#what can i say. i love me a sopping wet paper bag of a man 🫡

[giddlygoat]

life is short post willace were-rabbit angst on main

#FOUR POSTS IN ONE DAY i was so scared i would forget to post some art if i didn’t do it Now #ANYWAY. let me explain this comic #first off i hc wallace still transforms every full moon bc he deserves it. as a treat #and he just has a big ankle chain in his basement lol so he doesn’t go on a rampage and cause a ruckus #and they think willard oughta know about this sooner or later so gromit takes him down to meet were-wallace on a full moon #and willard just gets overwhelmed. it’s a lot to process and the newness of the situation makes him extremely anxious so he freaks out #he feels bad about it the next day bc ultimately he doesn’t give af if his bf transforms into a giant rabbit monster on the regular #but it was just a LOT to process at once and i think wallace would understand sndfwuhilvwirughth #WHATEVER MAN I JUST THINK THEYRE NEAT #apple pie with cheese #no id #giddly’s art #chicken run #wallace & gromit #willard tweedy #cotwr #were-wallace #between me and pant-eater we have drawn so many comics where willard ugly cries HSJSHDBSJSJ #what can i say. i love me a sopping wet paper bag of a man 🫡

[blitzendoggo]

Spot in My Heart

Callisto finds a kitten on his way home, Prophis couldn’t be happier.

Prophis/Callisto (2097 words)

~~

Every year, Callisto swears he’s going to quit working at Bowenburg Academy, and every year, Prophis convinces him to stay, but this really might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. He stayed late grading papers and helping students with work as they came in and out of his office -having a strange admiration of the teacher that Callisto cannot for the life of him understand, but Prophis always laughs and shakes his head whenever the dark-haired man mentions it- and when he finally decided he should pack up and head home it was nearly 8:30 at night. And to top it all off, it was raining hard enough for the raindrops to sting as they struck Callisto’s skin.

He is power walking home as fast as his 6’5” legs will allow him which makes him look like a grey-and-black blur zipping through the town. Most of the world is simply white noise to him, the only noise being the pounding rain as everything else that is sensible is hiding somewhere dry.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

As he rounds a corner, sharper and faster than is safe given the very slick concrete, he stumbles forward as his heel steps on something far too soft, and said soft thing begins yowling and crying loudly. Callisto spins around and sees a tiny black and white kitten, drenched to the bone, and, even to Callisto’s untrained eye, severely malnourished.

The man pauses before the guilt -and some of his animal-loving husband’s consciousness- overwhelms him, and he steps under a nearby awning and clicks for the kitten as he crouches down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to step on you,” he apologizes quietly, feeling a little ridiculous talking to the tiny creature as he digs into his bag and pulls out his half-eaten salami sandwich, offeringsome of it on his palm to the little thing. The kitten quickly eats it out of his hand before looking up at the tall man expectantly. Callisto gives him more with a small smile.

He offers everything he can to the kitten before standing up. He is beginning to shake with the cold and wants to get back to his husband. He nods to the kitten and turns to walk away before noticing that the kitten is still following him.

“Go on, go home,” He tells it sharply, trying to sound mean and drive it off, but instead he is given an honestly pitiful meow. “Oh, you’re quite cold, aren’t you…” he says quietly. He intends on taking another step away, but his legs don’t seem to be listening to his brain as they instead bring him closer to the sopping wet cat, and his arms seem to be listening even less as they reach to grab the kitten.

He feels around its neck for the collar, deciding that he can deliver the kitten back to his home before coming to the upsetting conclusion that there was no collar.

He straightens up and looks at it for a long moment before sighing heavily. “Alright, then, I suppose you’re coming with me.”

He gently picks up the black-and-white mess of fur. The kitten begins purring as hard as it’s shivering and Callisto can’t bring himself to put the kitten down. He gently wrings the excess water out of its fur and looks at him pensively before tucking him down the front of his grey sweater.

Though he was certainly walking fast before, he nearly doubles his speed as he barrels home, feeling the need to deliver this kitten to safety. He silently gives his thanks that their house is not that far from the campus, and he bursts through the door to their little home in only five minutes.

“Callisto!” Prophis yelps, jumping straight up from his seat. “What on Earth are you-?”

“Cat,” Callisto says bluntly, fishing the mewling thing from his sweater and holding it straight out.

The elf stares at him and the kitten for a long moment before quickly approaching and swiping it from his husband’s hands.

“Oh, Callisto, where did you find this poor little dear?” he asks, immediately fretting over the kitten.

“On my way home,” Callisto explains as he peels off his drenched jacket and drops his bag by the door. “I accidentally stepped on its tail.”

“You what?!” Prophis exclaims, turning sharply to look at his husband as if he had said that he had punted the cat.

“On accident,” Callisto rectifies quickly. “And I apologized, and fed it half my lunch.”

The elf inspects the kitten twice over and gives a satisfied nod. “Well, other than being a hungry little fellow, he seems unscathed.” He pauses and turns his gaze to his husband, and the dark-haired man knows that look.

“No, Prophis,” he says with as much conviction as he can muster in the face of his husband. “We cannot keep it.”

“Why not?” the elf pouts. “He’s perfectly fine and well-mannered!”

“Prophis,” Callisto all but pleads.

“Oh, come on, you can’t be as heartless as to cast the little one out into the rain!” Prophis doubles down, putting his bleeding heart on full display as he cradles the kitten closer to his chest. “He wouldn’t survive the night and winter is just around the corner and-”

“Alright,” the human says tiredly.

“Alright?” Prophis echoes, the hope edging into his voice.

“Yes, alright, we can keep it.” Before his husband can properly cheer he adds, “Just until we can find someone who can take care of it instead.”

Prophis has a look on his face for a moment, one that Callisto recognizes as his “I’m plotting something face” before he nods with a smile. “Well, if he’s going to stay he needs a name.”

“A name?” Callisto echoes.

“Yes, something to call him instead of just ‘the kitten,’” Prophis reasons.

The human considers it for a moment before he concedes with a nod. “I suppose that much can be true.”

The blonde holds up the black-and-white mess of still-soggy fur before saying, “Mr. Business.”

Callisto smiles at his husband’s choice of naming. “We can’t call it that, the Monopoly Man would steal it.”

Prophis sighs. “Fair point.” He walks into the living area and gently sets the kitten down on the table, looking at him intently as if the cat will tell them his name.

Callisto follows his husband after a moment. He looks at the kitten before thinking about his lesson on the Greek mythos this evening. “What about Clio, after the muse of history and heroic poetry, from the old tales?”

Prophis snickers. “That’s truly a you thing to say, but look at him.” He gestures at the cat. “That’s not a hero of old.” As if cued by his words, the cat tries to walk off the table.

The history professor watches with bemusement as his husband scrambles to save the kitten before considering his comment. “You may have a point.” He pauses, weighing his options before smiling as he says, “Dionysus then, the old god of intoxication, that seems to fit the cat’s,” he trails off, looking the tiny thing up and down before landing on, “Everything.”

“I still feel a god’s name is too clever for him,” Prophis points out.

Callisto nods, watching as the kitten tries to eat a strand of his husband’s long white hair. “I suppose you’re right,” he says slowly.

“What about,” he trails off before grinning. “Spot? After the three-headed dog.”

Callisto pauses for a long moment, looking at his husband before slowly saying, “Did you just-? Do you mean-?” But the hopeful look in Prophis’ eye causes him to stop. “Alright, love, Spot it is.”

“Yay! Spot!” He stands up with Spot and spins around. The cat, to his credit, is completely unbothered, just lazily looking around as the 6-foot elf twirls around with him.

Callisto chuckles. “I don’t know what I expected from you,” he says before shaking his head. “Scratch that, this is exactly what I expected from you”

Prophis doesn’t even respond as he stands there with the kitten, smiling and laughing. He is on cloud nine with this little thing in his arms because he loves animals, but that’s not the only reason. While Prophis may love animals, Callisto does not, and one of the compromises they made when getting married and moving in together is that they wouldn’t have any pets in the house.

His husband snickers before deciding to be dramatic. He sniffles and pulls his, still-wet, cardigan closer around him. “I was out in the cold rain too, you know. The kitten’s not the only one who needs cuddles.” He huffs and turns to walk towards the stairs. “I suppose I’ll just go curl up in bed under the blankets.”

Callisto barely finishes his sentence before Prophis wraps him in a tight, one-arm hug. He litters his face in kisses, muttering “I love you” between each one. In his other hand, he holds the kitten away from Callisto in an effort to not smash the tiny thing.

“I love you too, darling, but I really should go dry off.” Prophis huffs, but does not let go, causing Callisto to chuckle. “Let me dry off and then we can cuddle, sound good? Wouldn’t want you getting all wet, considering you’ve already had your bottom surgery,” he teases, tapping Prophis’ hip.

Prophis slowly blinks as he processes that Callisto is still dripping wet and slowly steps back. “I somehow missed that- yes, yes, go dry off. I’ll be here taking care of this little guy.” He kisses his husband's cheek.

“You were offered cuddles after a long day of being home alone, and dove for the opportunity, my fault really. I’ll be back in a moment, darling.” Callisto walks off to the bathroom, but a second later his head pops back into the room. “I’d like to point out that ‘Spot’ is also soaking wet.”

Prophis nods and follows him into the bathroom, sits down on the floor with a towel, and dries the kitten off while cooing at him while Callisto dries up.

Callisto tries to wring the water out of his hair and clothes before mumbling “To hell with it” and completely stripping and snatching Prophis’ fluffy pink robe off the wall. He carefully pulls it on before loosely tying it in the front and burying his nose in its soft sleeve. The exhustion of the day begins to catch up with him as his eyes droop and his shoulders sag.

Prophis sees him out of the corner of his eye. He slowly stands up, still cradling the kitten in one hand, and gently readjusts the robe on Callisto with the other.

“Pink is your color, love,” Prophis hums, mirth alive in his eyes.

“Shh,” he mumbles into the sleeve. He lifts his head just enough to see his husband. “It smells like you, okay?”

The blonde trails his hand up to Callisto’s face and gently twirls one of the strands of brown hair around his fingers. “Mhm,” he hums. “Is that why you steal all my clothes?” he questions. Spot meows and Prophis briefly redirects his attention to the kitten, curling it closer to himself and making sure he is still securely held before giving his attention back to his very suddenly sleepy husband.

“Yeah, you have a nice smell, and furthermore, it’s the smell of my husband. I’d love your smell if you smelled like rancid garbage, but luckily for me you smell like vanilla candles and warmth.” Callisto rests his head against Prophis’ chest, but the cat's tiny tail keeps smacking him in the nose. He makes a disgruntled expression while shifting to rest his head in the crook of his husband's neck.

Prophis snickers as he gently puts the cat down, and wraps his husband in a proper hug before swaying them there. “I still think I smell like stale food, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless.”

Callisto scowls against his husband’s neck. “You do not smell like stale food, this is a hill I will die on.”

The elf laughs, squeezing his husband a little tighter. “I know, we ‘argue’ about it once a week.”

“Yes, yes, we do.”

Prophis sighs. “How about this, let’s call this argument a draw and go to bed for some proper cuddles?”

Callisto nods with a loopy smile, the need to sleep finally winning.

“I love you,” he says quietly as the blonde leads them to the bedroom.

Prophis smiles. “I love you too, pretty boy, and thank you for bringing home Spot.”

#d&dorks #callisto #prophis #fanfic #prophis/callisto #eldritch gays #this is entirely self indulgent #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #symmerty series

[quensty]

so pre-armand reveal, i had been working on this silly little fic where daniel was essentially louis's boytoy in the 70s and his existence infuriated rashid--the loyal assistant who was in love w his boss--endlessly for stealing away louis's attention. it was supposed to end in the most toxic poly relationship the world had ever seen. obviously this will now never be completed since the rashid i was developing was a completely different creature from armand, but i like it too much to delete it. so now i release it here into the wild!

Daniel startles awake from a dreamless sleep to find himself sopping wet. He shoots up, pounding his chest with his fist. Some of the water went down his throat. 

“What the hell, Rashid,” he snaps. 

Rashid is impassive over him, wrapped in his layers of shirts and expensive coats and perfectly coiffed hair. And holding an empty cup. Dick. “Good morning, Mr. Molloy.” 

“Some fucking morning!” 

Rashid ignores this. “Louis asked me to fetch you breakfast if you’d like any.” 

“That’s nice. You got any headless orphans? Maybe some 1934 vintage blood bags, bottled in Tuscany?”

“They can be procured,” he says. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Daniel points at his shirt, soaked through and sticking to his goosebumped skin. “A new set of clothes.”

“Unfortunately, we have nothing in your size.” With that, Rashid leaves, and Daniel barks, “Fucking asshole!” at his back. 

He stomps to the bathroom the size of a cupboard and strips to his boxers as he wrings the excess water out of his shirt and jeans. After five minutes, he flings them to the ground and throws on his leather jacket over his bare chest. He walks out to the kitchen like that, feet squelching against the hardwood floor. If Rashid’s prissy little ideas of politeness are offended, well, he can fuck himself. 

In the kitchen, Rashid is flicking through a stack of papers with a pen and sipping on a steaming cup of tea. Across from him is a plate of eggs and sausage, a spoon placed delicately beside it.

Daniel points at it. “Did you spit in this?”

Rashid stares at him silently over the rim of his mug. Daniel thinks, He definitely spat in it. Whatever. Daniel has eaten worse. He grabs the spoon and shovels some eggs into his mouth. 

“Where’s Louis?”

“Resting.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow. He woke up in Louis’s bed. “Where?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I assume you work for a living.”

“Today’s my day off.”

“You have an apartment. You’re free to stay or leave,” he adds, clearly not because he wants to. Louis probably asked him to say so. Daniel barely restrains himself from laughing in his face. 

Daniel takes a bite of the sausage, stuffs it into one cheek. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I live here,” he says like he thinks Daniel is, without a doubt, the dumbest, most obnoxious person he’s ever met—he’s not wrong. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Rashid says nothing. 

“Fine.” He polishes off the last of the sausage and tossed the plate into the sink. Rashid winces, looking peeved. “Well, you ruined the last of my clean clothes, so you might as well give me a ride to the laundromat.” 

“I am not your chauffeur, Daniel,” he says. “Call a cab.” 

“I’m not putting my bare ass on a taxi seat. Plus, you owe me, man.” 

#quen writes

[lebenspurpur]

Can i request a one-shot of otis driftwood jealous railing the reader in the back of his truck after seeing them check out some one else briefly?

Pairing: Otis Driftwood x reader with a vulva

Summary: Otis Driftwood jealously railing the reader in the back of his truck after seeing them check out someone else briefly.

Warnings: smut, the reader has a vulva, degrading, dirty talk, spanking, outdoor sex, unprotected sex

********************************************************************************

You'd love to say that this wasn't what you planned. That you only talked to that cashier because he was friendly and you missed normal human interaction. That he was a nice, young man and your conversation was purely basic small-talk.

Unfortunately, you knew what would happen from the second you laid eyes on the poor man selling you groceries.

You had smiled at him, thankful for his service and he'd smiled back. His smile was attractive but basic. He was one of those people you found attractive yet wouldn't go out with. They just seemed to not have anything special about them.

He had winked at you when you left and in that second, you knew it was over.

You could see it on your lover's face.

His eyebrow was cocked up and he was smirking, yet you knew that he wasn't happy, not at all.

Otis was fuming.

You could tell from the way his fists clenched around the paper bag, how he opened the door to his truck with more force than usual and how his steps were just a hint too dominant.

You gulped as you got into the truck, not knowing what to do with your hands so you just awkwardly put them in your lap and waited for Otis' arrival. The spot between your legs was aching and you sat up straight.

Trying to get your unhealthy excitement for later out of the way, you stared out of the window.

It was quiet on the way back. Otis didn't even turn on the radio like he usually did.

"So you gonna apologize?", Otis asked after a few minutes, masked anger and jealousy audible in his voice.

You quickly followed his request yet your words didn't seem to soothe him. Excitement bubbled in your stomach. Otis would absolutely destroy you later. And you'd love it.

Everything about this, from his anger to the throbbing in-between your legs just aroused you more and you did your best not to whimper as he kept talking.

"You know what?", Otis started, gripping the steering wheel tighter, "I bet you fuckin' liked that. I bet you liked gettin' all flirty with that asshole back there."

His knuckles turned white.

"Such a fucking little slut you are. Of course, you liked it. Gettin' everyone's attention with that horny attitude of yours, hmm?"

You whined softly, pressing your thighs together as you felt your arousal stain your panties.

"Getting off on this, are you? Pathetic little whore."

"I'm sorry, Otis.", you whined, desperate for some friction.

He scoffed, "Of course you are. Look at you fucking drooling all over my car."

You could already see the tent forming in his pants and you moaned softly, imagining what his dick could do to you right now.

The aching between your legs was unbearable and you moved your hips, trying really hard to rub your sex on the car seat.

"Stop moving slut.", Otis slapped your thigh hard enough to leave a handprint and you whined again.

"I am going to fucking punish you for this.", he murmured and sped up.

"Please punish me. I've been bad Otis." you whined softly and Otis groaned loudly before slowing the car abruptly.

He drove to the side of the small road and stopped the car.

Otis opened the door and turned around.

"Get the fuck outta this car.", he demanded and you followed his demand, quickly sliding out of the truck, thighs wet with arousal.

He rushed to the back of the truck and quickly opened the lid. He tried his best to not seem fazed but you could see his hands shaking as he motioned for you to come over to the opened lid.

"Torso on there now.", he rasped and you obliged.

As soon as your body hit the cold metal, Otis' pulled your pants down and pressed his crotch against your ass.

He groaned as you pushed back onto his body and his fingers gripped your hips tight enough to leave marks.

"See what you're fucking doing to me?", he groaned and quickly started to remove your panties as well.

It struck your mind that every one that came down this road could see you and you tried to explain it to your lover but it was too late.

His slender, cold fingers had found your wetness and you moaned shamelessly as he pushed two fingers inside your aching hole.

He talentedly thrust inside your inner walls and his thumb found your clit. You whined as he started massaging the little bud of nerves.

His other palm suddenly made contact with your asscheek and you sucked in a breath. You could feel the red, hot spot forming on your skin.

"You're not supposed to enjoy this, you fucking whore.", Otis scolded and started thrusting his finger more roughly in and out of you.

"But I guess a slut like you will really enjoy anything." he answered himself and slapped your ass again, making the meat jingle with the intensity of his hit.

"Otis.. please- I need-" you gasped out as you felt the knot inside your stomach tightening.

The wet, sopping sounds of his fingers penetrating your cunt made the whole thing so incredibly dirty, you moaned out shamelessly at that thought.

The knot tightened itself even more and Otis seems to notice it since he removed his fingers from your clenching hole that was now clenching on nothing.

He licked his fingers clean, groaning as your juices hit his tongue.

"Please, I'm sorry- I- Otis-", you sobbed incoherently and Otis slapped your ass again.

"A slut like you is not fucking allowed to tell me what to do.", he chuckled and then pushed his jeans down his hips.

You could feel the heat radiating off his dick and the excitement of his cock inside your throbbing, dripping cunt made you moan again.

You cried out as he thrust inside of you with one quick snap of his hips.

His rhythm was fast and rough, bruising your insides but you didn't complain.

"Fucking.. dirty little slut..", Otis groaned out and you could tell that he wouldn't be able to last long either.

His thrusts grew more intense and you screamed when he hit that spot inside of you that made your leg shake in arousal.

Your thighs were trembling hard at this point. Your face was pressed into the cold and rusty surface of the old truck while Otis railed you better than ever before.

His fingers found your clit and he toyed with it, making you cry out. Tears formed in your eyes as your pussy clenched around his cock.

Otis' arm wrapped around your upper body and he lifted you up, making his cock hit an even deeper spot inside of you.

"Otis- I-", you mewled out, tongue drooling spit all over your chin.

You were his personal fucktoy in his arms, too delirious to move or even think.

The only thing important enough was Otis. How great his cock felt inside of you. How bruising his grip on your waist was. How he fucked you so good, tears escaped your eyes.

You were sobbing now, hot tears escaping your eyes as he rubbed your clit more rapidly, clearly chasing his own release.

His thrusts got even more brutal, the tip of his cock hit that spot inside of you every single time.

Your legs started shaking and trembling like crazy and you screamed out.

The knot inside you tightened and tightened and finally, with one last brutal slam of his hips, it exploded.

Your sight turned white and you screamed his name while you clenched down on his cock, still moving inside of you.

"Fuck.", Otis groaned but you couldn't focus on him, not when your legs were trashing and your eyes turning back into your skull.

Otis kept his rhythm and right when you wanted to kick him off of you because it got too much, his hot seed filled your throbbing cunt.

Your lover groaned loudly again, the sound incredibly attractive to your hazy mind.

You moaned at the warm fluid spreading inside your pussy as your walls kept clenching down on him.

Otis laughed, completely spent, and rested his forehead on your back.

"You should flirt with other fucking assholes more often sugar."

BONUS:

You giggled as you cleaned the cum oozing out of your hole, the overstimulation a ticklish sensation against the irritated flesh.

The sound of a car speeding down the road rapidly ripped you out of your imagination.

Before you could even react, the silver car sped past you.

Upon spotting the situation you were in, the driver hit the car horn two times.

Otis' laugh poured out from behind the truck.

#otis driftwood smut #otis driftwood #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood oneshot

[dreaminpetals]

can i request a fic where naib thinks his fem s/o is cheating on him when she isn't, and it leads to... smut perhaps 👉👈

🔪 mister loverman // naib subedar

art credit

it was a usual occurrence for everyone in the manor to become a bag of nerves weeks before the annual ball. hunters and survivors alike were expected to pick a date and a lavish outfit in a short period of time, all while balancing brutal ranked matches and competitive tournaments.

naib wanted to ask you ー he was going to ask you, his one and only love, but he wasn't sure how. if it was up to him he'd casually ask over dinner, but his friends had chided him for his bluntness. eli's advice repeatedly swam through his ears. 'give her the invitation she deserves, not what's easiest for you, naib.' he'd have to think of something romantic, something that would amaze you and leave all the girls jealous.

until then, naib fiddled with his elbow pads at the dining table, eager to get matched up already so he could release all his pent up anger on the battlefield. he was seated between his girlfriend and her new best friend, luca. the two were always up to something and naib would be lying if he said he didn't feel the thorns of jealousy every time he saw the prisoner by your side. luca was an alright guy on his own, but he had no sense of boundaries and got a little too close to you for naib's comfort. platonically holding hands with luca always leaves your boyfriend a disgruntled mess. that should be him with his fingers wrapped around yours.

"hey naib, pass this to y/n for me," luca sneered and a twitching hand passed him a folded up note. he did just that. you passed him a note back, so on and so forth. naib wondered just what they were talking about that couldn't be spoken aloud, were they discussing him?

were they flirting?

no, you wouldn't betray his trust like that. you promised you would stay with naib through thick and thin, there was no chance of you leaving him for luca. he pushed his darker thoughts to the back of his mind when the fourth survivor and hunter joined.

naib was the first survivor to be blasted back to the manor, all because luca kept distracting everyone. making funny faces, trying to convince the hunter to go friendly, all the things naib hated during matches. sure, it was only a quick match, but it wasn't often he got to be matched up with his girlfriend. the urge to protect you always took over his body and made him fight better, this was his chance to shine and luca snuffed it out.

before naib could storm out of the room, two notes crumpled on the floor by the dining table caught his attention. would it be so bad if he read them for himself? seeing an innocent conversation between you and luca would quell all the suspicions that plagued his heart, he thought. naib smoothed out the notes and what he saw shook him to his very core.

'y/n, would you like to be my date for the ball?'

'of course, luca!"

naib's hands began to shake uncontrollably and it took all of his self restraint to not rip the notes into shreds. he fucking loved you. and you did this.

the notes were stuffed into his pockets. he was going to confront you for this and it wasn't going to look pretty. it would hurt to lash out at his girlfriend, who he thought was the love of his life, but if you were so willing to throw everything away for a random newcomer in the manor ... so be it, he would make you regret hurting him. the closer he stomped to your shared dorm, the heavier the weight in his pockets felt. two slips of paper. that was all it took to shatter naib subedar's heart and douse the shards in gasoline.

he couldn't bear to look at the couple photos hung up on the walls. the dishes you made together during a pottery class. the presents you bought each other. your belongings still on the nightstand. he would have to throw all of it out. naib took a seat on the edge of the bed, releasing a ragged breath he didn't know he was holding. his whole face was red and he was shaking with a silent rage. if it wasn't for the damage in his elbows he would have punched a hole through the wall. his girlfriend, his future wife, the love of his life had cheated on him. it still hasn't sunk in yet.

when he heard two pairs of footsteps approach the door, your graceful steps and luca's hobbled footing, naib winced. his nails dug into his thighs as the doorknob turned, and a single tear trickled down his cheek when you bid luca goodbye.

"hi babe! sorry if this is sudden but have you seen my dice? i can't seem to find them anywhere..." your innocent, sweet tone normally made naib's heart swell, but now it was more comparable to his heart being torn in half with rusty pliers. he wanted to lash out at you, to scream and show you just how much pain he was in, but the moment he heard your voice and felt your presence in the room all of his rage subsided. he still loved you.

"why don't you ask luca." his voice had an unrecognizable emotion in it.

"luca? why's that?" he could hear you drop your bags to the floor and approach him. "hey, is everything alright?" you went to place a concerned hand on his shoulder but his quick reflexes allowed him to roughly grip your hand and twist it midair, holding you in place. "huh?! naib stop it, you're hurting me!" he let go when he heard those words fall from your mouth.

"i said. why don't you ask luca." he hissed, venom oozing from every word. it was strange, when the hooded mercenary turned to face you, fear and confusion were apparent in your eyes.. you didn't look like someone who was caught in the act, moreso like someone caught in a misunderstanding. "i found these in the dining room," he fished the notes out of his pockets and placed them in your palm, grabbing your other wrist so the notes would be cupped in your hands. he didn't want to look at them. "care to explain?"

"naib, let me go," your hollow voice flickered above a whisper. you tried to move your hands but they were trapped by his larger ones. the eyes staring daggers into you were so damp, like he was moments away from bursting into tears. he wouldn't budge. "naib... i can explain this if you let me go. i know what you're thinking and i didn't cheat on you,"

his gaze softened and he slowly freed you from his grip. in a heartbeat, you fetched two extra notes from your pockets. laying them out on the bed, they formed a conversation:

'can i ask you something?'

'of course, luca!'

'y/n, would you like to be my date for the ball?'

'i'm sorry, i'm waiting for naib to ask me'

naib reread the notes so many times he may as well have burned holes in them. the tears that fell from his troubled eyes stained the papers and made them even harder to read... he was so furious with his love and she hasn't done anything.

"naib sweetie, it's okay... i would have thought the same thing if i were you," a pang of guilt hit your heart to see the usually strong and fearless naib subedar look so crestfallen, so stripped down and vulnerable. you were all he had and for a moment he thought he lost everything. you crawled into his lap and draped your arms around his shoulders, craning your neck to give him a reassuring kiss. it took a few seconds for naib to react, pecking your lips then pulling away again. he hesitated for a moment before his arms rested on either sides of your waist, it was clear he was afraid to touch you. naib didn't want to hurt you again.

his adam's apple bobbed as he thought of what to say. the words trapped in his throat were begging to spill out but he couldn't think of an adequate way to apologize to you. "i shouldn't have assumed," was all he could sombrely squeeze out, gingerly tugging you close so your rosy face could press against his tearful one. when you kissed again, a thin string of saliva connected your aching lips as he pulled away to speak once more, "i don't want to lose you... m'sorry if i hurt you baby," before you could respond, the hand resting on your waist took hold of your wrist and he kissed it better, making eye contact with you the whole time. his soft kisses trailed all the way to your neck where his hot breath fanned under your jaw. "there's nothin' i could do to make it up for you, is there?"

his words went straight to between your legs. "there is one thing," your teeth met your bottom lip and naib suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you down and looming dangerously close to your lips again.

"mm? and what would that be?" he curled his lips to give you a sharklike grin. naib was hungry for you. he clapped his hands onto the sides of your knees and rode them up your thighs until he reached the hem of your skirt. in one swift movement, he hiked the fabric up to your belly to expose your panties. "somethin' like this?" all you could do was nod, your words were caught in your throat. naib hooked his fingers into your undergarments and pulled them straight down, lifting your legs to toss them across the room. your bottom half laid bare in front of him, the man you loved and nearly lost. naib outstretched an arm to place some soft pillows under your hips.

you were on the verge of breaking while he took his sweet time to spread your thighs apart. you squirmed and felt your pussy pulsate for every second that naib wasn't devouring you whole. "naib, please," you mewled, lust pumping through your veins.

your words fell to deaf ears, naib was only focused on the perfect dessert laid out just for him. he was a very primal man ー once something was in his sights, he wasn't letting it go. naib brought his tongue to swipe a stripe up your sopping wet pussy, delving straight in. your body convulsed at the sudden pressure, his hands coming to grip your hips and hold you still. you rutted against his face and he seemed to enjoy the friction from the low drawls of 'good girl' that escaped his lips between flicks of your clit. you weren't sure how long you could last with his head going berserk between your thighs. naib lapped up every drop of juice that spilled from you and licked every inch of your pussy clean, it was as if his life depended on it. to him, it did. he had to go through the agony of thinking you slipped from his grasp. he would never tell you this, but he was working extra hard to bring you to euphoria because he wanted to outdo anything luca could do.

naib knew you were close the moment your thighs squeezed around him and your hands smacked over your eyes to cover them, fingers twitching and wrists tremoring. one final tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves and you were seeing stars, your body giving out in his arms.

"did i do good y/n? please... tell me baby," a whine fell from his lips as he used your slick to lube himself up, the tip of his dick growing red from need.

you were still experiencing the aftershock of your orgasm, heaving and dragging your hands down your face while you quivered. it was hard to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. "yes... i'll never leave you naib, i love you so much," he growled in response, and that was when you knew he was entering a frenzy that nothing could pull him from.

he positioned the head of his cock in front of your entrance and deliciously rubbed himself over your folds for a few good seconds, seizing the opportunity to coil his arms under your back and lift you up so your forehead rubbed against his. he was flush on top of you, getting sweat and drool all over your shirt. "need you so fucking bad," was all he could muster before sheathing himself inside of you, sloppy thrusts following suit. there was no rhythm or rhyme to how he fucked you into oblivion, he was desperate. naib was beautiful above you, his glistening eyes searching yours for any sort of malice to which he found nothing. nothing but adoration. holding you steady with one hand, he reached down to thumb your clit. the sensations had you crying out underneath him and bringing a jagged smile to his lips. he grew more frantic with each thrust, eventually spilling his seed deep within you. the two of you moaned in unison and he laid you down on his chest, still rubbing circles on your clit. he wasn't finished with you just yet, he couldn't pry himself away from you until he stopped being ashamed about his incorrect assumptions of you. he still had no clue how he read his girl so poorly. while he relentlessly fingered you, a lightbulb appeared above his hooded head.

"by the way, how'd you like to go to the ball with me?"

#gonna use fanart when i cant find official art i like fjdnsk #naib subedar #idv x reader #naib subedar smut #naib subedar imagine #identity v

[spitpr1ncess]

Can I Call You Sir? / Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

--“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”--

Fucking bullshit.

You stare at the graded paper before you and seethe from the inside out. An F? A fail?! But you’d studied relentlessly! The only thought you were having was how your mother was going to kill you when she finds out, you can practically hear her shrieking, “I’m paying heaps of money to put you through university and this is what you have to show for it?

Professor Nanami is writing something that looks vaguely recognizable on the chalk board, his tall but slim body looking oddly out of place at the front of the long classroom as you glare holes into the back of his blue shirt. There wasn’t a single person you hated more than him in this never-ending moment. You yawn and allow your head to fall heavy onto your crossed arms, hiding your shameful test results. You could listen to Professor Nanami with your eyes closed based solely on the fact that you would be failing the rest of this term if your test results were anything to go by.

The rest of the lesson passes quickly as you fall victim to maladaptive daydreams, playing out every single scenario where you approach Professor Nanami and question his harsh grading. You aren’t a stupid girl, in fact, in every other class you were smashing your target or hitting above. What was this mans problem? You imagine slamming your paper down in front of him, arms crossed and little foot tapping the floor. “Do you hate me?”, “So you have favourites?”, or just a plain “what the fuck?!” were among the favourites you’d rehearsed. His face was cold as stone as he stared back before licking his lower lip and smirking, pulling his glasses atop his head, causing a pretty ripple in his hair as he stands absolutely towering over you. A large thumb lifts your chin to look at him as his eyes bore into you. Then his lips are on yours.

Wait what?

What?

You’re roughly pulled from your daydream by your hair as a pair of polished brown shoes stand at the foot of your worn school desk and a voice beckons your name. Professor Nanami is stood less than a foot in front of you waiting for an explanation. You shoot bolt upright in the uncomfortable wooden chair as your entire body feels like its been zapped by an electric fence. You can feel the blush in your face spreading to your ears as you push the strange daydream to the back of your degenerate mind.

“Sleeping through my lectures will not help you fix that broken grade, Miss Reader. Do you understand me? Or do I need to put it more plainly? It can’t be easy with a simple mind like yours, but I’m sure we could find a way to help you absorb what I’m saying.” His eyes are cold as steel and boring into your soul, he doesn’t even blink, he’s like a robot. You hold his gaze before risking a look around the classroom revealing that it is completely empty, not a soul to be seen, brilliant. So not only had you failed your test but you’d also voluntarily agreed to extracurricular activities whilst daydreaming about kissing your Professor, it sure was a great day to be you.

You panic, how were you going to salvage this? You needed to think quickly, but nothing was springing to mind.

Clearing your throat and calming your nerves you begin, “sorry Professor I didn’t get much sleep last night, I have a lot going on at home so am finding it difficult to participate in classes at the moment.”

You are?

He lets out a small snort as he sits at the edge of your desk, peering down at you through his glasses, a look of judgement plasters his incredibly chiselled facial features, he is beautiful, and you’re happy to admit that, whether or not it could get you in trouble.

What?

“Your lies won’t cut it here, you’re excelling in all your other classes, algebra, languages and biology. These are not easy subjects and geography is a breeze in comparison, so why are you failing? Are you doing it on purpose?” Your attention is drawn to his strong throat and his Adams apple lifts and falls again as he swallows and you wonder if he is anxious about approaching you, not that he has any reason to be.

You feel anger bubble in your throat as you argue back, “I’m not a liar. I’m having trouble concentrating here. Your teaching, the class size, the fact the class is the last of the day, maybe you’re grading me too harshly! Have you considered that? Nobody else failed, so why did I?!” Your voice is shaking now and your knuckles are white as you push your nails into your palms, drawing blood. Professor Nanami looks at you for a moment before standing and heading back to his desk at the front of the class where he picks up a piece of chalk and some papers and begins to write.

“Question one is on plate tectonics, lets begin there. Would you care to explain the theory to me?” He turns and gives you a weirdly friendly smile, you calm your nerves and take a breath, opening your paper and looking at your answer, you read out the sentences you had written and cringe as you allow Professor Nanami to correct you, taking notes on his tutoring. Your personal four o’clock class finishes at just past seven as you both wrap up the test paper and Nanami wipes the board clean.

“In future Miss Reader, you come to me when you need help. You’re a smart young lady really, you know that, so put your brain to use. You’re going to do great things after your course is up so don’t discredit yourself over one failed paper.” He sits at his desk and waves his hand to dismiss you. “You’d better go now, I’m sure you have a worried boyfriend wondering where you’ve gotten to so late in the evening.” He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, much like in your daydream, and you appreciate how good he looks for a moment. He’s aged yes, around thirty yes, but still gorgeous. You know the girls at University fawn over him, fighting to get even a slither of attention, and here you were, in a private tutoring session of your own, and without even meaning to.

You ponder the boyfriend comment before packing up and heading for the exit, deciding to test the waters you address him, “I don’t have a boyfriend Professor you see I simply don’t have time, and anyway, none of the boys here are mature enough to interest me.” You turn and give him a smile as you catch his gaze flitting up from where your stockings meet the fat of your thighs, you roll your eyes at him and shake your head as you sigh and leave for the night.

This was an interesting development.

-

Sleep washes over you as you awaken in your dream. Professor Nanami is sitting before you, he beckons for you to sit on his lap, you oblige and as you nestle against his chest, his fingers find the edge of your stocking, he traces lazy patterns on your thigh, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and plants a soft kiss against your neck, he pushes your soft hair behind your ear and begins to litter kisses on your sensitive lobe.

“Sweet thing, you smell heavenly, I just want to devour you.” He whispers. You throw your head back and invite him to suck and nip at your exposed throat, completely vulnerable in his arms you entrust him with your entirety. He groans as you manoeuvre your little waist to create friction with the fat of your ass and you’re met with the impossible hardness between his legs, this moment between the two of you feels like fireworks, everything is at a standstill and there is nothing but your two bodies, completely entwined, obsessed with each other’s perfect anatomy. You continue to explore each other physically as you mewl and sigh rhythmically, nothing has ever felt better than your Professors loving touch on your absolute innocence. You’d been with boys yes, but never a man like Nanami.

“Nanamin,” you cry out as he finds the hotness between your legs.

“Sweet girl, I’ll take the best care of you, just relax.” he speaks like sweet poetry from his mouth that tastes like the most expensive organic honey. Your breath hitches as he starts to disappear, you reach out but he is no longer there.

-

You jolt awake as you feel wetness pooling between your legs, the hotness and lack of friction so unbearable you are torn from the dream of all dreams.

Fuck, this is weird now.

Daydreaming about your Professor wouldn’t be the worst thing if you weren’t now absolutely sopping wet and grinding against your own mattress. You dare to slip a tiny hand under the waistband of your pants and give a little release to yourself, it felt unreal, and without realizing you were picturing him as you drive yourself to the edge and jump off head first. You’re picturing his pretty features and strong hands, his soft lips and authoritarian stare. In your head he’s praising you, “sweet thing, sweet girl” he says. You shudder as you come down from the satiating high and allow shame to encase you completely, rolling over, you stare at the screen of your phone.

5:38. A notification flashes from last night.

baby nobara: maps said you left uni at 7! wtf were u doing?? ps, shopping tmorrow?

You open the notification and type a quick reply.

you: was just studying, nothing important hahahah. sure! meet me at 11?

With that, you roll back over and let sleep nestle you gently between her arms.

-

It’s twenty minutes after your planned meet time that Nobara turns up, and holding a Krispy Kreme bag full of donuts and a doc marten tote housing at least one new pair of shoes, she’d obviously done a pre-shop, not that it was particularly out of character for her. Her gentle face is plastered with a mischievous grin as she runs and embraces you like two sisters might embrace after a long time away from each other’s presence

“I had to warm up before we got started!” she laughs at you, and all is forgiven in a matter of seconds. You’re both giggling as she opens the bag and makes you a peace offering of a strawberry donut, you eagerly accept as you discuss what shops you want to hit up today. You both spend hours browsing, trying on and chatting about everything, you don’t get to see Nobara often as you have alternating days on campus and your schedules clash horribly so the times you do spend together are cram packed full of mischief.

You’re walking past a load of stores as you approach Victoria's Secret and you immediately flash back to Professor Nanamis eyes on your stockings last night and his comment about your supposed boyfriend. Cogs are turning in your mind but before you have time to make the connection, you’re being dragged in, you have no objections and are pleasantly surprised by the variety of lingerie this particular chain of store holds. You pick out a few different numbers including a black corset body suit and a matching garter with stockings, you knew the reason for picking it out was completely inappropriate but it didn’t stop you from taking it to the counter and paying nearly 100 dollars for it. You grinned as you schemed yet another daydream waiting for your friend to decide on the bits she wanted.

You both decide on a little sushi place for lunch and as you fill your mouth with miso Nobara asks, “Who are you fucking? It has to be someone at university, that’s why you stayed so late, right?” The question completely winds you as you try not to choke on your food. Your eyes are watering as you try to explain that it was just extra-curricular studies. Nobara nods and rolls her eyes, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’ll find out sure enough.” She laughs as you pray she lets this go, shovelling some nigiri into her mouth she waves you off. “Chill,” she says as you allow your heart to slow in your chest.

You give her a hug as you finally part ways and she ruffles your hair, “See you around”, and with that she’s gone. You begin the walk home as you reflect on the events of today, you reel as you come to the realization you spent 100 dollars on a lingerie set for a man over ten years your senior who would less than likely ever find out you’d bought it. Unless.

No.

You shake the thought of trying to bait your own Professor after barely scraping by the last term, expulsion for indecent behaviour seems somewhat worse, at least you think. It also doesn’t seem good for Nobara to now suspect you have something going on with somebody, she has to know all the top gossip and you don’t doubt she will find a way. Now that you think about it, you should turn your phone location off. You know your friend would stalk you for the sake of some scandalous news she can tease you about. You giggle to yourself, you and Professor Nanami, what a thought.

-

The bell rings as you finish washing your hands, you stopped to use the bathroom before your final class of the day, Geography. You’d been anticipating this class, having chosen the black corset body suit with stockings to match, you’d paired it with a mid-length black satin skirt and an oversized cardigan, it was enough to feel comfortable in, and not break any regulations but enough for Professor Nanami to notice, which was just perfect. You wanted to test the waters after his comment and wandering eyes, you’d had time to stew over your awful test results and were wondering if maybe he was a little harsh with the grading. Either way, today would tell.

You hurry up the stairs and down the long corridor to the classroom where he lectures, there were around 30 students already settled in class and you could see your Professor writing on the board. You slip in quietly and take your seat at the back of the class, you shed your cardigan, giving a frontal view of your chest and begin to take notes. You ensure you pay full attention to todays class, not taking your eyes off the man at the front of your lecture room. You meet his gaze a few times and you sense him trying really hard to not allow his eager eyes to flit downwards, you wish for him to give you anything more than a feeling to go off of but he’s stone cold and hard as steel. As the class draws to an end Nanami dismisses the students and you wait until the room has emptied before you walk towards his desk. You wait for him to address you.

“Miss Reader, can I help you with something?” he doesn’t meet your gaze and instead continues typing something on his keyboard, you’re frustrated with how nonchalant he’s being, how you’ve probably misread the entire encounter, how you’ve created a whole reality from nothing.

“I, I was hoping maybe you would assist me with some questions I have from the class today Sir, if you have time of course.” If he wanted to play games, he would get games, you might be younger than him but you’re not stupid.

“That’s okay, you’ll have to give me ten minutes whilst I finish this email, then I’m all yours. Feel free to take a seat.” He motions for the first desk in the front row and you roll your eyes as you decide to make a stand. You pull a chair from the side of the room to Nanamis desk and sit directly opposite him, you take out your textbooks and begin to lay them out on the space behind his computer, sitting down you cross your legs, brushing his shin with your shoe. You’re sure you see his jaw tighten, but he plays it off by cracking his neck, the loud crunch distracts from the tension filled silence and you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

He finishes with his email and pushes the computer screen to the side of his desk then leans back in his chair and loosens his tie slightly, he catches you watching the space above where his shirt is buttoned and smirks, “So what questions do you have sweet girl?”, it’s an innocent enough question but you’re walking a fine line and need to be careful. You make idle small talk about today’s class for an hour or so before asking your Professor to quiz you, it’s a shot in the dark but you’re hoping he will catch on.

“I’ve been revising, ask me any twenty questions, if I get them right you can pass me for that test!” you grin, proud of the compromise you’d come up with.

“It’s a good idea, but what if you get questions wrong? Does the fail still stand?” he laughs quietly, like he made a personal joke that only he understood, he allowed his eyes to trail down to the black floral lace encasing your chest, it wasn’t overly provocative (you were in university after all) but it was enough to make his mind wander. You test the waters again, trailing a finger over the top of the hem, outlining the soft of your breasts, Nanami shuffles in his seat and adjusts his legs, brilliant.

You allow your Professor to test you, answering all questions and waiting for each correct answer like a patient puppy, sitting for its master. At the end of the test you grin, over the moon with yourself for showing him you deserve a passing mark.

“I told you! I told you I shouldn’t have failed. You were definitely marking me too harshly!” You brush your leg against his again, and he doesn’t make an effort to move himself, he drinks you in through the round frames of his glasses that are sitting pretty on the top of his nose.

“Sweet girl, I never thought you were stupid, in fact, I think you’re rather smart. So tell me, why are you really here right now?” He sits forward in his chair and leans across his desk, towards you. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm and tempting breath on your lips, your eyes close of their own accord and you lean in. He teases you with soft pecks and you fight back, bringing a hand to his chin but he beats you to it. Your hand completely drowned by his own, the sheer size difference a shock to your system, he holds your hand against his desk where your forgotten papers sit. With his other hand he brings his thumb just below your chin and lifts your face so your eyes can meet his, “Is this what you wanted all along? To kiss your Professor? Is this what your little get up today is about? You thought I wouldn’t notice the pretty lace? Do you know how good you look?” His rhetoric questions causing your heart to beat a hole in your chest you inhale sharply, trying to take control of your breathing once again.

“You failed me on purpose.” It’s slipped out before you have time to consider what you’re saying.

What?!

“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”

A grown man, your professor nonetheless, sits before you in what feels like a dream, asking for you to stop this.

So stop it.

You take your free hand and pull his face into yours, you’re kissing again, this time with more desperation. It was like you were parched, and Nanami was a stream of fresh water, you couldn’t get enough, and it was like your entire life depended on it. His desk was the only thing stopping you from jumping across and allowing him to devour you whole, you thought about straddling his lap and allowing him to grab the soft fat of your ass. Not yet.

You pull away from the kiss and stand, looking at the man before you, his tie completely loose, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead allowing him to look dishevelled, his glasses slightly steamed up. He was a sight to behold and your heart was beating to within an inch of your life with the idea that you had caused it. Internally you were screaming, DON’T FUCKING STOP. But you had to, had to make sure this wouldn’t be a mistake. You leaned across the desk and picked his glasses off of his nose, placing them on your own and pulling them up, to push the hair off of your face. He looked puzzled and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“It seems I have forgotten something, looks like I’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow, what a shame.” And with that, you shot him a grin, turned on your heels, and left. Nanami sat staring at the door in utter shock and awe as you stalked out. He quickly fixed himself up sans glasses and packed up for the day, he muttered something about teaching you a lesson, and spare frames before he left, allowing the leftover tension to dissolve.

#nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #Nanamin #nanami fanfic #archive of our own #spitprincess #spitty #my own work #original content #nanami x femme reader #kento #kento nanami x redaer

[1-800-seo]

1-800-𝗦𝗘𝖮'𝘀 𖣘 "𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻"

- 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝗑 𝖸/𝖭

- 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁-𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

- 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗇𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗅𝗈𝗅

- 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 2245

- 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒'𝗌 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾: 1) 𝖳𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖸/𝖭 𝗍𝗈 𝖥𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 2) 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌, 3) 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾, 4) 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍.

- 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴: 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝖥𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 - "𝘉𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴."

The warm summer air hits your face as soon as you step out the plane door. You and Johnny walk hand in hand to the bus that takes you to customs. “I never thought France would be so warm in the summer?” You proclaim, slightly astonished at the heat. “I know, me too! I’ve always thought France’s weather is like England but with less rain but apparently not.” He replies as he swings your hand back and forth as you go. The bus feels even more packed than the plane. Every passenger is crammed in like a sardine. This bus is a standing bus only, so someone’s backpack prods you in the side and a small child almost topples over as the bus swerves across the tarmac. It makes you squirm closer to your boyfriend to escape the crowd. You wonder why the driver is so vicious with his turns as you begin to feel a tad nauseous.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the French Immigration desks and are speeding through check ins with Johnny by your side. After explaining at length to the officer that you and Johnny are there for a holiday only, you claim your bags and both hop in a taxi to the hotel. Johnny had chosen the hotel, since this vacation was his gift to you for your anniversary. You’d expected something modest, maybe a cute family-run French hotel overlooking the Seine, not the 5 star marble-floored luxurious hotel that stood in front of you, however you weren’t complaining.

Once you’ve checked in, Johnny puts his warm large hands over your eyes. “W-what are you doing?” You ask, him making you slightly flustered. “You can’t see this part, it’s a surprise! Once we get to the room I’ll remove my hands and you can see what I have to show you.” He says, you can hear the giddiness in his voice. You obey his commands as he shuffles you from the lobby, to the elevator, and to the room all with your vision shielded. You hear the electric lock on the door click open and see the light that sheds through Johnny’s fingers. He positions you in the middle of the room.

“You can open your eyes now.” He says, removing his hands from your face and brushing a few strands of hair away from your eyes. “Happy anniversary!” The first thing you see is the hotel bed, freshly made with pink flower petals and delicate fairy lights neatly placed on top. In the middle lies a small multitude of assorted pink gift bags and pink boxes with bows on top. Your eyes light up and you swirl around to face your now blushing boyfriend. “Thank you so much!” He pulls you into a warm tight embrace and kisses your head. Once you release, he pulls your face towards him and smothers it in kisses. “I love you so much” he admits, “I love you so much too.” After you’re done smothering each other in affection you turn to the mound of gifts waiting for you on the bed.

You rummage through the gifts, like a kid in a candy shop, you treasure each and every thing there is to offer. You pull out a glossy blue prada handbag, delicate jewel encrusted earrings, a silky red dress (“you can wear that tonight.” Johnny had said with a twinkle in his eye, you’d replied “to where?” and he’d only winked in return), a pair of balenciaga trainers, a sneaky unopened box of who knows what from Victoria’s Secret, and an unopened box from Tiffany’s. You’d saved the best ‘til last.

“Care to explain these?” You taunt, as Johnny stands proud next the bed, hands in pockets, and hair tousled to the side. “You’ll have to open them and see, babygirl.” He replies, staring deep into your eyes. You couldn’t resist and turned back to the presents sat before you. You open the VS box first, lifting off the lid and unfolding the ruffled tissue paper. A pair of white lacy underwear lies folded in the box, a note placed with it reading “For tonight x.” Your insides heat at the thought and in shock you look up at Johnny with wide eyes and move on to the Tiffany’s box next to you.

You and Johnny had been together for two years now, both of you had never been so happy than when you spend time together. All of your memories together are sweet like honey and your future ahead feels rosy and inviting. You open the unassuming box, to reveal a silver ring with a glittery diamond peeking out. Johnny lowers himself to one knee and you meet his eyes in shock. One hand comes up to cover your mouth as he says the words. “Will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?” You struggle to get the words out. This beautiful man had made you happy for the last two years and his last words had made you a blubbering mess. Tears left your eyes as you choke out the words, smile on your face. “Yes, of course I will!”

He takes the ring out of the box that’s in your hand and slips it onto your finger, he stands up and pulls you up off the bed, pulling your legs round his waist and arms round his neck. He spins you round and round, you feel giddy and never want this feeling to leave.

After your swarm of emotions, Johnny had you get all ready and dressed up in the silky red dress he’d so generously provided. He’d dressed up himself too and you both made your way to the secret place Johnny had planned for you. After the taxi drive to a quaint romantic building, he leads you inside and immediately up swirling marble steps in the lobby. After that, he takes you to a lift and closes the doors. The metal box rises to the roof of the building and the doors open to a beautiful tiled eating area. A laid table is surrounded by hanging plants draped with fairy lights and tea lights guide the way in candle holders. With one had around your back, your boyfriend guides you to the table and pulls a chair out for you to sit down.

From your seat you can see the whole of Paris sprawled out ahead, each building’s lights twinkling for miles. You turn your head to face your smiling boyfriend and reach out to grasp his hand. “It’s so beautiful, it’s unreal.” You gasp out, thoroughly in awe. “Well, of course, I had to take my beautiful girl to such a beautiful place. After all, it is our 2nd year anniversary, I had to make sure when I propose it was extra special.” His thumb circles the back of your hand, his comforting gesture.

“You don’t know how much you mean to me, baby. I’ve known for so long I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I just had to find the right way to express it. I wanted to make you feel special? Do you feel as precious as you are?” his kind words bring a heat to your cheeks and warm your heart. “It’s indescribable how precious I feel. You make me feel like I’m the only one for you. You do things for me you would never do for others and I can feel your love through all of your kind acts and kind words. I love you more than I can express.” Johnny has never had a bigger more contented smile on his face. He leans forward over the table and kisses you with passionate force, he didn’t know he could love someone so much.

Dinner flies past and you enjoy each other’s company to the fullest, you end the night giddy on expensive champagne and each other’s love. By the time you get back to the hotel room, you can’t keep your hands off each other. As soon as you close the door behind yourselves Johnny has you pressed up against the door and his hand is making a way up the skirt of your dress. You let his hand roam over your body and you kiss him tenderly. You pause the action and turn with your back to him, pointing at the zipper or the dress. His body replies by pulling the zip down with one hand and massaging a boob with the other. After your dress falls to the floor you are quick to rid Johnny of his shirt, frantically unbuttoning the buttons with him. Soon, his chiselled abs are revealed, etched into his caramel skin as if carved into marble. He gently pushes you down onto the bed, admiring the way your boobs bounce in the new lingerie he’d bought.

“You’re so sexy in lace, you’re so sexy in general baby girl. Are you going to show how good you can be for me?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You say as you position your bum towards him. He has a full view of your assets in those panties, “you look delectable baby.” He adds whilst pulling the fabric to the side. To test, he gently pushes a finger into your sopping hole and continues sheathing himself until he is knuckle deep. “You’re so wet, doll. Look at you, all worked up, and just for me.” He curls his finger upwards for good measure earning a moan from you and then pulls his finger out. You feel empty at this exit and whip your head backwards to see what he’s doing.

Johnny pulls out his long hard cock from his trousers and gives it a few pumps before pulling out a condom from his back pocket and gliding it on to himself. “You’re so long, Daddy. Are you going to make me feel good?” You ask with an innocent look on your face. “Yes baby, I’m going to use you all up and make you cum so hard you won’t know your name.” He replies with a smirk as he returns to his position behind you. You turn back around just as you feel him pull the lace to the side again and line himself up. The tip of his cock against your entrance makes the hot nerves smart and you’re already so needy for him.

He grips the side of your hip with his large hands and eases himself into you, groaning as he makes his way between your walls. You let out a gasp as he bottoms out and involuntarily you clench around his thick cock. After what feels like minutes but is probably seconds, Johnny starts thrusting in and out of your slick hole. You feel every vein of his large member as he pulls himself inwards. He uses your hips to stabilise himself as he gains speed, snapping your ass up towards him and hitting just the right spot deep inside of you. You let out a strangled cry as his cock head nuzzles your g-spot and you see white at the corner of your vision.

Johnny is hooked on the feeling of your tight entrance spasmatically clenching around him; he loves the way you fit just right for him and are so warm and tight on his cock. He is drunk on the sight of you loving the way he thrusts into you, the way your cheeks are all flushed with desire and how your eyes roll back into your head when he hits just right spot.

You feel yourself nearing as he roughly pushes all of himself into you, all of his length filling you up to maximum capacity. He’s so long and he uses all of his length and girth to make you feel heavenly, like you’re on another plane of existence. “Come on baby, can you cum all over my cock? Are you going to make a mess and look so pretty for me?” He coos as he feels his balls tighten and his end draw near. “Y-yes Daddy, you make me feel so good!” You exclaim, moans breaking up the words. Johnny speeds up his pace, he hears the slaps of skin as he feels so unexplicably close. With one last thrust he spills his seed into the condom with a loud grunt and grips onto your thighs with great strength as his orgasm rips through him.

At the sound of his orgasmic moan you tip over the edge and feel the blinding heat in your innards release. A great wave washes over you and you let out a scream at the feeling. Your whole body tenses and shakes as you cum so hard around his cock. After you both have calmed down from your highs, he very slowly pulls himself out of you and disposes of the condom. Whilst in the bathroom he soaks a washcloth and returns to the bedroom to clean you up.

He strips you of the sodden lacy panties and opens your legs before gently cleaning your folds of your own orgasm. You look up at him with such love and bliss in your eyes and he just about melts at the sight. “Thank you, my dear fiancée.” You say, completely enamoured with him. “You’re welcome, baby. Thank you too, you so graciously let me make you feel good and I repay by cleaning you up.” He replies; now passing the washcloth over your inner thighs. “You’re so kind.”

✰ 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ✰

𝖨𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍! 𝖥𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀, 𝗂𝗍'𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝗑𝗈𝗑𝗈

𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 @cherriigguk 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋! 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋 ❁

#johnny nct #johnny #johnny seo #johnny suh #seo johnny #nct johnny #nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #johnny fanfic #johnny smut #nct smut #johnny fluff #nct fluff #Ten smut #Taeyong smut #Yuta smut #Winwin smut #nct 127 smut #mark smut

[ffakc]

Puppy Love - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

@negans-attagirl @iluvneganandjamie @happysgal

It was a partly cloudy, brisk spring day. It was just warm enough to go without a jacket here in upstate New York. Jeff and I had planned the perfect day date on his property. We have been together about seven months now and life couldn’t be more perfect. I had just finished up packing our Mediterranean inspired spread. I snapped a quick photo and sent it to my Jeffrey.

“Italian subs, Greek pasta salad, roasted red pepper hummus with pita bread, baklava, and tiramisu. Anything else? I’ll see you soon!”

“Stomach’s growling already. I’ll be out back, just let yourself in. Xxx.”

I shoved some toiletries and comfortable clothes in my overnight bag. I snapped the picnic basket shut and headed to my car. Any time I thought about my Jeffrey, my whole body buzzed with excitement. I felt like pinching myself, Jeff was my dream come true. He was everything I ever wanted and needed.

I pulled up to Jeff’s farmhouse. His front door was unlocked like he said it would be. Honey’s “woo-woo-woo!” adorable howl-bark echoed through the house.

“Hi, Honey! Where’s Daddy?” I ask her and ruffle her scraggly ears, her teddy bear like eyes closing in bliss. She scampered to the back door and I follow her to the massive pastures. Jeff was tossing hay over the fence to the donkeys.

“Paxton, buddy! Leave some for the rest of them! Good lord, you pig!” Jeff laughs and turns to me. “Hey, baby!” I set the picnic basket down and fling my arms around his neck with a kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” I rest my forehead against his.

“I’ve missed you more, doll. I’ve also missed your cooking, sweet girl,” Jeff smiles. He looked so damn good in his farming clothes, redefining the phrase “ruggedly handsome” with his cuffed flannel and salt and pepper scruff. His top buttons were undone, exposing his masculine chest hair and the few necklaces he wore daily. Bandit came bounding over and jumped between us.

“Hey, boy!” I laugh.

“Someone doesn’t like me getting all the attention!” Jeff exclaims. “I can’t get a hug from my girlfriend? Rude!” he teases the fluffy monster. “Do you see that huge tree over yonder?”

“It’s beautiful,” I reply, clutching the basket so the dogs don’t get a snack.

“That’s the spot,” Jeff takes me by the hand and we make our way across the property. The alpacas stared at us intensely.

“Are they going to spit on me?” I joke.

“I told them to stay on their best behavior because we had a guest coming!” Jeff gestured to the checkered blanket he had laid out and ice bucket with a bottle of sparkling wine and two glasses. He opens up the basket and cracks open the hummus, dipping his finger in and licking it.

“At least grab some bread, you animal,” I playfully punch his shoulder, ripping off a piece of pita and dunking it in the rust orange colored deliciousness.

“Sorry, Mom,” Jeff jokes. “Wow! Is that homemade?” I nod. “Delicious, absolutely delicious. Ooh, I like the little bite to it!” I take the sandwiches out of the wax paper. “Ah, ah, ah! Go on! Get!” Jeff scolds and shoos the dogs away. “You’d think I never feed them or something!”

“I don’t mean to brag, but I made the pesto mayo on these sandwiches too,” I say, sipping my wine. I take a bite of the chilled, tangy pasta salad.

Jeff sinks his teeth into the sub. “Baby, that’s so fucking good,” he rolls his eyes back in pleasure with a mouthful of food. I kiss his cheek sweetly. “God, you sure know how to treat your Daddy right. I don’t deserve you, you know that? You’re too damn good for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh hush,” I kiss my boyfriend. He closes his eyes and deepens the kiss, running his fingers through my hair. Jeff’s eyes shoot open at the sound of Bandit barking loudly.

“Hey guys!” Jeff calls out to the puppies. “Those aren’t dogs, they’ll kick the shit out of you!” they weave in and out of the alpacas’ legs. We eat our meal and laugh as they pant wildly and chase each other all over. I pack everything neatly back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds begin forming in the distance.

“I admire their energy!” I remark, rubbing Jeff’s knee and finishing off my drink.

“I know, right? My ‘get up and go’ got up and went years ago! I swear, the moment I hit forty, my body sounds like Rice Krispies when I get out of bed,” Jeff chuckles and kisses my forehead.

“What are you, eighty?” I tease.

“Hey, you’ll get there someday, youngin! You agreed to date an old fogey! Shit, I feel a few raindrops, maybe we should head inside. But first,” Jeff rises to his feet and suddenly pulls out a pocket knife.

“What are you doing?” I stare at him, puzzled.

“You’ll see,” Jeff says. He carves into the tree. “Ah, there we go.” There was a heart with our initials in it. Three magic words escaped his lips, “I love you.”

“Jeffrey,” I sigh as thunder rolls above my head. That was the first time either of us had said that and it felt so... right. I stand up and wrap my arms around Jeff’s neck, his cowboy boots making him tower over me. He places his cowboy hat on my head with a grin. “I love you too.” The rain suddenly began pouring down.

“I’ve always wanted to do this. Kiss me in the rain, pretty girl,” Jeff pulls me against him as our clothes get soaked. My heart flutters in my chest. I never wanted to let him go. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Jeffrey made my life feel like a cheesy romantic movie and I loved every single minute of it. A crack of thunder scares the dogs away and Jeff sets me down.

“I think that’s our cue to go inside,” I chuckle. Jeff grabs the picnic basket and extends his hand.

“Run!” he shouts as if we were in an action movie and laughs. He takes me by the hand and we trample through the mud to the farmhouse. The dogs shake and run around the living room. I hang Jeff’s hat on a hook by the door and he drops the picnic basket on the counter. He takes me into his arms and kisses me deeply.

“I love you, I love you. God damn it, I fucking love you,” Jeff whispers against my lips. I run my fingers through his sopping wet hair. “I used to think ‘love at first sight’ was a myth before I met you. If I don’t get to put a ring on that finger of yours, I don’t even want to get married, baby girl.”

“I can’t wait for that day. I love you too,” I sigh longingly, looking into Jeff hazel eyes. I press my lips to his and push him against the kitchen counter, a groan escaping his lips as I rub myself against the crotch of his pants.

“Mmm, going to make me make a mess in these jeans like a teenager,” he chuckles, “God, I want you so bad,” he begins removing his belt.

“Take me, Jeff,” I whimper. Jeff pulls my skinny jeans down aggressively and bends me over the counter. Thunder rolls outside as the cold granite against my stomach gives me chills.

“Look at these lacy black panties,” Jeff growls, “Someone knew Daddy would be fucking her good.” His words instantly make me even more aroused. Jeff’s slender fingers slide over my outer lips, slowly brushing over my clit, “So wet and I’ve hardly touched you. That’s my good girl.” I whine as Jeff slides in with a gasp. He grabs my hair with one hand as his thrusts start gentle and rhythmic. “Oh god, baby doll. You feel so good.”

“Right there, Daddy,” I moan. My older man knows just the right spots to hit.

“That’s it, baby. Take all of me,” Jeff groans as he goes deeper. He pulls my hair and rasps in my ear, “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” I can barely speak, my legs are shaking.

“I can’t fuckin’ hear you, sugar,” he nibbles my neck as sexy smacking sounds fill my ears. “Whose pussy is this?” Jeff moans a little louder.

“Yours, Jeff!” I exclaim. “My body belongs to you, Jeffrey! Oh god, fuck me!” I gasp.

“I love when you beg for me,” Jeff remarks. “I’m so close already, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” I reply. He flips me over as the lights flicker with a loud crash of thunder.

“Look at me,” Jeff cups my cheek and kisses me. “Oh Princess, you’re beautiful,” he gasps. “I’m going to- oh sweet Jesus, baby doll!” a deep growl resonates in his chest as he finishes deep inside me. I whimper as my nether regions throb, leaking with Jeffrey’s hot, sticky juices. “You’re mine,” he smirks.

“And you’re mine,” I pant, scratching his gray beard as he rests his forehead against mine. I scan over Jeff’s gorgeous face, everything about this man was absolutely beautiful. He peels me off the counter and his lips crash into mine.

“Forever and always, my gal,” Jeff sighs lovingly.

#denny duquette #fanfic #fanfiction #greys anatomy #jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead #older man younger woman #john winchester #supernatural

[blackberry-gingham]

Imagine meeting Paul for the first time at a park when he’s out with Martha. Martha gets loose and makes her way to the reader who ofc begins to coo over what a good girl Martha is. As their distracted by Martha they don’t even realize at first who her owner is and start casually chatting about Martha with Paul.

*Gasp* aaaaw, I love this 🥺🥺

Also, this is a good time for a quick PSA to all my readers!

If you have a veeery specific little scene or scenario like this with one of the boys, it's actually a bit easier for me to just write you a one shot for it instead of my usual headcannons or an imagine. Those are better suited for like general scenarios and stuff involving more then one of the boys imo but yeah, feel free to distinguish if you want me to keep it to a bullet point imagine, or get nitty gritty with a one shot! Just some fyi :D

Anyway I hope this one shot format is ok for you nonny, please enjoy!

---

It's a sunny fall day and you're enjoying a book, a hot drink, and a blanket on the grass as you relax in your favorite little park.

The sound of children playing and dogs barking can be heard in the distance. A gentle breeze rustles your hair and the pages of your book. You look up to enjoy it's fleeting caress and then wave back to the kind young woman jogging by.

You love this park. Amongst all the chaos in your daily life, this place is your safe haven.

With a sigh of relaxation, you return to your reading. It's a fantastic novel, and you're so lost in it that you almost don't hear the approaching sound of barking and galloping paws.

Almost.

You snap up to attention just in time to intercept a large, but friendly sheep dog. The dog gives your face a lick before backing off a bit. Her tail wags wildly behind her as she goes down into the universal dog position of "let's play". She tilts her head and gives you a little yap as she awaits your response.

Well, who could say no?

You take her shaggy head in either hand and scratch her ears. "Hello there! What a good girl you are!"

It's a phrase she appears to be very familiar with, as she wiggles her whole body, coming closer so you can scratch her sides.

"Maaaarthaaaa-!", a voice calls a little ways off, but you're far too distracted to pay it much mind.

Your new friend is now licking all over your face, still wiggling with glee as you scratch and tell her how wonderful she is.

At last the sound of someone who seems very out of breath can be heard a foot or so away. "Martha, you naughty girl!", the man's voice addresses the sheepdog chidingly, then takes on a different tone to speak to you. "I'm so sorry, she just ran off!"

You can hear that the man has begun giving Martha some scratches, which is only confirmed when she stops licking you to return some affection to her master.

"Oh it's no problem!" You laugh as you begin to dry your face.

The man laughs as well, "Well thank you for saying as much at least. Here, can I help?"

He dries the remainder of the wet patches with what feels like a handkerchief, or perhaps a bandana, then hands it to you to so you can do your hands.

You thank him and finally are able to open your eyes. And that's when you see...

Paul McCartney, in all his bearded glory, kneels before you with the one and only Martha wagging beside him. You're amazed you didn't recognize his voice before, especially considering what a longtime fan you are.

You freeze for a moment, trying to get your bearings. What should you say?

"Oh! Uh, thank you Mr. McCartney", your voice shakes a bit as you hand him back his bandana. "I um, I'm such a huge fan", you laugh nervously, half shy and half in shock that this is even happening.

Paul chuckles and pets Martha at her insistence. He turns back to you, "Well it's always nice to meet a fan! Makes it easier to get off when ol' Martha's causing trouble", he winks at you, then coos at Martha "Isn't that right?"

She barks happily back, blissfully unaware of the slanderous accusations.

You smile and scratch Martha's hip, "Well I can't possibly imagine she's that much trouble!"

"Ha, I think you'd be sur-"

No sooner have the word left his mouth then when Martha whips around at your affection. In her excitement she topples your drink, spilling it everywhere and splashing a bit against her side.

You gasp and jump to rescue your book and your clothes, only for Martha to shake a splattering of hot liquid all over you and Paul.

Shrieking with laughter and surprise, you shield yourself. Paul recoils as well until Martha's dried herself sufficiently.

"Oh Martha! Look what you've done!" Paul scolds her as you try to clean up the mess a bit. You get off the blanket and declare it a lost cause as you roll up the sopping mess and stuff it into your bag.

Martha whines apologetically, while Paul apologies again. Without even asking he goes to help you, picking up your cup and it's lid. He takes out the bandana again and hands it to you to dry off once more.

"Thank you, but you don't have t-"

Paul stands up with the paper cup pieces as you wipe away the coffee. "No no, it's the least I can do", he smiles genuinely and throws the remains away in the nearby public trashcan.

All packed up, you rise and meet him halfway with Martha trailing behind. You hold out the little bandana and thank him for everything.

"You know what? Why don't you keep it", Paul smiles up at you, while clasping on Martha's leash.

Your heart jumps with excitement as you hold the souvenir close, "Thank you! I don't know what to say!"

Paul bites his lip and looks away for a moment and then back at you. "Well... We could always grab you a new coffee, you know, while the words comes to you"

He smiles innocently while you process the request.

"My treat?", he adds, as though you need more incentive.

At that Martha has snapped out of her sulk and begins barking and jumping up on Paul excitedly. He rolls his eyes and groans in playful exasperation.

"Down girl, down!" You laugh while Paul tries to settle her.

Once Martha has returned to the ground, still barking and wagging, Paul looks back at you, awaiting your answer with baited breath.

You say yes.

#the beatles #paul mccartney x reader #mcbeardy #beatles fic

[hrina]

Dopamine (A Serotonin Extra)

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M  WORD COUNT: 5.7k REQUESTED: um sorta? everyone wanted more TArry so here it is!

hey guys!!! i couldn’t get enough of my serotonin babies (and apparently, neither could you), so i couldn’t resist churning this out. i really hope you guys enjoy it! if you do, please don’t hesitate to send in feedback to my askbox because i love hearing your thoughts! also, here’s my masterlist if you’re interested in checking out some of my other pieces :-)

read Serotonin HERE

~*~

November 29th, 2019

“What are you smiling about?” Margaret grumbles, drumming her fingers on the countertop.

You’re smirking down at your phone, watching three little bubbles wiggle above the keyboard. The line at Grounded is long today, and Margaret isn’t in the best mood. She’s been venting all morning, but you’re sure that once she has some caffeine in her system, she’ll calm down.

“Hm?” you ask, peering up with raised brows and innocent eyes. When she gazes at you questioningly, you shrug. “Oh. Um—just Harry.”

“I knew it.” Her lips twist up wryly. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

You scoff, shutting your phone and tucking it back into your pocket. “What look?”

“The ‘Harry’ look,” she explains, snickering softly. The barista bustles over and hands you your drinks; he shoots Margaret a wink, and her face flushes crimson. You giggle as you step back and begin to make your way down the hall.

“I think someone’s into you,” you murmur, grinning widely.

“Shut up,” she scoffs, placing the back of her hand against her hot cheek.

“He was cute!” you say, nudging her gently with your elbow. She bats your arm away and lifts her latte to her mouth, taking a tentative sip. You give up on provoking her, for now. The subject of the cute, flirty barista will no doubt surface again in the future, and when it does, you’re sure that it’ll be because you brought it up.

“So,” Margaret starts, smacking her lips and humming appreciatively, “You and Harry. Have you guys fucked again, or…?”

You sputter, nearly choking on your coffee. “What?” you spit out, shaking your head vehemently. “No!”

“I’m just asking!” she protests, smiling deviously. You cough and glare daggers at her; it seems as though her mood is already improving.

The two of you pass by Harry’s office. The door is closed, much to your dismay. Instinctively, your gaze falls to the silver plaque standing out against the wood, and you feel an urge to run your fingers over the inscription. Harry E. Styles.

“Are we going to be doing a review for the final in class today?” Margaret asks you, snapping you out of your trance. You focus your attention back on her, your brows knitting together in thought.

“I would hope so,” you say. “The exam’s next week, and I haven’t even started studying.”

“Neither have I.” Your friend sighs, playing with her hair anxiously. You purse your lips; your shoes squeak against the floor.

“Well,” Margaret starts, tracing her index finger along the bottom of her coffee cup. She bumps your arm gently and shoots you a small, pained smile. “At least we’ll fail together.”

You snort and nod in agreement. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fish it out quickly. Immediately, a smile breaks out across your lips; your eyes eagerly scan over Harry’s message, drinking in each letter as though it’s the last thing you’ll ever read.

Wednesday night is perfect. See you then. H. x

  December 4th, 2019

You want to bash your head against the wall. The information just won’t stick.

You know that you’re in dire need of taking a break. But the final is the day after tomorrow, and it’s worth thirty-five percent of your grade, and you’re stressed beyond belief. Your grey sweatpants have been rolled up to the knee, and your red crewneck is wrinkled from where you’ve been pulling nervously on the hem. You need to wash your hair—you’ve been putting it off for two days now. The mere sensation of it sitting atop your head makes you feel greasy and gross.

But you don’t have the time.

“Content validity, face validity…,” you mumble to yourself. You’re fairly certain that there’s a hollow on your mattress in the shape of your body (particularly your bum), but you haven’t moved enough to properly gauge the severity.

“Construct validity…,” you mutter, shaking your head. “What the fuck is construct validity?”

The pages of your textbook flap loudly as you search for the definition in the glossary. Your eyes are tearing through each word when suddenly, a loud knock echoes down the hall of your apartment. You freeze for only a moment before bouncing to your feet.

You make your way out of your bedroom and toward the front door, your mouth watering at the promise of the Chinese takeout that’s waiting out in the corridor. When you twist the knob and pull the door open, however, you come face-to-face with Harry instead of your usual delivery man.

“You’re not Chen,” you say blankly.

“No,” Harry replies. “I’m not.”

The first thing you notice is the casual brown suit jacket draped over his torso. His trousers match. There’s a khaki button-up beneath his coat; the first few clasps are undone. His hair is parted down the middle, framing the sides of his face. He looks like he’s just stepped straight out of the nineties, boyish and rugged and incredibly handsome.

“Oh fuck,” you say, your eyes widening as the realisation dawns on you. “I’m an idiot.”

Harry rakes his fingers through his hair, humming as his gaze skirts down your body. “You forgot.”

It isn’t a question.

“I forgot,” you admit, covering your face with your hands. You groan loudly, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. My exam is on Friday and I’ve been studying all day—I literally haven’t left my room. It completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s alright,” Harry tells you, brushing your apology aside. “I get it. Do you want to just reschedule?”

“Of course.” You nod, digging your fingers into the pockets of your sweatpants. Harry nods, and you hesitate. “But, um—,” you start, peering up at him hopefully, “I actually ordered some food. It should be here soon, if—if you wanna stick around?”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Sure.”

“Cool,” you say dumbly, stepping back and motioning for him to enter. “Come on in.”

Harry carefully toes off his shoes as you close the door. You watch as he arranges them meticulously against the wall, a small smile curling along your mouth. He looks at you when he stands back up, smirking slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. He chuckles quietly as you lead him down the hall. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” he responds. You concede with a meek shrug of your shoulders. You guide him into your bedroom, cringing immediately at the untidiness of the space.

“Sorry it’s so messy,” you ramble, picking up a dirty sweater from the floor and tossing it into the hamper standing a few feet away. “Like I said—I’ve been holed up in here all day. All week, actually.”

“It’s alright,” Harry says. “Like I said—I get it.”

“I look gross, too,” you continue, though you’re speaking mostly to yourself. “My hair’s all greasy, and I feel disgusting—”

“I think you look wonderful,” he cuts you off.

His palm lands on the small of your back; you stiffen, your head snapping to the side to look up at him. You’re suddenly painfully aware of the proximity between your bodies. Harry steps closer to you, and your heartbeat picks up beneath your ribs. Part of you wants to veer backward, but your feet stay rooted to the ground.

“Can I have a kiss?” he murmurs. He slips his fingers beneath the material of your sweater and draws gentle circles against your skin. You feel like your knees are about to give out.

“No,” you say quickly. His brows knit together, and you hasten to make amends. “I mean—I need to shower, still, and brush my teeth. Give me, like, twenty minutes, okay?”

His features soften, lips curling upward into a soft smirk. “Okay.”

~*~

When you step out of the shower, the smell of noodles and grilled vegetables is unmistakable. You quickly change into an old sports bra, a baggy grey t-shirt, and a pair of bright green shorts. Your hair squelches as you wring any excess water from the sopping strands. You brush your teeth, smacking your lips together and savouring the minty taste of toothpaste on your tongue.

Upon re-entering your bedroom, you find Harry sitting on your mattress amidst the mess of sheets, flash cards, and books. He’s removed his jacket and undone another button on his shirt. There’s a plastic bag on his lap; the smell wafting from the food inside lures you closer, like a moth to a flame.

“Takeout came,” Harry says. “I got it.”

“How much was it?” you ask, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No need,” he tells you.

“Harry—”

“No need,” he repeats sternly, but the look in his eyes is lighthearted. “It’s my treat.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, approaching him and blowing out a sad sigh. “I fucking ruined our first date.”

“You didn’t,” he assures you.

You chew anxiously on your bottom lip as he removes the takeout from his lap, setting it on your bed and spreading his legs. He reaches out for you, grasping your fingers with his and tugging you forward. You shuffle closer, absentmindedly placing one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He splays his other palm out onto the back of your left thigh, giving a light squeeze.

“Can I have that kiss now?” he asks softly. His gaze is sincere.

Despite the regret flowing through your veins, you smile and nod, untangling your fingers and cupping his jaw delicately. Harry hums as you plant a chaste peck onto his lips. He’s smirking when you pull back.

“We can eat in here, if you want,” you inform him.

You make room on your mattress, gathering up your textbooks and papers and setting them aside. Harry turns to face you as you collapse onto your bed. You groan dramatically into the duvet before scrambling into a sitting position. The takeout doesn’t stand a chance—you snatch it up with greedy hands, rifling through the bag and producing twin sets of plastic cutlery.

“I may have ordered enough for two,” you say sheepishly, your cheeks heating up. “I was hungry.”

“I can leave you to it,” Harry replies, his words laced with subtle mockery. You scoff, reaching out and swatting his shoulder weakly.

“Shut it.”

“Don’t be rude,” he warns. “Or I won’t help you study once we’re done.”

“I don’t recall asking you for your help,” you say, tapping your chin with your index finger.

Harry grins, his expression saturated with salacious mischief. “I’m a generous man. Have you forgotten?”

The memory of his head buried between your thighs pops into your brain, flashing like a neon sign and wailing as loud as a hundred sirens. You gulp violently, shaking your head and busying your hands with pulling a container of noodles out of the plastic bag. You keep yourself occupied longer than necessary, not wanting him to see the embarrassment warping your features.

“You’re gross,” you tell him plainly, though you can’t ignore the flash of heat that streaks through your stomach at his words.

“Hey, now,” Harry starts, snickering. “What did I just say about being rude?”

~*~

“Can you explain to me the basic concept of reliability?”

“The act of yielding consistent results.”

“Exactly.” Harry grins, tossing the flash card down onto your mattress. Your back rests against the headboard, hands convoluted in your lap.

There’s a handful of cards already lying in a messy pile on your bed, but neither of you pay the clutter any attention. Harry’s too busy studying the definitions that you’d written up earlier this week, and you’re too busy studying him.

His large hands practically dwarf the stack of papers clutched between his fingers, and his big, gaudy rings glimmer in the warm light of your room. His gangly legs are crossed as he sits in front of you. With each question that you answer correctly, he nods in approval.

His eyes have gotten brighter, you think, because whenever he looks up at you, the grassy green of his irises is all that you can see.

The air still smells faintly of the food you’d scarfed down. You’re surprised at how easily the two of you had fallen into conversation. Harry’s actually really funny—his humour is underrated (and definitely one of your favourite things about him, now). You’d always found him to be intimidating, but it’s refreshing to know that under that stoic exterior, he’s just as quirky as anyone else.

“Next one,” Harry murmurs, his eyes skimming over the cursive definition on the subsequent card. “What is a longitudinal study?”

You bite your lip. “It’s when…researchers follow the same participants over a longer period of time, right? Like, they retest them throughout the years.”

“Brilliant,” he says, nodding proudly. Your cheeks heat up at his praise.

Harry covers his mouth as he yawns quietly.

“Am I boring you?” you ask, your lips kinking up into a wry smile.

He shakes his head. “No, not at all. This is absolutely riveting.”

You snort; he smiles. He stretches out his arms, his mouth curling around a quiet grunt and his forehead creasing with a rough wince. “Fuck. My back’s killing me.”

“Should we switch positions?” you offer, sitting up straight. “You can come over here and lean against the headboard, if you want.”

“I love switching positions,” Harry hums; that adorable dimple carves into his cheek as the innuendo slips from his mouth. You swallow heavily and shake your head, rolling your eyes. You hope that it’s enough to hide the way your spine has stiffened at his words.

“Okay, let me just…,” you begin, shifting quietly.

“Actually,” he says, placing a hand on your knee. “What if I…?”

His exhale is guttural as he uncrosses his legs and turns himself around. You laugh incredulously when he flops backward, his head now snuggled securely in your lap. Your hands reflexively curl into his hair, and you run your fingers across his scalp, falling into a soothing rhythm. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a pleased grin spreads across his lips.

“There we go,” he says, nodding once. “Much better, I’d say.”

“You’re so dumb.” You chuckle and flick his nose gently. His eyes snap open and he releases a short, petulant whine. The sound is extremely adorable, but of course, you’re not going to tell him that.

“Can I have another kiss?” Harry asks.

Your gaze falls to his face—even though his features are upside down, he’s still ridiculously handsome. This time, there’s nothing teasing about his question—the inquiry is completely sincere. You chew on the inside of your cheek and try to ignore the butterflies flapping around in your stomach.

With a short nod, you lean down and seal your lips to his, your nose brushing against his chin. This kiss is longer than the one you’d shared earlier, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. It’s only when Harry parts his lips that you finally pull back, skirting your thumb over his Cupid’s bow and propping yourself up against the headboard. A strangled puff of air gets caught in your chest.

“What’s the next definition?” you prod, breathless.

Harry clears his throat, tapping the stack of flash cards against his chest once to organize them properly.

“No peeking,” he tells you, aware that if you tried, you’d be able to read each definition once he flipped them around to the other side.

“Cross my heart.”

“What’s an observational study?”

You know this one. “It’s when researchers don’t manipulate any variables—they just observe what’s going on and try to draw conclusions based on natural behaviours.”

Harry peers up at you. His eyes are shining. “You’re a clever one, y’know that?”

The compliment catches you off-guard. You avoid his gaze, shrinking into yourself. “Oh. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replies. He angles his head to the side and presses a smacking kiss to the crook of your knee. Your fingers falter in his hair for only a moment—you hope that he doesn’t notice.

“What’s a theory?” Harry asks.

You hesitate. “A set of statements that describe how variables relate to each other…right?”

“Close,” he says. “You left out the part about ‘general principles’.”

“Shit, yeah.” You sigh. “That one’s always tricky for me. I don’t know why.”

“You’re fine,” Harry assures you, reaching up blindly and giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Next one…what is a control group?”

“It’s the group that doesn’t receive the treatment,” you say. “It just kind of serves as the standard.”

“Perfect.” He nods and turns his face to the side again. You’re expecting another chaste kiss against your leg, but instead, you gasp when you feel his teeth sink gently into your skin.

“Ouch!” you exclaim, laughter trickling into your voice. Harry smiles, dragging his tongue over the shallow dents decorating the inside of your thigh. He soothes the brief sting with a series of quick pecks, and you nearly melt into your mattress.

You expect it to end. You’re waiting for him to pull away and fix his attention onto the next term needing to be defined. But—to your eager surprise—he seems completely happy with just lying here and making love to the sensitive skin on the inside of your leg. Your flash cards end up abandoned on the bed, still tucked into a neat little square. One of Harry’s hands reaches up to cup your knee, while the other splays out flat against the bed so that he can roll himself over with a soft grunt.

“What—what’re you doing?” you breathe, your eyes glued to his face. There’s a smug smile tugging at his lips, but overall, he does a good job of masking his glee.

“Nothing,” he muses, shaking his head. He’s on his stomach now, his chest flat against the duvet. You swallow down the hard lump in your throat when he snakes his arms beneath your legs and tugs you closer to him. He continues to pepper kisses over your knee, slowly making his way toward the hem of your shorts.

“Just…lovin’ on you,” he murmurs, inching the fabric further up your thigh.

His words are warm and sticky against your skin, though they’re quickly cooled by his saliva as he chases them with open-mouthed imprints of his lips. You exhale heavily through your nose; the noise is high-pitched, loud enough to be a sigh. There’s something hot brewing in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing moment.

Can he smell you? Like how he had the last time?

“Harry,” you stammer when he kisses a spot right at the crease of your upper thigh. “I need to study.”

Despite your reproach, though, your fingers once again find a home in his hair. He chuckles darkly.

“And you will,” he says. “But first, tell me—,” he inhales deeply, a low growl resonating in the back of his throat, “—have you got any knickers on?”

You squeak when he brings one long, sure finger up to the apex of your legs and runs the digit down the middle seam of your shorts. He’s got his answer, now, because you’re positive that he can feel the protrusion of your lower lips and the budding of your clit. Harry pinches the nub through the material of your bottoms, and you moan quietly.

“Guess not,” he mutters, answering his own question with a snicker. Your abdomen tenses when his finger slips lower; he looks up at you with wide eyes when he feels just how wet you’ve become. Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, but you hold his gaze.

“I’m…,” you trail off, not sure of what to say.

“Soaked,” Harry murmurs in supplication, rubbing his fingertip delicately over where your opening lies beneath your shorts. He coaxes your legs into a bent position so that your knees point upward at the ceiling, and your toes subconsciously curl into the duvet.

“I need to study,” you repeat stupidly, your voice quivering.

“Fine.”

Harry sighs, shooting you a small smile as he reaches over retrieve the stack of forgotten flash cards. You wait for him to pull away, now, but you’re sorely mistaken. Instead, he sets the pile down next to your hip, plucking a definition from the top and scanning over the words.

“What’s a cross-sectional study?” he asks, his index finger skating back up your center. You bite your tongue when he begins to rub slow, languid circles into your clit through your shorts.

“A—a design where researchers test different people of different ages. It’s like…the opposite of a longitudinal study.”

“Well done.” Harry nods, tossing the card away and reaching for another. “Want your reward?”

You gasp when he applies a bit more pressure to your clit. The change only lasts for a few seconds before he slows and reverts back to his previous pace. You swallow heavily.

“This one’s easy.” Harry smirks up at you after reading the next term. “What’s an independent variable?”

“The variable being manipulated,” you answer immediately. He’s right—it is a simple question. The definition has been hammered into your brain since your first year of university; you can recall it just as effortlessly as you can remember your own name.

Despite that, though, Harry still says, “Good girl,” and leans down, swiping his tongue over the full length of your clothed cunt. You moan in surprise, the sound tearing itself from your chest. He pulls away an instant later, an evil grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You peer down at him with dilated pupils and flaring nostrils, your mind going blank.

“Please.” The request falls from your lips before you have the chance to register what you’re saying.

“Thought you needed to study?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. You frown.

“Harry—,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“A few more,” he bargains, picking another flash card from the pile. “Define empiricism for me.”

“Er…fuck.” You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and taking a moment to collect yourself. Harry switches his fingers—the pad of his thumb takes up the task of rubbing you through your bottoms. Your exhale is shaky and forced; you wrack your brain for the right words.

“It’s the theory that—that all knowledge can only be derived from sensory experience. It’s what all branches of science are based on. I think.”

“Correct,” Harry replies, littering kisses along your inner thigh. You mewl when he hooks his middle finger into the left leg of your shorts, entering from the side and coming into direct contact with your folds. The digit glides down until it reaches your entrance. A faint curse falls from Harry’s mouth.

“Fuckin’ drenched,” he whispers. His features contort in what can only be described as pained desire.

Your walls bear down, clenching around nothing. Harry withdraws his finger, studying the way it gleams in the light of your room. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can, he envelopes his lips around your juices, sinking down to the knuckle. You suddenly find yourself struggling to breathe.

“Another,” he states, producing what feels like the millionth flash card from the pile. “What’s a—?”

“No,” you whimper, shaking your head and snapping your thighs shut.

As you anticipated, the action catches Harry by surprise. A small wrinkle forms between his brows, and he quickly pushes himself up onto his knees, fiddling nervously with the corner of the card. You sit up straight against the headboard, your hands flat on the mattress next to your bum.

“You alright?” Harry asks, no longer teasing. “Did I do something—?”

You launch yourself at him.

He grunts when your chest collides with his. The force of your attack is enough to push him backward, and his shoulders hit the mattress with a hard thump. You quickly scramble up his body, knees boxing him in as you straddle his hips. His hands reflexively land on your waist to steady you, and a loud laugh falls from his mouth.

“You’re mad,” he tells you, trapped in a fit of giggles. “Absolutely mad.”

“I don’t care,” you whine, flopping down and burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You’re such a dick.”

“That’s not nice,” Harry says, though he’s anything but upset. You pepper hot, frantic kisses along the column of his throat, circling your hips and applying the slightest bit of pressure to his groin. A low grunt reaches your ears, and you smile to yourself. Your fingers slip down his torso, hurriedly unclasping the remaining buttons on his shirt.

“Fuck me,” you murmur, nibbling softly on Harry’s earlobe. “Please?”

“Shit,” he wheezes. His fingertips dig into your sides; little pricks of anticipation whizz through your veins.

It’s all over, after that. In a matter of seconds, your baggy t-shirt has been discarded. Harry yanks down the material of your sports bra, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and biting down gently. You moan; the pain feels good, and it only spurs you on.

Harry’s button-up is next. You undo the last clasp before ripping the shirt from his body and yanking it down his arms. He chuckles at your eagerness, but the sound quickly melts into a soft sigh when you lightly scrape your nails down his toned stomach. You take a minute to trace the ferns inked into his hips before diving lower. The metal on his belt clanks loudly as you pull it from the loops on his brown trousers. The sound of his zipper being tugged down by your clumsy fingers is just as noisy, if not more.

“Help,” you beg, shimmying down Harry’s body so that you can properly grab onto the fabric of his pants.

His hands shoot down, swiftly pushing the material from his hips. You tug the trousers off the rest of the way, your damp hair falling into your face as you climb back into his lap. Now, the only things standing in your way are your shorts and his boxers.

“Glad to see you wore underwear, this time,” you say, the faintest hint of mockery snaking into your words.

Harry grins. “You didn’t.”

“We’ll take turns.” You shrug, concealing a smile. Harry chuckles, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and wrestling them down. You sit up on your knees, strategically lifting one leg at a time to slide the material down your thighs.

“Smooth, right?” you ask, lips quirking up when you position yourself back over his crotch. You can feel his cock beneath his boxers, hard and heavy. Reflexively, you roll your hips, and the two of you moan in unison at the sensation.

“Very smooth,” Harry chokes out, his large palms splaying against your ass. “Pull me out, love.”

You oblige, your fingers dipping past the elastic of his underwear. They wrap around his cock, and you gently tug him from the confines of his briefs. He hisses when you swipe your thumb over the leaking tip and give him a firm, steady pump.

“’Ve got…,” Harry swallows heavily. “There’s a condom in my trousers. Back pocket.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” you tease. A weak laugh tumbles from his lips.

“Not presumptuous,” he corrects. “Just…hopeful, maybe.”

“I guess I’ll believe you.” You smile, reaching behind your body and blindly patting around for his pants. When you find them, you quickly fish through both back pockets, producing a gold foil square and holding it up between your fingers.

“Magnum,” you state. You think you see Harry’s cheeks tint with the lightest shade of pink.

“I used it last time, too,” he says.

You hum. “Guess I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“How rude.”

You giggle at his words, ripping the packet open and pulling the condom out. Harry groans softly when you roll the latex down the shaft of his cock, your fingers careful and delicate. Instinctively, his hips buck up; you place one hand over the butterfly on his abdomen to tame him.

“Gonna put me in?” he asks breathlessly, his fingertips pressing against the small of your back as you lift yourself up. “Gonna ride me?”

“Mm-hm,” you reply, positioning him at your entrance. You force your muscles to relax when you feel his tip prodding at your hole, and slowly, you sink down his cock, enveloping each inch as though you’ve done it a hundred times before.

“Fuck!” Harry hisses, throwing his head back into the duvet. Your walls flutter around his length, stretching to accommodate his girth. He looks up at you with glazed eyes, his lips pulled back over his teeth.

“Gimme a kiss, love,” he pleads, his hands stroking over your spine. “I’ve not kissed you once.”

“How rude,” you echo his previous words back to him, and he laughs. You fulfill his request, though, leaning down and smearing your lips against his. He sighs appreciatively against your mouth, and you slowly raise your hips, moaning when they drop back against his thighs. Harry swallows the sound, licking into you and cupping your face with one of his hands.

“Good,” he murmurs brokenly, squeezing your waist. “Y’feel so good.”

“So do you,” you breathe, your foreheads pressed together. “I feel…full.”

“Shit,” he says, and then he’s pawing at your chest, which is still partially covered by your sports bra. “Take this off, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You sit up straight, your fingers spread out just over his collarbones to keep yourself steady. Harry’s palms sweep up and down your sides as you rid yourself of the garment, tossing it away unceremoniously. Immediately, his gaze falls to your breasts. He wastes no time, cupping them and rubbing his thumbs over your nipples.

“’M not gonna last,” he confesses, his cheeks growing a darker shade of pink. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you tell him, bouncing up and down quickly on his cock. “I won’t either. You—oh, right there—you’ve got me all worked up from before.”

“Was just trying to help you study.” His grin is forced, but it’s blinding.

You intentionally clench around him. Harry releases a loud swear, your walls nearly suffocating his dick. He reaches up, using his index finger to gently flick your chin in admonishment. You giggle, but the sound is short-lived, interrupted by the gasp that bubbles up in your chest when his hand fits around the curve of your throat. Your eyes go wide, and you peer down at him, stilling abruptly.

“This okay?” he asks gruffly. He makes no move to tighten his grip.

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding vehemently and subconsciously arching your chest forward. You place your fingers over his and squeeze, encouraging him. “Do it harder.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters. His hips snap up into yours as he begins to apply more pressure against your neck. “You’re so—fuck.”

You smile dreamily, eyelids fluttering shut. Your hands find their way to Harry’s abdomen, using his body as leverage so that you can hasten your pace and ride him properly once more. He meets you halfway, bucking and slamming in profoundly every time. The room devolves into heat, pathetic little whimpers, and the telltale smell of sex and sweat. Harry’s now choking you just enough for you to feel a bit light-headed. It’s like you’re floating.

And it’s fucking wonderful.

“Har—oh my God, Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

The movement of your hips slows as you begin gyrating against him, aiming for something deeper, now.

Harry grunts in response. The hand that’s not wrapped around your throat snakes down to the apex of your thighs; he begins plucking messily at your clit with two fingers.

“Cum,” he says, breathless. “Lemme see it—cum for me.”

Your orgasm triggers his own. The fingers pressed against your neck twitch as he shoots into the condom. The two of you ride out your highs together, panting and groaning and trying to control the little spasms that rocket through your limbs. You fall forward, your chest smearing against Harry’s when you seek out his lips. It’s not even a proper kiss, permeated too heavily with gasps and sighs, but it’s enough. You don’t speak, sucking in deep gulps of air and trying to regulate your breathing.

Shoulders heave. Toes curl.

You squish your mouth to Harry’s temple. He sinks deeper into the duvet.

After a few long moments of silence, you feel a pair of hands cup the sides of your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and stroking the apples of your cheeks.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Glad we got to do that again.”

You snort softly, your heart hammering beneath your ribs. Harry wraps his arms around you as you bury your face into his neck, pressing haphazard kisses along the underside of his jaw. You shift your hips, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s still inside of you.

He’s still inside of you, and he’s…

“Are—are you still hard?” you ask, the words laced with disbelief.

His body rumbles as he chuckles. “It would appear so.”

You laugh quietly, your breath fanning out over the sticky skin of his throat. “We’ll go again,” you promise him, giving his shoulder a weak squeeze. “Have you got another condom?”

“No,” he says mournfully, stroking his fingertips up and down your spine. You sigh, nuzzling your nose against his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you say airily. “Maybe I’ll just blow you, instead.”

Harry groans at your offer, twirling a damp tendril of your hair around his pinky and tugging lightly. You hum appreciatively at the pulling sensation. He fixes you with an incredulous look—you just giggle in response.

“I’ll only give you head if you actually help me study afterwards, though,” you tell him, a teasing smirk spreading across your face.

“Deal,” he says. He pauses for a moment, but it’s clear that there’s something else on the tip of his tongue.

“What is it?” you press softly, drumming your fingertips over his chest.

Harry shrugs, shooting you a small smile. His next words fill you with giddy pride.

“Dunno why you thought you’d ruined our night,” he says. His eyes are brimming with sincerity. “This is probably the best date I’ve ever had.”

~*~

if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry writing #TArry #here she is!!!!! i really hope you guys love her #((also any feedback is v v v appreciated and there's a high chance that i'll love you for the rest of my life))

[xfangheartx]

Alone Time

This one goes out to the one and only @keichanz​, whose birthday was yesterday but I didn’t have time to finish her present. ALL HAIL THE SMUT QUEEN!! XD

Also tagging: @clearwillow​ @shinidamachu​ @hnnwnchstr​ @cstormsinukagblog​ @inusgirl​ @lavendertwilight89​ @inugirl​

And away we go~!

 When Inuyasha and Kagome got married more than 14 years ago, they didn't expect their lives to turn out so hectic, and yet, here they were. They started out with just one kid; a beautiful boy with silverish-gray hair, dog ears, and golden yellow eyes, just like his old man. No problem there, right? Just one kid.

 But later, as Ichiro turned 6, their only child was an only child no longer, for Kagome gave birth to little Yamako in the middle of summer. The following year on Ichiro's 7th birthday, Inuyasha gifted his eldest son with Riki the Akita Inu puppy, and then later that winter, Sanka came into the world.

 3 kids and a dog. Alone time for the parents? A bit limited but still had every now and then.

 Then, 3 years later, Izayoi and Usagi were born on a chilly autumn night at Kagome's mother's house because they didn't have time to go to the hospital.

 But at that point...their alone time was nearly non-existent, especially when they were hurrying to get their kids out the door in time for school, rushing to get them to brush their teeth and their hair and to get the dog into the backyard in order for him to do his business...and there were often times where they didn't get the dog out fast enough.

 "RIKI!!" Inuyasha yelled as he stepped in a puddle of urine.

 Afternoons were no better. The kids get home from school, Inuyasha's home from work, and Kagome's been watching the twins and the dog all day. Sounds like a time to relax, right?

 Nary...because Ichiro calls his mother, asking her to help him with his math homework.

 "...Why do they even make geometry a thing?" asked Kagome as she looked at her eldest son's textbook. "Just...just why?!"

 "Don't look at me, I didn't invent it!" Ichiro answered.

 Hell, even at night, when everyone was supposed to be asleep, nothing was sacred.

 "Dad~!" Yamako called out, just as Inuyasha was in the middle of kissing his wife on the neck. "Can I have some water?"

 "Me, too!" Sanka added.

 "Oh, for god's sake!!" Inuyasha groaned while Kagome just sighed and lied back against the headboard, wondering what her romantic life had been reduced to. Not that she didn't love her kids, of course, but they had the worst timing.

 Even early in the morning, they weren't safe.

 "GOOD MORNING!!!" Sanka cheered as she jumped into the bed...landing right on top of her father's tender bits, which elicited a scream that sounded more feminine than masculine.

 "Son of a bitch...!" Inuyasha squeaked with a tear of pain in his eye while Kagome could only sigh.

 With a life as hectic and busy as theirs, they often wondered if they would ever have even one moment to themselves. It wasn't that they didn't love their kids, it's just...they didn't even remember the last time they had a nice bout of love-making. They knew it must have been some time after they had the twins, but they couldn't even remember that, anymore.

 Kagome didn't mind it. She knew the trials and tribulations of motherhood. It was Inuyasha who always seemed to have an issue. He loved his kids, he really did...but there were often times his sex drive was pushed to its limits. Inuyasha was always a temperamental guy, but Kagome knew her husband well enough to know that this was beginning to get to him. The way he would always growl in his throat and tightly clench his fist around a soda can to the point where he'd crumple it like it was paper...that was a sign right there that his patience was wearing very thin.

 At night, she'd often hear him moaning in his sleep, muttering her name as he played with himself under the blankets. It barely gave him the satisfaction he craved, however.

 So, on Wednesday night, she had made the arrangements.

 It was around 8:30 pm when Inuyasha arrived home late from work, exhausted and just wanting to flop down into bed...and probably end up fucking his own hand again. As he took off his hat and headed upstairs, however, he saw Ichiro holding the twins in a double carrier, a Duffel bag on his shoulder, and had Riki on a leash, the Akita panting excitedly as he pulled. As for Yamako and Sanka, they both had their signature backpacks on; The Incredible Hulk for Yamako and Hello Kitty for Sanka, respectively.

 "Hey, where are you kids off to?" asked Inuyasha.

 "Oh, Mom says we're going to Grandma's to spend the night there," Ichiro answered. "She's supposed to be here, soon."

 With that, he headed downstairs with his younger siblings and his dog not far behind.

 '...Isn't a school night, though?' thought Inuyasha before he headed into the master bedroom.

 "Hey, Kagome!" Inuyasha called. "Why are you sending the kids to your Mom's-" The moment he entered...he instantly froze.

 Kagome was sitting on the bed...her eyes hooded and soft as she stared at her husband. She wore a lavender silk negligee, the one that he bought her for their wedding anniversary last year, and had a pair of pink panties with rose-colored laces and a cute little red ribbon on the front. She smiled at him, tracing her finger along the blanket as she looked into his amber orbs.

 "...Fuck...!" Inuyasha cursed under his breath as he instantly felt his nether region coming to life.

 "Are you just gonna sit there, staring at me?" asked Kagome while licking her lips. "Or are you going to join me...big dog?"

 Inuyasha swallowed thickly...and before he knew it, he found himself walking toward his wife while slowly pulling his uniform off, revealing his toned, chiseled pectorals underneath. Kagome smiled as he climbed onto the mattress, prompting her to lean back as he pressed his lips against hers, eliciting a soft moan as she rubbed her hands up against his chest, from which she could feel a deep rumble as he pulled away with a toothy grin.

 "Wench..." he rumbled. "You planned this, didn't you?"

 "Maybe..." Kagome whispered as he kissed her once more, the mattress' springs creaking as he slowly pinned her against the bed and he began to lick on her neck, causing her to moan as she shut her eyes...and he slowly began to pull her already sopping wet panties down.

 He then reached his hand down with two fingers...

XXX

 "Hey, Ichi?" Yamako piped up, all of a sudden.

 "What, Yama?" Ichiro asked as he looked down at his little brother while holding onto his two baby sisters and his eager dog.

 "Don't we usually go to Grandma's house during the weekends?" asked Yamako. "Why are we going tonight? Don't we have school in the morning?"

 Ichiro opened his mouth to speak...but not long after, Sanka's floppy ears perked up as she heard this soft creaking sound that, for some reason, seemed to make her oldest brother's face turn pale and his eyes to go wide in horror.

 "And what's that creaking noise?" Sanka asked.

 "Uhhh..." Ichiro muttered, only to be interrupted by the sound of a car horn honking. "Oh, great! Grandma's here!" He then opened the door and pushed his younger siblings out the window. "Go-go-go-go-go-go-GO!!"

 Once they were out, Ichiro took a quick glance over his shoulder before sighing as he closed and locked the door.

 "I wouldn't be surprised if there was another little runt in the family," he mused as he got into his grandmother's car.

#inuyasha #inukag #inuyasha x kagome #for keiz ^^ #I know it's pretty short but it was the best I could come up with #hope you like it though! #alone time #implied n s f w

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Hair

Pairing: Bucky x curly haired reader

A/N: This quarantine is having me post all of my fanfic at once smh. Anyway, this was written back when I was having a series of good hair days and I wanted to write about Bucky being fascinated by the reader’s curly hair. 

Bucky had only ever seen you in combat clothes. Black tac pants, combat boots, a black tank top, and your hair tied neatly in a bun. It was either that or training clothes. The point was, he had known you for six months and had never once seen you in regular civilian dress. Except for today. You both had the day off and you decided to train together in the morning. After an hour of punching bags and cardio you had decided to call it quits. 

“Okay Barnes, I’m gonna hit the shower, try not to kill yourself while I’m gone.” You teased as you left the room. Bucky was still lifting weights, huffing as he did so. He paid little attention to your exit other than a grunt in your general direction. After 20 minutes he also decided to wrap up his session. Instead of taking a shower right away he decided to read the paper for a while and drink some coffee, maybe wait for Sam to get back from his run. 

His head was buried in The New York Times when he heard your steps coming from down the hall and into the kitchen. He heard the fridge door open as you searched for something to eat. 

“Is Sammy back yet? I was wondering if he would let me throw the shield.” You questioned as you shut the door, apparently finding whatever it was you needed. 

Bucky scoffed as he started to put the paper down, “You’d have better luck wi-” His sentence stopped abruptly as he laid eyes on you, or more specifically, your hair. It was mesmerizing. He had never seen it not in a bun before and now he was pissed about it, because he had been missing out on the most perfect set of curls he had ever laid eyes on. Even in their semi-wet state they were still springy and bounced around your shoulders as you moved, each catching the light perfectly and in a tantalizing fashion. His fingers itched to reach out and touch one. 

“Bucky, hello?” You called, waving your hand in front of his face. 

“What? Sorry.” He breathed, still fascinated by your curls. “Have you uh, have you always had curly hair?” 

“As long as I can remember yeah.” You commented, pulling on one of your tightly coiled strands, elongating it, and then letting go so that it bounced right back in place. Bucky wished it were his fingers doing that instead. 

“Why don’t you wear it down more?” He questioned, finding that the subject of your hair was one he couldn’t easily let go of. 

“It gets in the way and I don’t want it damaged.” You explained, beginning chopping up chicken and vegetables for your salad. “You should do the same with yours.” 

Bucky carded his flesh fingers through his long black locks, he could tie it up, or he could just cut it again. 

“I’d probably just shave it off again, make it look like it did back when I was younger.” What was the point of having long hair if it didn’t look like yours anyway, he thought absentmindedly to himself. 

“I’ve thought about shaving my head.” You admitted, absentmindedly tugging at some of the ringlets around your face, letting them fall from your fingers one at a time. 

Bucky froze at the thought. He couldn’t understand why anyone with hair as gorgeous as yours would want to cut it off. “Why?” He whispered, dumbfounded. 

“Sometimes it’s too much maintenance. Like literally half of my shower routine is just my hair, and in the summer it gets so hot and not to mention frizzy.” You thought, mixing your cut items with lettuce and adding dressing. You waved goodbye to Bucky as you retreated back to your room leaving him at a loss for words. 

“Penny for your thoughts.” Sam mused, as he entered the room and saw a troubled Bucky. 

“Did you know Y/N has curly hair?” 

“Yeah, didn’t you?” Sam scoffs, pulling a water bottle from the fridge and chugging it, clearly still winded after his run. 

“No...how did you know?” Bucky questioned, feeling a subtle flair of jealousy for the man in front of him. Did everyone know about your hair but Bucky? 

“Calm down killer, it’s not like that.” Sam began, sensing the palpable tension coming from Bucky, “About a month ago she asked if I knew of any good places that cut curly hair and I said yeah.” 

“Couldn’t she have just gone to the closest shop?” 

Sam tried and failed to hide his guwaff at the question. 

“What?” Bucky questioned incredulously. 

“I mean, curly hair is a tad different than straight hair. You have to get it cut a certain way and I don’t think the $5 supercuts was gonna give her what she needed.” Sam explained. 

“Huh.” Bucky responded, “I wonder if she would let me touch it.” 

“Only if you wanna die.” Sam cautioned. “Never touch a woman's hair unless she gives you permission. Rule number one of curly hair.” 

It was on that note that Bucky left Sam to his devices. He had pretty much dropped the subject of your hair until two weeks later, when he heard a knock at his door. It was you, and you had what appeared to be a shower caddy in your hand. 

“Hey, can I use your shower? Mine’s broken and maintenance says they can’t fix it until Wednesday.” You asked apologetically, giving Bucky a sad smile. He gestured for you to make your way into his ensuite bathroom. 

“Thanks a million Bucky, if there’s anything I can do for you just let me know.” You called out from the shower, your voice echoing off the walls as you got ready to turn the water on. Well, that offer was certainly tempting. Bucky’s mind went back to your fascinating mane of curls and a thought popped into his head. 

“Yeah, actually there is something.” He called out to you. 

“What?” You replied eagerly, head sticking out from the door frame, your curls forming a wide and frizzy halo around your head. 

“Can I, uh, watch you do your hair?” He asked, feeling like shooting himself in the foot for even asking the question. 

“You wanna watch me do my hair?” You repeated, not sure you were hearing him correctly. 

“Yeah, I mean you said it takes a while to do and it always looks so good. But nevermind it’s dumb forget it.” Bucky hurried his response, feeling the blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

“It’s not dumb Buck. Sure thing. When I’m done with my shower I’ll come and get you.” You reassured before you shut the door and turned the water on. 

Ten minutes later you opened the door for him and he followed you into the bathroom. The thick humid air assaulted his lungs and he smelt jasmine and honey, he assumed your soap, but there was also another smell, coconut and hibiscus. He leaned in closer to you and noticed it was coming from your hair, which was sopping wet, weighing down your curls until they looked less like ringlets and more like loose s shapes. 

“Are you smelling my hair?” You questioned cheekily, looking to face Bucky. 

“Sorry.” He murmured, suddenly finding his feet utterly fascinating. Your giggle brought his head snapping back up to find your eyes. 

“Don’t be. It smells good. I’m just about to get started.” You commented as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, looking at the array of products before you. He watched as you grabbed a wide flat brush and let it gently pass through your hair so that it almost looked straight before the bottoms decided to rebel and curl up once more. 

“So, I only brush my hair when it’s wet because otherwise that wouldn’t be a pretty sight.” You explained, passing the brush through your shiny hair once more. You then picked up a product with a pink label on it before squirting some of the thick cream into your hand. 

“What’s that for?” Bucky questioned, curiosity peaking. 

“It’s a styler, so it makes my curls look more coiffed I guess. They use it in all the youtube videos so I figured it must be important.” You shrug slightly as you pass the product through your hair, and Bucky could see what you meant. Your curls responded beautifully to the product, each ringlet getting more love than the last. Once again he got that familiar urge to rake his fingers through your hair. 

“Can I, can I touch it?” He questioned, voice soft like a child asking for something they know they shouldn’t. Sam had warned him not to touch your hair but he had asked first. 

“Normally, no. I would cut your other hand off. But, seeing as it is wet and I can fix it, yeah I don’t see why not.” You responded, leaning in closer to Bucky so he could properly touch your tresses. 

Not wanting to do any damage he only let his flesh hand touch your curls. At first, the touch was tentative, not sure what was allowed. He took one particularly perfect ringlet between his fingers and smoothed it over. Appreciating the way it caught the light. Next he twirled another section around his finger, watching in awe as it held the shape when he let go. Then, growing bolder, he let his full hand palm your head, shaking the wet curls loose and allowing volume. He heard a soft and contented sigh escape your lips and looked at your face to find your eyes closed and mouth in a permanent smile. You were enjoying this just as much as he was. 

“So, am I ruining your hair?” He breathed, slightly smug. 

“I guess not.” You replied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He pulled his hand from your hair as you continued your work. The next product you put on your hand had a strong smell of artificial blueberry and was the brightest blue color he had ever seen. 

“What’s that one for?” 

“It’s a gel, I put it in my hair, wait for it to dry, and then scrunch it out. It helps my curls keep their shape and reduce frizz.” You explained as you pulled the product through your hair, scrunching it along the way until you had curls that you liked. 

“Wow.” Bucky said, amazed. When you said your hair took a while you meant it. No wonder why he had always seen it up. 

“Why do you care so much about my hair anyway?” You questioned, putting all your items back in your caddy and walking back to your room across the hall, Bucky following close behind. 

“Well, I guess back in my day everyone wore their hair pretty much the same. It was nice but it was all pulled up and more straightened. I’ve never seen anyone with hair like yours. It’s refreshing.” He responded truthfully. You tugged on a wet curl, seeming to soak in his answer. 

“Makes sense.” You concluded with a smile. “In a few hours I’ll show you what it looks like dry.” It was then that Bucky decided he would like nothing more than to look at your hair for the rest of his days.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #mcu fanfic #avengers fanfic

[tardis-sapphics]

24! ☀️

thank u!

24: ‘my child’

this one is perhaps a bit long but i do love this a lot. hope you enjoy! also, would recommend this absolutely gorgeous song to accompany your reading!

The end of war is a feeling as much as it is a moment, Yaz is discovering. It is a shared feeling, something so innate to a people, it is impossible to feel on your own. When the final order is given, the last papers are signed, and the last casualty breathes their final breath, there is all at once, and slowly, a burgeoning emotion.

It grows and grows. A new dawn: first comes the birds, the heralders of the new way; then the light creeps in. It will illuminate everything, even the things best thought of in shadow. But it is inevitable, and it is graceful.

When it illuminates the worst, it does not so do out of glee. It does so as an imploring—an attempt to make new a bitterly fought moment.

They all feel it, thrumming through their veins. This call of grace, this call to begin again.

In the battlefield, the four of them had held hands. They had witnessed the passing of war, and watched a new world begin.

Their tent, adjacent to the Commander General for their now-defunct role as brokers of peace, is gradually being illuminated in the same dawn light as every tent on this battlefield. And like the others, the material is not thick enough to blot it out. It creeps, but it is sure.

Yaz watches the slow brightening, the way one follows the curious journey of a single insect, focusing on every detail she can observe. For two days, her head has been full of nothing but war: the clashes, the screams, the consequences. There is something liberating about this—the chance for small things to be given equal eight once more.

The orange of the tent is lightening, from a dull and shade to something rich, vibrant. She feels her own vibrancy in it.

To her left, Ryan and Graham snoring away in their sleeping bags. The Doctor, she can hear, is in the front section, possibly fiddling with something or other. In moments of quiet, she usually is.

And Yaz is content to let the morning stay that way, to find richness in the slow, but the morning has other plans.

Outside, on the battlefield, she hears a child crying.

They must be crying loudly for the sound to reach them inside the tent. Many tents, in fact, with the way they have been clustered together. But these are soldiers, generals—not families. This kid must be lost. Her heart pangs for them.

Five minutes later, and the child’s cries have turned into weepy calls for their father. They sound young, so young, and no one is going to help.

What is this world, this new, hopefully world, if no one will help a child?

Yaz crawls through to the front section to find her shoes—and sees the Doctor doing the same. Quick fingers tie up her boots laces, and Yaz gets to work on her own.

When she looks up, finished, the Doctor is smiling at her. Two days’ worth of mud and hard work are showing on her clothes, her coat torn at the edges. But she looks as bright as ever. ‘The others?’ she wonders, her voice still a whisper.

‘Asleep,’ Yaz confirms. She nods at the Doctor’s boots. ‘You gonna look for the kid too?’

‘Of course.’ Something flashes in her eyes: sadness, but not just. ‘This is no place for a child.’

The kid is difficult to spot amongst the sea of orange; the sides of the tents dance in the whipping wind, as do their flags, and each movement is distracting. So, too, are the sentries who patrol the thin pathways between the rows of tents; most of them are in an early-morning daze, rendered almost useless by the cessation of war. There would be a perfect haze of suspension, a potent need to wait—if it were not for the child.

‘Papo!’ the child calls. Yaz grabs the Doctor’s arm. They are much closer now.

In the midst of war’s debris, they find her. Clad in what Yaz has to assume are pyjamas, she trails a blanket in the churned up mud, turning white cotton to mucky brown. Her light blue eyes are bright with tears like little crystals, her face puffy from crying, she staggers between the tents, searching.

Sniffing, unharmed, and innocent. At the sight of her, Yaz’s heart aches.

They walk towards her slowly, aware of her eyes on them. The entire time, doleful but curious. Yaz smiles as she bends down in front of her, waving a quick hello. The Doctor grins at her, but she is busy scanning the immediate area for any disturbances.

‘Heya,’ Yaz starts. ‘I’m Yaz. And this is my—’ she clears her throat ‘—this is the Doctor. It’s lovely to meet you! What’s your name?’

The girl pouts at her, assessing her. Eventually, she answers. ‘Vay.’

‘I love your name; it’s beautiful,’ Yaz smiles, and Vay brightens, just a little. ‘You look a little lost. Are you trying to find your Papo?’

It upsets Vay, who sniffles again. ‘Moma said I could see him today but I dunno where he is.’

Yaz nods. ‘Would you like us to help you, Vay? We know some important people who can find your Papo for you. Only, it’s very early in the morning and no one else is awake yet. D’you want to come with us?’

Vay takes a moment to consider this, but eventually she does accept, reaching for Yaz’s hand. Yaz breathes a sigh of relief.

Vay warms to the two of them quickly. She likes the way the Doctor talks, quick and fast and silly. She appreciates Yaz picking her up and keeping her close. Yaz is warm and kind and always asks if Vay is okay with what they’re doing.

They try their hardest to make Vay feel safe, on this battlefield with countless lives lost around them.

Back at the tent, Yaz introduces their new companion to Graham and Ryan, who are barely awake. Ryan is still groggy and moody, but Graham pushes away his exhaustion to play granddad.

The Doctor pulls Yaz to one side. ‘I’ve scanned her,’ she informs her quietly. ‘She’s not using a cloaking device, or a perception filter, and she’s not a different species.’

‘So she’s a child,’ Yaz says, a brow arched.

‘She’s a child. But you never know, Yaz! Some aliens are wily like that,’ the Doctor protests. ‘Anyway, her father will definitely be in one of these tents. That’s why she’s here, or at least why she’s been close, because according to the Renshaw Law these lot passed two centuries ago, children aren’t allowed anywhere near a battlefield.’

‘Which means she’s walked a long way,’ Yaz surmises.

The Doctor nods. ‘From the timeframe we’re working on, her mum was given clearance as soon as the war ended, last night. That means they’re family to a high-ranking official; they’re always the first to see loved ones.’

She looks as if she is about to say something else. There is a curious light in her eyes.

Yaz dismisses what she was about to say, and asks, ‘What?’ instead.

The Doctor simply smiles. ‘Just—you’re amazing, Yasmin Khan. You’re bringing a family back together. I’m very proud.’

Yaz flushes.

Even though the five of them can hear the squadrons around them waking up, the four adults know that no one will be ready yet. This is peacetime, and everything here is loose. The light may be here but the morning isn’t ready yet, so they stay, and wait for the first calls of action.

It helps, too, that Vay is a little charmer. Now fully awake, Ryan has been won over in an instant—but she is staying by Yaz’s side, so he volunteers to wash Vay’s blanket and win over her affection that way. Whilst Vay waits for her blanket to return, she allows herself to be entertained by Yaz’s tickles and silly faces. The Doctor supplies her with a few custard creams from her coat pocket—‘For breakfast!’ she grins—and Vay takes an immediate liking to them.

In a free moment, when Vay has launched herself, yet again, at Graham, Yaz notices the Doctor watching her. She doesn’t feel embarrassed, just settled. She smiles back.

Ryan returns half an hour later with a sopping wet blanket, but it is clean and Vay is delighted. Light is everywhere now, indistinguishable from the world, and the morning is warming up. So, it seems, is everyone else: pots are cooking hearty breakfasts, strips of meat and boiled grains. As they leave the tent, the smell of food hits Yaz square in the stomach, and it growls impatiently.

In her arms, Vay wriggles around to poke Yaz’s belly. Crystal-blue eyes narrow and she grins a growl in response.

Yaz laughs. ‘Perfect!’

The Commander General’s tent is far larger than theirs, and already busy with personnel. Any snippets of conversation that reach Yaz’s ears tell her they are co-ordinating the extracting programme. They are going home.

The five of them are not noticed by anyone, until the Commander General himself bustles through his throng of people. He is busy asking an adviser questions when he alights on Vay—and freezes.

Vay immediately perks up. ‘Papo!’ she crows delightedly. Yaz lets her to the ground, and she runs, wet blanket in hand.

She is in his arms in an instant. He scoops her up and swings her about, beaming. This commander, always hard and unfeeling the previous week, is sobbing as he reunites with his daughter.

There are tears in his eyes. Yaz’s heart squeezes at the sight. This man could have died today—but the war is over, and here he is.

She feels a hand take hers, and looks to her side to see the Doctor beaming at her.

‘Where did you find her?’ he demands. ‘My little miracle.’ Vay giggles, recognising the phrase.

‘We found her wandering the field,’ the Doctor starts. ‘Early dawn, by herself. Very brave.’

‘She was calling for her Papo,’ Yaz adds. ‘We kept her safe until we could find her dad.’

‘S’pose that turned out to be you,’ Graham says.

‘Yes. Yes, that’s me. Thank you,’ the Commander General breathes. ‘I cannot thank you enough. My child, my child.’ He kisses the top of her head. ‘My child.’

Leaving Vay is harder than Yaz expected it to be. But Vay is curious and silly and she is safe, at last, on this battlefield, with her Papo.

Vay doesn’t want them to leave, either. But when she understands they must, she gives Yaz her blanket.

Yaz leaves with tears in her eyes. Happy.

They don’t wait around. As the day beckons, so does the TARDIS; so does the rest of their lives. They are glad, at least, to be leaving on a successful note.

It could have been much, much worse.

Before closing the doors to the TARDIS, she takes one last look at the field. So much violence, and bloodshed, and loss—but hope now, too. A new world is waking up, a good world, where a child will find their father. And she is grateful for it.

Round the TARDIS console, Ryan teases his granddad about Vay defeating him in a tickle fight. The Doctor is typing up a destination onto the screen: Sheffield, Earth, 2020.

Silently, Yaz walks up to her. In one hand, she has bundled Vay’s blanket, cold in her palm. With the other, she reaches out for the Doctor.

The Doctor looks up and smiles. And links their fingers together.

send me numbers!

#thasmin #thasmin fanfiction #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #team tardis #kp answers #thasmin prompts

[timelock97]

Kid-Pranked

Time Never Stops Blurb!

Word Count: 2302

A/N: ope, we about to freak poor Tommy out, I am not sorry. It’s pure fluff

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

I run my hand through my hair as I walk about the house going through my mental check-list. Cameras? Check. Mics? Check. Extra batteries? Check. Backpack with the rest of my equipment? Checkity-check. I zip up the main zipper as I place it on the kitchen chair to grab my water from out of the fridge. “Tom?” 

“Yes, love?” 

“Are you sure you’re good to have the kids today?” I place the water bottle into the side pocket, clipping the top to the side strap for extra security.

Tom laughs from the living room, feet shuffling against the floor as he walks into the kitchen, Nathaniel settled on his hip, who upon seeing me reaches for me to hold him. Tom hands him over as I reach for him, Nathan’s head resting against my collar bone. “Love, I’m their dad. Besides, Harrison will be with me. They can’t outnumber us.”

“Mama.”

“Yeah, bud?” I coo, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Nathan nuzzles his head into my skin, grabbing a fistfull of my tee shirt, “‘ungry.”

I giggle, Tom moving past me to grab Nathan’s breakfast. “Daddy is getting it for you, okay?” 

“Mama?” 

I turn and smile at Claire walking into the room, Spider-Man tsum tsum tucked under her right arm and left hand holding onto Tessa’s collar. “Good morning, Claire-bear, did you sleep well?”

She nods, walking over and wrapping her arms around my leg. “Yeah,” she nuzzles her face into my pants. “Are you going to see Uncle Dan and Uncle Phil today?”

“Yup,” I run a hand through her slightly curled, tangled hair.

“Can I go?” She looks up at me, big brown eyes mimicking Tom’s puppy-dog stare.

I smile down at her, “Don’t you want to spend the day with Daddy?”

“We aren’t going to Grandma and Grandad’s?” Her eyes light up as she lets go to run into Tom’s legs, nearly knocking him over. “Can we go to the park? Please, please, pleeeeeeeease?”

“Absolutely, princess.” Tom laughs, placing his hand on the back of her head to hug her closer.

My phone pinging pulls me away from the sweet moment. I reach for it off the table to see that the boys are outside. “Alright, babies, Mama has to head out.” I crouch so Claire can hug me while I set Nathan on the ground, “Be good for Daddy and Uncle Harrison, okay?” The two nod as I stand and press a quick kiss to Tom’s lips before grabbing my bag and head out the door.

“So Tom has the babies today?” Phil greets as I crawl onto the back seat of the Uber, camera in hand.

“Yeah, him and Harrison are taking them to the park and then they are going to have a picnic with them or something.” I laugh, shifting the bags onto the floor. 

Dan smiles as he turns in the front seat, “so that’s why our last stop in filming is the park?”

I shrug, nodding my head. “Figured if I see them, I can check in on them. Nathaniel is one-hundred percent a mama’s boy.”

“He’d want to you to go home too-”

“Or come with me, baby boy is attached to the hip.” 

The three of us meet up with the rest of the group to record, ready for a long, long day. As we progress and finally head to the park, I notice that Tom had sent me a few pictures of the babies. He had captioned the text ‘Park Ready ‘ which made me laugh.

While finishing up some of the final shots, I hear a familiar yell, making me turn. I laugh as Claire comes running over, barreling into my legs happily. “Mama!”

“Hey, Claire-Bear, are you having a fun day with Daddy?”

She nods her head, giggling, “Daddy is having a prank war with Uncle Hazza.” 

“He is?” She giggles at my voice going higher, nodding her head. “Well, ain’t that fun?”

She sways from side to side, looking up at me before motioning for me to lean down. Once I crouch to her height, she lets out a little giggle, “Can we prank Daddy?”

“You wanna prank your Daddy?” I giggle, pinching her sides so she giggles again. “Doesn’t that sound fun, we can do it once I get home, yeah?”

“Nooooooo,” she whines, “wanna do it now!”

Phil crouches down beside me, chuckling as Claire launches into his arms, calling out his name. “What were you thinking, bug?” Claire goes into a big explanation while I stand, stretching my stiff muscles.  

Dan walks over and gives me a funny look, “What you thinking about Howell?”

“She wants to prank Tom?”

“Yeah, we’ve all been in a mega prank war and its been taking over our house.”

He chuckles, “What was the worst thing that’s happened so far?”

“Hmmm,” I scratch the back of my head, “Tom pretended that Claire was having an allergic reaction while I was on a live stream and when I reacted I ended up getting sopped with green goo, in front of 10 million people...”

“So she wants to help her Mum now, I think you should go a little more all out.”

“Like what?” I laugh, replacing my camera battery while we are stopped.

“How would Tom react if your littles disappeared?”

“Freak the fuck out, that’s for damn sure.” I notice the way Dan gives me a knowing look, “No, I am not gonna kidnap my own kids!”

“I know you want this prank war to be done, I can see it in your face, and it’s not kidnapping if someone else on the opposite party knows-”

“No it’s not, Dan!” I shake my head, my focus going back to my daughter as she wraps her arm around my leg, looking up at me with bright eyes.

“Mama, prank Daddy?”

I look at Dan and Phil, both who look at me with mischief in their eyes. “This is a bad idea-”

“We won’t keep them too long, we can go back to your place if you are so worried.” Dan suggests.

“What are we doing?” Phil asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Pranking my husband.” I sigh, setting my bag down on the ground before sitting down beside it. Claire crawls into my lap as I pull out my ideas notepad and pen.

Harrison,

If you say anything about pranking your best friend before the proper point I will pull you into this prank war and it will be 10x worse than what I have had to deal with this month. I am taking the kids back home, and you are the only one who is going to know. Gonna let Tom have his own freak-out moment with the babies. Make sure Tom comes home after at least an hour, and make sure he doesn’t call the police. It won’t be a pretty thing to explain to the police that I took my own kids without telling my husband for a prank.

Much love, your other best friend, (Y/N)

I rip out the page, folding it in half and look at Claire. “Alright, little love, you are going to do two things for me, okay?” I point over at a large tree that isn’t too far from where Harrison and Nathan are seated. “You are going to hand this to Uncle Hazza, then take Nathan’s hand and tell him we are gonna see Mama, then come back to me. Okay?”

“Prank Daddy?”

“Prank Daddy.” I confirm, Claire snatching the piece of paper from my hand before running as fast as her little legs can carry her over to her uncle. I look at Dan and Phil, who have grabbed and rezipped my bag, “I’ll meet you over there, yeah?”

They give me a crisp nod before walking to the closest exit that was happened to be closest to the walk home. I move over to the tree and wait a minute before Nathaniel is beside me, reaching out for me. “Hi, baby baby, wanna go home and watch Totoro?”

“‘Roro.” He hums, eyes falling shut and thumb popping into his mouth as he settles against my chest. Claire grabs my hand as we walk to the exit, only letting go to take Phil and Dan’s hands so they can swing her between them. I smile at the scene, raising an eyebrow when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. When I fish it out, I let out a short, breathy laugh.

~

Hazza Bananza

Tom is gonna kill me for not telling him.

Also, he literally walked away to get Claire and ice-lollie.

I don’t think he will last an hour.

Mama MemeLord

Figure it out Osterfield

~

I roll my eyes as I send out the response, tucking it back into my back pocket. Nathaniel curls closer, breath even. Looks like I am gonna have to just relax for the next hour.

An hour later, Harrison had already texted me to say they were on their way home. I usher the kids into the back yard with Dan and Phil as I get started on dinner. I hear the front door slam open, Tom’s voice shaking as he calls out, “Claire Marie! Nathaniel James! Please tell me you are here?”

“Tom?” I call, a concerned face covering my features. 

“Love! Y-you’re home!” He stutters, his eyes wide with fear and anxiety, “(Y/N), I lost the kids, we were at the park and I walked away to get Claire an ice-lollie and when I came back they were gone-”

My heart aches at his fear, and I grab his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. “Tom, Tom, Tom. Take a breathe. The babies are fine-”

“No I lost them, and I thought that maybe they just came home, or went to my Mum’s and Dad’s but they aren’t there.” 

“Baby, you didn’t lose them.” I giggle, taking his face in my hands.

“I didn’t- but they were with me-”

“And my last stop was at the park, and our babies were tired and wanted to go home.” I tell him, moving my hands down to hold his. 

“You had them? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dan thought it would be a good prank after what you did to me last week.”

That’s when Tom’s eyes finally lighten, I can feel the weight finally falling away from his shoulders. “So you freaked me out ‘cause I freaked you out?”

“Yup, except, instead of freaking you out in front of 10 million people, I only let you freak out in front of your best friend.”

Tom spins around to point at Harrison, who already has his hands up in surrender. “You-”

Harrison points at me in a panic, “She put me up to it!”

“Daddy!” Claire’s voice pulls us all away from our conversation. Tom’s knees hit the floor as he takes her into his arms. “Pranked you!”

Tom lets out a wet laugh, “Yup, but we aren’t going to do anymore pranks for awhile, okay?”

“Okay! Can we play tea-party?”

Tom chuckles, nodding, “After dinner, okay baby-love?”

“Da’?” Nathaniel’s voice comes from the sliding glass door, Dan and Phil not too far behind.

“Hey, bud!” Tom opens his arm so he can hug Nathan, who just snuggles into him. “Missed you.”

“Well, now that the cat is out of the bag, we are going to leave,” Dan calls, trying to sneak by Tom without being caught.

“You aren’t allowed in my house for three months, Daniel.” Tom calls back, making the kids giggle, Claire running over to Dan calling out a long ‘no’.

“Why three months?” Dan laughs as he snuggles Claire.

“Cause I can’t ground you, and it just keeps you away from giving my wife bad ideas.”

“Leave him alone, Tommy.” I giggle, as he stands, wrapping an arm around his chest, pressing mine to his back. “Everyone is fine.”

“I know, I know, love.” He mutters, taking my hand in his to press a kiss to the back of it. “Have a safe drive home, mates. You too Harrison.” 

“I’m out, gotta meet with my mum tonight anyways, bye guys!”

The house grew quiet as everyone left for the evening. Tom lets out a sigh as my timer goes off on the stove. “Dinner’s ready.” I mutter, letting go of Tom to pull the chicken out of the oven.

“Claire, will you take your brother to the bathroom and help him wash his hands for dinner?” I don’t hear a response, but the pitter-patter of feet leaving the room confirms that she was doing just that. The room stays silent as I feel Tom move toward me, the only sound coming from the creaking floorboards. A squeak leaves my parted lips as his hand connects with my toosh. “Love?”

“Yes, baby?” 

His head lands onto my shoulder, a shaky breath leaving his parted lips. “I really thought I lost them today.”

“They’re safe, Tom, promise.” I run a hand into his hair.

“And for that I am glad, but darling, you do know that you aren’t getting away with this, right?”

I laugh and his other arm wraps around my waist pulling me flush to his chest. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Will you make me my favorite cookies?”

My laughter shakes us both, making him laugh along with me. “Sure, handsome.”

“We washed our hands!”

Tom let’s go of me to scoop up the littles and places them at the table as I bring over the meal. I smile at my little family at the table, Claire talking about her afternoon with Uncle Dan and Phil while I help Nathan with his food. Tom smiles at me when we make eye contact. My little family. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

#cg writes #time never stops #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tomhollandxyoutuber!reader #dad!tom holland

[monaisme]

Day 10: “i’m sorry. i didn’t know

Day 10: “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Peter came bounding into the penthouse, sopping wet from the storm outside, but smiling huge when he saw Ms. Potts sitting at the kitchen counter drinking a cup of tea and pouring over some legal documents for Stark Industries. “Hey, Ms. Potts! Guess who had a substitute in chemistry today?”

Ms. Potts spun around on her stool, smiling at the excited young man. “I’m assuming by your overall giddiness, it would be you?” She laughed and got up from her seat to grab a dishtowel for the boy to dry off with. “And what magical thing did this substitute do the put you in such a good mood—even as you look like you swam here?” She dropped the towel on his head and gave his hair a tousle.

With a flourish, Peter reached into his backpack and pulled out a small sandwich bag. “We made candy!”

Ms. Potts seemed both amused and confused at the whole thing. “That sounds like tonnes of fun and not very hygienic at the same time!” She laughed. “I’m not sure how I feel about this?”

“No-no-no! It was fine! Libby has a friend that goes to culinary school and—“

“Whoa there, Peter.” Ms. Potts interrupted. “Did you say Libby, as in “devoting her life to the children” when she’s not killing them with rose oil, Libby?”

Peter blushed in embarrassment. “Well, when you put it like that, I look kind of silly being excited, don’t I?”

Ms. Potts got that look on her face that made Peter think he’d done something ‘adorable,’ and he blushed all the harder. Yeah, people wondered why he wore a mask!?

“Ugh, fine! Yes, that Libby! But look!” Peter waved the plastic bag again, “She bagged it all at the end of the day so we could bring it home to share!” He thrust the bag out to her. “It’s cinnamon!”

She looked at the bag like it was going to jump out of his hand and bite her. “And I am going to be convinced to eat this how?”

“Ms. Potts, it was so cool! Mr. Harrington had some boring video scheduled as the sub lesson, but Libby has a friend that goes to culinary school and was able to get all these food grade beakers and stuff so we could play around with temperatures and chemical reactions and stuff—“

“Temperatures and chemical reactions and stuff?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that the technical terminology they teach you at that STEM school, Peter?”

Peter stomped his foot and let out a whine, “Ms. Potts! C’mon! It’s candeeeeee!”

She laughed gleefully. “Oh, Peter! You’re too easy! Fine. I happen to love cinnamon candy—not that Tony ever remembers.” She put her hand out in expectation. “Impress me.”

Peter pulled a candy out of the bag and placed it into the palm of her hand. “With compliments from the chef!”

“I don’t think that’s quite right, Peter,” she teased as she popped the candy into her mouth.

“Well, it’s my candy and I can say what I want... Ms. Potts?”

He’d ignored the confused look on her face when she’d put the candy in her mouth. Peter figured she was going to play the critic and ‘analyze’ his creation. But then his spidey-sense blared. “Ms. Potts? What’s wrong?”

Pepper looked terrified. She spit the candy from her mouth and brought her hands up to her throat, scratching pink red lines against rapidly developing hives—along her jaw, around her mouth...

Peter figured it out pretty fast. “FRIDAY! Epi-pen! Where?” Peter called out. He remembered when Betty had reacted to a coconut cookie and Mr. Harrington needed to administer an epi-pen. It had been terrifying, but they’d all learned how to do it after—for Betty, and now for Ms. Potts.

“There is an epi-pen in the miscellaneous drawer next to the refrigerator.” FRIDAY prompted immediately. “As well, I have notified the medical staff of the situation.

“Thanks, FRI!” Peter hollered and he vaulted over the island, knocking all of Ms. Pott’s papers to the floor—but there was no time. He yanked the drawer out, scattering contents in his haste to track down the tell-tale tube.

There it was!

He grabbed the epi-pen, rushing over to Ms. Potts who had sat herself on the floor in her weakness. “Here you go, Ms. Potts.” He assured her, and with a determination like he’d never had before, he pressed the pen to her thigh, waited for the click and counted slow. 1--- 2--- 3. Done. He tossed the pen away.

Ms. Potts was looking a little less panicked, and a little more on the verge of passing out. “FRIDAY, when’s the medical team getting here?” He massaged the injection site.

“ETA is one minute and thirty seconds, Peter.”

Peter gave Ms. Potts a quick once over, she was looking clammy and pale, and her breathing was sounding pretty not good. With that he made his decision. “FRIDAY, tell them there’s a change of plans. Have them meet us at the elevator on the med bay floor in forty-five seconds.”

“Message relayed, Peter.”

“And FRIDAY, bring the elevator to the penthouse level, now! Medical Emergency!”

“Understood, Peter.”

Ms. Potts was gasping and ready to pass out. They had to move.

Peter placed his arms under her knees and around her back. “I’m gonna get you help now, Ms. Potts, okay?” He asked.

She didn’t answer, but he wasn’t really waiting for one. Peter scooped her up and had her at the elevator as the doors slid open. He reassured her as the elevator went down to the med bay floor, but she was barely conscious when they got there.

It said something about the professionalism of Mr. Stark’s staff that they said nothing about the gangly sixteen year old boy carrying the full-sized adult woman with ease, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were just barely ready for her as he stepped out of the elevator and then she was being whisked away to get the help that she needed.

Peter stared, dumbstruck, as they all disappeared into one of the treatment rooms.

She’d be fine.

Right?

“Holy shit!” Peter whispered. Ms. Potts had almost died!

Peter stepped back and slid down the wall behind him. He needed a second to process exactly what had just happened.

Ms. Potts has almost died — and she had eaten a candy that Peter had given her.

Peter had almost killed Ms. Potts and he didn’t understand! How had this happened?

She’d said she loved cinnamon, right?

Unless... had someone gotten to Ms. Potts before Peter had gotten to the tower? What if someone was out for the two of them? Tony hadn’t mentioned any new threats or Peter would have kept a better eye out for anything weird. Tony knew that he’d have helped out with something like that in a heartbeat.

Ms. Potts had almost died, and if he hadn’t been there to help, he’d have been—

Well. He tried to push the thoughts of the gaping hole Ben’s passing had left in his life, but only compounded the grief and horror when he coupled it with the thought of Ms. Potts being gone, too.

His eyes burned and his breathing picked up.

She was fine.

She was fine.

She was fine.

Ms. Potts had almost died... but she was fine.

The elevator doors opened again, and a frantic Mr. Stark came rushing out and down the hallway.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter called to him, struggling to pull himself together while getting up from his spot on the floor.

Mr. Stark turned and came back to Peter, grabbed him by the shoulders, and looked him in the eye. “What happened, kid? They said she’s had an anaphylactic reaction to something but they’re not sure what she came in contact with!”

“I don’t know either, Mr. Stark! I was gonna ask if you knew—“

“Mr. Stark?” A nurse had stepped out of Ms. Potts’ room and was beckoning him in. “If you’d like to come in, she’s stable now.”

He looked to the nurse and then back at Peter, “We’ll table this for now, okay? I’m just gonna,” he pointed over his shoulder to the room his fiancée lay waiting for him.

Peter nodded, “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna wait here and make sure things stay okay, okay?” Peter’s thoughts were spinning.

Mr. Stark gave Peter a look of concern. “Okay.” He said hesitantly, and then jogged down the hall to Ms. Potts’ room.

The return to quiet was definitely not a good thing for Peter.

He sat again and tried to think.  

It didn’t make any sense?

Maybe there was something on the papers she’d been handling? Was there a glass on the counter that he hadn’t noticed? Would Mr. Stark allow him to use FRIDAY to analyze—“

“Kid?”

Peter’s head popped up at Mr. Stark’s call and he stood. It had only been a couple of minutes so Peter was confused. “Mr. Stark? Is everything okay?”

Mr. Stark stalked towards him. “No. Everything is not okay.” He growled low. “What did you do?”

“What? I gave her an epi-pen and rushed her right here. Why?” Peter looked over Mr. Stark’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever could be happening. “Did something else happen?”

Peter was getting scared.

“She’s allergic to strawberries and you knew it! Was it supposed to be a joke? Some sick prank? Why the hell did you give her something that could kill her!?”

“But the-- ?” Peter started.

“But nothing! That woman is my life!” he waved toward the room where Ms. Potts was being cared for with one hand; shoved Peter hard in the chest with his other. “And I thought YOU, of all people, would keep her safe!”

“Mist—“

“Stop!” Tony finally roared. “I don’t want to hear your ‘I don’t knows’ and ‘Mr. Starks.’ I don’t even want to look at you now. There are no three strikes with this one, kid. Get your shit out of my penthouse and get out of my tower. Someone will call you about the suit.” He seethed, and then turned and marched back to be with Ms. Potts.

Peter couldn’t process—couldn’t understand.

“mr. stark. the candy was cinnamon.”

His weak whisper went unheard and after a few minutes of blinking into the void, Peter turned around, called the elevator and left the tower, walking out into the storm.

* * * * * *

It had taken several hours and the guarantees of Dr. Cho and two separate nurses that Pepper would be just fine if he left her alone for a few hours, before Tony felt comfortable enough to head up to the penthouse to shower and change clothes. She was being kept for observation until at least tomorrow afternoon and had been sleeping almost the entire time he’d been there.

And there was no way Tony wanted to stay in a three piece suit for that long if he could help it.

He’d confirmed with FRIDAY that Peter had left the tower, shaking his head at the sheer gall of the kid. How he could just...

No. Tony had to shake it off. He’d made a mistake. Misread the room, if you will. He’d get over the juvenility and betrayal and move on.

... Except that the kid had left all of his shit in his home.

Tony grabbed the backpack, fighting the urge to chuck it off the roof of the building he was so mad—and then he saw the damned bag of candy.

How could Peter do something so horrible? He’d been so sure that they were a team... Hell, he thought that Peter had looked up to him—maybe even loved him? And he sure as hell thought the kid respected Pepper enough to not intentionally harm her! When that nurse had told him that Peter had convinced her to eat something with strawberry in it...

It didn’t make sense.

But what’s done was done and Tony needed to wash his hands of it before he lost his damned mind. No one hurt Pepper.

Grabbing his phone, he dialled May one last time. She’d need to know to expect a courier for Peter’s school items and he was dealing with this now. Pepper didn’t need to come home to that kind of stress.

“Hey, Tony! I’m glad you called!” May answered her phone. “Is Peter with you?”

Caught off guard, Tony replied, “No.”

“Well,” May continued. “He’s not answering his phone and that sub of his, Libby, has been trying to contact all of the students she had in Chemistry today, but especially Peter.”

Libby? “What are you talking about May?”

May sounded exasperated, “I guess the kids all made candy today. Morning Chemistry made cinnamon. Afternoon Chemistry made strawberry. She apparently sent the candy home with the kids but got the batches mixed up and...” May snickered. “I guess the school had talked to her about Peter’s newly discovered rose ‘allergy’ so she wanted to make sure that Peter wasn’t accidentally exposed to anything else he shouldn’t be.”

Tony thought she was done, hoped that she was because he needed to fix this epic screw up now, but she kept on, “I swear, Tony, that woman is a menace.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Uh, May? I think I messed up...”

* * * * * *

Water dripped into his eyes and off of his nose.

It had been hours and was dark now, but the storm was determined to outlast Peter as he stood in the alleyway across the Avengers Tower. It was okay, though. Peter was Spider-Man, even if his uniform was upstairs in the penthouse... um—wow—even if Mr. Stark was going to take his uniform away for good. Either way, he’d already learned that lesson.

He could handle a bit cold weather.

Peter had watched Colonel Rhodes, and Happy Hogan enter the tower via the front entrance over the last half hour, making Peter curious. He hoped and prayed that Ms. Potts was okay, but hadn’t really gotten any real information before he’d left.

Then his heart jumped. What if they were all here because something was wrong?! What if...?  

No. Ms. Potts was going to be fine.

Ms. Potts was going to be fine.

Please, God, let Ms. Potts be okay?

He shifted and scanned up and down the street, not wanting to miss anything.

The one plus was that he’d finally stopped shivering.

But that didn’t matter. Mr. Stark may not have let him explain, but Peter would do what he could to keep them all safe, even if Mr. Stark never wanted to see him again.

He blinked a little slower. Maybe he wasn’t feeling so cold after all, but he still needed to focus—

He’d sooner die than let someone take another family member away from him, whether they saw him that way or not.

* * * * * *

Rhodey was trying to understand. “So you accused Peter of trying to kill Pepper even though it was the teacher that had almost killed Peter messing up some pseudo-science experiment and giving him the wrong end product, right?”

“Right!” Tony yelled. “And now Peter is missing and his phone and suit are here and the storm is getting worse. I can’t leave Pepper, so I need you to go looking for him!” He looked desperate. “Please?”

Happy shook his head, “Boss, you really messed this one up.” He gave Tony a shoulder pat, the closest Happy could get to comforting. “I can head over to Ned and MJ’s and see if they’ve seen him.”

“And I’ll take a quick tour of the area, see if he maybe decided to stay close—muster up the nerve to come back to grab his stuff or something.” Rhodey stood up.

Tony ran his hands down his haggard face. “You’d think that after all this time, I’d learn to keep my stupid mouth shut before I know all the facts. Guys. This kid is... just...” Tony couldn’t find the words.

“We know, Tony.” Rhodey piped up. “We’ll get him back and you can fix this. Okay. He’s a good kid. He’ll understand.”

Tony rubbed his eyes and pulled himself together. “I hope so, Rhodey, I really hope so.” He clapped Rhodey on the back and led them to the elevator, “C’mon guys, I’ll walk you down before I go back up to the med bay. Pepper should be waking up soon and I still need to tell her what happened.”

They didn’t speak as the elevator descended, and Tony accompanied the men across the lobby to the doors in an attempt to delay the inevitable ass-chewing he’d receive from Pepper.

No one had thought to bring an umbrella, so they all stood looking at the rain—“He couldn’t have done this during the summer, huh?” Rhodey asked.

Tony glared.

Happy, however, was distracted by something going on across the street. “Hey, guys, what do you think that’s about?”

They all turned to watch a crowd gathered around the mouth of the alley across the street.

Tony blanched, “Guys, I don’t have a good feeling about this.” And like a shot all three men were outside and crossing the street to get to the chaos.

Tony got through the crowd first and saw him immediately. “Peter!” he called out as he knelt beside the unconscious boy. He put his hand to his forehead. “Shit!”

Happy and Rhodey made it through next. “Oh, kid.” Happy muttered, and then went right into Head of Security mode. “Alright, everybody, back up! Give the kid some room to breathe.

Rhodey leaned down to Tony, “C’mon, Tones. Let’s get the kid to the med bay. They can take care of him there.”

That seemed to snap Tony back to himself. With barely a grunt, he’d gathered the boy in his arms and made his way back to the tower. “C’mon, kid. You can’t do this to me. I have so many lego kits to buy you to make up for all of this...”

Without another word, the three men made their way, Happy stopping traffic for them to cross and Rhodey running ahead to alert FRIDAY and the med bay of their incoming patient.

After the tongue lashing he’d received from May earlier, he’d call her himself once he had a prognosis on the boy.

* * * * * *

Peter was warm, and he wasn’t sure why that mattered.

He’d been in the alleyway. He’d been staking out the tower ‘cuz Ms. Potts had been attacked and it couldn’t happen again—even if Mr. Stark didn’t believe him. He had to make sure that Ms. Potts stayed safe— Ms. Potts was...

“Ms. Potts!” Peter sat up in a flash, wildly looking for the person he needed to be okay the most. She was... she was...

She was sitting in the chair beside the bed he was currently occupying.

“Ms. Potts?”

She put down the book she had been reading and stood beside him. “Hey, sweetie. Why don’t you lie back down and get under those blankets before Tony gets back and freaks out about you not being burritoed in seventeen layers of fabric, okay?” She guided him back down to his pillows. “And, I think that you should be calling me Pepper, Peter.” She smiled softly. “I think it’s a rule when you save someone’s life and all.”

“Okay, Ms. Potts,” he answered. “If you say so.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He remembered how she’d looked, struggling for air, face swelling in reaction to... something? Now, he could see that her colour was better. She looked tired, still pale with visible redness along her neck and jawline, but she was breathing and the fear was gone from her eyes. “Are you okay now?” He had to ask.

She nodded, “Everything is fine now. I’m on the mend, you’re safe. It’s all we could ask for after the day we’ve had.”

Peter blushed, and then checked to see if Mr. Stark was anywhere in the vicinity.

“Are you looking for something, Peter?”

Peter must have been more stressed and tired than he thought because his eyes burned and he fought back tears. “I think I need to get going before Mr. Stark knows I’m here. He was,” Peter cleared his throat and looked down at his hands fussing with one of the many blankets on the bed. ”He was very clear that I was not to be in the tower, Ms. Potts.”

“It’s Pepper, Peter, and you are very much welcome to be here. It seems there was a misunderstanding and...”

“And you, Ms. Potts are supposed to be in bed right now.” Mr. Stark entered the med bay room.

“Well, dear Tony, I couldn’t very well leave Peter to wake up on his own, could I?” She teasingly replied, already rising up to return to her own bed only a few feet away.

He gave her a playful wink, “No, love, I guess you couldn’t.”

Peter starting inching off the bed. “I’m awake now, so I’m just gonna head back to—“ He’d almost said alley. Mr. Stark hadn’t wanted to hear about the threat earlier, so he’d find a way to prove that he hadn’t played a part.

“You are going nowhere, Mr. Parker. Not until I’ve had a chance to talk about what happened tonight and you reach a normal spider temperature, per Dr. Cho’s instructions, and not before.”

This was apparently all the permission Peter needed. “Mr. Stark, I promise you I was not the one to hurt Ms. Potts. I’d never! Not even as a joke! I couldn’t check with FRIDAY, but I was watching the tower and while I didn’t see anything suspic—“

“Hold on!” Tony interrupted. “You were watching the tower tonight? That’s why you were out in that rainstorm?”

Peter nodded.

“You were watching to make sure that Pepper was safe, even after I kicked you out of the tower?”

Peter nodded again. “Of course! I get why you’d have suspected me and especially why you’d be mad, but I knew it wasn’t me so that meant I had to start from nothing and I couldn’t ask FRIDAY, so... And then I worried that maybe Pepper wasn’t supposed to be the target and if you were so busy worrying about Ms. Potts that you weren’t being careful, well, then you could still get hurt so you needed someone to watch your back. And that was me.”

Tony stared at the kid in disbelief.

“Well, I watched as well as I could from outside.”

“And ended up with moderate hypothermia, you idiot.”

Peter frowned, “I’m sorry?”

Tony sighed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “No, Peter, I’m sorry. I overreacted to incorrectly conveyed information and ended up losing my absolute shit on you when you did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“Oh.” Peter didn’t know what to say to that.

“Pete, what happened tonight was the result of absolute carelessness. No one intended for anyone to get hurt but in the end, it seems that’s how it happened anyways.”

“I don’t understand?” Peter couldn’t follow.

“This afternoon, you gave Pepper strawberry candy.”

Peter immediately jumped in. “But I didn’t! Ned and MJ and I made it ourselves! I swear!”

Tony closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Libby the ‘wunder-sub’ was going down once he figured out how to fix this with the kid. “Peter, Libby gave you strawberry candy instead of the cinnamon that you and Ned and MJ made.”

Peter was lost. “Why would she do that?”

Oh, Tony had opinions on that, but Pepper piped in from her bed to keep him from airing them. “She apparently had the morning and afternoon classes make different flavours, then didn’t label anything. She also chose to make sure that all of the candy looked exactly the same, using the same red food colouring, just different flavour additives. And then she lost track of which candy was which, and ultimately sent you home with the wrong one. Simple as that.”

Peter thought about that for a second. “So I’m the one that gave you the strawberry candy.”

“Yes, but—“ Ms. Potts tried to interject.

“No. I hurt you. I’m the one that gave you the strawberry candy. I didn’t check it or anything. If I’d just...” Peter couldn’t hide the guilt. “Ms. Potts.” He struggled to make eye contact, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I swear it to you.”

“Pete,” Tony jumped in but Pepper interrupted him.

“Peter, I know that. I’d trust you with my life—with good cause. You proved that today.”

Tony couldn’t stand what he was seeing in the kid, “Pete, Please. I’ve told you. I’m the one that should be sorry. I never should have said what I said to you. It was cruel and I’m horrified that I said any of it. Can you forgive me?”

Peter looked lost. “Mr. Stark, I get why you’d have reacted like that... and in the end you were right anyways. I did it. Please don’t apologize. I deserved every word of it, and probably more.”

Tony got real serious, real fast, “C’mon, kid, no one deserved what I said, Not even that idiot, Libby.” Why wouldn’t he kid believe him? “We know it was an accident, AND you saved her!”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“Then what will?”

Peter pulled the blankets up to his neck and snuggled in. “I’m going to close my eyes for a bit, Mr. Stark, sir. If you could let me know when Dr. Cho comes in so I can get checked. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“Peter, buddy, c’mon?”

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Stark. I think I just need a little time.”

“Time?”

Peter wouldn’t look at him, but whispered, “I destroy everything I love, Mr. Stark—and I won’t allow myself to do it again, no matter how much it hurts.” With those words, Peter rolled over and closed his eyes.

And Tony wondered when this awful world would give this poor, damned kid a break.

@febuwhump

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #allergic reaction #anger issues #fanfiction

[kenzierose53]

Haunted

The next part of the Dynasty AU is finally here! Things have been so crazy lately with me planning my future and having a few exams back to back but I am free this weekend. I should be able to write a few more parts this weekend so I can start posting them more during the week! 

Summary: Here is our first look at how Orpheus is handling school! The poet is haunted by images of the girl he left behind. 

-MaKenzie ♥️

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

He sat at the little cafe captivated by the falling rain outside. The pen that was gliding across the paper moments ago was forgotten. The steady beat from the rain distracting the working poet, the stormy grey of the sky reminding him of the girl he left behind.

Every day Orpheus wonders how she is doing. He wonders what she is doing, what she is thinking. Mainly he worries if he drove her to go back to the darkness. Nightmares of her broken state plagued his dreams every night. He saw her crouched in the corner, sobbing all alone to deal with the demons in her mind. He tried to scream for her but she couldn't hear until she looked up at him and whispered that this was his fault.

This image, this blame haunts him every day. He should be having a great time here at college, learning new things and making new friends but he can’t. All he wants is to go home and see her. He wants to go home and bring her back with him. He wants her.

He remembers when he first met her, the girl who was broken. Her beauty struck him instantly, leaving him breathless. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as her before...in fact, he had never even seen her before.

While the town he grew up in was not small per se, he went to school with the same kids since kindergarten. He was always super kind to everyone but he never made a real friend. He was always surrounded by people who were kind to him but he always felt alone. It wasn’t until he saw her that he felt something inside he never felt before.

He stumbled up to the girl with her head down, hand scribbling furiously across the page. She kept her head down completely ignoring his existence. Orpheus plopped himself down in the chair across from her causing her to freeze instantly. When he saw the defense, broken look deep in her eyes he knew he met his person. From that moment he knew that he was going to spend forever making this girl happy. Even at this moment, he fell in love, even though he didn’t realize it yet.

This poor poet has been in love with Eurydice since the moment that he saw her. She’s constantly on his mind, not that he complains. Her laugh is his favorite sound, her smile is his favorite thing to see. He was head over heels for a girl who he believed would never love him back.

His mind wandered to what he wanted his future to be. She was there with him, hands connected as they strolled through the park through town. The matching rings glistening in the warm summer sun. Eurydice’s free hand rested on her swelling stomach, a beaming smile on her face. Orpheus never felt so fulfilled as he did at this moment.

The sound of his name being called brought him out of his daydream. The feeling of fulfillment was instantly replaced with emptiness. The only feeling of warmth he got was from the steaming cup of tea in his hands. He barely knew who he was anymore. He used to be so full of life, optimism but now he’s just dull. He chose to leave his light behind for four years, for what? To get a degree he may never use?

He stared down at the notebook on the table. Her name was mindlessly scrawled across paper multiple times, she was part of his soul. He pulled out his phone staring at the picture of her. Her smile instantly lifted his spirits for a second. He itched to see that smile in real life again. He wanted to hear her smile again. He wanted to hold her close to him again. He wanted her again.

Was coming to school really the best choice for him? Higher education was something he always dreamed of doing when he was little. His mother and Hermes used to tell him stories about how much fun they had in college. Orpheus always loved to learn as well so seeking higher education seemed like a dream to him.

The moment he met her though, that dream changed, his dream changed to a future with her. He wanted to take her to school with him so they could continue to grow. He was so blinded by his dreams reality slipped right past him and he left her in the darkness. If he had been able to see the real world then maybe he would have not come.

Hermes had been adamant in making sure that Orpheus continued to follow this dream. He knew that the poet was in love with Eurydice but also in love with the thought of school. It was tough for Hermes to push the young boy away from the girl. Hermes had started to care deeply for the young girl but he knew that she would not be able to go to school with Orpheus.

The poet could feel his eyes start to water slightly the longer he stared at the girl he loved. He quickly shoved his notebook in his bag before running out into the rain. The rain provided a veil that allowed him to shed the tears that he was holding in. The weather around him matched his dark feelings.

He was shivering by the time that he reached his small apartment. The warmth hit him instantly the moment he opened the door but he still felt chilled to the bone. Quickly he changed out of his sopping wet clothes before flopping on his bed in pajamas. He sat there silently letting the tears continue to fall, the image of her running through his mind.

The poor boy was so lost in his own world that he almost missed his ringing phone. The rich voice of his godfather brought a sense of comfort to the distressed poet. “I had a feeling you needed me.” Hermes always had a “sixth sense” for knowing when something was wrong with Orpheus. He was cleaning the bar when he felt a nagging feeling in his heart that his godson was hurting.

Without saying anything the old man could tell that Orpheus had been crying from the sniffles. Hearing the voice of the man who raised him made him miss home. “Hermes,” Orpheus whispered, hushing the rambling man. “I don’t think that coming here was the best decision.”

By this point, Orpheus had cocooned himself in the blankets wanting to feel like someone was holding him. “What do you mean boy?” Hermes had a feeling he knew what the boy was talking about. “You have wanted to go to school since you were a little boy, it was always your dream,” Hermes tried to keep his voice uplifted. He knew that if his voice dropped any Orpheus would feed into the sadness and only get worse.

“That used to be my dream,” Orpheus’ tone came out somewhat bitter. In the corner of his room, he could see the ghost of the girl he left behind. She stood there looking at him with tears in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to run into her arms but she wasn’t really there, this ghost of her haunting him. “I left her behind Hermes. She’s haunting me. I see her everywhere I go, she’s hurting and I left her behind! I just want her now, she’s my dream.”

The ghost of her faded away reminding him that she’s gone. “Orpheus she is doing okay. I saw her the other day,” Hermes tried to keep this tone level even though he was lying. Hermes did see the girl the other day but she was not doing well. She came to the bar, completely avoiding eye contact with him. He watched the poor girl drown her sorrows in alcohol.

Hermes was truly concerned for the girl but he also didn’t want Orpheus to give up school. “I promise you I am keeping an eye on her for you. She’s very happy for you.” It hurt Hermes’ heart to continue this facade with someone he saw as his son. If he told Orpheus the truth the poet would take the next train home and never leave her side.

Orpheus should have felt happy with this information. Hermes said she was happy, that she was okay but he still doubted this. She wouldn’t be haunting him if she was okay right? Or maybe he’s just not okay, maybe he needs her more than he thought. She was the ghost in the corner of his room, watching him succeed from the shadows while she struggled at home.

#dynasty au #orpheus #orpheus and eurydice #orphydice #hadestown #hadestown broadway #hadestown fanfic #haunted