where it was visible, he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to have to go through the hassle of covering them each day at work while you wait for them do disappear. Instead, he opted for sucking bruises into your collarbones and along your chest.
Your brain felt like static, unable to string together a single coherent thought as Minho continues to thrust into you, pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. The knot in your stomach grows tighter for the second time during the night, and from the way Minho’s thrusts are getting sloppier, you can tell that he’s close to his own end as well.
He slides his free hand in between the two of you, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself unravel, his fingers being the final to push you over the edge. And it’s your fluttering walls that has the same effect on Minho. You both ride out your highs together, him spilling into the condom and you around his cock. Your loud moans are music to his ears, while his are the same to yours.
Once you both come back down from your highs, Minho pulls himself away from you, quickly disposing of the condom before coming back to lay next to you.
Your body feels heavy, your brain foggy and distant, a tiredness falling over your entire being, exhausted from your orgasms. You groggily roll onto your side, curling your body up into Minho’s and almost instantly drifting off into sleep. He wraps an arm around you in return, feeling sleep approach for him as well. He rests his face against the top of your sleeping head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair. And just before he let himself fall asleep, he made sure plan out in his mind what he was gonna cook you for breakfast in the morning; pancakes.
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The Liars Department -46-
tags: drarry, bickering, hijinks, auror Harry, ministry employee Draco, Harry is oblivious, Draco is an unrepentant flirt, Drinking, Dancing , Asbestos is a little shit, and there’s disillusionment, and oh my god they are both so so dumb
suggested rating: T+
Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <– Part 45 || Part 47 ->
Harry grimaced and wiggled further under his blankets.
“There you are. Up you get!”
Hands jerked the pillow out from under his head. Harry startled awake, blinking blearily into the light just in time to see his pillow come smacking back onto his face. Harry spluttered, grasping after the pillow before it could be pulled away and hit him again. Not fast enough, unfortunately.
The pillow smacked into his face again, along with an obnoxious giggle.
Harry grabbed the pillow and threw it blindly in the sound of the giggle, “Ginny!”
Ginny effortlessly snatched the pillow out of the air with a grin Harry could make out even without his glasses.
“What the fuck?!” Harry said, flailing blindly for his glasses with one hand, the other hand held up for pillow defence.
“Mum sent me to make sure you weren’t dead,” Ginny said.
“What?” Harry said, his brain still groggy and thrumming with an undercurrent of a headache.
“It’s sunday? You said you’d be coming to dinner this week,” Ginny said.
Harry fumbled his glasses on and scrubbed a hand through his hair. There was no one in the bed beside him. “Was there- Did you see anyone when you came in?”
“No?” Ginny raised an eyebrow with a growing grin, “Were you with someone? Did you get laid?”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“How long has it been? Holy shit!” Ginny laughed, looking around the room for evidence of another person.
“Shut up, Gin,” Harry said.
“I’m so proud of you!” Ginny crowed.
“You’re not my mum,” Harry said, “And he’s left already, so it’s not exactly the best outcome.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon, of course-” Ginny stopped abruptly, “He? As in, he?”
“Yeah?” Harry said.
Ginny blinked, “Since when are you into blokes?!”
“Since I found one I like?” Harry said with a shrug.
“Uuuuughhhhh!” Ginny groaned in frustration.
Harry laughed at her expression, “What?”
“I should have known! You are like the stereotype of the disaster Bi-”
“I am?” Harry said.
“Imagine all the obnoxious jokes we could have made! All the blokes I could have introduced you to-”
“You have terrible taste,” Harry said.
“All the- the fuck I do!” Ginny broke off, “I have excellent taste.”
Harry made a face.
“What that’s supposed to mean?” Ginny glared at him.
“I’m not saying they aren’t attractive, but even you have to admit that everyone you date is a bit odd,” Harry said.
“That includes you,” Ginny said.
“Yeah?” Harry said, “I am somewhat self-aware.”
Ginny snorted and put her hands on her hips, “Are you going to get up anytime soon?”
“Not without pants, I’m not,” Harry said.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Ginny said.
Harry made a face, “Erm, no. That’s was then, this is now, and now that’s a bit weird, alright?”
Ginny rolled her eyes, “I have six older brothers and have been in so many quidditch locker rooms, you would not believe the number of dicks I have seen.”
Harry didn’t move.
Ginny sighed, “Fine... Five minutes and you better be ready.” She held up her hand to helpfully illustrate the concept of five before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
Harry fished out a fresh pair of pants and socks and then just put on the same clothes from last night, figuring he’d only worn them for a few hours, and he already knew they looked nice.
He managed to slip past Ginny, who was very obviously snooping around the rest of his flat, into the bathroom. Harry almost felt a little off-balance that the mirror didn’t wink at him or give him hair advice as he did his best to refresh his curls.
As he was about to leave when he noticed a small vial on the edge of the sink. Harry recognised the pale lavender potion as a general headache, pain relief potion and all-around favourite hangover remedy. The potion label had been scribbled over in coloured pencil with a sloppy doodle of Harry’s frowny face, green dots for eyes and a scribble of black hair that could have just as easily been a hedgehog.
Harry saw his own stupid smile in the mirror and stuck his tongue out at his reflection.
“Are you done yet?!” Ginny called.
“Obviously not. Is Hermione at the Burrow?” Harry asked through the door. He drank the potion, shivering as the ache in his head was replaced by a cool rush. Rather than tossing the empty vial, he put it on the shelf beside his toothbrush so his own scribbled face looked back at him.
“Everyone is there but you!” Ginny shouted back.
Harry rolled his eyes, “Right, right.”
If Hermione was there, he could talk to her about the department. He was sure they could work something out between the two of them.
“Can you summon my wand? I didn’t see it laying around,” Harry said as he left the bathroom.
Ginny was staring at him, her mouth hanging open in shock.
Ginny’s mouth snapped shut, “Keep him.”
“What?” Harry asked.
Ginny waved a hand at Harry, “If this bloke is responsible for making you look like this? You need to keep him.”
“Gee, thanks, Gin,” Harry said sarcastically.
“It’s not my fault you look like you get dressed with your eyes closed half the time,” Ginny said.
Harry sighed, “My wand?”
“Is it a wizard?” Ginny asked.
“I’ll just have a look around then, shall I?” Harry said, shaking his head and going back into his room.
“Is it someone I know?” Ginny asked.
Harry looked under the bed.
“Is it? Merlin, who?” Ginny asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” Harry said. He shook out his duvet, and his wand flicked across the room, hitting the wall and then rolling to a stop, under his bed, “fuck.”
“You insinuated,” Ginny said.
“With what? I still didn’t say anything,” Harry said, dropping to his hands and knees to grope after his wand, “this... would be a lot easier... if you helped,” he muttered.
Ginny snorted, “Not likely. I helped plenty already by coming to fetch you.”
“You probably volunteered just so you could bother me,” Harry said, finding his wand, a dust bunny clinging to his knuckles.
Ginny laughed, “You know me too well.”
“It’s almost like we’re friends,” Harry said, dusting himself as he stood up, “I’ll meet you at the Burrow then?”
Ginny grabbed his arm, “Not until you tell me more!”
“I’ll just side-along you then,” Harry said with a grin, clamping a hand on Ginny’s hand before she could escape and apparated them both.
Ginny nearly fell into a hedge when they landed, swearing up a storm, “Fucking fuck you and your fucking shitty side-along’s. If I sick up, I’m doing it on your shoes.”
George, Angelina, Bill and Fleur were talking in the shade of the house, just across the way. Harry gave them a wave.
“Language, Ginny dear!” George’s voice called in a chiding falsetto, “Mum doesn’t like us swearing.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “What’s the point of being an adult if I can’t even swear?”
“Thanks for fetching me. I’ve got to talk to Hermione-” Harry said.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Ginny said, grabbing hold of him again, “Now, I’ve got to know.”
Harry tried to pull away, but Ginny’s grip was like iron. “Quidditch chasers,” he sighed.
Ginny grinned, “One of the best in the league. Come on, is it a muggle?”
“No,” Harry said and then grinned, holding in a laugh. He stepped in close to Ginny and whispered in her ear, “It’s Draco Malfoy.”
Ginny blinked, and let go.
Harry’s grin grew as he took a few steps back.
“What? No way.” Ginny said.
Harry raised his eyebrows, “It’s the truth.”
“If that was the truth, there’s no way you would have told me, that’s- that’s just, no way,” Ginny shook her head.
“Oh, I only told you because no one will believe you,” Harry said.
Ginny narrowed her eyes.
“Anyone you told would just think you’re taking the piss,” Harry said with a shrug and an insufferable grin.
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, “Now I believe it. He’s obviously rubbed off on you.”
“In more ways that one,” Harry said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Ewww! Eww!” Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. “I do not want that image in my head. George!”
“What?!” George yelled back.
“I need you to obliviate me!” Ginny yelled, running across the garden.
“Fair enough!” George said, starting to take out his wand.
Angelina gently grabbed his wrist and pushed George’s hand back into his pocket.
“I wouldn’t have actually done it,” George said.
“Uhuh, sure,” Angelina said, raising an eyebrow.
Ginny reached the group and settled for tackling George in a flying hug that sent them both sprawling onto the ground.
💜 Next update will be tuesday pst 💜 I love the potential chaos of Ginny, she’s so much fun💜
Tags below v (I don’t have a permanent tags list. All tags are of the wonderful people who left messages on the previous 2 parts.)
💜 @pain-changes-everything (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) thank youuuuuuuuuu!!!! 💜
💜 @potter-harreh 😁noice 💜thank you!
💜 @champagnemonarch aaaaaaaaaa thank you!!!!!!!! that means so much to me💜💜💜
💜 @shadowybook I’ve always wondered that myself but considering everyone thought Harry was lying about voldemorts return after the 5th book, I have to imagine a lot of what he went through was kept pretty quiet, defo think quirrels turban was jkr racism, along with everything about the goblins. the more I learn about jkr’s bad takes, the more I want to fix things and separate them from her. 💜thank you so much! 💜
💜 @cportera yay!!! thank you!! 💜
💜 @snarkyship 😍 oh what a delightful idea💕 thank youuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!! 💜
💜 @witch19 😊thank you! 💜
💜 @iamactuallya-cat tooo sweet is my speciality👍👍 💜
💜 @sspectacularlyignorant 😅I can’t write them any other way, it’s my burden lol 💜thank you!!
💜 @languedor71 whichever future it’ll be fun :D 💜 thank you so muchh!!
💜 @lilyinthebreeze thank youuuuuu!!!! they are such cutiepies 💜
💜 @havingaverydrarryday thank you!
💜 @myrvaenboys aaaaaa!!! thank you!!! 💜
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💜 @justafangirlslikes ~\(≧▽≦)/~thank you!! 💜
💜 @chosenpotter thank you!
💜 @devilrising i imagine being in control of his life is very high on the list of important things for draco💕💕 thank you so much!!! 💜
💜 @addicted-to-w0rds :D thank you!!! 💜
💜 @rmh8402 harry is so very stubborn lol💜 thank you so much!!!!
💜 @dracodragon19872 thank you so much!!!! I just got my first covid shot so I’m very happy and excited, half way to vaccinated! 💜 you keep safe too💕
💜 @dewitty1 happy early birthday incase I miss it on the weekend💜💜💜
💜 @bitchesdoweknowu 💜 @bisexualronaldweasley 💜 @clara8pie 💜 @victor-morgan 💜 Hi!
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