#BUT YEAH just. never speaking up never making himself known keeping all of his hurt locked away

[pinkseas]

cquackity reminds me a little bit of keith in the boogie man but not keith as a person very specifically like. keith perceiving the boogie man as a jokester and a sort of fucked up reflection of himself when he was actually cold and calculating to the others, and seeing all the graffiti and hearing the phones ringing all the time and such. risking his life to save someone and then making a joke of it and laughing it off instead of acknowledging what he’d just done. and that one bad ending- the villain takes and takes and takes and in the end he wins, and when he takes the mask off youre staring at your own face, you are your own worst enemy, youre ruining your own life. not ENTIRELY. not that much. but like al ittle bit on accident because my brain keeps making leaps to connect the dsmp and the strange men series

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof… whimper

(Part 10… but technically a continuation of part 9)

Content: Dub-Con/Non-Con, Knotting

It takes your cock-addled brain a second too long to process what Soap’s just said. What he’s implied. And by then he’s all ready for you to buck against him, confused and angry.

“That’s so — that’s not funny!” You shout.

But he’s got you pinned thoroughly, your chest flat against the mattress and your ass flush against his hips. His cock buried so deep you can feel the hot head of it bullying the deepest parts of you. All your struggling does is make you clench up tight around him, makes him feel that much bigger and meaner inside you. Makes him grunt low and ragged in your ear, all animal appreciation.

“I’m not laughin’,” he replies, nipping at your shoulder.

“G-get off of me, get out, get—”

His hand slides into your hair again, gets a firm hold at the roots and presses your face into the blankets, muffling your protests. Shushes you like soothing a panicked animal.

“Now, now,” he chides, “I still gotta prove I’m not compensating, don’t I?”

You suck in a breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have to be a million explanations other than the absolutely ludicrous one he’s just presented to you. Cameras, microphones….

How did he know where you live?

How did he know where the spare key was?

How did he know where your bedroom was?

How did he find you at the bar?

Stalker, you tell yourself. He’s a creep, you’ve always known that.

Then where’s your dog?

“N-no,” you warble, bucking again. Nearly scream as his cock twitches inside you; only reason you don’t is because you can barely breathe as it is. He’s so deep inside that he’s practically in your lungs. “No way you’re my — there’s no way. You’re crazy. I’m gonna— ah!”

He draws out as you speak, gradual, and then plunges in again all at once, cutting you off. Grinds his hips in a dirty circle too, burying himself as deep as he can.

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos. “S’alright, baby, I knew this would happen. We jus’ gotta get all those big, scary feelings out first. Then I can explain it all nice and slow.”

You try to scream at him. Try to curse him out, tell him there’s no way in hell you’re listening to a word he says now; never mind letting him spend another second with his dick in you.

All that comes out is a high-pitched keen as he starts fucking you without further preamble. It aches, but you can’t tell in what way. If it hurts, if it’s the best you’ve ever had. Both? Your nerves feel haywire, brain dragged to lust-stupid depths.

“See, there we go,” he rasps, punctuating with a sharp snap of his hips on that last word. “My perfect little mate. Your cunt was made for my cock, made to be bred by me. Isn’t that right?”

You try to shake your head, but his grip keeps you from doing more than sending electricity down your spine, hair pulled taut.

“Yeah it fucking is,” he growls to his own question, canting your hips back further. His fingers grip cruelly into the flesh, sure to leave bruises. You wish you didn’t enjoy the sensation, wish it didn’t make you spasm around him helplessly.

“‘Bout time I owned you right back, don’t you think?” He continues, never stopping or even slowing. You yelp as he tugs your necklace again, arching your back at a steep angle. “Even collared yourself up for me. All it needs is my name.”

Something about that drives some awful, slutty part of your brain fucking wild. The idea of you with a tight leather choker — a collar — with his name (you don’t think about what name) hanging from your throat…

“Like that, don’t you?” He chuckles meanly. “Who’s my good little slut? Who’s my perfect, soaked little breeding whore?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you realize the “I am” is right there on the tip of your over-saturated tongue. If you had air, brain cells, any ability at all, you’d be crying it to the ceiling like the toy he’s treating you as.

He’s going to ruin you, you think. He’s going to fuck you broken. You’re crying and wailing on his cock, think you’d actually throw a tantrum if he pulled out and left you on the edge right now. Would, you realize in horror, beg for him to keep going.

And then he snakes his hand around your hip and starts rubbing your clit — fast, hard little circles. Just the way you like; the way you’d do it yourself. Relentlessly and cruel, even when you try to writhe away from how fast you can feel yourself getting to the edge. Almost frightened by it, how quickly he’s mastered your body’s pleasure.

Frightened by the extra stimulation at your entrance, too. A little extra friction at first — shocking because you’re leaving a puddle on the sheets. But then the friction becomes pressure, becomes… more.

“W-wha….?” You slur, hips wriggling.

Soap (Johnny?) snarls in your ear and that feeling at your entrance grows. Feels, you realize with alarm, like stretching.

“Gonnae take my knot so well,” he rambles, accent thick like syrup, trickling into your empty brain, filling you up with meaningless sounds. “Plug you up full of my cum, breed you right just like you need.”

Any questions or confusion are whisked away by the extra stimulation at your entrance. The sensitive nerves getting just as much brutal attention as your inner walls, your cervix, that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

It all becomes too much all at once and crashes through you, devastating. You clamp down around him tight and needy, lean all your weight back into his thighs. And he practically howls as he sinks into you and stays, grinding and humping without ever actually pulling out again. You feel a flood of heat that seems to go on for an absurdly long time, cock pulsing against your overstimulated walls, milked for every last drop.

You shudder as your brain tries and fails to process it all. Like trying to decipher a foreign language from white noise. It’s nothing but static to you.

You can feel a tongue against your shoulder, scraped of blunt teeth. Soap/Johnny licking the sweat from your skin and nipping bruises into the flesh. You make an annoyed noise that comes out whinier than intended, shoving at his face.

“Get off, you bastard.” Your voice is pathetic, thick with tears and fractured in a hundred places.

“Can’t, bonnie, even if I wanted to.”

You scowl, try to look at him over your shoulder. He takes that opportunity to nuzzle against your temple.

“What?” You ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Did ye hear me?” He chuckles. “Well, maybe not with the way you were screamin’. You’re all knotted up, baby. Can’t pull out — ‘less you want this pretty pussy to tear.”

You jolt, nearly yank yourself off out of pure fear, but Johnny keeps you still again, humming.

“Easy now,” he croons. “Still fussy? Need another to settle down?”

Useless as your brain may be, it recognizes what he means by “another one.” You think you might pass out.

“No,” you snap, petulant even to your own ears. “I want you to explain… explain everything.”

“Alright, hen. C’mere.”

He gently lays you out prone on the bed, then rolls you both on your sides. Hitches your leg up over his hip. You want to protest, but it helps the ache in your poor cunt.

“H-how are you still hard?” You pant, traitorous pussy twitching around him.

He growls in your ear, can feel him grinning against the lobe. “Will stay that way for a bit, lass. Don’ worry, you jus’ have to lay here all nice and still. Keep me warm while I explain things to you.”

And he does. How there are shapeshifters out there in the world, rare as they are. That he comes from a line of them. Recruited to military, as most of them are.

How he was on standard patrol when he smelled you for the first time.

“Like a wet dream, bonnie. Fertile. Spring. Smelled like mine.”

How he instantly knew you were his mate. That he just needed to make you see it. Never a good time to explain it all to you — and then there were interlopers and your silly little books and your pesky toys. How he tried to drop hints around the house, let you come to the correct conclusion on your own. But you never did.

“Honestly it’s a good thing I’m here, hen. You’re so oblivious. Lived with a man and never even knew it.”

That he tried to go about it the other way ‘round, as a man, but you’re just so stubborn. And then how it all led up to tonight. To you finally, finally realizing what you really needed: your mate.

You should be angry, furious. There’s a lot to say about… well, all of it. It’s horrifying and violating and… and…

And he hasn’t stopped bullying your clit since he started talking. Cruel, tight circles. Drawing the hood back with two fingers and stroke with a third, slow and languid and just soft enough to make your head spin. Rhythmless taps. Even pinches when you try to chew him out at one point, half turning to scowl. Instead have his tongue lapping sloppily at yours as your mouth gapes open soundlessly.

Makes you cum twice just like that without ever interrupting his own story, cock still hilted — knotted deep inside you. Honestly, you probably miss a good portion of it, some of the finger details for sure. But you get the broad strokes (among other strokes).

He licks at your overstimulated tears when he’s finished, nuzzling and kissing your cheek.

“I-I miss my dog,” you mumble finally, hands balled against your chest.

“Aww, darlin’,” he sighs, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We’re one and the same. I’m always your boy no matter what form I take.”

It would be more comforting if his dick didn’t throb calling himself your boy.

“‘Sides, I’m better than a normal mutt,” he continues, tugging you against his chest. You want to hate that is instantly makes you feel a little better. “Wolves mate for life, after all.”

First | Previous | 1fur1

Masterlist

[waitimcomingtoo]

Bringing Sexy Back

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: Peter tries and fails to seduce you

Masterlist

To kick off the summer, Tony organized a group vacation to a resort at “one of his less crowded islands”, as he put it. The team sat together on the quinjet while Tony gave out the room assignments to everyone, ending with you and Peter.

“Parker and my beloved offspring, you’re in the penthouse suit with me. But don’t worry, you guys have your own room. It’s just connected to mine with thin walls and a door I can easily break down.” Tony said with a calm smile.

“Thanks, dad.” You smiled back at him before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. Once you were gone, Sam leaned over to him.

“Wow, I feel for you, man. You really got the short end of the stick.” Sam said and patted Peters back.

“Short? I’m 5’8. That’s average height.” Peter defended himself.

“For a woman.” Sam snorted. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” Peter wondered.

“I mean you finally get to spend the night with your girlfriend and her dad is in the next room. That means the only way you’re getting laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait.” Sam replied, making everyone laugh at Peters's expense.

“Oh. That’s gotta hurt.” Bruce laughed. “It hurt me and it wasn’t even directed at me.”

“That’s called a ricochet.” Natasha said. “Also done by bullets and Taylor Swifts tears.”

“I understood that reference.” Steve chimed in.

“Did you?” Peter asked skeptically, making Steve’s smile fall.

“That’s the one that sings “Single Ladies”, right?” He whispered to Natasha.

“Uh huh.” Natasha smiled sarcastically.

“Are you gonna take that, Parker?” Bruce asked Peter. Peter noticed everyone was looking at him and blushed in embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that clever. Chickens don’t even lay eggs. Hens do. And we don’t do that so it doesn’t matter.” He mumbled. Everyone’s eyes widths they leaned forward in their seats.

“Don’t do what?” Sam asked for clarification. Peter looked around at all the peering eyes and shrunk down in his seat.

“Sex.” Peter reluctantly admitted.

“You don’t do sex?” Sam laughed in surprise.

“Have we forgotten how to speak?” Natasha asked the crowd.

“Why are you guys all looking at me the way we looked at Bucky when he told us he didn’t wash his ass in the shower?” Peter asked.

“It honestly never crossed my mind.” Bucky shrugged.

“Hold on. How long have you guys been together?” Bruce asked Peter.

“Two months.”

“Two months? And you haven’t smushed yet?” Sam gasped.

“Ew. Smushed? There’s no actual smushing involved, right?” Peter forced a laugh. No one replied and his smile fell.

“Right?” He asked seriously.

“No offense kid, but that’s a long time to keep a lady waiting.” Steve said. “You two need to do a little bit of the old how’s yer father, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t. What the fuck does that mean?” Sam asked and pulled out his phone.

“Who are you to talk? Aren’t you a 1,000 year old virgin?” Peter deadpanned.

“100 years.” Steve corrected. “And yes. I am.”

“No he’s not.” Bucky said.

“I googled it. It was Steve’s old man way of saying putting some stank on it.” Sam read off his phone.

“Why haven’t you guys done it yet?” Natasha wondered. “It’s not like you just met. You’ve known her for years.”

“Yeah, but she’s only been my girlfriend for two months of those years. It’s a big transition. We’re waiting for the right moment.”

“So you’ve talked about it?” Steve asked him.

“Well, no.” Peter admitted. “I’m just assuming.”

“Assuming what exactly?” Natasha asked.

“That’s she’s waiting for the right moment to tell me she wants to do it. And then it’ll just happen then.” Peter shrugged.

“Hm.” Natasha said curtly. Peter noticed the look on everyone’s face and grew worried.

“What?” He laughed nervously.

“Nothing.” Steve shrugged and avoided eye contact.

“You can’t make that face and say “hm” and then not tell me.” Peter insisted.

“I think she’s ready.” Steve admitted. “I think she’s more than ready. You’re the one who’s not ready. That’s why you haven’t made a move yet.”

“She could’ve made a move.” Peter pointed out.

“No girl wants that.” Sam waved his hand. “They want their man to take charge and sweep them off their feet. You know, romance? Making her feel special?”

“She hates being lifted off her feet.” Peter insisted. “I picked her up once and she punched me in the throat and the bing bongs at the same time.”

“Hey, I taught her that move. I’m glad to see she’s using it.” Natasha smiled proudly.

“I have to agree with Sam on this one.” Steve said. “Girls like a romantic gesture. I’m not saying you have to literally sweep her off her feet, but make it clear that you want her. Or else she’s gonna start to feel under appreciated and unseen.”

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re waiting and that’s okay.” Peter insisted.

“She’s waiting. For you. To make a God damn move already.” Sam replied.

“And you know what happens if you wait too long?”

“What happens?” Peter gulped.

“She’ll find someone who’s ready now.” Sam shrugged.

“Well what am I supposed to do? How do I make her feel special?”

“She was your best friend before your girlfriend right?” Bruce asked him.

“Yeah.”

“So she should be the person you’re most comfortable with. Just make a move. She’ll make a move in return. That’s how it works.” Bruce explained.

“Just like that?” Peter asked skeptically.

“Just like that.” Sam confirmed. By the point, you were back from the bathroom and sitting in a seat by yourself. Peter graced himself before going over to sit beside you.

“Hey.” Peter smiled at you.

“Hey Petey. What’s going on?” You smiled back.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to come sit by my lady.” He said and wrapped an arm around you.

“Aw. You’re so cute.” You smiled and leaned into him.

“You’re cute. Are these new?” He asked and tugged on the hem of your shorts.

“New to me.” You shrugged. “I stole them from Pepper.”

“I like them. They look good on you.” He said as he looked into your eyes. You smiled at the compliment and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Peter blushed and looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was nodding his head to give him the go ahead. Peter nodded back before returning his attention to you. He went to put his hand on your thigh, but since the action was unnatural to him, he ended up grabbing your thigh so quickly and harshly that you jumped.

“Oh my God. What was that?” You gasped and pushed his hand off.

“Sorry. There was a spider on your leg.” Peter quickly lied.

“And you killed it? Isn’t that like…cannibalism?” You asked him.

“No.” Peter chuckled. “Wait. Oh my God. Is it?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “But thanks for killing it. I didn’t even feel it on my leg.”

“Hm. Weird.” Peter forced a laugh. He looked over at Sam again, who was shaking his head in disappointment.

“This is gonna be harder than I thought.” Peter thought to himself.

With Tony in the room right next store, Peter didn’t dare try anything while on the vacation. But once you returned to the tower a week later, it was game time.

“Peter? Are you in here?” You asked as you knocked on his bedroom door one day.

“One second, baby. I’m in the shower.” Peter called to you from the bathroom in his room.

“Okay. I’ll wait out here.” You shouted back and took a seat on his bed. Peter heard your response and thought back to what the team said about making a move. Before he could second guess himself, he called out again.

“You don’t have to do that. Why don’t you join me?”

“What? I can’t hear you over the water.” You said as you walked over to the bathroom door so he could hear you better.

“I didn’t say anything.” He lied when he felt he had failed.

“Oh. It sounded like you did.” You laughed and leaned against his bathroom door.

“That was just the sound of my shampoo bottle falling.” Peter lied.

“Oh. Okay.” You answered skeptically. You were about to go back to his bed when you heard a loud thud.

“Peter? What was that? Did you shampoo fall again?” You opened the door a little to ask him.

“No. My body did.” Peter groaned from the shower floor.

“Oh no. Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He winced. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah, but…” Peter began but trailed off.

“But what?” You asked.

“I’m nakey.” He said in a little voice.

“I’ll close my eyes, okay?” You laughed.

“You don’t have to. I just wanted to warn you that you’re about to see the biggest penis you’ve ever seen.” Peter said seriously, making you laugh again.

“Oh really? Is Thor in there?” You asked.

“That was hurtful.”

“You’re such an idiot. I’m coming in, okay? Hide your massive penis.” You warned as you entered the bathroom.

“I’ll try. But it won’t be easy.” Peter sighed. You opened the shower door with your elbow while covering your eyes with both hands.

“I’m here. Can you see me?” You asked him.

“Why would o not be able to see you? You’re the one with your eyes covered.”

“Oh. Right. Where are you?”

“The floor. Because I fell. That’s typically where people end up after they fall.”

“I should just leave you here to drown.” You said and turned to leave.

“Wait, come back. Please.” Peter whined. “They’ll never find a casket big enough to hold my massive schlong.”

“I hate you so much.” You laughed and came back. You bent down and helped him off the floor but grabbing his arm.

“Ah!” You screamed and dropped his arm.

“What?”

“You’re wet.” You grimaced.

“I’m in the shower.” He reminded you.

“I don’t know why but I wasn’t expecting you to be wet. Put my hand on the knob. I’ll turn it off.” You told him. Peter took your hand and guided it to the knob while you kept your eyes tightly shut. You heard the sound of the water turning off and Peter sighing in relief.

“There we go. Much better.” He said.

“Okay. I’m gonna pick you up now.” You told him and bent down to wrap your arms around his torso.

“Ah!” He screamed.

“What?”

“That tickles.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “Where’s your robe?”

“Hanging on the back of the door.” He told you. You kept your eyes shut but walked over to the door and felt around until you found his robe.

“Okay. I found it.”

“Throw it at me.” Peter said. You threw it outwards and it smacked him in the face. “You got it?”

“Yes. Ow.” Peter huffed as he put it on.

“Sorry.” You grimaced.

“Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

“Okay.” You said but didn’t open them.

“Baby. You open them.” Peter laughed.

“Sorry. I got scared.” You admitted as you opened your eyes.

“Of what?” Peter gulped, thinking you were scared to see him naked.

“Of seeing you on the shower floor and getting the biggest ick of my entire life.” You replied, making Peter laugh in relief.

“Fair enough.”

“Come on, little guy. I gotcha.” You bent down and helped him up with ease now that you could see.

“What did we say about calling me “little guy”?” Peter reminded you.

“That it’s funny and hilarious?” You asked innocently as you helped lead him out of the bathroom.

“Those are synonyms.”

“What about cinnamon?”

“What?”

“What?” You asked in reply. He shook his head endearingly as you walked him over to his bed.

“Okay. We’re here. Sit down.” You said and helped him into his bed.

“Well that was fun. And wet.” Peter said as he combed his wet hair out of his face with his fingers.

“You’re telling me.” You said and showed him your now soaking wet shirt.

“Sorry about that. You can grab a shirt from my closet.” He told you.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him before going over to his closet. You pulled out a T shirt and we’re about to put it on when you felt his eyes on you. You looked over your shoulder at him and he turned red.

“I’ll close my eyes.” Peter offered.

“It’s okay. You can watch. I don’t mind.” You smiled innocently at him before turning back around. Peter gulped as you pulled your shirt off and stayed perfectly silent. He could see your bra band when your hair moved and though it wasn’t much, it was as naked as he had ever seen you. You’d never been in so much as bathing suits around the other so this showing of skin was both unexpected but highly anticipated. Peter watched you pull his shirt over your head and fix your hair before turning back around.

“Better?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Better.” You nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew about the conversation he had had with the team. It wasn’t like you to get changed in front of him so maybe you weren’t trying to make a move as well.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” You asked as you sat on Peters bed.

“Not bad. I think it’s already healing.” He said and moved his robe to look at it.

“Good. You need it to climb walls and shoot webs out of your butt and stuff.”

“I have told you so many times.” Peter sighed. “The webs do not come out of my butt.”

“There is no doubt in my mind that you’re lying and just won’t show me. And that’s fine.” You shrugged.

“You’re ridiculous.” He laughed and took your hand.

“Yeah. Maybe a little.” You chuckled and played with his fingers. A comfortable silence filled the room as Peter started to form a plan in his head.

“So.” He laughed nervously. “Here we are. In my room. Alone.”

“I know. It’s nice.”

“You think so?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah. It’s so rare we get time when no one else is around. It can finally just be the two of us.” You said and reached out to brush some hair off his forehead. Peter felt his whole face flush and scooted a little closer to you.

“I’ve actually been hoping we’d get some alone time.” He told you.

“Me too.” You smiled coyly and leaned in a little.

“Did you have anything in mind you want to do?” He asked and leaned in as well.

“I could think of a few things.” You flirted.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“For starters, you’ll have to lose this robe.” You said and ran your hand along the collar of his robe. Peter gulped as you got up and went back over to his closet.

“Done.” Peter nodded as he frantically started to undo the belt of his robe.

“And put this on.” You said as you tossed him some pajamas.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl. Wait, what? What’s this?” Peters smile fell when the pajamas fell into his lap.

“Pajamas. So you can get comfy and we can finally watch New Girl before it leaves Netflix.” You told him.

“Oh. Right. Pajamas. I’ll just put these on.” Peter tried to mask the disappointment in his voice as he tugged his shirt over his head. By the time you were snuggled into his side with your head on his shoulder, his disappointment was gone. He had gotten so caught up in what the team had said that he forgot to appreciate the little moments with you. He let it go for tonight and just enjoyed spending time together.

The next day, he was back on his bullshit. He found you in the kitchen with your back to him as you flipped through a magazine. Peter and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your shoulder to let you know he meant business.

“Hey you.” He said as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey Petey. What’s going on?” You smiled over your shoulder at him.

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

“You’re so sweet lately. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. I just really like you.” He replied and kissed your shoulder again. He decided to make a move and tilted his chin a little higher so he could kiss your neck.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as you flipped a page of your magazine. Peter immediately perked up and turned you around, thinking his plan had worked.

“What was that?” He gulped as his face burned bright red.

“Sorry. Paper cut.” You said and held up your bleeding finger. Peter took a split second to realized you were cursing, not requesting, before jumping into action.

“Here. Let me help.” He said and gently took your finger. He walked to the bathroom with you and turned on the faucet. He was about to put in under the water when he got a different idea. He looked you right in the eyes as he took your finger into his mouth and sucked the blood off of it. You watched him as he did this and gulped a little.

“Peter?” You asked in a soft voice. A hope sparked in Peter’s chest that he had successfully made a move.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea how many germs you just put in my open wound?” You said, making all Peters hope disappear.

“Oh. Sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment and held your finger under the running water.

“Why did you turn the water on and then suck it instead?” You asked him. Peter thought about lying, but knew it was no use.

“I…I thought it would be sexy.” He admitted.

“You thought sucking my paper cut would be sexy? Okay, Edward.” You snorted as you got a bandaid out of the cabinet for yourself.

“Edward? Who’s that?” Peter felt a hot flash of jealousy over the mention of another boys name. He normally wouldn’t have that reaction, but he was extra sensitive after what Steve said about you finding someone else.

“The vampire from Twilight. Relax.” You laughed in surprise.

“Oh. Right.” He smiled in embarrassment.

“Peter Parker. Were you jealous at the mere drop of another boys name?” You playfully gasped.

“Is that bad?” Peter asked as he helped put a bandaid on your finger.

“I don’t think it’s bad.” You shrugged. “I think it’s kinda hot that you’re the jealous type. As long as you don’t get all possessive on me.”

“I won’t. I’ve seen enough white women with “love her but leave her wild” tattooed on them to know better.” Peter replied, making you laugh.

“Well that’s good to hear. And for what it’s worth, you’ve proven to be a lovely boyfriend so far. I’ve really enjoyed these past few months.”

“So have I.” Peter smiled softly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss to let him know all was forgiven.

“So why were you trying to be sexy before?” You asked once you pulled away.

“I don’t know. I was just trying to make a move.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Make a move? Why would you need to do that?” You laughed. Peter could barely conceal the disappointment that he felt from your response. It seemed like the number one thing on his mind right now was the last thing on yours.

“Oh. I don’t know.” He faked a smile. You took his face in your hands and made him look at you.

“Petey, if you want me, just take me.” You said like it was obvious.

So he took you.

Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you with ease as he kissed you. You anchored your arms around his neck so that you wouldn’t slide off as he carried you to his room. Peter laid you down on his bed without ever breaking the kiss. Both of you could feel the electricity in the air and knew something big was about to happen. But before you could get too far, the door opened.

“Hey guys - stop screaming, it’s me.” Sam held up a hand when he was met with screams from you and Peter.

“We know it’s you. What do you want?” Peter groaned.

“Nothing. I’m just bored.” Sam shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich in his hand. You and Peter stared at him in disbelief of his inability to read a room while he noisily chewed his food.

“So what are you guys up to?” He asked and pointed between the two of you.

“Take a wild guess.” You said sarcastically.

“I would tell you what I think is happening.” Thor chuckled. “But I know that’s not the case since you two don’t-“

“Sam.” Peter cut him off.

“Did I say too much? Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” Sam winked at Peter before leaving the room. The silence between you was uncomfortable as you struggled to know what to say.

“What was he about to say?” You asked an after a minute.

“I have no idea.” Peter lied. You looked at him and he knew he was caught.

“Don’t lie to me. Was he gonna say we don’t hook up?”

“Yeah. He was.” He admitted.

“You told him that?” You asked and got off his bed to put some distance between you.

“No. I would never.” He assured you. “It came up on the plane the other day. They were teasing me about you and it just kinda came out that we haven’t…you know.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nodded but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“I’m sorry. I know you like to be private.”

“It’s not your fault. I just worried that you had been complaining to them that we don’t…” You trailed off and Peter realized why you were upset.

“Honey. Never.” He assured you as he took your hand and gave it a squeeze. This seemed to ease your mind and you sat back down on his bed.

“Okay. Good.” You smiled in relief. Peter avoided looking at you as he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“Does it bother you? That we haven’t done it yet?” He asked as a deep blush spread across his face.

“Well,-“ You began.

“Do you guys know the Hulu password?” Sam asked as he opened Peters door again.

“Get out!” Peter shouted and threw a pillow at him.

“I’m trying to watch Bridesmaids. Please.” Sam whined. “I’m desperate. They just added it back on there.”

“Oh my God.“ Peter groaned and rubbed his eyes, knowing the moment had lost.

“Go ask my dad or something.” You huffed.

“You guys suck. Not you, Y/n. Clearly.” Sam laughed at his own joke and left the room again. A awkward silence filled the room again and Peter felt like the worst person in the world. He knew it bothered you that he had told the team something personal and even worse, he could feel your disappointment in him.

“I’m gonna go.” You said to break the silence. You got off the bed and Peter felt you quickly slipping out of his hands.

“Wait! Don’t leave.” He pleaded.

“I have to go move my car.” You said hastily.

“Can we please talk about this?”

“I have to go move my car!” You exclaimed and swiftly left the room.

“I know you don’t have to do that!” He called after you. “We’ve watched New Girl together. I know you got that from Nick Miller.”

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and flopped on his bed. He wasn’t alone for long before Pepper and Thor knocked on his door.

“Hey, kiddo.” Pepper said kindly.

“Woah. Weird combo. Have you two ever interacted before?” Peter asked and pointed between the two of them. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No.” They said in unison.

“So what were you doing outside my door?”

“Not that we were listening to your entire conversation, but we were. And you guys need to talk about this.” Pepper said as she sat on Peters bed.

“We tried.” Peter sighed. “Sam kept interrupting.”

“But even before he interrupted, you weren’t really getting anywhere, were you?” Pepper asked kindly.

“What do you mean?”

“Neither of you could even say the word “sex”. How do you expect to do it if you can’t even say it?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about that.” Peter realized.

“You need to have a mature conversation with her about this. That’s the only way to know how she’s feeling and to let her know what you’re feeling.” Pepper said and patted Peters knee.

“Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“Or.” Thor began, getting Peter’s attention.

“Or? There’s another option?” Peter perked up.

“Yes. Here’s what you do. You seduce her. No words, only passion.”

“I’m listening.” Peter leaned in.

“You spray yourself with a sexy body spray. You put some sexy sheets on your bed. You lure her to your bedroom. You play a sexy song. You dim the lights because bad lighting is sexy. You light some sexy candles. You make the setting so irresistible that you won’t need words. She’ll know exactly what’s about to happen.” Thor told him.

“I think that’s a solid plan.” Peter nodded along.

“That’s a horrible plan.” Pepper exclaimed. “That is the dumbest plan I have ever heard. You clearly need to talk to her.”

“How sexy of a song are we talking here?” Peter ignored her.

“The sexiest. But don’t confuse that with raunchy. She’s not gonna get in the mood if she walks in to some degrading song. You need to pick the perfect playlist that does all the talking for you.” Thor told him.

“Or, you could do the talking for you.” Pepper suggested.

“No. I’m gonna go with Thors idea.” Peter decided.

“Huzzah!” Thor raised his arms in triumph.

“Huzzah? How come sometimes you soudn completly normal and sometimes you sound like a World of Warcraft character?” Peter asked him.

“I’m not familiar with this World of Warcraft. But if I had fought in it, I would’ve won.” Thor smiled proudly.

“Thanks for the advice guys. I know what im gonna do.”

The next day, the plan was in action. Peter found some red silk sheets from a box in Tony’s room labeled “my bachelor era” and put them on his bed. He doused himself with a cologne he borrowed from Bruce before taking off his shirt and rubbing baby oil all over his chest, leaving him in just his black boxers. He looked at himself in the mirror and flexed his muscles.

“Perfect.” He decided. Now it was time to lure you in, just like Thor told him.

“FRIDAY, play Careless Whisper. George Michael.” Peter requested.

“Playing Careless Whisper.” FRIDAY said and the song began to blast from the speakers.

“Thank you. Now dim the lights.”

“Dimming, sir.” FRIDAY complied.

“Time to lure.” Peter smiled wickedly. He pulled out his phone and tried to text you but his fingers were too slippery from the baby oil.

“Damn it. FRIDAY, text Y/n stark and tell her to meet me in my room. And say it’s urgent.”

“Texting Tony and Y/n Stark.” FRIDAY, replied, but the music was too loud for Peter to hear it.

“The trap is set. Now we wait.” Peter excitedly rubbed his hands together and turned around. It wasn’t long before he heard his door opening behind him.

“Peter? Are you in here?” He heard your voice and slowly turned around.

“Well hello - TONY?! I mean, Mr. Stark? What, uh, what are you doing here?” Peter laugh nervously and covered his crotch with his hands. You looked at his piled up body and boxers and slapped both hands over your mouth to stifle your laugh. Once you realized what song was playing, you had to turn around so your dad didn’t see you losing it.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Are you covered in sunblock?” Tony asked him.

“No. It’s baby oil.” Peter sheepishly admitted.

“Was that supposed to make this less weird?” Tony asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why is he here?” Peter whined and looked at you.

“You texted both of us and said it was urgent. I thought you fell im the shower again.” You explained as you struggled to make eye contact because of how distracting his shiny abs were.

“Again? Peter, can’t you stick to walls? How did you fall in the shower?” Tony wondered.

“I slipped, okay? I’m only human. And a little bit spider.” Peter mumbled.

“Wait a second.” Tony held up a finger when he took in his surroundings.

“Sexy music.” Tony gasped and pointed to the speaker.

“Candles.” He gasped louder and pointed to the candles.

“Baby oil.” He gasped even louder and pointed to Peter. He then walked over to Peter’s dresser and let out the loudest gasp of all.

“Pack of extra small condoms?” He gasped and put his hand over his heart. He then looked at Peter with the rage of a thousand men. Peter looked at you, who looked like a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and fondness.

“Um, it’s not what it looks like?” Peter said weakly. Tony threw the box of condoms at him and it stuck to Peters oiled chest.

“I knew it! You derelict. You ne’re-do-well. You scallawag. You were gonna try to sex my daughter, weren’t you?”

“Can that word be used in that way?” You wondered out loud.

“No. It’s not a verb. Your form was incorrect.” Peter told Tony, immediately regretting it.

“How’s this for form?” Tony asked and raised both his fists as if he was about to mollywhop Peter. You quickly stepped between them and held up a hand.

“Dad. Stop. You’re not gonna fight Peter. You’re obviously misreading things. There’s no way he brought me in here for that. Right, Peter?”

“Uhhh….” Peter trailed off and smiled weakly. Your jaw dropped for a second, but then you looked really pleased. Tony saw the look on your face and let out a loud, elongated groan.

“Goodbye. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go rinse my eyes out with drain cleaner.” Tony stared at you both in disgust as he walked out.

“Dad. You’re embarrassing me.” You whined.

“FRIDAY, add baby oil to the shopping list. Somebody used it all.” Tony called out as he left the room.

Once you were alone, you and Peter looked at each other and laughed in embarrassment.

“Did you really do all this for me?” You asked and rubbed his oiled up shoulder.

“I did. And it was incredibly stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“Because I wanted our first time to be special. You deserve special.” Peter sighed. You pouted and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Aw, Peter.”

“I know. It was dumb.” He sighed.

“It wasn’t dumb. I think it was really sweet.” You assured him. “Just executed in a kind of terrifying way. The song is so loud that it’s rattling my bones and you look like uncooked chicken.”

“Yeah. This was Thors idea.” Peter laughed in embarrassment and looked down at his shiny body.

“Well it’s not the worst sight in the world.” You shrugged and ran your fingertips down his chest. Peter gulped and looked at you, feeling that electricity return.

“FRIDAY, stop playing the song.” You called out without ever taking your eyes off Peter. He got the hint and shot a web at the door to shut it before going to blow out the candles.

“Wait.” You held out your hand, stopping Peter.

“Leave the candles.” You told him.

“Okay. But why?”

“Well, it’s our first time, isn’t it?” You smiled coyly. “It should be special.”

Peter liked where your head was at but couldn’t go through with it without telling you the whole truth.

“They’re M&M scented candles that I stole from Morgans playroom.” He admitted. You stared at him for a long time before nodding your head.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking before I change my mind, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded excitedly and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed him back and felt the same electricity that was coursing through his veins. Peter laid you down on his bed without breaking the kiss and you felt the red silk sheets he had put on under your skin.

“These sheets are a nice touch.” You flirted in between kisses.

“Only the best for you, baby. I took them from your dad.”

With the mention of your father, you immediately pushed Peter off and felt your entire body cringe. He had once again successfully ruined the moment.

“That’s it. I’m done.” You held uo your hands in defeat and left his room.

“Wait!” Peter called after you. “I cleaned them! I swear!”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

@unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ ​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah

@seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 28th

miguel o’hara x use of the safe word

it was something he never wanted to happen. he’d been so careful beforehand.

he should have known, from the strained pitch in your voice, and the way your spine tensed. this is why i fucking — this is why i shouldn’t be taking you from behind, i can’t watch your face, can’t keep an eye on you. what was i thinking? would run through his head shortly after the word burst from your swollen lips, fighting to keep your cheek off the mattress. he froze completely.

“pink!” you cry, like a real desperate cry — like you’d been wanting him to realise by himself that you were too sensitive, too sore to continue. that’s what really got him, the fact that he should know. he knows you well enough, he should know your limits. he couldn’t believe his lack of restraint, that no amount of spidey-sense could have saved the moment when he was buried in your sweet, tight cunt.

he draws out of you slowly, catching his breath. “i’m… i’m sorry.” he speaks solemnly. watching the way you curl onto your side, legs trembling. “what do you need, love? can you talk to me?” his voice is as kind and soft as he can get it, itching to reach out and place his hand on your back like he usually would when he’d comfort you.

a muffled, small voice comes from you a moment later. “just need you here.” you don’t look at him, but instead reach out for him and he sighs in relief, happy you didn’t want him to leave you alone. he would have obliged of course, but felt worse about it all. he can make it up to you now.

“yeah.” he agrees in response, quickly — and you can hear the relief in his voice. as easily as lifting a cushion or a blanket, miguel lifts you and pulls you onto his lap where he’s sat on the bed, cradling you close to his strong bare chest, letting you ground yourself with the familiarity of it. when you look up at him, he’s looking down at you already— a line between his eyebrows from his frown. you sniffle, bursting into tears. “hey.” he coo’s eyebrows raising up transferring the line horizontally across his forehead. “no más lágrimas, mamacita.” he shushes with a gentle sigh, upset with himself. “you’re safe here.”

“i know i just—” you sniff, violently wiping at your eyes with shaky, limp wrists. “i feel bad. tried to hold out f’you and be good. wanted you to carry on feeling good cos’ i know you were really into it and i ruined—”

“nononono—” miguel cuts you off, pulling your hands from your face and cupping it, holding it still. “sweetheart, you must never do that, okay? could hurt yourself. i’m only enjoying myself if you’re enjoying yourself. that’s how this works.” he’s stern, but for once careful of his tone as to not disturb you further in such a vulnerable state. he shifts you a little where you sit on his leg, being wary of accidentally stimulating or irritating your sore private area. "¿entiendes?" he wipes your tears.

“mhm.”

“well done, sweet girl.” he strokes the back of your head, pulling you back into his chest. in a quieter voice, the first inkling of fear you’ve ever seen miguel demonstrate, he speaks again. “are you hurting?”

“just sensitive.” you reassure honestly, nuzzling your cheek against his warm skin. you feel him deflate in relief slightly. after a quiet minute of him holding you, he speaks — and yet it somehow feels like it’s directed more at himself, like he’s thinking out loud.

“when i’m taking you… especially like that… i forget that i’m so…” you hear him run a hand over his 5 o’clock shadow.

“big?” you suggest honestly, walking fingers along his chest. you feel him shrug modestly.

“i suppose that’s an adequate description.” he goes all formal like he usually does when feeling confronted or nervous. you weakly giggle, looking up at him through lashes and he looks down at you, unable to wipe the worried and embarrassed expression off his face in time.

“it’s not a bad thing, mig. not at all.”

“i hurt you.”

“you didn’t. i’d just had enough.” you stare up determinedly and he backs down, pressing his lips together and staring off into the distance. when you continue to watch him he softens a little more, running a thumb over your cheek again.

“mi chica.” he whispers and you kiss his palm. “i’ll be better.”

he doesn’t need to be.

[kairiscorner]

So I was watching the live adaptation of the addams family (released in 1991)

AND MHIEEEE,,,,,,,,

There’s this one scene where Gomez is looking down at Morticia

And his dialogue…..

“Look at her. I would die for her. I would kill for her.”

AND I CANNOT, FOR THE LIFE OF ME, STOP THINKING ABT MIGUEL IN THIS SCENE

Like babes have we ever considered gothic!miggy b4 bc

Bc….

ATE NALOLOKA NA PO AKO SAYO /hinimatay ngl i can't see current miggy as a goth, but younger miggy? oh hell yeah, he'd probably try out a goth aesthetic huhu MMMMMMM I WANNA WRITE THIS NGL ACK

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i mean it when i say... i'd kill for you, i'd die for you. – miguel o'hara x reader

there are times when he has to ask himself, really get himself thinking–"why am i still spider man? for what am i saving all these people who i've never even met before, taking hits from overzealous, insane villains so nobody else gets hurt even though they don't even thank me in the end... living despite the pain of living, loving despite the risk of having my heart broken–that i would be the reason of a loved one's heartache and suffering?"

there are hardly any times when questions of severe existentialism are ever answered early by the vast universe; the answers are hidden, muddled by the cosmos that keep expanding, never to be known by any living mortal–at least, not directly. miguel's dilemma is such, for truly, what is his life when put into the perspective of the grander scheme of things? what is the meaning behind the life he lives when he cannot even get a moment of rest until he's in the grave? what does he come home for, only to leave that home all over again and come back who knows when?

as he swings home, making minimal noise and conspicuous movements towards the window of your bedroom with miguel–he stares for a moment into the room. he's greeted to the very familiar sight of you sleeping soundly by your side, hopefully not suffering any internal turmoil that would discomfort you in your slumber. as you lay there, with your eyes shut and mouth slightly parted–gently snoring and mumbling in your sleep–with the moonlight illuminating your gentle figure, fragile frame... miguel has the answer to a his pondering answered in that one scene of his evening–of his life.

he mustered the courage to enter the room, quietly crawling in like a thief in the night. he shut the window closed after entering and dissipated his suit–leaving him in a pair of dark color briefs. he got under the covers, hoping not to wake you from your seemingly peaceful sleep, and once he snuggled up next to you... he found himself holding his breath in, as if anticipating that at any moment, the multiverse would part you from him and keep him as he always was before you came: miserable, lonely, and empty–without meaning.

your sleeping face was turned to his side, your eyelashes and lips looking so ravishing to miguel to pepper with kisses–your nose looking so... biteable. he smiled to himself slightly and gently pushed back a small lock of your hair behind your ear, shifting his face to move closer to you, to gaze into your lovely face and just soak in all of you.

"look at you... oh, the things i'd do for you; i can't even begin... to tell you..." he muttered, having a one-way conversation with your sleeping figure. he brushed the back of his finger against your cheek slowly, savoring the feeling of your warm skin. "i do all these things, all these things nobody thanks me for, to keep you safe–to see you in this very bed, to hold you another night, see you another day and hear your voice speak my name and tell me you love me..." he murmured, moving his face closer to yours–your lips almost touching, his nose poking yours.

he exhaled and smiled gently up at you. "i mean it when i say i'd die for you... i'd kill for you. nobody else matters to me, not anymore, when all i have left is you." he whispered as he leaned his forehead against yours, giving your nose a small kiss, taking your hand in his and gently squeezing it. whether you heard him or not didn't matter, miguel had finally gotten his answer from the universe somehow–and miguel would repeat to you that answer from the universe again and again and again.

you're the only one he has now, the only one who's never left him and has defied what the multiverse has in store for him–you're all that he loved, loves, and will ever love–until the end of time and space itself, you are all that he wants and needs.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @melovetitties @arachnoia @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @meeom @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf @smokeywhalee

[crimsonred-hi]

Grip

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Warnings:

Summary: At a dinner party, he’s jealous over your coworker.

She can feel his ring digging into her hip. His grip is unyielding, she’s well aware her hip is going to be bruised and sore tomorrow, he’ll probably kiss it better and mumble sorries into her skin.

All she’s doing is talking to a man she works with, her and Andrew are at a dinner party with all the people she works with, and she’s trying to talk to this male coworker about her job. But Andrew just digs his nails into her love handles, using the fat as leverage to tighten his grip.

“Sorry, excuse us:”

She says to the coworker, then pulls her lover out and away. She takes him to a toilet, she pushes him in it, sitting him on the closed toilet seat.

Pulling her skirt up a bit, giving her more leverage, to perch herself on his lap. Grabbing his hair, pulling him to make eye contact with her,

“What was that about? I’ve never seen you act so rude towards another person.”

He growls, grabbing her hips so harshly.

“Ow, Andrew! That hurts, you need to loosen your grip, I’m not going anywhere.”

She says, pinching at his knuckles so his grip loosens, Andrew’s eyes are so blacked out it’s insane. She can barely see the green of his eyes,

“You’re well aware of the fact your mine, correct?”

His hands move up, from her hips to her waist, gripping, almost desperate to leave a bruise. A mark.

“You know that right. That you’re mine. My lover. My girl. Mine.”

“Andrew, you’re hurting me.”

He stops. Almost as if he’s snapping out of it. His pupils decrease in size, then grow again with affection. His grip loosens massively, he’s barely touching her, his fingers are feather light on her hips.

“I… I’m so sorry… I should have known better…”

Gentle, he speaks so gingerly to her, pulling back, he fiddles with his fingers feeling ashamed of himself for being so harsh.

She takes his hands, bringing them softly back to her hips,

“What made you act like that?”

Swallowing down his pride, he mumbles something she doesn’t understand, he hides himself in her hair. Pushing his face into her hair, almost hiding from her, in her hair. She giggles softly, pushing him back on the toilet seat so they can make eye contact.

“Were you jealous, Bear?”

He grumbles, looking to the side.

“You were.”

“Yeah, so what?”

That was a bit harsh. He pouts softly, burying his head in her chest, nuzzling into her.

“Yeah… he was too close.”

“Who? Mark? How could he get too close? You were practically in between us.”

Andrew growls at the sheer mention of her coworkers name. His eyes getting angry again. She sighs, rubbing his shoulders to keep him sane.

“How about we go home? How does that sound?”

Without a second thought, she’s placed to the ground and lead out the dinner party. Your say in the car, plugged into the seat belt by him, then he gets in himself.

“All of that for nothing.”

“Eh?”

“You had such a big reaction over nothing.”

He’s about to speak, but he stops and just drives.

[lilacmingi]

THROUGH THICK AND THIN

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. Ageless blogs and blank blogs risk getting blocked

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x human!fem reader

Word count: 2,280

Note: This is from my first BTS imagines book on Wattpad from 2018. This version is the rewritten 2024 version! ALSO THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS!!!! WOW

It was early afternoon and you and your best friend, Jungkook, were at your place sitting on the couch watching a movie together. The film of choice was a vampire movie—one of your favorites. Your eyes were glued to the screen, knowing exactly what was about to happen, as the both of you had seen the movie roughly a hundred times.

Someone (a vampire) was about to jump out at the main character, you both saw it coming. At the same moment the person jumped out in the film, Jungkook grabbed you and shouted loudly causing you to yelp in response.

The force from his sudden and lighthearted attack caused you to fall over onto your back, thankful that you were on the couch.

Jungkook hovered over you with a mischievous grin, giving you no time to react as he pretended to bite your neck by making playful growling sounds and nuzzling his nose against your skin.

"Jungkook stop!" You begged through giggles, the ticklish sensation making it hard to speak.

"I'm a vampire!" He exclaimed, continuing to act silly.

You were laughing so hard you could hardly breathe, making minimal effort to stop him due to all your squirming. After a few attempts, you were finally able to push him away a little. He took that as a sign to stop and propped himself up to gaze down at you, the movie long forgotten.

"What would you do if I was actually a vampire?" He asked, his tone lighthearted.

"Hypothetically?"

"Of course."

You huffed out a light chuckle, amused by his question and always up for a little theoretical discussion about things like that.

"I wouldn't care. Vampires are literally my favorite supernatural creature. Plus, it's you. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

He grinned.

"But vampires aren't real, so I know you're not one."

His smile faltered a bit. "Yeah. They're not, are they?"

"But if they were, I wouldn't be bothered."

His smile returned.

He leaned down and gave you a light kiss on your forehead. Affectionate gestures like that weren't uncommon in your friendship, however, they didn't help your crush on Jungkook. As much as you had wanted to confess your feelings, you were also afraid that you were misinterpreting the gestures. Some people are just very affectionate, though you couldn't really recall anyone you knew that platonically kissed their friends.

"Do you like me or something?" The question was asked teasingly and in a playful manner, but you were hoping to get a serious response.

"What?" He asked, surprise lacing his tone.

"Well, you're always giving me little kisses on my face. Do you like me?" You tried to keep your tone light, playing it off as if you were just teasing him.

His expression changed and his eyes avoided yours. "Well..." He trailed off.

The mood shifted, turning more serious.

"Don't be afraid to be honest with me, Jungkook. We've known each other for three years." You encouraged him.

"Yes." He sighed, his eyes closing as if to avoid seeing your reaction.

"I knew it!"

"Y/n, don't embarrass me about it." He huffed.

"Why should you feel embarrassed? I feel the same way about you."

"You feel the same way?"

"Was it not obvious? I let you give me kisses all the time and cuddle with me. I don't ever push you away or tell you to stop. Could you not take a hint?"

"No?" He said it like a question.

"You big goober." You giggled and delivered a light smack to his shoulder.

"I'm not a goober." He defended through laughter. "I just wasn't sure how you felt. That's all."

Your joint laughter soon faded and the room went completely silent, the atmosphere changing in a matter of seconds. Jungkook stared down at you with his big and innocent-looking doe eyes that never failed to make your heart leap. He gulped nervously.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

"You kiss me all the ti-"

"On the lips." He specified.

The beating of your heart sped up at his request, only managing to utter a meek, "Yeah."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you softly, being very gentle and almost hesitant in his actions at first. Only when you reciprocated did he pick up the pace, pressing his lips closer to yours and kissing you harder. What you were experiencing in that moment was nothing like you had ever imagined (and you did imagine it... many times). Raven strands of Jungkook's lengthy hair caressed your forehead as they fell, untucking themselves from behind his heavily pierced ears. The faint ticklish sensation paired with the feeling of his lips moving against your own and his hand that had found its way to your waist was a combination that made your head spin.

Bringing your hands up to his luscious hair, you slid your fingers between the layers of wavy tendrils, playing with his locks. He seemed to like that, as he released a mix between a groan and a sigh against your lips that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. It was after that he began to get rougher. His hands gripped your waist and then one of your thighs, squeezing so hard it almost hurt. The pace of his breathing got heavier and you could've sworn you heard a faint growl from the back of his throat.

He pulled away for only a moment, reattaching his lips to your jawline, his piercing dragging against your skin making your eyelids flutter. He placed hot kisses down the side of your neck where he started nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands went back to squeezing your waist, the inhuman grip making you wince.

As much as you enjoyed the moment, it was now getting to a point where it was no longer enjoyable for you and his intensity was making you nervous.

"J-Jungkook." You didn't mean to stutter, but things were heating up very fast and he didn't seem to realize how uncomfortable you were.

He nipped harshly at your neck, making you release a small squeak of surprise.

"Jungkook!"

As if your voice had broke through an invisible barrier, Jungkook snapped out of his daze and pulled away. He was breathing so heavily his shoulders were heaving up and down. His eyes were wide with fear as if he realized he was about to do something terrible.

He looked scared.

"What was that all about?" You inquired.

"I-I have to go." He scrambled off you and went to grab his keys.

"Jungkook-"

"I need to go right now, Y/n." His voice was firm as he spoke, walking out of your apartment without another word or even an explanation.

You sat there dumbfounded.

The door to your apartment slammed shut and just like that, you were left a confused and flustered mess on the couch.

He was in such a hurry to leave, barely managing to speak without stumbling over his words, it had you worried.

Was it something you did? Did he regret kissing you?

The longer you sat on the couch, stewing in your anxious thoughts, the worse you felt. It got to a point where it became unbearable and you found yourself reaching for your phone.

You

If I did something wrong, I'm sorry

You sighed, leaning your head back on the couch cushions to stare at the ceiling, memorizing the texture while worrisome thoughts flooded your mind once again.

After sitting for an unknown amount of time, you decided to go check on Jungkook in person. He hadn't responded to your text and it was beginning to worry you. If you had somehow done something to make him uncomfortable, you wanted to know and you wanted it taken care of right away. The both of you had been through thick and thin together. Good times and bad times. And if something was bothering either one of you, you talked about it.

The first place you drove to was a nearby park, a place where the both of you liked spending time at, but Jungkook was nowhere to be found. If he needed to clear his head, you assumed he would've been there. The only other place he could possibly be was home.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at his apartment building since he lived nearby. You hastened inside and went straight to his floor.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't bother knocking. The both of you had been friends for years and neither of you usually knocked when you visited each other.

You stepped inside and saw Jungkook's keys lying on the floor along with the glass dish that usually held them. The bowl looked as if it had been knocked over and a huge piece was broken off of it.

Oh no.

Your first thought was that he was hurt, or maybe someone had broken in. You hoped it was neither.

"Jungkook?" You called out.

"Y/n?" His startled voice came from the kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He answered frantically.

"The glass dish by your door is broken. I thought you cut yourself."

"No. I'm fine."

You proceeded towards the kitchen, only for him to speak up when he heard you approaching the entryway.

"Don't come in here!"

"Why not?"

"I-uh I lied. I did cut myself. Sorry. I didn't want you to worry about me."

"I can help if you want." You responded, stepping into the kitchen.

"No please don-" Jungkook tried to stop you, but before he could finish his sentence, you were already standing in the doorway.

What you had expected to see was nowhere near the sight you were met with.

Jungkook's beautiful and captivating rich brown eyes were a deep shade of red, his mouth smeared with blood that matched his crimson irises. As if that wasn't jarring enough, you spotted two sharp fangs poking out of his mouth, which hung slightly agape in shock.

"Y/n. Don't freak out."

"You're a..." The sentence went unfinished, as your voice was stuck in your throat. You were too stunned to even utter the word that floated about in your head.

"Please don't be scared."

Jungkook took a step towards you, but you instinctively took one back, your actions making him frown.

Too overwhelmed, you spun around and took off towards the front door, jerking it open and bolting out as fast as you could.

You didn't get very far when your legs slowed and you came to a complete stop in the hallway as your rational thinking finally kicked in. What were you doing?

Jungkook's words from earlier that night replayed in your head.

"What would you do if I was actually a vampire?"

Your expression fell into one of disappointment, your heart sinking. It wasn't just a silly question. He was being serious when he asked you that.

Your words came to the forefront of your mind, hitting you like a knife to the chest.

"I wouldn't care. Vampires are literally my favorite supernatural creature. Plus, it's you. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

Why were you running away? What you said to him earlier was true, though you assumed the question was theoretical. Still, your answer was genuine. And yet, here you are standing in the hallway of his apartment building ready to flee like a scared animal.

Not only that, but it was clear Jungkook didn't want you to see him like that. He tried to stop you from coming into the kitchen and yet, you ignored him. If only you had listened. Then again, you thought he was hurt. You were worried. How were you supposed to know he was only trying to hide his identity from you?

There was no time for overthinking, you had to make things right.

Spinning around on your heel, you hurried back inside Jungkook's apartment.

When you found him, he was leaned over the kitchen counter, sniffling. His head shot up when he heard you enter the room.

"Y/n?" Your name was uttered weakly.

Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to return.

The blood had been cleaned from around his mouth and his appearance had returned to normal.

"I'm sorry." Your apology came out in a pathetically feeble voice, your jaw clenching to stop the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes.

Wasting no time, you ran up and hugged him as tightly as you possibly could. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing in your hold as a sense of relief washed over him like a soothing wave.

"You asked me what I would think if you were actually a vampire. I answered honestly, though I thought you were just asking silly hypothetical questions. Now I see why you asked it in the first place." You sighed. "I'm really sorry for running away. I was caught off guard and unable to process everything."

"It's okay. That's completely understandable. Besides, I shouldn't have kept it a secret from you."

You pulled back and looked at him, gently wiping his cheeks where he had been crying.

"Hey. Through thick and thin. Remember?"

He nodded.

"So... we confessed to each other earlier. Does that mean I'm dating a vampire?"

Jungkook chuckled. "I suppose it does. As long as you're okay with that."

"Are you kidding? I'm more than okay with it."

He grinned at your response, swiftly sweeping you into his arms.

"What do you say we pick up where we left off earlier?"

"I like the sound of that." You giggled as he attached his lips to yours and carried you off to his room.

Jimin ♱ Yoongi ♱ Taehyung ♱ Namjoon ♱ Hoseok ♱ Jin

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

[soap-ify]

simon can't be with you anymore.

cw gn!reader , angst , hurt / no comfort, simon doesn't know what he's doing.

notes streets said that it's angstmas !! didn't know that it existed until recently. anyways, since i'm having the worst week of my life, i'm gonna ruin it for simon too.

maybe simon was being stupid.

he probably was. not that he could think of any other options besides leaving you.

his work was too dangerous, and the next deployment was probably going to be his last. especially after the recent briefing he went to where the captain spoke about the upcoming mission — a highly risky one. in fact, even the most skilled like ‘ghost’ was bound to either get severely injured or just die. probably the latter. especially since he wouldn’t be with the rest of the taskforce 141 in the fucking warzone.

just a sacrifice for the better of the world, yeah? even though a part of him didn’t want to. fuck the world. you meant so much more to him. but he had chosen this job right. he had agreed to the mission.

and after all, he never considered himself deserving of you, deserving of this relationship he had with you. he knew he was somewhat of a distant boyfriend — barely opening up about his own feelings or past. at least he had shown you his face. you didn’t deserve someone as dangerous as him, someone so… damaged.

he didn’t want to die knowing that you’d be waiting home, all sad and lonely. he didn’t want to leave you like that, but at the same time, he didn’t want to stay and just watch this sweet bubble you two were in shatter. in both ways, he had to leave you. he had to somehow make this less painful, to make it easier for you to move on.

god, he was an asshole. he knew he was. he spent the week just distancing himself from you, responding to your words with nods and grunts while barely reciprocating to your affectionate touches. his heart was breaking more and more everyday, noticing the pained look in your eyes.

he couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. eventually, he had to end this, and he did.

“we can’t be together.”

his words hit you like a brick. literally on a random friday evening. not so random now, it seemed.

“what do you mean, si…?” your voice got quieter with each word, uncertainty towards your own state of mind flooding inside you while a lump formed in your throat, restraining you from properly even speaking out. your eyes stared at him in pure confusion and heart, noticing how he was cladded in his uniform, how he wore that damn skull mask balaclava — building up those walls again that you had managed to break so easily with your love.

simon hated this. he didn’t want to see you so confused and defeated. he had to stop himself mentally from doing something irrational. he was doing this for you, for your own good. though hearing you call him ‘si’ seemed to somewhat crack his composure.

“look, we can’t be together. s’too dangerous. too risky for you. you never know when i might die.” soon, but he held himself from saying that. you didn’t need to know about his deployment, not at all.

“w-why so sudden?” your voice cracked as you tried to properly make sense of his words, emotions taking off your being while you tried to hold in the tears that had begun to sting your eyes.

too dangerous, too risky — maybe somewhere in your heart, you had known that a day like this would come. simon riley was too careful about safety, too dedicated to his work while simultaneously being madly in love. suddenly, all of his sudden distant behavior made sense, and you felt somewhat stupid. stupid for, well, everything.

he was the plague that had infected you, and now he needed to leave so you could heal.

but you never thought of him like that. he was your rock, the anchor that held you from slipping away into loneliness that had always somehow stuck with you throughout your life, a sting that only simon could soothe. it was simon who would craddle you in his arks every night, it was simon who would listen to your rambles. it was simon who your heart was so willing to give love to.

and now he was going to leave.

simon had expected you to scream, to somehow target your anger and frustrations at him. he wanted you to yell at him, he deserved it.

but you didn’t. you sniffled, beads of tears beginning to roll down your cheeks as you took a wobbly step back, too exhausted to fight back or anything.

you didn’t blame simon. how could you? even now, you couldn’t find a flaw in him. too in love? maybe.

as silence filled the living room of the apartment you used to share with him, he slowly picked up his duffel bag and sighed, trying to keep his brown eyes cold and unfeeling, to make it look like he didn’t feel remorseful, to hide his heart was threatening to tear out of his own skin.

“i’ll always love you, simon…”

you said after a few seconds, causing his head to turn over to look back at you — your eyes teary and puffy while your cheeks were streaked with tears, his hands aching to wipe them away. your voice was weak, reluctantly defeated. you know that there was no point in stopping him.

i’ll always love you too, he mentally thought, though never said.

"one final kiss...?" simon froze at your request, knowing that if he were to look at your face any longer, he'd actually stay. he sighed and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away, brown eyes hardening up.

he gave you a final nod and exited the apartment from the front door, leaving you alone all over again, your heart torn in pieces as you fell down on your knees, shattering into pieces that no one was going to bother picking up now. only simon could, but he was gone.

simon riley had died three months after that, and you never found out. for you, ge had just disappeared, leaving no traces behind.

just a memory that you were afraid you’d forget eventually, forget his touch and his voice, forget his face — just a memory that was going to bury itself no matter how hard you may try.

[savventeen]

you say the stupidest (sweetest) things

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader rating: 16+ (for swearing) wc: 4.5k prompt: seungkwan + "things you said at 1am" summary: you say stupid shit on the best of days, so when seungkwan comes over when you're having a bad bout of insomnia, the last thing he expects to hear from you is an accidental love confession warnings: insomnia, mental health issues, dissociation mention tags: fluff, friends to lovers, first kiss, reader is a little unhinged but who isn't tbh, they're also highkey allergic to genuine expressions of love/affection but they're working on it, banter, stimming, wrestling like children to try and work through emotions, reader is some flavor of lgbt+ (they make an "i've never done anything straight in my life" joke), reader's pov is dramatic bc they're dramatic oops a/n: this is for @dokyeomin as a part of my emergency commissions (check out the post here) and this was only supposed to be 1k but it 100% got away from me... i hope you still enjoy the fluff and all of the attached nonsense <3

From: Y/n 🔪 [11:47pm]

yo kwannie if i impulsively decide to go to the 24h convenience store how harshly do u think they'll jusdge me for buying every flavor of gummy candy available *judge i wanna see if i can melt them down into one Ultimate Gummy u know for Science

Seungkwan pauses brushing his teeth and stares down at your messages.

To be fair, it's probably not the strangest thing you've ever texted him. He's known you since your second year of college, after all, so he has about half a decade of experience with all of your various y/n-isms under his belt now.

Which is how he knows to trust his gut when it tells him that this probably isn't your usual brand of nonsense.

He spits the toothpaste into the sink and dials your number. You answer on the second ring.

“Before you say anything,” you start, “I was only half-serious about the gummies thing. Like, it's a fun idea, you know? In theory. But in actuality? I do not want to deal with the mess that it would create. Or the smells. Well, the smells might actually be pretty good depending on—“

“Uh-huh,” he interrupts dryly. “Y/n, when's the last time you slept?”

The beat of silence that follows is enough to confirm his suspicions, and the hesitant “Um” that follows is just the icing on the cake, really.

He sighs. “The fact that you have to think about it says enough.”

“I don’t need to think about it,” you argue petulantly. “I just… don’t wanna tell you.”

“Y/n...” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I know, I'm sorry.” And you do sound a little bit sorry, at least. “I'm just. Having an episode. Don't worry about it.”

His shoulders droop as the words sink in. “Episodes” are what you've taken to calling your intermittent bouts of serious insomnia.

Generally speaking, you sleep about as well as the average twenty-something with a caffeine addiction. But every few months or so, it's like your brain completely forgets how to shut off and you end up staying awake for 40+ hours straight.

“Well,” he says, putting his toothbrush away and going back to his bedroom. “You know that ship has sailed, right? You know I'm gonna worry about it.”

Your deep sigh crackles over the line. “Yeah, I know.”

“So. Where're we at this time?”

He mentally braces himself. The two of you have done this enough times now that he knows that you know there's no point in trying to lie or beat around the bush.

“Uhhhhhhh, I'll be hitting the 46-hour mark in about 20 minutes.”

“Aish.”

The fact that you can say that so casually makes his heart hurt. He knows that whenever he doesn't get enough sleep, he makes sure everyone knows it and thus babies him accordingly. But you've always been so intent on hiding anything and everything you struggle with. It's taken years for him to bully himself past the walls you keep hidden behind shit-eating grins and an over-willingness to help.

“Okay,” he says, moving to the dresser to grab an extra set of clothes. “I'll be over in an hour.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me.” He tosses the clothes onto his bed before going to grab one of his duffle bags, firmly asserting, “You've got an hour to mentally prepare yourself for my arrival.”

“Honey, you've got a big storm comin',” you quote at him without hesitating.

“You sure do,” he assures with a snort. “Better get ready to feel the wrath of my friendship.”

“Why do you have to love so aggressively?”

He rolls his eyes while he throws his clothes into the duffle bag with one hand. “Because it's the only way you'll accept it, idiot.”

“No, it isn't.”

Your pout is so audible through the phone that Seungkwan has to stop and glance at the screen in disbelief.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n. Do not stand there and lie to my face like that.”

“I'm not lying!”

“Not—” He gesticulates wildly with one hand like he's going Can you believe this shit? to an invisible TV audience. “Okay, tell me this: what did you do the last time I sincerely monologued at you about how much you mean to me as a friend, hmm? No bits, no bullshit, just me telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are.”

A beat. “I'll hang up on you, Kwannie, don't test me.”

He barely resists the urge to shove his face into the bedspread and scream. “You're literally proving my point right now!”

“Kwannieeee,” you whine, because you know he's right.

“Also, because I'm never letting you live it down, I will remind you exactly what you did."

You say his name again, but it's muffled, and he assumes it's because you're hiding your face in shame.

“I gave you a sincere, heartfelt speech about how much your friendship has changed my life for the better and made me become a better person—” he ignores your wordless pterodactyl screech, “—and how do you respond? By staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights, slowly raising your arms to give me double finger guns, winking, and then slowly backing out of the room like an awkward mannequin!”

“...”

“Well?” He puts his free hand on his hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“… I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes before moving to continue packing his overnight bag. “It was literally three months ago.”

“Yeah, and? Doesn't change the fact that I've changed,” you assert.

“Into even more of a nuisance? Yes, you're absolutely right.” He smiles when he hears you scoff playfully.

“Listen here, Boo Seungkwan. You know that well-rested Y/n is ready to throw down with you at a moment's notice. What do you think sleep-deprived, zero-impulse-control Y/n is going to do the second you get to their front door?”

“Stop referring to themself in the third person, hopefully,” he mutters, finally zipping up his bag and heading to the door. “And then after that, they're going to let me bully them into resting.”

“Hmm. The council has heard your proposal, briefly pondered it, and deemed it “unnecessary” on the basis of: they're a bad bitch that can't be stopped by neither time nor physics nor any god of your choosing.”

Seungkwan scoffs as he puts the call on speaker and sits to put on his sneakers. “Well, “the council” can go fuck right off.”

“What if the council would like to fuck right on?”

Pausing in the middle of tying his laces, he blinks down at his phone. “I'm— what?”

“Okay, real talk, what do you think it would mean in this case? Like, would this be like a 'hop on' versus 'hop off' situation? Or more like an 'I'm down for this' versus 'I'm up for this' kinda situation? Because it would have very different outcomes depending.”

Seungkwan decides that this is a debate better left for another time. “I think it means that I'm going to be at your house soon and that if you're not in your pajamas with hot Sleepy Time tea and the series Planet Earth ready to go, there will be consequences.”

“Booooooo, you whore.”

He finishes tying his laces and jabs his finger at the phone. “Consequences, Y/n.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“See you soon, love you, bye.” He hangs up before you can get another word in, but doesn't move from his seated position in the entryway.

Slowly, he takes a deep breath in and lets it out, taking a moment to lean back on his hands while he stares at the back of his front door. Specifically, at the large collage of sticky notes and pictures and doodles that have taken up residence there.

A few of the notes are ones he's gotten from other members of your shared friend group over the years (the one from Chan that reads "if u eat my rice i'll eat ur kneecaps xoxo" hangs proudly in the center, right next to a picture of him sleeping that Seungkwan managed to capture from an extremely unflattering angle). But most of them are from you.

Dumb puns, meme references, bullshit animal facts you made up just to get him to laugh… almost all of them are stupid in that extremely charming way that only you somehow manage to pull off.

But the one he's staring at now is almost completely hidden by other notes and pictures that have been added to the collage. It's a pale blue, the ink starting to fade a bit with time — the first note you ever gave him, back when you two were just people who happened to sit next to each other in an astronomy class.

Even though most of it is hidden, he doesn't need to be able to see all the tiny words you crammed into the small space to already know exactly what it says.

how do u make a space party? u planet :P u looked sad today, hope this makes u feel a little better also if this is 2 forward feel free 2 pretend i don't exist. or punt me in2 the sun idk u'd be doing me a favor tbh

He'd almost skipped class that day because of how bad he'd been feeling, but he'd decided to try and push through. And before that day, neither of you had interacted with more than a polite greeting and the occasional question about the homework.

But then you'd passed him that note, and he'd passed one back that said “that's dumb. but thank you” with a smiley face, and you'd passed another one back that said “do u think lizard people have ever been to space?” and the rest, they say, is history.

Seungkwan shakes his head with a sigh before standing up and grabbing his bag and his keys, striding determinedly out the door. He's got a best friend to take care of.

Seungkwan should be at your place soon, and you're not quite sure what to do in the meantime.

You have your laptop hooked up to the monitor in the living room with Planet Earth queued up, you have the kettle filled with water and ready to go on the stove, and you have mugs and teabags ready on the counter next to it.

The Required Tasks™️ have been completed as much as possible without the arrival of your best friend, and now all that's left to do is wait.

Which, normally, you're not the worst at. You're excellent at entertaining yourself, actually, mostly because there's always something to think about. Whether it be about cute dogs that you've seen over the past week (I wonder if the pomeranian down the street will let me pet him next time), potential plot twists for the new fantasy drama you're a little bit obsessed with (what if Gregothy was cursed the whole time???), or generic ponderings of the human existence as a whole (do souls have the metaphysical equivalent of a fingerprint?), you're pretty much always thinking about something.

Which is totally fine and dandy and cool or whatever when you have the ability to, you know, shut it off. For example, when you need to do something simple and necessary like, oh I don't know, go the fuck to sleep.

You also hate when that manic mental energy somehow translates into kinetic energy as well. It makes you feel like a hamster in a cage, watching yourself running and running and running on that stupid wheel until you exhaust yourself.

Tonight's metaphorical wheel: stimming like wild in the kitchen. Flapping, rocking, (gently) slapping, making weird and fun mouth sounds, the whole shebang.

And again, normally stimming is fun. Stimming is great. But stimming because you feel like if you don't stop moving you're going to literally vibrate out of your skin is, to put it lightly, Not It.

It takes you about ten minutes to work out all of the energy until you no longer feel like your blood was replaced with pop rocks.

With a groan, you lower yourself to the kitchen floor and lay down face first. Because despite how exhausted you feel in every possible way, there's still something like an itch in your conscious, a fucking pea underneath the miles of mattresses that refuse to let you just. Fucking. Sleep.

Your pity party must've lasted longer than you realized (or, more likely, you dissociated for a hot second there) because suddenly someone's knocking at your door at the same time you get a text from Seungkwan.

And you know it's a text from Seungkwan specifically because you got Vernon to help you change your notification settings so that whenever Seungkwan texts you, the "i love you.. bitch" sound clip plays instead of a normal text tone.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate slowly inching your way to the door like an uncoordinated caterpillar, but you swat the thought aside like you’re swatting a gnat and you awkwardly roll to your feet and make your way to your front door.

Without hesitating, you unlock the door, swinging it open with a flourish and sticking a finger right in Seungkwan's face before he can utter a single syllable, forcing him to cross his eyes.

You open your mouth wide like you're going to say something, pause for a moment, then tap your pointed finger to his nose with a quiet "boop."

He blinks, expression turning deadpan, and sighs. "I should have expected this, honestly."

“Yep!”

You let him into your apartment, and he makes himself right at home, mildly bitching at you as he goes to get the tea ready, and something within you shifts.

The inside of your head is still a bit of a dumpster fire, unfortunately, but inside your chest... something clicks into place that you're not sure that you're ready to name. Whatever it is, though, it's soft and warm and kinda feels like your heart is being hugged.

Smiling to yourself, you follow him into the kitchen.

💤 💤 💤 💤 💤

It was pretty much straight to “business” after that, and it only takes Seungkwan one cup of tea and two episodes listening to David Attenborough's dulcet narrations for him to knock right out, leaning heavily against your shoulder on the couch.

Which means it's now the perfect time to sit there and Admire Your Bro™️.

It's rare to see him so still, you think. He's an active guy, in pretty much every sense of the word, and you always feel a little honored when you get to be witness to his quiet, vulnerable moments like this one.

He looks so serene, face smoothed out and painted in soft twirling shades of blue from the screen of the monitor, though you can't see too much of it from this angle. Mostly you just see his cheeks and stupidly adorable button nose.

And you've seen the same thing a million times before — in all kinds of states and expressions — and despite how much you've tried to ignore it, each and every time you've caught yourself noticing just how cute Seungkwan is, it's caused that thing in your heart to scrunch up, full of the L-word feeling that you've kept unnamed for what feels like forever now.

Except, maybe that thing in your heart is tired of scrunching up. Maybe it's decided that it's tired of forever.

Maybe that thing has finally decided to burrow itself out of the walls you've built up because you find yourself finally allowing yourself to think, Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

You don't realize that Seungkwan has completely stilled against you, but you certainly notice when he suddenly throws himself forward so he can turn around and stare at you incredulously. Only he overshoots a little bit and ends up falling off the couch with a squawk and a dramatic flail.

"Oh my god, Kwannie are you okay?!"

He stares at you from where he fell, wide-eyed like you've grown a second head or like the time you'd tried to convince him that birds weren't real and actually just a government conspiracy.

"Am— am I okay? No??"

Now it's your turn to move off of the couch, coming down to his level to see if maybe he hurt himself when he fell. "Fuck, okay, did you hit something? Do you need an icepack?"

Seungkwan being Not Okay is maybe one of the worst things that could ever happen in the entire universe and you're trying not to panic as you reach out to check for injuries.

"No, no, stop—" he bats away at your hands and you stop in your motions, now kneeling in front of him. "I'm not hurt!"

Your brain does the cartoonish screech thing as it comes to a halt, and you furrow your brows. "But.. you just said you're not okay?"

"I'm not!" His eyes are still wide in shock, but he also looks confused and maybe a little bit like he's about to cry?

Oh no. If he cries and it's somehow your fault (because it has to somehow be your fault) you think the world might actually end.

"Okay, uh. I am— confused,” you start, sure you must look as lost as you feel. “But, um, what can I do to help?"

He swallows, and a part of you realizes that he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before. "Did you mean it?"

Knowing that it's significant but not yet knowing why, you maintain eye contact. "Mean what?"

"What you just said."

You blink. "...that I'm confused?"

He shakes his head. "No, before that."

You have a hard time remembering what you just said when you're not sleep-deprived and worried you've just somehow accidentally caused irreparable emotional damage to your best friend. "Uh... when I asked if you were okay?"

"No, fuck," and it's a shock for some reason, hearing him cuss right now. You hear him say much worse things all the time, but you think it might be the way he said it — with a kind of desperate vulnerability that you're not sure you've ever heard from him before.

That thing in your chest twinges and you think maybe you're the one who's gonna start crying.

He says your name like a plea, and then he's on his knees right in front of where you're kneeling on the floor, reaching forward to cup your face in his palms. "You said— Y/n, you said "holy shit I think I'm in love with you.””

Oh.

You're pretty sure your heart falls right out of your ass and bounces across the rug, judging from the way it comes to a dead stop. You blink at him. Full of new and sinking kind of dread, you whisper, "...I said that out loud?"

He laughs, but it's tinged with incredulity and sounds a little too close to a sob for comfort. "Yes! You did!"

And wait, no, your heart is still stuck in your chest, because you can feel it start pounding against your ribcage in double, triple, quadruple time. He must see the fear in your expression, because suddenly his eyes are narrowed in a determined scowl and he growls, "Oh no you don't."

Then you find yourself going down with a yelp as Seungkwan octopuses himself around you, trapping you within the confines of his surprisingly strong arms and legs as he basically tackles you to the floor.

You try and wiggle away even as you know it's useless, and he grits, "Y/n dammit, answer my question."

"Why were you even awake?” You deflect, getting an arm free and trying to give him a wedgie. “You were supposed to be asleep!"

"I was supposed to be asleep?!” He screeches, easily evading your reach and poking your ribs to get you to reflexively pull back your arm. “You're the one who hasn't slept in literal days! And stop avoiding my question!"

"No!" He has you trapped once again, and you resort to licking his arm.

"Oh my god!"

He muffles his scream into your shoulder, long and frustrated, and then he just... goes limp. He loosens his hold and just lets his full body weight kinda crush the parts of you he's ended up lying on and just... lays there.

This is your chance, you know — to wiggle free and escape and run away from your feelings just like you always have.

But, for some reason, you don't — that scrunched-up thing in your chest holds you back. You stay there, lying beneath Seungkwan on the floor of your living room at one-something in the morning, and the two of you just breathe.

"It's okay, you know," he murmurs after a moment, so quiet you barely hear him over David Attenborough still narrating softly in the background. "If you didn't mean it. It's okay."

Holy shit, I think I'm in love with you.

And you realize how easy it would be to play it off, to blame it on the sleep deprivation, the way you blurted it out like that — to say (to lie) you meant it completely platonically, like the way you propose to Mingyu at least once a month when he cooks you all dinner.

And you also realize, quite shockingly, that despite how a part of you still desperately wants to run away, the larger part of you wants to stay. Doesn't want to run. Doesn't want to lie anymore.

You swallow heavily, briefly close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. "And if I did? Mean it?"

This time, you do notice when Seungkwan goes still. Slowly, he lifts his head so he can look you in the eyes.

When he doesn't say anything, just continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, you try to continue.

"Would you— would that— would it be okay? If I meant it? When I— when I said that I'm in love with you? Is— because um, like you said, it's okay if it's not, and uh—"

Your nervous rambling comes to a stop when he once again cups your face, but it's gentler than before, closer to a caress. The whole time you'd been talking he'd been slowly sitting up, and now he's on his knees next to where you're still lying down on the floor, looking down at you like all the hope in the world is somewhere to be found in your expression.

"Y/n." he says your name like it's something precious, and you feel the absurd urge to burst into tears. "It would be very okay." His thumbs make gentle arcs across your cheeks. "And just to be clear: you mean it in a non-platonic sense, right?” He chews on his lip. “Hopefully, in a very much romantic sense?"

Staring at him staring at you, eyes bright with hope and a little bit of wonder... you can only imagine you must be looking at him the same way. Your chest feels like it's full of helium but also like something warm and gooey is sloshing around in there. And all that hope and wonder and holy shit is this actually happening? is causing your tongue to stick to the roof of your mouth, and all you're able to get past your lips is a breathless, "Hopefully?"

"Oh my god," he groans in frustration, but it's light and airy and makes you think of amusement park rides and fairy lights and how you want to annoy the shit out of this man for the rest of his life, if he'll let you. He's shaking his head, smiling, beaming, and he asks, "Why can you never give me any kind of a straight answer, huh?"

"Because it's my life's purpose to be the bane of your existence until the day we die," you say, reaching up to hold his face too. "Also because I've never done anything straight ever in my life."

And then your body is moving before your brain can think it though, dragging him down until you can press your lips to his and finally, finally know what it's like to kiss Boo Seungkwan.

He makes a little noise of surprise, one that you can feel buzz against your lips before he melts into you. And oh, any thoughts you might have had are forcefully ejected from your brain because all you can focus on are his lips pressed to yours, the way they move slowly, gently, turning this chaste kiss into the most scorching experience of your life. His nose bumps against yours and the heat of his warm breath sends tingles throughout your body, and his hands, fuck, his hands are still holding you gently but also with a firmness that feels like he doesn't want to let you go.

And then he's pulling away, and you whine at him because this may be the cruelest thing he's ever done to you ever in your entire life. "Noooooo, why'd you stop?"

"Because, as much as I'd love to continue to make out with you on your floor while an old British man narrates about life on the Serengeti—” he mercifully ignores the way you choke on your spit at the way he talks about making out with you so nonchalantly "—it's past someone's bedtime."

Your mouth drops open in offended shock. Was he actually going to put you to bed like a child? Like you both hadn't just declared your romantic love for each other? "Are you fucking serious?"

He just stands up and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a single raised eyebrow. You take the part of you that finds it annoyingly attractive and promptly smother it, crossing your own arms from your position on the floor.

"I'm not a baby," you definitely don't pout.

"Hmmm...” And then the bastard fucking pouts at you. “But you're my baby."

You blink at him.

"Welp, that was nice while it lasted,” you grunt, rolling to your feet, “but I suddenly need to relocate to Antarctica and become a penguin herder.”

He pulls you into his arms with a laugh, and you let him, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he starts after he's held you for a few moments. “This isn't how I ever imagined how us confessing to each other would go.”

You snort.

“But also,” he continues, “it feels very 'us' doesn't it?”

"Yeah,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head from his shoulder.

“Mmm, is someone finally sleepy?” he teases, starting to waddle you both towards your bedroom. “Did all the emotions finally wear you out?”

Instead of nodding, you lightly kick him in the shin and the sappy part of your brain that is currently in charge of everything thinks that his indignant squawk is one of your most favorite sounds.

The sappy part of your brain is right, of course, and when you wake up in your bed 15 hours later and accidentally smack him in the face, the urge to run is a little bit smaller than it was before. And the way he flushes bright red after you sleepily kiss him on the cheek is an image you're going to cherish until the day you die.

[jusmango-shake]

Erm, I see requests are open ehehe :)

2012 Raph x reader who is a generally pretty calm person, but one day is involved in a fight with them and just goes absolutely apeshit crazy? Like his reaction or whatever. I don’t care how you interpret it. I just wanna see. :)

🥭: yES HELLO!! Congrats on uh being my first requester ion kno what it's called h, feel free to pick an emoji so yknow. You could be those emoji anons cuz, I think that'd be pretty cool

I hope you enjoy it though!!1!1 (love the 2012 turtles)

12!Raph x calm!Reader

Fictype: Normal

Mood: fluff

WARNING: reader scolds Raph for being reckless, one instance of Raph being called a good boy, cussing, Injuries/Blood, stitching/needles

🥭:I'm sorry for it being so short!.

Raph always liked the fact you were so cool. no matter the situation, you always made it seem as if it was just like any other day. He admired that about you, it rivaled his own hot-headedness in a way only you could.

But now as he sat on the toilet, all bloody and bruised up. He wondered where that side of you went.

He understood where you were coming from but it's like his ego prevented him from accepting it, any time he tried speaking up was immediately shot down.

He faked an annoyed sigh as he looked in the opposite direction, trying to ignore the stinging pain on his right bicep.

He nearly shivered at the heavy sigh you let out, the hot air tickling his skin.

“Raphael.” you spoke sternly, the mere tone of your voice enough to have Raphs heart pounding inside his chest.

He coughed, trying his best to keep up the bravado.

"Yeah.?" He felt your eyes bore into the back of his head, wincing at the slight pain of the needle penetrating his skin.

“look at me.” you ordered.

He gulped before shakily turning to look at you. not because he was scared, hell no! It's obviously because of the large gash you were currently stitching up. Yeah, definitely.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Did you seriously think you wouldn't get hurt? God, Raph. Sometimes I swear your ego makes you fucking stupid.” You stared daggers into Raph's eyes before continuing to stitch the gash.

He flinched once more, "But i-"

You turned your head sharply, glaring at Raph with the usual twinkle and calmness from your eyes completely gone. His breath hitched, it wasn't like you to be so...

“no 'Buts' Raph, what you did was fucking idiotic. if it weren't for Leo, I'd have to fix up more of your wounds. All that just to impress me?” you turned back to focus on finishing the stitch, the thread was severed with a quiet 'snip'

Raph's eyes widened at the last sentence, you couldn't have possibly known right? He never told anyone, he even tried his best to hide it.

"What?" Was all he could manage, staring at you with wide eyes. He followed you even as you knelt down to get the bandages from the cabinet under the sink.

“dont play games with me Raph, I see the way you act around me. The shit you pull off was practically upped tenfold, even your brothers could see that.” a faint blush making its way onto your cheeks, to which you promptly hid by applying alcohol on the cotton balls.

Raph's heart sank. if you knew all along, why didn't you say anything? Did you not like him back?

As he stared at the floor in thought, he only slightly registered the fact you were once again kneeling Infront of him. He hissed at the stinging pain of alcohol on the other cuts, you reacted by simply glancing at him.

You sighed, putting the used cotton balls in the trash, standing up. You cupped both of his cheeks, gently having him look at you. Your gaze still tense and sturdy, but a hint of empathy comforting Raph just a little.

Raph stared up at you, shock and guilt written all over his face.

“you worried me half to death, Raph.”

He felt himself shrinking under your stern gaze. Looking off to the side in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

You took the bandages and wrapped them tightly around his arm, just tight enough to keep the wound closed.

“Raph?”

"Yeah..?"

You kissed the top of his head.

“next time, don't be such a dumb fuck. Be a good boy and stay safe for me.”

Raph sat there with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, barely registering the fact you had already left the bathroom. His fingers grazed over the spot you kissed him at, his heartbeat getting more and more prominent in his chest. But this time, it was accompanied with butterflies in his stomach.

Maybe he did have a chance.

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 10

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: A missed turn is the start of something more.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, teasing, femdom, orgasm delay/edging, use of a makeshift gag, honor bondage, oral (m receiving), ass play, a little exhibitionism, talks of blood/medical stuff.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“So…” Jake sets the cruise control once he gets on the highway, “you like-like me, huh?”

“You were awake? The whole time?!” You laugh and smack his arm when he nods with a smug smirk. “You ass!”

“I know,” he agrees. “I’m sorry. I was going to make it known, but then…I didn’t want to embarrass Drew.”

You nod and take a deep breath as your stomach flips like you’re on a roller coaster.

Here goes nothing.

“I do like you, Jake. More than a friend.”

“You already know I like you too. More than a friend,” he grins, “and Drew was right. I’ll do everything in my power to never hurt either of you.”

“Okay,” you whisper as you try not to cry. Again.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

In the comfortable silence of the car, your eyes close as your thoughts drift to one of the last verbal conversations you had with Andy before he lost his ability to speak.

The sun was just coming up when you got home from a 24-hour shift at the hospital. Utterly exhausted at 7 months pregnant, you crawled in next to Andy in his hospital bed.

“Hey,” he says, lips twitching in his attempt to smile.

“Hi,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead before laying your head on his thin shoulder.

“How’s my boy?” He asks, his speech slow and slurred and getting worse by the day.

“Good,” you answer, rubbing a hand over your swollen belly, “sleeping now after he danced all night on my bladder.”

“Tired himself out,” Andy replies. “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah? Did you hurt yourself?” You tease, giggling at his exaggerated sigh.

“I was thinking when I die,” he continues, making your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, “that you and Bradshaw should get together.”

“What?!” You nearly shout as you try to sit up, but you struggle with your pregnant belly in the way.

You knew ALS could change his thinking and behavior but this is way out of left field.

When you finally can get up enough to turn and look at him, he’s shaking with silent laughter.

“What the hell?!” You ask, unable to keep from laughing too. “I thought you lost your damn mind.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he explains when you lay back down on his chest. You commit to memory the steady beat of his heart for a few minutes before he continues. “I do want you to be happy though.”

“Andy…” your voice breaks with the tears filling your eyes. Dating is the last thing on your mind right now with being pregnant and married. Even though he’s dying.

“I know,” he answers, reading your mind. You reach back and pull his arm around you when you feel it trying to move at your back. “But someday, you might want to; and it’s okay.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unconvinced. “No one could ever replace you though.”

“If you say so,” he teases softly.

“Will you send me a sign?” You half-jokingly ask a few minutes later. Your eyes are closed, lids too heavy from exhaustion to open.

“Hmm?”

“If I ever date again. Send me a sign from heaven,” you reply sleepily with a yawn. “So I know you approve.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he chuckles as sleep pulls you under.

A sad smile (as Drew would say) graces your face as you come back to the present. You slowly blink your eyes open to the sound of Jake’s voice.

“I hate Apple Maps,” he grumbles, trying to zoom out on the screen. “Never told me to turn and now it’s re-routing us.”

“Yep,” you agree, pulling out your phone. “Same thing happens to me all the time. I’ll try pulling it up on mine.”

Jake’s low whistle has you looking up a moment later.

“Look at all those flowers,” he says, nodding his head to your side of the car.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur.

To your right is a field with row after row full of yellow flowers.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

Jake wordlessly turns into the driveway at the end of the field, parking the car near a small shop. It’s closed but there’s a note stuck to the door stating, “Sorry, we’re closed! Feel free to look but please don’t pick the flowers so everyone can enjoy them.”

“Daffodils,” you realize as you walk closer to the edge of the field, Jake at your side. “Wow. I’ve never seen so many.”

“Me either,” Jake murmurs, lacing in his fingers in yours.

You walk down the aisles hand in hand, enjoying the soft sounds and calmness of nature that you don’t often get to experience when living in the city.

At the very end of the last row, there’s a sign. A peculiar, almost precognitive feeling has your heart beating faster with each step as the two of you draw nearer to it.

Symbolizing both hope and resilience, daffodils are strong, little things that manage to survive long, dark winters; waiting to pop up with a fresh start and renewal that spring brings.

Let this be a sign to not let fear hold you back and to embrace new beginnings with open arms.

The words have tears spilling from your eyes as Jake reads them out loud.

“Oh my God,” you say and a laugh escapes despite your tears.

Well, you did ask Andy to send a sign. You didn’t mean literally but you’ll take it.

“What?” He turns to you, concern furrowing his brow when he sees you’re crying. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whisper as he turns your chin toward him so he can wipe your tears. “I don’t even know how to explain it but I’ll try in the car. Ready to go?”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“I know it’s probably just a coincidence,” you murmur after relaying the memory to Jake, now feeling a bit vulnerable.

“Thinking of that specific memory, missing our turn, ending up at a field full of flowers that symbolize hope and resilience, and then seeing that sign?” Jake says, glancing at you before looking back to the road “Feels like more than a coincidence to me.”

“Me too,” you smile softly and place your hand over his. “So Jake, will you be my boyfriend?”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

You pick up food on the way home for an early dinner before spending the rest of the evening in bed. It’s different than before; softer, unhurried, and more intimate after the emotional

“Do you want me to stay?” Jake asks after cleaning you up as his fingers play in your hair. His appetite for you is sated; at least for now.

“Yeah,” you reply, nuzzling into his chest, “if you want to. I’m on call tomorrow starting at 8, but I don’t have anything else planned.”

“I do want to,” he says, already sounding tired. “What do you have to do when you’re on call?”

“Not much. I just have to answer my phone if it rings and give the nurse orders or talk to the patient,” you explain, unable to stifle a yawn.

“I’ll keep you company then,” he replies as he drifts off.

“Mmkay,” you mumble before succumbing to sleep too.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Jake whispers before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smile at the use of a pet name, slowly blinking your eyes open as you stretch, feeling more rested than you have in a long time. “Morning. What time is it?”

“Ten to 8,” he replies, handing you a cup of coffee. “I wanted to let you sleep.”

“It’s okay. I haven’t slept that good in a long time,” you say, noticing the lack of sun coming through your curtains. “Is it raining?”

“Yeah, I checked this morning. It’s supposed to last all day,” he replies, settling next to you. “It’s nice and sunny up by Drew though.”

“Good,” you smile into your coffee cup. “On the bright side, we won’t have to feel guilty about spending all day in bed now.”

“True,” he agrees, setting your coffee on the nightstand before returning for a kiss. He guides the tee shirt you stole from him over your head before pulling you down with him.

Goosebumps follow your fingers trailing over his chest and he sighs into the kiss when you find his nipple.

You love how responsive he is to your touch and it reminds you of the package under your bed that arrived earlier this week.

“Hey, I ordered…something to try,” you say breathlessly before kissing a line down his neck. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Mmm, what is it?” He asks breathlessly as his hips press into you, precum already staining the front of his boxer-briefs.

You lift off him to dig through your bedside drawer, finding your black satin sleep mask and holding it up.

“Let me surprise you?” You ask, nodding to the mask.

His eyes darken as he nods.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

You cover his eyes and reach for the box under your bed, setting it next to him while you gather everything else you need before crawling over the bed to him.

“Keep your hands here,” you murmur as you pull his arms above his head to grip the headboard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies breathily, flushed already.

“Always so good for me,” you purr, leaving a kiss on his lips. He chases it with a whine when you pull away.

“You can tell me to stop at any time, and I will, okay?” You say as you kiss a path down his eager body before settling between his legs.

He nods before hissing when you suddenly suck sharply on his hip bone, leaving a dark bruise. “I can’t hear you nod.”

“Y-yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am,” he replies shakily, sounding fucked out already and you’ve barely touched him.

“Fuck!” He cries when you suck the head of his cock into your mouth without warning.

You hum around him as your head lazily bobs up and down his shaft, pausing only to place a generous dollop of lube on your finger.

“Oh,” he breathes when your index finger presses his rim, circling the right ring of muscle before pressing in. You smile as he opens his legs a little further before bringing them up to give you better access.

Your mouth goes back to his cock as your finger works in and out of his hole, occasionally brushing his prostate to keep him on edge. “Can I add another?”

“Yeah-I mean, yes ma’am,” he stutters, correcting himself before you can.

The thick muscles of his arms flex and another breathy curse leaves him as you slowly push two fingers in.

“You’re taking it so well,” you praise, rewarding him with a touch to his prostate as you lick the precum beading at the tip before swallowing him to the back of your throat.

“Fuu-ckk,” he says brokenly, clenching around your fingers as his hips jerk.

You swallow again before pulling back, smiling at his frustrated whine before doing it again and again, bringing him to the edge over and over until he’s begging.

“Please, ma’am, please let me cum?” He whines when you pull off again.

“Not yet,” you murmur as you remove your fingers from him to pick up the toy and coat it with more lube.

“What…is that?” He gasps, flinching when he feels the cool silicone pressing against his sensitive rim.

“A prostate massager,” you reply, pushing it in when he relaxes. “Feel okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting his hips and sucking in a breath at the feeling.

You haven’t told him it vibrates.

“Good, I’ll be right back, just gonna wash my hands quick,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Your phone rings as you walk back into the room from the en suite.

“Damn it,” you mumble when you see your work number. “Hang on, hopefully it won’t take long.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, cock still hard and dripping precum into his stomach.

“Hi, this is Dr. Kerner,” you answer, sitting next to him on the bed.

“Hey, it’s Shannon. I’ve got Lt. Luke Thompson, date of birth: 2/21/1991 calling with a nosebleed that started this morning when he woke up, no known injury, not on any blood thinners…”

He gasps when you reach over and start stroking him idly as you listen to her give report.

“Sounds good,” you say when she’s finished, “You can put him through.”

“Okay-shoot, we got disconnected. I’ll call him back and transfer him to him,” she says.

“Thanks,” you reply, hitting the red button to end the call.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“Can you stay quiet for me while I’m on the phone?” You ask, still stroking him.

“I-I’ll try ma’am,” he breathes.

“Mmm, I don’t know if I can trust that,” you reply. He whimpers when your hand leaves his cock, but he can’t see that you’re removing your underwear. “This outta do it. Open your mouth.”

He shudders but does as asked, groaning when you stuff the lacy fabric in his mouth.

“If you want me to stop, just let go of the headboard, okay?” You ask as your phone starts to ring again.

He nods eagerly as you swipe to answer it.

“Hi, Lt. Thomson? I’m Dr. Kerner. So you’ve got a bloody nose that started when you got up this morning. What time was that?”

“A little less than an hour ago,” the patient replies nasally as you pick up the toy’s remote.

“Okay, so I want you to pinch your nostrils shut and lean forward,” you instruct as you click on the vibration to the lowest setting.

Jake’s entire body jolts at the sensation, his sound of pleasure muted by the makeshift gag.

“Yeah forward. I know it sounds weird, but it’ll go down your throat and upset your stomach if you tilt your head back,” you continue on autopilot as arousal pools between your thighs.

The muscles in Jake’s arms strain further as his grip tightens, and his heels dig into the mattress with a muffled curse when you click it again. He shakes his head and it sounds like he’s trying to say “I can’t”.

Yet his hands don’t let go.

“Are you feeling dizzy at all? Lightheaded?” You ask, struggling to keep your voice even as you watch this big, strong man struggle under your control

“Okay good. Stay like that for another 10 minutes or so,” you continue. “If it doesn’t stop, you’ll have to go to urgent care to get it packed or cauterized”

Jake’s entire body shakes as he fights the urge to give in to the pleasure.

You end the call as you click it to the highest setting and watch as he unravels.

The fabric shoved in his mouth is does little to muffle his uninhibited, throaty groans as his hips flex, cock twitching as stripes of cum paint the valleys and ridges of his abs.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

A/N: So, they’re officially official! What did you think of the literal sign Andy sent? Also, while looking up flowers that symbolize hope/resilience I found some daffodil farms in California and now I want to go there 😂

I’m also aware this was super inappropriate of Reese to do this while on the phone with a patient. This is purely fictional/fun and I do not condone this IRL!

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs!

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[ghouljams]

How dare you hurt me like this?!? But also give me the Soap and Moon version and break my heart more

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” You ask him, you don’t have a right to ask him. You haven’t been the warmest towards Soap, but he’s been chasing your skirt the last few weeks. You thought you’d at least get something. Not a text from Goose asking you to swing by. He hadn’t even been downstairs to greet you, too busy getting ready to leave to bother with bothering you.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me gone,” His joke hurts. You should be happy he’s leaving, it’s one less annoyance in your day, but you’re not. You cross your arms over your chest, shrug when you feel your shoulders tighten.

“How long have you-” You don’t know what to say. How long has he known? How long has he had his orders? When did he decide not to tell you? To just leave without a word.

“A week or so,” Soap zips his suitcase closed, and you twist your fingers in your skirt. You stare at the floor, the old wood boards creek under your feet. “They never give us much notice, me and Gaz’ll be-” He waves a hand, “-somewhere, by tomorrow.”

“That’s it?” You ask.

“That’s it.” He sighs. His shoulders hunched, his hands on his suitcase holding himself up. You don’t know why it hurts so badly to hear him say it. That’s it. There’s no more to say. There’s nothing to be done. Your heart clenches in your chest.

“Goose is going to miss you,” I’m going to miss you, you don’t say.

Soap swallows, you don't look at him. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a soldier, all my life this is- this is it, this is all I’ve wanted to do.” You grip your skirt tighter, you don’t like this conversation. “I’m good at it, it’s where I belong,” He sounds like he’s reminding himself.

“You’re a good horse trainer,” You try. You hate how your voice sounds, bargaining with a man that’s done nothing but make your life more difficult for weeks. He rounds on you, frustration in his voice as he grabs your shoulders.

“Dammit I’m trying to-” He cuts himself off, takes in your wide eyes and the tremble in your lip, and exhales. Soap closes his eyes, leans down to rest his forehead against yours. “I’m trying to make this easy for you,” He admits quietly, “Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

You keep quiet, you don’t know what to say. You don’t know. You just do, you’ve never known how to take the easy route, never been able to just say what you want to say. You’ve never had someone care so much about that before. Your silence speaks volumes. It always does.

He pulls away from you, takes his height back before you can ask him not to. "You probably wouldn't call me if I asked, would you?" Soap says, breaking the silence.

"I might pick up," you mumble, "if you called me."

"Yeah?” He smiles. He’s a familiar warmth, one you’re going to miss. You nod, keep your eyes on the bedroom wall so you don’t have to see the knowing look in his eyes. Soap’s fingers tip your jaw so he can kiss your cheek, turn you to catch the edge of your lips. “You’ve been busy, I didn’t have a moment to tell you. I’m sorry, hen.”

You suppose that’s fair, you’ve been running booze all over the county for the last few days. You’re lucky you saved the ranch for last or you wouldn’t have caught him. Lucky Goose sent you up to get him.

“You better come home in one piece,” You tell him, and he laughs.

“I will. I’ll be quick, you won’t even notice I’m gone.” You will notice, you already notice when he isn't around. He's worked his way into your space so effectively, so quickly, that you don't know how you wouldn't notice the Soap shaped hole he leaves.

You turn to catch his eye, the sadness clouding his usually brilliant blues. His thumb strokes your cheek, unwilling to let you go. You don't try to make him, leaning into the touch just enough for him to know you care. Outside someone honks the truck's horn. You suppose that's it then.

"Bye Johnny," you hope it's not for too long. You can't have his watery smile be your last good look at him.

It seems like Soap can't have that either, because he tips your head back and kisses you. Quick and chaste. You hardly get to enjoy it, the warmth, the soft press of Soap's lips against yours, the scent of his aftershave, before he's pulling back. Its the platonic ideal of a goodbye kiss. The sort of kiss that leaves you wanting more, that makes you wish he wasn't going anywhere.

"I'll see you soon, love." He whispers, and you have to leave before you beg him to stay.

[moonstruckme]

On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

When your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 4.1k words

You breathe into the stretch, pushing past the resistance and trying to relax the muscles in your leg as you bend over it on the ballet bar. You hadn’t been entirely stringent in staying off it over the last few days (you needed to eat and get from room to room, were you supposed to crawl the entire time?) but your knee is feeling significantly better than it had when you’d first hurt it. You’d decided to keep the wrap on for today, your first practice after your couple of days off, but that’s more out of an overabundance of caution than anything. You feel good, the satisfying stretch of your muscles almost as nice as the light fizzing in your stomach as you anticipate Sirius’ arrival. 

The door to the training room opens, and speak of the devil. “Funny seeing you here. Does it hurt or help to stretch it?” Sirius asks, sitting down at a mat beside you and beginning to rotate his ankles. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” you say, though you’re not sure if the strain is necessarily good for your knee. Your plan is to make like the other day never happened, and hope you can catch up quickly enough to give a good show at competition. “It’s a little sore, but they said that’s normal. I can skate on it.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Sirius’ grin has become like a call to yours, and you feel your mouth curving unbidden. You fall into an easy silence as you rotate your knee this way and that, testing how far you can go without pain before setting it down to stretch your other leg. Sirius stands with one foot held behind him, stretching his quads, and you try your best not to look at how the muscles in his thigh shift with the movement. 

“Are you making eyes at me?” Apparently you didn’t try hard enough. 

“No,” you scoff. “But it’s just like you to assume I was.” 

“Awfully defensive,” Sirius taunts. “Looked like you were.” 

“Well, I wasn’t.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“And I believe you.” Quick as lightning, he moves for you, taking your hand in his. You startle, but don’t pull away. Sirius hums, and there’s a look in his eyes like teeth in a wolf’s mouth. “Your heart’s beating awfully fast though, shortcake. Any reason for that?”

You snatch your hand away, nearly kicking him as you take your leg off the bar. 

“Hey, wait,” he says, the amusement leaching from his voice as you grab your bag. “Are you actually pissed off? I was joking.” 

“I know,” you reply, heading out the door. “I’m gonna get on the ice before it gets crowded.” 

☆ ☆ ☆

Despite your recovery, practice doesn’t go well. It should; both you and Sirius have mastered the choreography, and Coach even has you skipping some of your jumps for the day, just to be sure your knee doesn’t flare up and take you out of the competition. 

Once again, the problem is you. 

“Y/N, where’s your head at?” Coach gestures helplessly. “You’re too stiff. Where’s that smoothness I was seeing the other day?” 

You nod. It feels mechanical by now. “Sorry, I’ll try harder.” 

“I’m not done,” he says, and looks almost apologetic. You’ve never had as many troubles with him as you have since Regulus got hurt. You always listened well, took to suggestions easily. He’d praised how quick you were to implement feedback, but lately he’s had to repeat himself over and over. You probably seem inflexible to him. “Your facials are all over the place,” he says. “You’re supposed to be looking at your partner, not at the audience. You can do this, I know you can. I’ve seen you.” 

Yeah, you think, with Regulus. 

You know what this routine is about. It’s about being in love, being absolutely enamored with your partner. You and Sirius flow around each other the entire time. Every time one of you casts the other off, you glide back almost immediately. With the exception of when you’re in the air, you’re supposed to be looking at Sirius the entire time. Suddenly, you find that’s become significantly more difficult. 

Facials have never been an issue for you. You’re a decent actress, and up until today, you’d been able to make yourself appear as infatuated with Sirius as the routine demands. But after what happened in the training room this morning, you’re not sure how much of it would be acting. You’ve begun to enjoy being around him, too much. You’d missed him when you had to stay home from practice. You found yourself wanting to go to Regulus’ house just to see him, invent excuses to call him and ask him to come over, pretend you needed to sit in on his practice for some reason or another. You’re not sure how your annoyance with Sirius turned into this…warmth, but there’s no denying your physical reaction when he enters a room. As he’d so considerately pointed out this morning. 

To look at Sirius the way you’re expected to for the routine, you feel like you’d be laying yourself bare, even if your expression appears the same as it did a few days ago. And worse, he might know. Even if he’d only been messing around earlier, your reaction had to have piqued his curiosity, and he might well have figured you out already. If you’d just been able to keep it together…

“Hey,” Coach says, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can do this. Got it?”

You nod, skating back to your starting position. 

☆ ☆ ☆

You change as quickly as you can after practice, worried that Sirius will wait up for you and hoping to beat him outside, but when you come all but bursting out the doors, he’s already there. 

“Wow.” He laughs, a puff of air in front of his face. “In a hurry?”

“How did you do that?” You throw up your hands, zipping your bag up the rest of the way. “I couldn���t have been in there more than five minutes.” 

Sirius shrugs, grinning at you bemusedly. “Less clothes, I guess. Were you trying to run out on me?”

You purse your lips. It was probably obvious, but you’re about to deny it anyway when Sirius nods. He doesn’t look angry. 

“Yeah, fair enough,” he says, and when he reaches up to take his hair out of its knot, the movement seems almost sheepish. “Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know it’s been hard for you to get used to being touched, and I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.” 

For a moment, you’re silent. Then it’s all you can do not to sigh, nearly dizzy with relief. “It’s okay,” you say, smiling at him a bit dazedly. “I’m sorry I stormed out like that. I just felt…awkward about it.” Not a lie, though of course not the whole truth. 

Sirius returns your smile (his eyelashes pinch in the corners when he means it, you’ve realized, and they do so now), a tension you hadn’t noticed in his stance relaxing. “Well, I don’t want you to feel awkward around me. If I’m doing something that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me, you know? I promise I’ll stop.” 

You feel your smile waver, doing your best to keep it in place. This is the problem. You wish, sometimes, that he’d just act like the rude, conceited boy you’d thought he was. The kindness he shows you so often now, even through jokes and teasing, is what’s making everything so difficult. 

“Got it,” you reply. “Thanks.” 

The eyelash pinch again. You’re growing unsettlingly fond of it. “Anytime, shortcake.” 

You try to scoff, but it comes out as more of a laugh. “You’ve got to stop calling me that.”

“Alright,” he says, and you feel your eyebrows come together at his lack of resistance. No protests, not even a taunting remark? Sirius is fond of his pet names, you wouldn’t expect him to give them up so easily.

☆ ☆ ☆

As it turns out, he doesn’t. “Shortcake” drops out of his vocabulary, but it’s replaced by “angel,” “gorgeous,” “sweetheart,” “dollface,” “lovely,” and a slew of others that make your face go red and your knees go wobbly. 

“Slower, dollface,” he murmurs as you skate alongside him, and it’s all you can do to keep your balance, slowing your pace just slightly before twirling in front of Sirius. His hands find their home around your waist, tossing you into the air, where you spin for a thrilling moment of dizzy weightlessness before your blades hit the ice and you pivot into arabesque. 

“Yes!” Coach shouts, and you beam at Sirius as he picks up his pace, coming up alongside you and touching your fingertips to his. “Yes, that’s it! Facials, Y/N, facials!” You straighten your neck, widening your eyes and giving Sirius your most adoring look. His lips twitch rewardingly. 

By the time you’ve finished, stopped hand-in-hand in the middle of the rink, your coach is all but bouncing on the edge of the ice. “That was great, you guys! Not to jinx anything, but—” his grin rivals both yours and Sirius’. “—I think you’ve got a pretty solid shot at medaling tomorrow if you can do that again.” 

Sirius looks at you, the both of you breathing heavily, before setting a hand on your shoulder. He squeezes lightly. “I feel ready. You?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, giddy from both the praise and his touch. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Coach must be feeling the same, because he doesn’t give you any notes before you go, only reminding you both to stretch and telling you to make sure to ice your leg tonight, just in case. There’ll be no mishaps or flare ups on the ice tomorrow if any of you can help it. 

☆ ☆ ☆

You need to sleep, but you really, really can’t. The way your body is humming with adrenaline, you’d think you were competing in five minutes instead of twelve hours. 

But twelve hours. 

In twelve hours, you’re going to be performing the most objectively demanding and emotionally draining routine of your life so far. It’s no small thing. Almost unconsciously, your mind keeps running over the mechanics of your spins, the muscles that need to be activated when you jump, how you’re supposed to look straight ahead when Sirius lifts you. There’s so much that could go wrong. But if it goes right, it could be one of the biggest moments of your skating career. 

Your phone rings, the noise jolting you out of your reverie. It’s Sirius, and your thoughts plummet to the worst possible conclusions. He’s sick, he’s hurt, he doesn’t want to do this anymore.

“Hello?” 

“Hey.” His voice is characteristically jovial, and you relax. “You sound freaked, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you say, blowing out an anxious breath. “I’m just…on edge, I guess.”

“Me too,” he admits, and you raise your eyebrows teasingly as if he can see. Sirius Black, nervous? Someone should alert the press. “Actually, that’s why I called. I know we told Coach we’d turn in early and rest for tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep. I’m guessing you can’t either, since you picked up.” You’re silent, and when he continues you swear you can feel the knowing smile in his voice. “So if you want to join, I’m at the rink.”

You guffaw. “Wait, seriously? This late?”

“They don’t close for another hour,” he says. “I was gonna practice my jumps and stuff, but if you were here, we could run through the whole thing…” 

You grin at your ceiling. “You are a terrible influence, you know that?” 

“That’s what they tell me,” he replies, and you can picture him in the rink, a shit-eating grin paired with a shrug. “So how quickly can you get here?” 

☆ ☆ ☆

You ditch your duffel bag on the bleachers by the door, skating out to meet Sirius. One good run, you tell yourself. One good run of the routine is all you need to reassure yourself tomorrow will go well, and then you’ll be able to relax until the competition. 

“Hi there, sunshine,” Sirius greets you as you skid to a stop in front of him. “Don’t you look excited?”

You roll your eyes at his teasing, but you’re smiling. “I’m excited for anything that’ll help me get to sleep tonight.” 

“Same page.” Sirius winks. “Wanna go through it from the top?” 

You think you execute the routine nearly perfectly. You start to wobble during one of the lifts, but Sirius steadies you, and you’re not sure anything less than an expert judge would even have noticed. Other than that, it’s seamless. You land all of your jumps, you’re perfectly in sync, and by the time you finish, you’re feeling as sunny as Sirius had accused you of being.

“Yes!” you all but squeal, pivoting to slap Sirius’ palm in celebration. “That was great!” Sirius grins at you, but the corners of his eyelashes don’t pinch. “What?” 

He blinks. “Nothing.”

“No, come on.” You look at him bemusedly. “What is it?” 

Sirius shakes his head, surprise giving way to resignation. “I just, I know my turns aren’t as tight as yours. I don’t want to get us docked for not being synchronized enough.”

“I didn’t notice,” you say truthfully. “I mean, I feel like I would have, if it were that bad. And anyway, I’m twice as likely to get us docked as you are, so I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.” 

He gives you a look of halfhearted remonstrance. “Come on, we both know you’ve got much better control than I do. I just…” he pauses, seeming to steady himself. “Look, I know there’s no changing partners before tomorrow, but I want you to know that I’m sorry you got stuck with me, especially if I mess this up for you.” 

“Sirius.” It comes out more breath than word, a puff of freezing air in the space between you. “You’re a beautiful skater. I can’t believe…I’m so sorry I let you think that I got stuck with you.” Sirius looks like he wants to interrupt, but you push on before he gets the chance. “I know I was sad when I found out I couldn’t skate with Reg, and I still am, but only because we’re so used to each other. It’s easy, I don’t have to think about it. But I’ve loved skating with you. I don’t want Reg to be hurt, obviously, but I wouldn’t trade you out if I got the chance.” 

Sirius shakes his head at you. “Dollface, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to say that.”

“But I mean it.” You take his hand, and you sound nearly angry now, but good, because it’s getting his attention. Sirius’ face looks wide open, his eyes bemused and lips just slightly parted in surprise. “Being your partner, it’s been amazing, really. You’re fantastic on the ice, and you’re great at giving me advice, and you’re nicer than I thought, and I just really like being around you.” You flush. You’ve gotten a bit carried away, and try to reel yourself back in. “I just don’t want you to think that you’re bringing me down, because you’ve made…this routine a lot better. You’re a great partner to have, Sirius.” 

Sirius’ hand is warm in yours, and he doesn’t try to smile as he says, so softly you might not hear him if you weren’t standing this close, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Something feels abruptly different in the air between you, but you don’t shy away from it. “I mean it,” you say again, ardent. 

“I don’t know if I’ve said it,” he says, all but whispering, “but I really like having you as a partner too.” 

“Yeah?” you breathe, and you’re not sure who pulls the other first, but all it takes is one little tug for your skates to comply, and then his lips are on yours. Despite the shift you’ve witnessed tonight, his kiss is everything you know Sirius to be. Confident, unhurried, giving and taking in equal measure. Warmth seeps from your lips all the way to your fingers and toes, and it’s a good thing you’re so close to the wall, because the muscles in your legs feel suddenly useless. You bring a hand into his hair, and he takes it for the invitation it is, gripping your waist to pull you closer to him. You’re eager to let him. In fact, you wish you weren’t wearing these damn skates so you could climb him like you want to. You settle for placing both hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you, and Sirius groans as you suck his lip into your mouth, grip tightening on you even as he pulls away. 

“Fuck, you’re so…” he pants, a little chuckle escaping him. “Well, you’re a lot of things, gorgeous.” 

You take his laughter as a good sign, but your voice is still tentative when you say, “I hope that’s a good thing.” 

Sirius gives you a fond look, swooping in for a quick peck. “It’s a good thing.”

You flush, grinning at him. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I came here tonight.” 

“Me neither.” He nods, blowing out a breath. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on it, but I’m not sorry. Are you?”

You shake your head quickly. “No. I just hope this doesn’t affect our performance.” 

Sirius laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you off the ice. “Sweetheart, after your little speech, I don’t think anything could ruin us. We’re untouchable.” 

☆ ☆ ☆

“Don’t think you’re untouchable,” Coach lectures in the bleachers the next day. “I know that face, Sirius. Stop it. Be…well, be more serious.” 

You snort, and Coach fixes you with a look. “You too.” 

You smother your grin, giving him your most solemn nod as Sirius’ eyes shine with laughter beside you. 

Despite your worries that you wouldn’t be able to sleep at all after what had happened with Sirius, you’d crashed as soon as you’d gotten home last night. 

“Listen, you two did great yesterday,” Coach says. “I want to see that same energy on the ice today. If you don’t mess around, keep everything tight and do it just like we practiced, I could see you placing third or fourth.” 

You beam. At a competition like this, getting on the podium would be an absolute dream. You’re doing your best not to let your hopes get too high, but Coach and Sirius are both radiating a confidence that makes that difficult.

“Alright.” He claps you both on the shoulder. “Go get changed.”  

You’re barely starting to contemplate letting your fingers brush Sirius’ as you walk away, but as always, he’s bolder than you could ever hope to be, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“How’re you feeling, sunshine?” he asks. “Good?”

“Great.” You mean it. “Ready, I think. You?”

“Ready, I know,” he counters, jostling you affectionately. 

“I think we’re gonna do good,” you say, blowing out a breath. The adrenaline is starting already. You feel like you could run a lap around the building. “We had a great run last night.” 

Sirius smirks at you. “I thought so.” 

“In more than one way,” you allow, face warming slightly. “And it’s like Coach said. As long as we do it like that, we’ll be good.” You stop outside the women’s locker room, turning to him. “Just don’t drop me, okay?”

“I won’t drop you,” he repeats, mimicking your playful tone. He slides his arm from around your shoulders, leaning down to peck you on the lips. “Meet you by the entrance?” 

Your entire face is buzzing from the brief contact. “Yeah,” you say, sounding somewhat dazed and probably looking it too. It’s unsettling how little it would take for Sirius to kiss you completely stupid. “See you there.” 

You ignore the knowing quirk of his eyebrow, turning the corner into the locker room. You try to refocus on the competition, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the extra stuff. Spins, jumps, landings. That’s what needs to be going through your mind today. Any thoughts of Sirius’ touch, the warmth of being pressed up against him, how sturdy his shoulders feel under your hands…any thoughts of all that need to be strictly relevant to the routine. 

You do wonder what he’ll think of your costume, though. That’s relevant to the routine, isn’t it? He’s never seen it, and you haven’t tried it on yourself since the fitting with Regulus months ago. It was clearly selected for a routine about passion, a sleek, black bodice that fades smoothly into a blood red skirt that flutters around your thighs. It’s simple, meant to accentuate the romance of the routine without distracting at all from the routine itself. Regulus’ outfit had been all black, equally simple, but you don’t know if they’ve had to change anything for Sirius. The brothers are hardly the same size, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gotten a different costume altogether. 

You know that at least your makeup is the same, a simple slash of black eyeshadow across both eyes. He’d told you the other night that he’d practiced it to make sure it would look good. You’re positive it did. Knowing Sirius, his eye makeup will probably look better than yours. 

You shake some of the nerves out of your limbs after lacing up your skates, and head for the rink. 

☆ ☆ ☆

Everything before your slot is a buzz of adrenaline. Warming up in the training room, standing at the entrance, your coach gripping you and Sirius’ shoulders in one hand each. Knock 'em dead. The sound of your names over the loudspeaker, and Sirius’ hand warming yours as you skate out into the middle of the ice. 

Sirius looks like he’s been drawn into the scene. He is indeed in the same costume Regulus had picked out, so he’s all inky black hair and eye makeup and clothes against the gleaming white of the ice. Even his gaze looks darker, the contours of his face more defined, and his poised expression is slightly unnerving, but then he drops a wink, lightning quick, and he’s just Sirius again. It takes all of your self-control not to smile, but you turn from him, easing into your starting pose. 

It’s an endless wait for the music to start, but then it does, and you’re off. The movements flow easily from that repository of muscle memory where you keep them stored. You barely have to think, but you make yourself focus, conscious of each muscle as it’s activated, each signal Sirius sends through his touch, each change in the tempo of the music. You jump, and you land it, spinning right into Sirius’ hold. He throws you, and you land it again. And land it, and land it, and land it. Sirius is even better, the natural artistry of his movements melding with the results of tireless practice. He’s gliding seamlessly from one move to the next, making it look easy. Part of you wishes you could step back and watch him, but there’s nowhere you’d rather be but here, looking into his eyes like you’re supposed to as he takes your hand, pulling you closer to him before letting you spin away again. 

Your chests are heaving when you finish, smiles far from performative and palms slippery with sweat where you’re pressing them together. 

It’s hard to tell whether the applause that erupts from the audience is genuine or merely polite. The judges are impassive, but Regulus isn’t, a rare smile on his face as he claps. You blow him a kiss as you skate to the edge of the rink, knowing he’ll hate it but needing to express the sentiment anyway. You’re sorry he couldn’t perform today, you’re happy he’s here, you love him. He rolls his eyes, and you know he gets it. 

As soon as Sirius steps off the ice, he grabs for you. You squeal as he spins you, pressing your face into his shoulder. 

“We did it,” he says breathlessly into your hair. “You were amazing out there.” 

“So were you,” you say, feeling it more sincerely than your voice can convey. 

He sets you down as your coach comes over, telling you much the same thing. You listen to him, but you can’t stop looking at Sirius. You’re like a flower tilting towards the sun, pivoting towards him almost unconsciously as his face shines with unchecked joy, his smile huge and brilliant. Pinched eyelashes and all. You hardly care how you place; it’s inconceivable that you could get any happier than this. 

He glances down at you with a knowing look, but you know him well enough by now to see the softness in it. As you walk towards the kiss and cry, Sirius takes your hand, or maybe you take his. It doesn’t matter which.

[acewritesfics]

Crossroads Deal | Dean Winchester 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Hunter Fem!Reader 

Request: No. From my Wattpad account.

Synopsis: Dean reminisces about the woman he loved and lost. 

Warnings: Death, demons, crossroads deal, burning a body. Pure angst. I love angst. Italics are flashbacks. E/C - eye colour. 

Word Count: 2,850

Main Masterlist

As Dean looks at the body lying a few feet away from him covered in a hotel bedsheet that is stained in her blood, he thinks back to the day he met Y/N, the person who changed everything for him. 

"Who are you?" Y/N growls at the two intruders while pointing her gun at them with the safety off and her finger ready to press the trigger if necessary. 

The taller one responds, hands up in surrender and a hint of fear in his eyes, "Bobby called us and  told us that you need some help." 

"That doesn't answer my question!" She growls once more, this time visibly more agitated than before. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean. " The tall one speaks again, introducing them, while the shorter one remains silent. 

"Winchester?" She asks, lowering her gun slightly and scanning each of the men while keeping her eyes narrowed and her guard up. The best hunters were always on high alert and didn't trust anyone unless they had proven to be trustworthy. It was a risky move if you weren't cautious of everyone you came across. 

"Yeah," Dean says, dropping his arms as she appears to relax a little. 

"Bobby sent you?" she asks making sure, 

Both of the men nod their heads. 

"Would you please lower that completely? I don't feel like being shot by some girl today," Dean sneers, annoyed. 

Lowering her gun, she puts the safety back on and places it back on the table, glaring at him. She resumes what she had been doing before she was rudely interrupted by them while showing and explaining to them all the evidence and theories she's already come up with.. 

Dean looked and listened to her attentively. As she recounted everything and displayed all the evidence she had gathered, he observed her rigidity in posture, her icy tone of voice, and lack of eye contact. Although he understood that she didn't know them and that he never expected her to welcome them with open arms, this seemed different. Her being standoffish seemed to go a bit farther than workplace professionalism. 

It didn't help that this case seems to be a particularly difficult one, with a werewolf and a vampire collaborating to create some kind of hybrid. Being the seasoned hunters that they are, Y/N and the Winchesters believed they had seen everything before this case. Vampires and werewolves were known enemies in every lore book ever written. It didn't make sense to them that they would suddenly start working together.   

Of course, there was a lot of arguing between her and the oldest Winchester, someone being used as bait, and their scheme going sideways, which was nothing new for the Winchester brothers. The three hunters barely made it out alive after suffering various injuries. 

Y/N was grateful for the help Bobby and the Winchester's provided no matter how hurt she got, knowing that if she continued to pursue the case alone, she'd be in hell much sooner than intended. Crossroads would be overjoyed by that. 

After they returned to the hotel room, Dean, who had the least injuries, bandaged himself before assisting Sam and Y/N. He was wrapping Y/N's lower arm when he notices she has a distant look in her eyes. 

"What are you thinking about?" He asks her, making sure the bandage wasn't too tight or loose. 

"Just contemplating the fact that there are already enough monsters in the world and that we don't need any more. However, here we are, with monsters creating new monsters," She exhales. "How crazy is that?" 

Dean finishes applying the bandage and remarks, "If this job has taught me anything, it's that there's far more out there than we realize." 

"And that something will always surprise us even if we know to always prepare for the unexpected," she adds . 

"Exactly," he says, agreeing with her. "Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?" 

"I gotten this far, haven't I?" She smiles at his sincere concern for her. Her ice-cold attitude toward them has somewhat thawed over the course of the five days they've worked together. She was able to say that she trusted the brothers to have her back, and she's proven to them that they could rely on her to have their backs as well. 

"I now have your phone numbers, so if I need to, I'll contact you after I call Bobby." 

He rolls his eyes, "So pleased to hear that I'm second on your list of people to call." 

With a tiny smile lingering on her lips, she says, "Actually you're third." 

He puts his hand over his heart while seeming to stare at her pretending to be offended. "You hurt me. Really, you'd call Sam before me?" 

"He argues less," She chuckles. 

"You wait till you're always around him," he says as he cleans up the leftover medical supplies. "But honestly, you'll call us if you need us, right?" 

Y/N nods in agreement knowing that it's what he wants to hear. "It would be best if you never saw me again. I don't want you to become attached to me." 

Dean first believed she was joking, but he was mistaken since exactly that is what happened. He became attached to her, falling in love with her hard and fast.  Within a month of their initial encounter, they ran into one other twice more before agreeing to stick together. But it wasn't just Dean who got attached to the former solo hunter. Like his older brother, Sam had also fallen in love with her, but in a very different way. Y/N was the sister the younger Winchester never had. They bickered like siblings, got along like siblings, mocked one another, and stood up for one another exactly like brother and sister. When they discovered her big secret, both brothers struggled with it. Dean, of course, took it the hardest. 

While working on the demon case they're currently working on, Bobby unintentionally revealed that her time was running out far too quickly for his liking. 

In disbelief, Sam exited the room with Bobby, leaving Dean and Y/N to talk. Although Y/N's revelation had upset him, he was aware that Dean was hurting more. Sam had witnessed first hand how quickly Dean and Y/N had fallen in love with each other.  

"Were you ever going to tell us?" Dean asks, leaning against the kitchen wall as she sits at Bobby's kitchen table. He's upset and angry. "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

She nods despite knowing that nothing she says would help her. "Of course I was. I didn't know how." 

To her, Sam was like a younger brother. Being an only child raised by a single mother, she never had siblings. She enjoys how it feels to have a younger brother. 

But Dean is different. So, so, so very different. They constantly draw each other in. Neither of them felt the same way about anybody else. And despite her best efforts to stay away from him, she constantly found herself near him, whether they were sharing a drink at a bar, comforting each other after a nightmare, preparing for the next hunt, or helping him with Baby. 

"'I made a deal with a demon and I have less than a year to live' would be a pretty good start," he glares at her, the anger and despair visible in his voice and green eyes. "What did you think will happen? That you'll be gone in 6 months and we'll… I'll forget about you? That's not going to happen!" 

She repeats what she said when they first met, "I told you not to get attached." 

"It's too late for that," he confesses. "I'm attached, Sweetheart." 

It's silent for a few minutes as they both try to gather their thoughts while suppressing their tears and emotions. 

 "I'm going to get you out of this." Dean says as he breaks the heavy silence that had fallen over them. "We'll figure it out. It's what we do. If not, we'll figure out a way to pull you back out." 

He walks up to the books that are scattered on the table and looks through them as though he's looking for information. But all he says is blurred lines and fuzzy pictures, his eyes unable to focus as the flood with tears. 

Dean," she calls out in an effort to grab his attention as she stands up and approaches him. "Hey," she says as she removes the book he's clutching from his grasp and lays it back on the table. "There is no coming back from this, Dean. I am beyond redemption. The contract is unbreakable. They will not let me go, not for anyone." 

"You're not even willing to try?"  He asks, feeling defeated, though he is not about to give up as quickly as she is. 

"All I want to do is make the most of the time I have left. Hunters do not have a lengthy life span. It's rare, and you know it," She informs him, a slight frown on her face. 

"I'm not going to let you die," he says firmly, the defeat he was feeling replaced by determination. 

"You have to," she replies regretfully. The day she met Dean Winchester was the day she knew she made a mistake making that deal. 

Before anything further is spoken, he exits the room saying, "No, I don't." 

After that, a lot of things changed between them. It had become tense, Dean and Y/N were distancing themselves from each other, they were both more short-tempered than usual and snapped at each other as if they were a couple going through a bad divorce . Before she met Dean, Y/N had accepted her fate, but the brothers and Bobby wouldn't listen to her, and they did everything in their power to free her from the terms of her crossroads deal. Dean went as far as summoning the demon at a crossroads. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Behind Dean, who is glaring at the demon in front of him, Y/N's angry voice can be heard. 

Dean shouts back, "Unlike you, I'm trying to save your ass." 

"Dean, listen to her; nothing can be done. Your little girlfriend will spend all of eternity in hell," The crossroads demon says taunting the hunter as she grins at him triumphantly. 

"That's crap!," he yells, his gaze fixed on the demon as the crunch of gravel under Y/N's footsteps gets louder as she approaches them. 

The demon quips, "Really, it's ironic. You finally meet the woman you would give it all up for and she-" 

"Stop talking!" He growls at her, stopping whatever tirade she was about to deliver. 

"You two could have had a beautiful future together. Marriage, normal jobs, a beautiful home with mini Winchesters roaming around the backyard oblivious to this life that you once lived," the demon continues to taunt the couple. "If only you had met her before she made the deal." 

"Would you shut up?" Y/N yells at the demon this time. She turns to face Dean with a guilty look on her face as opposed to his eyes, which were full with rage and determination. "We have to leave." 

"We're not leaving until she destroy's your contract," he frowns at her. 

"Even if I really wanted to, I can't do it." The devil says, drawing both of their gazes to her. "Lucifer's orders." 

"You can't save everyone, Dean, and that includes me." Y/N says, forcing him to look at her again. 

"Why are you giving up so easily?" 

"Believe me, I'm not. Bobby and I have both tried, as have you and Sam.  I'm not getting out of this." She says as tears begin to form in her eyes. 

"She's right," The demon agrees. "Just tell her you love her, and make the last four months of her life unforgettable. She'll need something to cling to while she's down there." 

Before storming back to the impala, Dean glares first at Y/N, then at the demon, and then back at Y/N.  

Y/N goes to chase after him, only to be stopped as the demon begins speaking again. "In your contract, I can make one adjustment. I used to be human, and I was in a situation extremely similar to yours right now. When the hounds come for you, once you're gone since there's no stopping them, I'll allow your soul five minutes to say your final goodbyes before personally dragging you back to hell myself." 

Dean is scowling as she looks in his direction. He can hear everything that is being said. 

"Why the sudden bleeding heart?" She inquires returning her attention to the demon. 

"Like I said, I was once human," With that, the crossroads demon vanishes.  

Y/N approaches Dean and, without wasting any time, pulls him into a kiss, reminding him of her love for him. 

They didn't go back to Bobby's house that night, where Sam and Bobby were waiting for them. Instead, they traveled to a secluded meadow where she often went to spend some time alone when she was a teenager.  They spent the night together in the impala talking, kissing, making love and eventually falling asleep. 

After that evening, everything changed once again. The couple became inseparable once again. No one mentioned her crossroads deal and went about life as they normally did. Things seemed better, though their situation continued to weigh heavily on their minds and hearts. Dean promised to make the following four months the best of her life. And he did. 

They got married while working on a case in Las Vegas, and during their downtime, he took her to the places she always wanted to see and always found ways to show and remind her how much he loves and appreciates her. He also never disclosed to her his ongoing efforts to find a way to save her. 

He is brought back to reality as he feels fingers entwine with his own. She appears as a ghostly figure as he looks up from his shoes, her torso covered in blood, her complexion a ghastly shade of grey, and her usually vibrant eyes now a dull E/C. Her ghostly form still wears her wedding ring and the necklace he got her on her last birthday. He is tormented with guilt knowing he could have done more for her. 

"It's going to be okay," she says, causing him to shake his head and avoid looking at her. 

She lets go of his hand and cups his face. Standing on her tiptoes, she draws him into a kiss that spoke more than any words could in this moment. It spoke of the love they shared. An unexpected love. A love driven by passion, irreplaceable memories, and hope for the future. A once in a lifetime kind of love. 

The kiss doesn't last long before Y/N breaks it, keeping their faces close and savoring their final moments together. 

"It's time," she says softly. "You know what to do." 

He wants to refuse, unable to let her go just yet. He couldn't drag her out of hell, and there was no angel who was willing to do it for him. Both demons and angels claim that this is her fate and that it was supposed to be this way. 

Her cool lips make contact with his warm skin as she kisses his cheek, sending a chill through him. But that shiver paled in comparison to the chill he experienced  as she began to fade away as he pulled the matchbook from his pocket and lit it. 

"I love you," he whispers. 

"I love you too," he hears her say before tossing the matchbook onto the body of the woman who abruptly and unexpectedly stole his heart. 

As the body bursts into flames, he collapses to his knees in exhaustion and grief, his eyes never leaving her body as memories flash through her mind. 

Y/N in the front passenger seat of the impala singing Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer at the top of her voice while he drives them back to Bobby's after a case. 

Her smearing ice cream all over his face when he started a food fight with her in Bobby's kitchen. 

Them showering together after a hunt that had them covered in blood, mud and god knows what else.  

Laying together naked in bed, her asleep curled against him as he watches her, soaking her all in and making sure he doesn't forget a single detail about her.  

Them stargazing. 

Her playful bantering with Sam.  

Her getting excited about going to a beach. 

Her smile. 

Her eyes. 

Her laugh. 

Her tears. 

Her voice. 

Her heart. 

After what feels like hours, he stands up when he hears footsteps behind him. He doesn't have to look to know it's Sam and Bobby as the two men stand on either side of him, none of them speaking a word as they grieved for the woman that had touched their lives in different ways. 

[neidermayers-mindd]

⚠ CONTENT WARNING — overall smut. Degradation, degradation kink, handjob, public sex, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), p in v, finishing inside, hatefucking, reader is AFAB fem identifying, the kink isn't talked of at first but it gets better. MDNI 18+.

Author's note: Saw a disappointingly low amount of Jonathan Davis fanfics on-line. I do understand why there might not be that many and it's honestly respectable. I love JD, he's such a goof. Don't we all love him, though?

You dare kiss me with that mouth? — Jonathan Davis (KoЯn) x fem!Reader (SMUT)

The first time you heard Jonathan do it, you were backstage — KoЯn was opening for some famous band you've strangely never heard of, and the man now in front of you was stressed enough to make you ask if he needed any help with calming down.

Jonathan is a sexual man by nature — so, you found yourself wanting to feel him close to you while you were giving him a handjob, with his most eager consent. There you were, sitting as close to him as you possibly could, on his lap with your legs spread so you could prop yourself better, while your hand worked up and down his pulsating length.

Your lips were most often pressed against each other, the man moaning into your mouth as you went harder or faster, and making a sound each time something in your rhythm changed — he had to get his release, after all. You knew he was close, because his head was thrown back, and the grip on your waist was more than enough to leave bruises later, something you learned with experience.

You swore you could hear Jon mutter something through his moans and whispers, but paid no mind — it's a good reaction to pleasure, after all. Your ears, no matter how destroyed they were from years' worth of loud concerts and a life of pure sin, could eventually catch up when he did keep on speaking, almost slurring his words out as you felt him twitch in your hand.

"Fuckin'.. yeah, slut, keep movin' your hand.." Jonathan panted out, in his own trance, his hand going over yours to finish himself off with your help. "Hyeah— couldn't bear lettin' me onstage without some of this cock, ah— fuckin' whore—" He grits his teeth as to not let out any loud noise, feeling the warmth of his hand and his pulsating cock as he came thick ropes of cum on your shirt.

Did he just call you a slut?

You didn't care about the shirt, it was Jon's anyway.

And you didn't care that he came, no matter how bad that sounds.

Your eyes were slightly widened in shock, only being able to sit still as Jon smiled goofily, a wonderful haze of happiness washing over him post-nut. The shock quickly dissipated as you thought to yourself that Jon would never devaluate you.

You couldn't help but not feel insulted. Rather, you felt yourself twitch in your panties at his degrading words.

Jon didn't even seem to notice what he said, and your lack of reaction didn't give him any insight. If you were truly hurt or offended, he would have known and apologised, as the last thing Jonathan would ever do was to hurt you. He thanked you sweetly for calming him down, planting a kiss on your forehead and lips, took off his own shirt (as if he'd wear it onstage anyway) so you'd have something un-came on to wear, and off he went, leaving you both confused and aroused.

The next time Jon did it was after a fight you both had. The motive was rather stupid and unconventional — yet you had a bad day at your shitty cashier job, and the man now ramming himself into your cunt like he wants to split you into two wasn't doing all that well, either.

One thing led to another and you were pretty sure this could be classified as the meanest hate fucking one could hear of — your body was covered in hickeys, especially the soft flesh on your neck, and make-up wouldn't be enough to avoid getting weird looks from people, not that you cared, anyway.

You were pressed into the mattress of your bed, legs spread apart and held over your head as Jonathan snapped his hips against you, balls slapping right under your cunt and on your ass as he kept hitting against your G-spot each and every time. The dim light of the room only made you see his dreads moving with his head as he leaned down to see you eye-to-eye, his expression still enraged and face flushed with arousal.

"Was it worth messin' round, Y/N?" Jon growled out, his hands holding onto your hips as he kept drilling into your sore cunt. "Huh? Was this worth pissin' me off, gettin' fucked, dirty fuckin' bitch?" His dark eyes were fixated upon your expression, slightly closing as he let out a moan, feeling you clench around him right when he called you that.

He seemed both shocked and amused, not stopping from slamming inside you as he felt himself getting closer to his orgasm, leaning in fully so he could press his lips against yours, tongue going in your mouth and hands now squeezing on your tits.

"You like it, huh—" Jon asked in a slightly curious voice, the tinge of anger from earlier dissipating with his impeding orgasm— "goddamn slut. I— if you want to get f-fuh—" his hips sputtered, his sloppy pace getting worse, "ffffhucked this good.. aah, Y/N, you should've— mmnh—"

You're pretty sure he got lost in his words as Jon comes right when you do, both of you moaning as you milked him of his seed. You can feel his dreads tickle your chest as his head falls on top, legs shaking as much as yours as he fills you up.

Jonathan pulls out, a small, playful "tsk" coming from his lips and a comforting smile on his face as he grabs a nearby towel and wipes the both of you of his cum, and tosses it on the floor, on the same day you got your damn carpets cleaned. But that didn't matter, now.

Jon fell right next to you, the mattress shifting under him, and he turns around to face you, cupping your face. "'m sorry for earlier.. was it too much?" He asks, genuine concern in his voice. Your lips curl into a sweet smile, contrasting your fucked out look, and you shake your head. "I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you, Jon. I, too, am sorry", you reply, your hands playing with his hair, noticing the way his eyebrow piercings shine the tiniest bit from the moonlight outside your window.

Silence ensues, the two of you unwinding after a long day. Then, Jonathan breaks the ice— he wants to reassure what he felt a few minutes ago, "You.. uh, you.. tell me if I went overboard with the name callin', but am I dreaming,"

Jesus, is it this hot in here, or are your cheeks just heating up from the embarrassment?

" - or did you actually.. like me calling you a bitch?" He reiterates, seeing the look on your face, "You're not. No, Y/N, you're not a bitch, I- I got a bit too lost in the m-moment and—"

A pair of hands cup his cheeks as soon as you heard the overcoming guilt in his tone of voice — like Jon, the last thing you wanted to hear is that he's hurt.

"I liked it", you spoke out, your tone still a bit unsure, as you have never done thus before; meek but determined. His eyes light up and meet yours, mouthing an 'oh?' before smirking as to himself. He playfully attacks you with kisses all over your sweaty face, and you try to push him off, but fail miserably.

"Joooon", you whine out, your hands attempting to get a hold of him, "we're both sweaty—", as if that would stop him.

The next day, you talked it out with him. One beautiful thing about your relationship with Jonathan is that you could talk to him about the actual relationship. Even if he had a harder time expressing himself, and making music was a way better alternative to do so, he listened, made sure the both of you were comfy with it, and dove deep into the whole degradation niche.

He wouldn't like it on himself — but Jon made sure to tease you with it, and make sure you're okay after. The man, although seemingly ferocious, was a yay-sized bear and the sweetest at heart. That's what you loved about him.

You were sure that you were soaking wet even when he cussed out random people on the street, as you had Pavloved yourself into this situation. But at least you knew that you felt safe exploring this new thing with Jonathan, even if it meant asking him to fuck you silly in the nearest public bathroom after he'd call people endearingly insulting names.

[absolutewhore101]

can i request some fluff with ashton, reader being sad cuz they're being excluded from a friend group but ash comforts her to make her feel less alone? <3

Less Alone

A/N: hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x GN!Reader

Summary: Ash makes you feel less alone when your friends are less than stellar

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: some swearing, shitty friends

Minors DNI

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You should’ve known. Your whole life, you’d been the one left out of parties, or plans, or group trips, hell even group chats. You were just never included. 

And you’d learned to cope - got used to being alone. And eventually, it stopped hurting so much. You were comfortable in your own presence and spending time with yourself, and then, you didn’t have to be. Because you had Ashton. 

Ashton was the one person in your life who made you feel included in every possible aspect. He asked for your opinion on everything from his shoes to new music he was working on. And he never made a decision without your input, even if it was just what you were having for dinner or what movie to watch. 

But you still had other friends. A whole group of them, actually. Rosie, Liam, and Ollie. The four of you did just about everything together, and for the first time, you felt truly included in a group. 

You went out to eat at least twice a week, constantly messaged in the group chat, and even had plans to take a trip in a few weeks. It was new territory, for sure, but you were having so much fun navigating it that you didn’t mind. 

Until, of course, the inevitable happened. 

It wasn’t that big of a deal, really. At least that’s what you’d been telling yourself. All they did was go out to eat without you. At your favorite restaurant. In the middle of the worst week of your life - which they were all well aware of. 

It has to be me. Otherwise it wouldn’t keep happening.

You stared at your phone, the picture of the three of them smiling back at you doing nothing to cheer you up. Ashton was still at the studio, he’d called you earlier to let you know that he’d be home a little later that night, so you were left to deal with this entirely on your own. 

You texted the group chat, doing your best to pretend you had no idea where they were. 

Hey, guys! I’ve got a bit of free time, anyone wanna come over for a little while???

Rosie: Sorry, hun! I’m all tangled up at the office right now, big project coming up

Liam: Yeah, I’m currently on a hike with a few friends, and we’re not gonna be back anytime soon

Ollie: I’d love to if I wasn’t walking into the gym as we speak. Sry luv :( 

So now they weren’t just excluding you, they were lying straight to your face about it. You felt a tear roll down your cheek and you immediately wiped it away, doing your best to pretend like this had absolutely no effect on you. 

But soon enough, you couldn’t hold them in. They fell and fell and fell until you heard the door open. 

“I’m home, sweets! Thought we could try that new Thai restaurant for dinner if your up for-” 

He cut himself off at the sight of your tears. 

“Hey, honey, what’s going on?” He asked, sitting down next to you. You wrapped yourself around him, burying your face into his chest as you cried. 

“I don’t know why it happens every time, Ash, but it does. It has to be me. I have to be the one pushing them away or something.” You complained. 

Ashton was confused until he caught sight of your phone lying face up on the couch next to him. He took in what he was seeing and immediately understood. 

“Oh, dove, it’s not you. You just happen to find the shittiest people on the planet.” He said, attempting to comfort you. It helped to some measure because he felt more than heard you let out a giggle. 

“They’re not shitty people.” You commented. 

“Yeah, well, either way, fuck them. It’ll just be you and I tonight, alright?” You nodded against his chest, pulling back to look up at him. 

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” You mumbled. 

“Anything for you.”

A few minutes later, Ash was ordering takeout while you were debating what movie to watch. 

“Babe, do you want to watch Coraline or Pride and Prejudice?” You asked when he walked back into the room. 

“Oh, Coraline, for sure.” He responded. 

You laughed, clicking on the movie but pausing it before it started. 

“Food should be here in about 20 minutes.”

“Perfect.” You grabbed his hand, dragging him upstairs and into the master bathroom. 

He watched as you dug through one of your drawers, eventually pulling out two face masks. 

“Yes.” He said before you could get a word out. “100% yes.”

You smiled, placing one package down on the counter before opening the other one, gingerly applying it to Ashton’s face.

“Well don’t you look so handsome?” You playfully teased, smoothing out a wrinkle with your finger. 

“I should hope so.” He said, admiring himself in the mirror. You hopped up onto the counter, watching as he opened the second one and put it on your face this time. 

“How long do we leave these on for?” He asked you, picking up the empty package. 

“Um, probably about 15 minutes.” You responded. He nodded, and the two of you made your way back downstairs. 

15 minutes later, the masks were taken off, just a few moments before the doorbell rang to signify the arrival of your dinner. 

You made yourself comfortable on the couch as Ashton got the food, admiring him as he walked into the living room. 

“Are you looking at me like that because I have food?” He playfully asked you.

You shook your head. 

“I’m looking at you like that because I love you and I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

His face flushed, and he smiled as he set down the food. He walked around the coffee table, crouching down in front of where you were sitting on the couch. 

“I’d do this for you even if you weren’t having a tough week. I’d do whatever you asked of me whenever you asked me to. I love you so much, sweets, and all I want in this world is to make you as happy as I possibly can.”

You were crying for the second time that night, but (thankfully) for a much different reason. You leaned forward, connecting your lips once again, trying to convey as much love as you could through the kiss. 

When you pulled away, Ashton pressed a quick kiss to your nose.

“Now, how about we eat some food and watch a movie and pretend like none of that bad stuff ever happened?”

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Tell me your thoughts! Thank you for reading :)