#but yeah i do sorta want to throw up and my throat has been feeling weird these past few days so theres also that?

[thecherrygod]

ok i am sitting here waiting for the last 20 minutes before enrolling on my classes, today has been a neutral, bad, good, bad again day, i slept like shit bc this heat is insuferable, and now im sitting here wondering if im just going through a very specific anxiety, its still just the weather, or i managed to get a fever

[evilminji]

As I have recently discussed, with the ESTEEMED Quirk Scholar @mayfay !

Suprise Quirk Accident Babies! Gotta love um!

They're the, ironically enough, love child of "suprise child acquisition" and "suddenly pregnant" troupes! But SPEEDRUN! Because THAT IS A TODDLER/BABY! Right here. Right now!

Just?

POOF!

✨️~BABY~✨️

And now YOU! Yes, YOU! Get to deal with it. All those vague "do I want to be a parent someday? Would it be SAFE? I am READY?" Questions AND MORE! Suddenly NOT SO VAGUE.

Suddenly VERY RELAVENT. Immediate. People are asking you questions you are GOING to need to answer. And?

You are not the only parent.

You might be JUST out of fucking high-school. Staring down a top lister, high 20, maybe TOP TEN, Hero. Who is society gonna choose here? Your barely adult ass... or them? You might never see your kid again if they decide to take them. Decide to be an asshole.

They have enemies, too.

Can... can you HANDLE those enemies? To protect your kid?

It's been less then fifteen minutes. Fight has barely ended and your sitting under a shock blanket. Decisions are going to have to be made. And all you can think is the sound of your own panicked screaming. Static white noise. The reporters and shady Goverment officials already circling like sharks. Gotta make a decision. Gotta make a decision. Gotta....

It is? The BEST.

The more unlikely the combos the better! My asexual ass is thriving! Fuck yeah! Free baby, no sex!!! You can have platonic child rearing shenanigans! Interesting Self Insert Setups! New OCs! Character dramas! Or romance, if your into that sorta thing!

But you know what I think would be funny as hell?

The continued bloodline curse of AfO being so Platonicly Yandere at his own kin that they go Rabidly Feral Wet Cat and try to claw his throat out, bare minimum! Because obviously HE isn't the problem here! No, no, it's everyone ELSE that caused the issues last time! He doesn't have to learn from past mistakes! He's perfect! (Spoken by the world's most delusional man)

He ALSO has lost track of how many minor quirks he has shoved in metaphorical pockets at the moment. As he is, as always, a kleptomaniac. The way the react to each other? Cascade and shift? React to OTHER outside quirks?

Ha! He's never fucking studied that. Why would he study that!? He has power to steal.

So... set the scene~

Toshinori v. Afo: Kamino Ward.

Make the changes you please, add or subtract Heros, but the BIG TWO are there. They clash. Like Titans. Like GODS. AfO getting frisky with his quirk use, throwing everything at the wall. But?

Oh. This time. THIS TIME, you bastard! Toshinori is NOT ALONE!

The power of community, of an ARMY, is not to be underestimated. They make be struggling. Have broken bones and worse. But they know he just... just needs ONE shot! They... they can give him one shot.

Even if it's the last thing they ever do.

Because? They are god damned HEROES.

AfO feels his legs rip out from under him, just as he's about to dodge. It's going to be a killshot. He may... potentially... THEORETICALLY... conceivably... possibly... panic... just a bit. MAYBE. A microscopic amount.

He lashes out.

With everything.

And he DOES mean everything. Yes, including that "grow flowers" and the "summon apples towards you"Quirk, for all the good THOSE would have done.

Something? Happens.

The blast hits the Oaf infront of him... and? Resonates. Like the striking of a great clear bell. It RINGS. Deafening. Without noise. The damn brat...rewinds? No. He's not younger. He RESETS! OH YOU MOTHER FU-!

Something sliding off him. Like dust. From the reset. Drifting towards other dust.

Swirling. Some merging, like planets forming. Most not enough. Turning grey and falling to the ground. But... but he can SEE it. A whisp of white hair gets in the way. HIS hair. Ha. Ha ha hA HA HA HA HA!!! Reset! NOT JUST YOU, ALL MIGHT!

The heroes are getting up. It doesn't matter. He'll just put them BACK on the ground.

INTO it this time.

But then?

The dust from him, all might, so many others. Solidifies, compresses, the pops like a firework. Dumping a very started black hair, blue eyed, toddler on the ground.

AfO connects the dots first. He has AfO hair texture. Quirk weirdness just happened and their is ALWAYS a cost or drawback to Quirks. Such as... any overflow creates an infant? Did he just make his own child?

Not risking it.

He lunges.

All Might lunges for the simple reason of "oh GOD SUPERVILLIAN AND A BABY!" D:> same as every other hero there.

Meanwhile DANNY? Retired Halfa Superhero, Zone Councilman, and LATE to his DnD night... is beginning to suspect THIS is what Clockwork meant when he said "some roads take longer to get home".

Was that that a "Lol good luck buddy"!?

@mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @hdgnj

[kissmejusttokissme]

hello again my hooligans, I am still in the absolute depths of 'waiting room' chapter three and I've just decided to cut one of the Murray scenes because I realised that it just straight up didn't fit (and is borderline incredibly OOC), but I don't hate it. It's very self-indulgent and really focuses on the autistic eddie munson hc, so instead of just losing it to time I thought I'd toss it on here. So, here it is:

Murray is a bizarre person to be around.

It’s obvious from the moment that Eddie arrives in the back of Joyce’s Ford Pinto that putting Eddie up is something that Murray has decided he has to do, rather than something he wants to do.

It’s not that he makes Eddie feel unwelcome as much as he makes Eddie feel on edge. Like how Eddie would sometimes act larger than life in order to freak people out except over-the-top is just Murray’s default setting.

If anything, it’s like Eddie has finally met his match.

What’s worse is that Murray seems to be able to see Eddie in ways that other people either don’t. He picks up on little things and, unlike the rest of polite society, he doesn’t have a problem with bringing them up.

First up is Eddie’s constant fidgeting and hundred mile an hour brain. They’re sitting in Murray’s kitchen watching something on this tiny TV that he has balanced on his counter and Eddie’s leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down. All he can think about is the people he’s left behind in Hawkins. The way they’ll be dealing with the accusations of harbouring a fugitive. He worries at his bottom lip as he stares in the direction of the TV, fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm against his jawbone.

He almost doesn’t notice when Murray turns the TV off and clears his throat. “You got a whole lotta nervous energy, don’t you kid?”

“I was just run out of town,” Eddie says. “You telling me you wouldn’t be nervous too?”

Murray shrugs. “I’m just saying that I’ve seen that type of nervous energy before. Got friends who deal with that sorta shit. Brain always turned up to a hunred type of shit.”

“Hopper said you didn’t have any friends.”

“Yeah, well Hopper also said he didn’t want Joyce Byers and here we are.”

Eddie concedes to that.

“All I’m saying is that there’s shit you can do if you want. Had a friend who I used do stake-outs with who used to have to get out of the car and do laps. Another guy used to jump on the spot.” He tilts his head. “Tryna think if it was the reason Chrissie had all those candy necklaces but that might’ve just been a snack.”

Eddie’s no stranger to the calmness that can come from throwing himself about. His body has always been the most expressive thing about him. From grand and sweeping hand gestures to the little movements that used to get him sent out of class on the regular. The problem is that the world isn’t built for people to just get up and move. (He’d learnt that the first time he got tipped off a chair by some kids that thought it was funny that he rocked while trying to figure out third grade maths.)

“What happened to those friends of yours?”

Eddie sometimes wonders if the feelings go away the older that you get. Like how some of the foods that used to send him crawling deep under the duvet don’t give him a second thought now. But even that has taken years and if the rest of it is going to take just a long he doesn’t…

“Uh, two of them still work for the paper and Chrissie, uh, she got eaten by a shark down in New England.” Murray says it as if it’s nothing. “Told her not to go in the water down there but no one ever listens to me.” He shakes his head. “Why, you want tips?”

“On getting eaten by sharks?”

“Kid, you’re really starting to get on my nerves.” Murray rolls his eyes. “But you’re in a troubling time so I guess I’ll let it slide.”

“Nice of you.”

“I’m a nice guy,” Murray says.

A couple of nights later he finds a small stack of emails printed off and stapled together. They’re from a guy called Winston and they list about fifty different ways he helps calm his brain down when everything gets too loud. On top of the paper is a small silver ring with a outer part that spins freely even when it’s on Eddie’s finger.

Written on the top of the paper in thick black letters is “so you stop distracting me while I’m trying to watch the news” and Eddie guesses maybe he can give the guy a chance.

[totiredtowrite]

Bully

Warnings - cursing, himbo reader (and that means muscles so if you don't got those jus pretend), sorta mean sakusa, extremely self indulgent so reader is shorter, kind of risque sometimes but it's sfw (like everything on my page)

Note: I did it bc mean sakusa and I am down bad for bullies

Cough bakugou cough

Male Reader - Fem Readers DNI like at all, I'll block you. It's not that hard to understand.

It doesn't take much to get on Sakusa's bad side.

Be annoying, be gross, be handsy, and he's already got you in his bad books.

You though. You, apparently, decided to take it the long way. Of course he noticed. It would be hard not to, if you've got a wide eyed, muscular, puppy of a boy following you around. In class, you had your eyes on him. At practice matches and games? There too, in the front row. You always peered at him, watching what he did, wide eyed and innocent.

He's no psychological genius, but he can just tell. He can tell that you want him to look back, that you want him to notice your very obvious pining. He doesn't know why he found it so agitating. Maybe he just didn't like how blatantly you looked at him, if that made sense at all. You, being so airheaded, only seemed to chase after your goals like a dog. Biceps the size of his head, yet not a coherent thought in yours. Maybe you were more complex than that. Still, Sakusa had no mind to find out.

It's like he could see it, the non existent tail wagging behind you.

So, he started small. Why not give you the attention, right? He tried to be nice at first. He really did, but it was just so easy. You'd get ecstatic whenever he even asked you a question about school. (Which is the nicest thing he'd done). He came to find out that any insults he threw your way went right over your head. Why not take advantage of that fact?

"You know Omi, you can't pick on him forever." Komori sighed. You've been admiring him from the second year, Komori knew that. Apparently though, only in their third year did Sakusa notice.

Sakusa scoffed. "I don't pick on him."

"Yeah, you kind of do." Motoya shrugged, throwing the can that was in his hand in the trash. "Why're you so mean to him anyways? S'not like he's doing anything to you."

Sakusa momentarily paused. He wouldn't admit how he doesn't know just why he hates you. He was certain, every time he saw you, that he wanted to be so mean. Push you around, make you look at him with nervousness and shock through teary eyes. So certain, but then he saw you smile or bounce on your heels excitedly, and he'd feel like taking you somewhere far away where you didn't need to be tainted by the world.

Yeah, none of that was very characteristic of him.

So, of course, he just settled with a simple "I dunno."

Knowing not to push it any further, Komori didn't say anything else.

Their walk was short and brisk. They were only headed to the library, needing to pick something up, so the trip shouldn't be too long. Sakusa didn't need anything really, he just wanted to go along. Another uncharacteristic thing for him, but it's not like he had anything better to do.

School let an hour ago and practice was cancelled. He wasn't just going to sit around. (Motoya forbade him from practicing on his own. Some "take a break sometime" or "don't overwork" bullshit). Doesn't mean he won't go out though.

Approaching the glass doors of the library, Motoya tilted his head slightly. "I only need a couple psych books." He explained, absentmindedly opening the door and walking in. Sakusa nodded, following him in. He didn't go to the public library much, settling on what the school had if he needed anything. Still, he found the place rather comforting.

"Go find a table. I'll meet you in ten minutes maybe? Fifteen?" Komori's voice dropped in volume a bit.

"Sure." Sakusa said.

His cousin have him a grateful look, turning and walking off, presumably to one of the upper floors where the school related books were.

Sakusa sighed through his mask, turning on his heel to go find a table. They were in the west part of the library, surrounded by some bookshelves. Finding a somewhat secluded one, he dropped his bag down on the table and slid into a chair. With another sigh, he turned his attention elsewhere.

From where he was he could see two more tables that were farther away from his, as well as more bookshelves.

He let his gaze wander and glaze over in thought. Why was he so mean to you? After all, the only things you've ever done was watch him with stars in your eyes. He knew a multitude of people who would gladly have an admirer like that. Well, maybe not Ushijima, (who was out in college by now), but at least he wouldn't pick on them.

And speak of the devil.

His sight caught on you at one of the two tables in his vision. Along with...one other guy. He furrowed his brows. Has he seen you with him before? Maybe. What were you doing together? We're you...no, there's no way you were even into guys. Well, not that he would know. You were smiling at him. More turmoil brewed in the pit of his stomach.

Your friend, (he hoped it was your friend), patted your head, saying something he couldn't hear. It's like Sakusa could see the folded puppy ears on your head. His air was getting progressively darker and more threatening. Why was he even getting jealous? Some childish notion, maybe. He didn't like that you were giving such adoring attention to someone else.

Your friend, who had taken his bag, was well out of sight by now. Kiyoomi could only assume that he left. You turned away from the door, scribbling a few things down in a notebook. Sakusa's seen that notebook. You used it in class.

He tapped his foot, a hand coming up to his chin. He looked annoyed, if anything. You didn't even seem to notice him there, which further irked him.

Sakusa turned on his phone to check the time. It's only been five minutes. He wasn't sure how much longer he could sit here for. How is it that you only caught his attention when you weren't vying for it? At this point, Kiyoomi was so used to you hovering around him, practically begging for his attention, that when you weren't it was...different. Different and not even remotely okay.

That combined with how you were relishing in the company of some 'friend' earlier, and he was livid. He felt the need to prove that you only wanted his attention, that you only needed his attention. He knew he wasn't acting , or thinking, like himself. He acknowledged it, and he ignored it. Hell, you didn't even know he was there! There was no reason for him to react so intensely.

He checked the time again. Three more minutes have passed.

He shoved the chair out, (rather harshly), to stand up. Upon hearing the noise, you turned your head up to see him approaching you.

"Sakusa-san!" You squeaked.

"(L/n)." He said back. His voice was low, threatening. You nervously watched him slam his hands down in the table in front of you, black eyes focused on your face.

"What do you-uh, want?" You smiled at him, practically buzzing in excitement in your chair. The library chairs were a little tight, your thighs pressed flush together. Sakusa let his eyes wander, eventually landing your face once more. You, noticing his gaze, laughed slightly. "The chairs are a bit of a tight fit, huh?"

"(L/n)." He says again, leaning in further. "Who were you just with?" Why was he asking that? He didn't care. He just wanted to know. Morbid curiosity. You shuffled in your chair again. He moved around the table, a slow, stalking act. You sat rigid in your chair.

"You know him right?" You turned, standing up. You rested your hands against the table, rocking back against it in a nervous, jittery motion.

"No," He said. His hand was on the back of your chair, the only thing separating you. "Mind explaining?" He moved the chair harshly. You pressed back into the table further.

"Just-He's a good friend!" You looked up at him, grip on the table tightening when he moved in closer. In truth, he wasn't sure why he was doing any of this. It was like something possessed him, blowing his minor jealousy out of proportion. He wanted to prove that you only gave him those adoring looks, he wanted to have his hands on you.

Your breath hitched in the base of your throat. He placed his hands by your sides, leaning in a bit closer. "Sakusa-san?" You laughed habitually to take the edge off, wide eyes sparkling up at him. This time, his breath caught in his throat. You looked so...innocent. So open.

You didn't know what to think. You knew you weren't all that emotionally intelligent. Even still, you could tell that something was up. On any normal day, he'd just comment on your lack of sense or bump into you a little too hard. Really, usually he just ignored you.

"A good friend," he echoed. You nodded, watching with uncertainty when his right hand lifted to your head. The butterflies in your stomach felt like a warning, a 'DANGER' written in blaring red lights. It was hard not to melt, though, when he gingerly pet your hair. It was where your friend had his hand.

You leaned into his touch. It almost burnt, but in a good way. A way that made you want to walk right into the fire and stay there. He narrowed his eyes. What was he doing? His grip turned harsh, clutching your hair in his hand.

You let out a startled whimper. He pulled your head back slightly, making you look him in his eyes. His free hand pulled his mask down. "Why do you look so shocked," he whispered. It didn't sound meek by any means, it felt loud enough to you. "You wanted my time right? My attention?"

You nodded best you could, excitement buzzing through you again. He let go of your hair, hand moving down to the base of your neck. Surprisingly, he didn't feel disgusted. If anything, touching you, it felt...oddly good. It's like he could keep his hands on you forever.

His gaze drifted down to your lips. Pretty, soft looking, quivering. Sakusa's hands were big. not big and muscular, no, more lithe. Long. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, other fingers still on the back of your neck. "So pretty," he murmured. "Such a pretty boy." He didn't think to sing the praise. It just slipped out. Not like he was going to make a move to take it back though, not when it's escalated this far.

His hand was warm. Surprising, as it seems like he's the kind of guy to have deathly cold hands. You rubbed your muscular thighs together at his words. Noticing the movement, he let out a shaky breath. You felt it on your lips. His breath, unsurprisingly, was minty. Cold.

You whimpered again, leaning in. You could see every little detail of his face. The moles above his thick eyebrows, the small cracks on his lips. So close. One gust of wind and your lips would connect. His eyes lidded, reciprocating your movement and-

"Am I..uh, interrupting something?"

Sakusa practically jumped off of you. "No! No, you're not." He quickly regained his cool. Motoya nodded, brows raised in suspicion.

"Well I've got what I need. Ready to go?" He said.

Sakusa nearly bolted back to where he had set his things, pulling his mask back up onto his nose. "Yeah. Fine." He pulled his bag on his shoulder. Motoya waved to you. You knew that he saw some of it, at most. He turned to walk away, Sakusa following in suit behind him.

Before he left your line of vision, he shot one last glance your way. You weren't sure how to read it, though you could at least see the lingering desire in his iris.

With that, he left your sight, leaving you disheveled and confused against the table.

~

Do not repost, translate, or copy my work on to other platforms.

[supercorpkid]

Alex Danvers (Aunt).

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader

Word Count: 1920.

“Guess who got a call from the president of the United States yesterday?” Alex asks, sitting on the table, where your entire family is already waiting for her to have dinner.

“Let me guess,” Kara pretends. “Her husband?”

“HA-HA. Me. Obviously.” She goes on, unaffected. “She wanted to talk to the Director of the DEO, because she wants to give some medals to a few heroes.”

“Oh, so she called you but really she wanted to talk to me?” It’s your momma’s response, and everyone laughs at her.

“Sorta. But also, no. She wants to give medals to all of the Superfriends, including me.”

“That’s nice.” Sam squeezes her shoulder with a loving smile. “Congratulations, hun.”

“Thank you. But if you all don’t mind, I’d like to read the e-mail that was sent to me after the call.”

There’s no excitement in every one’s ‘ok’ and ‘yeah’, but Alex ignores it as she begins to read on her phone.

“Director Danvers,

Here’s a list of heroes we would like to be there to receive their medals. Please let me know which ones can attend.

Supergirl, Brainiac 5, Dreamer, Sentinel, Superkid,”

You get an elbow on your arm with a bright smile coming from Kara. You smile too.

“Miss Martian, Martian Manhunter,”

Alex continues, then raises an eyebrow before clearing her throat and adding,

“and Shadow Helper.”

“WHAT?” You spit out, along with your drink. You cough, and Lena pats your back so you can calm down. You still choke when you speak. “I made the list… TWICE?”

“It seems that way.” Alex smiles at you and you almost can’t see her, when Kara throws her arms around your head, squeezing you tight.

“Oh, Rao. I’ve never been prouder in my life.” She manages between her excited sobs, is she crying? “My baby will get two medals!”

“Thanks, momma.” You spit her hair out of your mouth.

“Congratulations, babygirl.” Lena gets in the hug too, you guess, by another pair of arms around your waist. “Guess Shadow Helper is a hero after all.” She adds, with a little bit of bitterness in her voice, and you know she means to badger Alex for calling you a vigilante.

“How?” Jamie says, and both of your moms let go of you so you can look at her. You try to fix your hair. “How are you getting two medals?”

“Umm, ‘cause I’m awesome?” You feel the need to defend yourself, although you do wonder how the hell you of all people are getting so recognized.

“Yeah, duh.” She agrees. “I mean, how will both Superkid and Shadow Helper be there at the same time to get their medals?”

“Oh.”

That’s a good question, indeed. Something you didn't consider at all. Still, with all the worrisome this question brings, you’re glad Jamie didn’t mean how you of all people could be deserving of two medals, when more important heroes like Supergirl herself only got one.

“Don’t worry about it.” Alex says, getting you out of your thoughts. “We’ll work on something. An emergency that would require your help, maybe?”

“Wait, the Shadow suit… You can’t really see who’s inside.” Lena adds on your side, and you agree with your head.

“That’s true. Ideally both Shadow and Super would be there.” You look around on the table. You had your growth spurt, so you are a lot taller than most of the people sitting here. “Um, godmother, would you?”

“Oh, me? Really?” Sam bites her lips, clearly thinking this wouldn’t go this way and that you wouldn’t end up needing her of all people to impersonate a superhero.

“Just, you know, height wise.” You give her a pleading, forced smile.

“I can do it!” Jamie says with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. “I can wear heels and besides, no one ever saw a thing about Shadow, right?”

“Yeah,” Kara agrees. “And she will, you know, kind of disappear in a bit.”

“I will?” You furrow your brows. Then it dawns you, her comment from a few days ago. No, no, no. Don’t say it out loud. Don’t say it in front of everyone.

“Superkid as well.” Kara puts her hand on your shoulder and gives everyone a big grin. “It’s time she becomes…”

“Something’s burning!” You get up from the table and run out of the dining room and into the kitchen.

That’s a lie. There’s nothing burning. You don’t think there’s even something on the oven to burn. Well, you better do it yourself, then.

“Don’t even think about it.” Alex walks in the kitchen and sees you with a pan in your hands. Oops.

“I was saving you!” You try, earning a chuckle and an eye roll in response.

“Kiddo, you ran out of there so fast; I was scared you were going to stop in Gotham.”

“Shit.” You mumble under your breath. “Do you think they all-”

“Noticed? I’m gonna go with yes on that one.” Alex comes closer, leaning on the counter in front of you. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“No, it’s-” Then you think a little bit about it. “You know what? Yeah. I should talk to you. You didn’t want momma to become Supergirl and you don’t think I'm a hero, so maybe you have all the reasons why I shouldn’t take Supergirl’s name.”

“Wow, wow, wait a minute there. There are a lot of incorrect information in those sentences.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “Don’t go Lena on me.” She says about the eyebrow, and you smile. “I think you’re an awesome hero! The best!”

“Oh please, what about the whole ‘if you don’t work with the government you’re a vigilante’? Huh? That sure didn’t feel like you think I’m a hero at all.” You cross your arms. Guess you were bitter about it, and this came up as soon as you had the chance to. Oh, well.

“That wasn’t me! That was Director Danvers!” You can’t help another eyebrow raise. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, kiddo.”

“Please, aunt Alex, just be honest. You don’t think I could be Supergirl. It’s ok, really. Just give me the reasons why.”

“I think you would be an amazing Supergirl. And I’ll love to be on your side to help you with it.” Alex moves closer, holding your hand. “I’ve always known you would become Supergirl.”

“Yeah, well, that was always momma’s idea for a retirement plan, wasn’t it?”

“Not because of that.” She squeezes your hand, gently. “I’ve watched you grow into this strong, smart woman. You’ve done so much as Shadow Helper, and even more as Superkid. You’re a teen who’s getting two medals of recognition for your wonderful work. What makes you more deserving to have the Supergirl name than that?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you would tell me.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Alex breathes out, like she is holding the biggest truth she’s ever spoken. “It’s hard. When you find that thing that makes you, you. And you feel that’s going to change the rest of your life. And you’re just trying to make sense of it all, and it sounds so complicated.”

You look up to her, and you wonder if she’s talking from experience.

“I’m just- What I’m trying to say, kiddo, is that you’re not alone.” Your aunt’s eyes are full of tears, and you notice you too are trying to keep yours inside. “You will never be alone. You were born to be exceptional, with or without powers, with or without this big brain of yours.” She pokes your head, and you smile at her. “So don’t hold back. Don’t do what other people expect you to. If you don’t want to be Supergirl, that’s ok. Tell Kara that this is not what you want for your life, and she’ll understand. But honey, don’t ask me to tell you why you don’t deserve it or why you shouldn’t be who you already are.”

You don’t know what you say. You think you’ve never had a bigger truth bomb dropped at you than this one. Is that what you’re doing? You’re waiting on people to tell you why you don’t deserve the Supergirl name just because you don’t feel worthy of it?

“Think about it.” Alex kisses your head, like one of your moms would do, and slips back into the dining room, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

“I should-” You hear Kara’s voice.

“Maybe Lena.” Alex stops her, and no longer than a minute later, your mom walks into the kitchen. You’re still in the exact same place as Alex left you, with so much on your mind, you miss Lena’s question the first time.

“Hey.” She touches your face, trying to make you come back from your own mind. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” You breathe out. Not fine. “Just a little surprised with, you know, the two medals I’m supposed to be getting.”

“Why? Superkid saved the world a few times.” Lena pulls you into a hug. “And I heard Shadow Helper assisted the police with catching one of the biggest drug dealers in the city, and more.”

“They both did that. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know. I’m always right.” Lena kisses your head, holding your hand. “Come on, let’s have dinner. You can worry about how you’re going to get both medals later.”

Turns out, it all worked out just fine. Shadow was never seen, and with your suit Jamie is unrecognizable. So she’s getting the medal for you, and you’re dressed in a new Superkid suit Lena had just made for you.

The suit feels weird. Tight. Limiting. And at the same time, empty. It doesn’t feel like yours anymore. You try to fake it with your smile, but the sweat on your forehead doesn’t lie.

“To Superkid.” You hear and break out of your thoughts. “A medal for helping the Superfriends save National City, whenever she was needed. Showing that heroism doesn’t come with age, but with heart.”

A medal is put around your neck, and you smile at it, while Kara throws her arms around you, looking as proud as she possibly could.

“To Shadow Helper.” You hear next. “Even though no one has ever seen your face, you’ve given hope for the people in National City, and the world. You are proof that no job is small enough, and that real heroes help whoever needs it.”

Your smile grows even bigger, while a medal is put around Jamie’s neck. You like those words. No job is small enough, and heroism doesn’t come with age. That’s 100% you.

You look at your mom in the audience, with tears in her eyes, and a big smile on her lips. Kara doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know how proud she feels. Then you meet Alex’s eyes. She gives you a small nod.

She doesn’t have to say a word. You see it all in her loving eyes and supporting nod. She is there for whatever you decide to do next, because she thinks you’re deserving of it all.

You let out a breath, and your most truthful smile comes to yourself. You are deserving of these medals, you are deserving of the Super name, and no one needs to tell you this. You feel it in your soul.

Let the future come. You’re ready for it, especially because you know that your family and friends will be there to support you along the way.

[goldenkirstein]

drunk aot boys hc's

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

anonymous requested: Hey Raf, can I request some headcanons about what type of drunk Jean, Eren and Armin are and how they act when drunk, both in general and around their s/o? And you know, if they know their limits or don’t care because they enjoy being drunk and stuff. I just had this really random thought of Jean starting to give compliments to EVERYONE (and Eren is so weirded out when Jean tells him how soft his hair looks) and now I can’t stop wondering what they’d be like so yeah 😂

pairing: jean x gn! reader, eren x gn! reader, armin x gn! reader

wc: 1.3k+

tags: fluff, suggestive content, mentions of alcohol, vomiting, violence/aggression,

a/n: kind of got a little suggestive, but there's no smut. hope you enjoy reading, thank you for the request !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

armin arlert:

He knows his limit, and on most days, he won’t drink past that, but sometimes on particularly stressful days, Armin thinks, one more drink won’t hurt. That thought is what gets him in trouble.

Usually, he’s easy to fluster when he is sober, but drunk Armin? Everyone is shocked at how unabashedly confident he is.

It does not matter if he has a s/o or not; he will be giggly and touchy and has no filter.

He gets very flushed, rosy cheeks and all.

Eren and Mikasa are unfazed by this; they have seen Armin drunk, but the others are shell-shocked when Armin starts singing back the lewd lyrics they use on him. He whispers them in your ear, and you have to pretend that he isn’t affecting you.

He begins making concoctions that will get him plastered and has to be physically restrained because:

Although it’s fun for him to forget about his worries for a night, he cannot handle his alcohol.

He wakes up with the worst hangovers, says that he will never drink again, which is a lie, but it’s a simple reassurance for the time being.

If everyone thinks he’s flirty and touchy when he’s with them, it just becomes dialed up to 100 when he is with you.

Usually, he gets blushy when you compliment him, but if they try it when he’s drunk? He will dish it back to them ten times worse.

“Yeah, I look pretty? You look even prettier when your clothes are-” “I know I did not hear Armin say what he just said to you. Who knew Arlert had such a foul mouth on him.”

He wants to be touching you 24/7; he’ll lean against you and quietly hum whatever song is playing, and if you push him off to go somewhere, he’ll get whiney and try to follow you wherever you are going.

He’s the type to wait for you outside the bathroom and continue talking to you, that is, if he can’t come inside.

He will try to kiss you, and drunk Armin kisses are almost always sloppy and messy, and as much as you try to push him away, he will end up landing a couple of kisses on your cheek and mouth-’adjacent’ area (his aim is kind of off).

Everyone likes going out to get drinks with him, he’s just fun to be around, and they also love seeing him enjoy himself for once and not worry about everyone else.

eren jaeger:

He is not a lightweight, but like Armin doesn’t get drunk often.

As such, he is usually assigned to taking care of the rest of them.

However, on the rare night where Eren does indulge, he becomes so reckless.

Eren will try to fight everyone, mostly Jean, though. It’s the worst when both of them are drunk and throwing punches (albeit missing most of them).

He will loop you in to participate in his antics, which almost always end up with him on the floor, and you need to pick him up and kiss him better (he plays his injuries up like a drama queen, just to secure a few more of those kisses).

He does get hungover the next day, but he doesn’t mind it too much because it happens so rarely.

Everyone is on high alert when it comes to drunk Eren because nine times out of ten, he is a danger to himself and occasionally can land a pretty mean punch.

One of the things he loves to do before he gets too drunk is to grab your jaw tilt it back to look at him, with a teasing glint in his eyes. He’ll wink at you and pour whatever he’s drinking down your throat and then gently close your mouth. If some of the drink spills from your lips, he’ll lean in and lick it up off your chin before kissing you and walking away to get another drink for himself.

When he’s wasted, he is not nearly as smooth, but Eren still thinks he is. He’ll try to talk to you up, but it’s just slurred words, with a crooked smile he thinks is a smirk.

He won’t be as touchy as Armin is, but there are a good few times where his arms are hooked around your neck, and he’s got you in a bear hug, mumbling, “everyone sucks; they made me get off the bar top, ‘m not talking ‘bout you though, you’re perfect.”

At some point, he does need to be tied up because he doesn’t know when to stop, and he will run away with his drinks if someone tries to take them from him.

When you try to take him home, he won’t recognize that it’s you, and he’ll just keep saying, “I have a partner, and even though you are very pretty, I’m a loyal man.” You just need to wait till he’s almost passed out because he’ll keep up this act as long he’s conscious.

Everyone enjoys his presence, but he can get quite out of control, so he taps out most of the time before he can get too drunk.

Jean Kirstein:

He doesn’t know his limit and, more often than not, crosses it; compared to the other two, he gets drunk more often.

Like Armin, he is a very flirty drunk, but he’s also super sloppy and has no filter whatsoever; he will say the first thing that pops into his mind.

He gets into fights with Eren, mostly because Eren provokes him, but in the same vein, he ends up complimenting Eren, something he would be caught dead doing if he was sober.

“You know what, jaeger? Your hair looks soft, I’ve been trying to figure out what to use for months, and I just can’t figure out your secret.” “Is this some new defensive technique you picked up? How am I supposed to hit you now?”

He genuinely thinks he’s the most competent person in the room, but he’s spewing out gibberish, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings, so you nod and pretend to understand him. Jean thinks his drunk babbling is what’s going to bring total world peace.

Nights with him always end up with Jean puking and spending the rest of the night in your lap, with you running your fingers through his hair. If you dare move your hand from his head, he’ll pout and take your hand and put it back on his head and won’t budge until he feels your fingers against his scalp.

Terrible hangovers; he doesn’t want to speak to anyone and spends the entire day in bed.

He becomes super affectionate with his friends and you. Jean’s a sweet man, but he doesn’t let anyone get to see his vulnerable side, so when he’s drunk, he lets everyone know what he thinks about them.

When Armin isn’t drinking, Jean is usually the one who tries to fluster him the most. When he succeeds, he’ll turn his attention to you and try to make you squirm.

Jean ends up confessing many things when he’s drunk; he tells you that he loves you for the first time when he’s drunk. The following morning, he acts like he doesn’t remember; Jean does, though and ends up properly telling you that he loves you later in the day.

His having no filter and his wayward confessions are also how he gets into fights with Eren. Jean lands a few good punches, but he tires himself out and just opts to hug Eren and tell him how much he appreciates him, despite Eren’s stubbornness.

Everyone loves having him around, but they have to watch out when he gets sappy or look out for him puking (he has ruined a good amount of furniture).

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated i don't drink bshshs so i hope this sounded sorta realistic idk, i'm getting through the last couple of my requests now :)

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap, @nevcrmxre, @conniesspringersgf, @glittrkink

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please…” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request  at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel  guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if  I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things  while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,”  You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force.  “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.

[helloprettybb]

shut up

i know this is coming out of nowhere but kinda in the mood for draco. idk why, something about him just hits different so here’s a sorta short but very smutty thing with him. also, i want both draco and the reader to be closer to eighteen, but since everyone was fighting a war and such their last year, let’s pretend that didn’t happen. so a sorta alt universe where there is no second wizarding war and like everyone is in school for all seven years. this was supposed to be pure smut but since i’m soft, it has to be fluffy at the end.

description: draco malfoy is an arsehole. but that doesn’t stop you from meeting him in an abandoned classroom.

warnings: cursing, smuttt, unprotected sex, choking

word count: 2k

“I didn’t think you’d be here.” It’s the first thing Draco says as you enter the room.

”Why the fuck wouldn’t I be here?” you reply impatiently. Since everyone is probably in the Common Rooms this afternoon, you and Draco are in an abandoned classroom. Luckily, nobody teaches here anymore, so that’s at least one weight off of your conscience.

”I don’t know. Thought maybe you’d be with Potter,” he snipes back. 

You roll your eyes, “You know I want nothing to do with Harry.” Although Draco wouldn’t admit it, you know he’s jealous of your friendship with Harry. You two have never had romantic feelings toward each other and Draco knows that, but you still see his fists clench whenever you talk to Harry.

“Yeah? Then why were you eye-fucking him all of Potions.” he asks.

You laugh at Draco’s clear jealousy, “I wasn’t you daft dimbo!” 

You walk closer to Draco. “Whatever.” Draco brushes off, looking away from you. You stop in front of him so that there’s only a foot apart. You lift Draco’s chin to make him look you in the eye. He almost looks hurt and against your wishes, your heart hurts a little for him.

You mutter a quick come here, you idiot, before pulling him to your lips. Draco lowers his hands to your waist as he kisses you back. It’s only been a couple months since this whole fling started, but you can already feel a drastic change in your relationship.

It was only a week or so into the semester when Draco caught you walking down an empty corridor. The two of you spewed insults back and forth except this time, there was no audience. Draco had said something that made you want to jinx him into the infirmary, but your brain turned off, and instead, you yanked him by the back of the neck and down to your mouth. You didn’t know what the hell you were doing and thought he was going to kill you, but instead, he kisses you back. 

You pull away for a second and Draco stares at you. The two of you, both breathing heavily, before continuing with the same vigor as before. You imbue all the fury and frustration you feel towards him into the kiss and you think that he may be doing the same. Draco’s been your practical enemy since first year and you hate him with your whole being. But right now, you’re letting him guide you backward until you hit a door. He blindly feels for the handle before the door opens behind you.

You look around and realize you’re in a classroom. Before you could worry about whose room you’re about to defile, Draco hoists you onto a desk and begins to grind into your hips. The next half hour is filled with pants and moans, something you never thought would happen with Draco Malfoy of all people. He’s rough, but you wanted it that way. Ever since that first night in the abandoned classroom, the two of you had a mostly consistent schedule of hooking up in odd places around the castle (or that one time down by the Black Lake). You’ve never done it in a bed because you’d be dead if one of you were found in the other’s room.

Your brain snaps back to the present as Draco’s hands move their way up your body. His hands roughly grab at your hips as they push you back against the desk. You push yourself up onto the desk so that you can at least be eye level with him. You remove your sweater as Draco removes his and you expect him to reconnect your lips, but he moves down so that he’s level with your pussy. Before you can ask why he’s doing that, you feel him play with the waistband of your skirt. You give him consent to slide your skirt off along with your panties. You’re mostly naked, with only your bra still on and the wooden desk is cold against your skin.

You would be more bothered by the temperature of the desk if it weren’t for Draco diving into your pussy. You throw your head back as Draco dips his tongue and starts eating you out. Your right hand immediately goes to his hair as your left goes behind you for support. He adds one finger and you gasp, giving his hair a sudden squeeze. He groans beneath you and adds another finger. 

He’s been eating you out for who knows how long and you can feel yourself on the brink. The grip on his hair gets tighter, signaling to Draco that you’re almost there. One last thrust and you’ll be cumming around his fingers. You gasp one last time and can feel your climax before his head leaves your pussy.

“You dick.” you tell him. You want to rip his head off for getting you so close before pulling away. Draco ignores you as he starts to unbuckle his belt. He pulls you into a fierce kiss which you reciprocate with equal passion. Because even though Draco Malfoy is the actual worst, he’s pretty good at kissing. You hear his belt clatter to the ground which is followed by his trousers. 

You palm him over his briefs and you get a groan in response. You would tease him to get back at him for delaying your orgasm, but your lust-filled mind can only think of Draco railing you into tomorrow.

You pull him out of his briefs and quickly push them down. You spread your legs a little wider signaling that you need him now. Draco strokes himself a couple times before sliding into you smoothly. You grab onto his bicep as he begins to roughly thrust into you. The desk shakes underneath you but you couldn’t care less. One of Draco’s hands is on your hip while the other snakes its way up your shoulder and to your throat. You gasp lightly as you feel his fingers wrap around your neck.

Draco squeezes your throat a couple times, each one eliciting a breathy sigh from you. The first few times you hooked up, you were worried that Draco would bully you for how you acted during sex, but he never did. You think he secretly likes how you bend to him and only him.

“Fuck, so tight on my cock. Squeezing me so tight, shit.” Draco grunts in your ear. You can only respond with a stream of ahs and ohs. You feel him hit the spot and you keen. 

You hear him chuckle into the shell of your ear, “Is that it? That’s the spot that’ll make you all weak for me?” If it weren’t for the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling, you’d yell at him for his condescending tone. But you want him to do it again, so you nod furiously. 

Draco doesn’t let up and continues to abuse your pussy over and over. Your grip on his arm starts to falter so you move both hands to his back. You scratch down his back and you think you hurt him, but Draco’s louder groans tell you otherwise. 

“D-don’t stop.” you muster out. Draco keeps going, his eyes going from your bouncing tits to your pleasure-screwed face. 

“Who’s making you feel this good?” Draco asks. His commanding tone turning you on even more.

“You.” You’re fucked out and struggling to keep your thoughts clear. 

“No,” he slaps your ass, making you keen again. “Who’s fucking you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow?” 

“You, Draco. You are.” you cry out, almost there. You’re so close that you can feel the beginnings of your orgasm.

“That’s right. I’m the only one that can make my baby feel this good. You’re mine.” Draco rambles. Then he says, “All mine.” You instantly cum around his cock and scream his name so loud that you almost worry that your silencing charm couldn’t disguise your volume.

“Fuck, baby. Screaming my name so loud.” Draco pants in between thrusts. They start to falter as he lets out one last huff of your name before finishing. You moan when you feel his cum, smiling at its warmth. Draco stays in you for a little as both of you catch your breaths. You catch his eye for a moment and it looks like he’s about to say something before averting his eyes.

Draco pulls out of you slowly and you feel his cum leak out. Your thighs shake at the sensitivity and he pretends not to notice. You hop off of the desk and reach for your clothes which are pooled underneath. The two of you redress, not saying a word. You can feel his eyes as you slide your skirt back on. Draco gets dressed before you and walks toward the door. “Baby.” you mutter, your mind drifting to the last five minutes. 

Draco stops in his tracks and turns to you. He shoots you a glare, “Shut up.” You didn’t need his words to tell you that, but you wanted this for a long time, maybe even longer than you realized.

“No, I really like it.” you tell him. Your attempt to be genuine fails since you’ve never once had an honest conversation with Draco.

“Seriously, shut it.” Draco retorts, clearly peeved because you violated the one unspoken rule of talking about what happens during sex.

“I mean it. I wouldn’t mind if you called me it more.” you mutter the last part. Draco’s head snaps up at that. He definitely heard you and judging by the look in his eyes, you’re screwed.

“Are you fucking with me?” Draco asks. His furrowed brows and condescending tone infuriate you. Here you are trying and failing to confess your feelings and he’s being a total prick.

“No, Malfoy!” you exclaim, using his last name, something  you only do when you’re truly mad. “I’ve actually liked you for a pretty long time, but now you’re making me feel like a complete idiot so I don’t know what to say anymore!” You didn’t mean to explode that much. But now you completely ruined any chance you would have had with him. Fuck, you ruined anything. No more hookups, no more quick comments now that your secret is out. 

“I like you, too.” Draco replies. His calm tone juxtaposes your outburst and gives you emotional whiplash. 

“Wait, what?” you say out loud, completely removed from your previous anger.

“I...” Draco starts, walking back to you, “Like...” He’s so close now that you have to look up to make eye contact with him. “You.” he finishes. If your heart wasn’t racing from nerves, you would roll your eyes at him for drawing that out so long. For once, you are absolutely speechless. You don’t know where to go from here, so Draco helps make the decision for you. He gently connects your lips and rather than immediately going to your waist or arse, he settles his hand on your cheek. The softness is heart-wrenching and it almost hurts that you didn’t do this sooner. But at least you’re doing it now, which is good enough for you.

He separates eventually but keeps his forehead against yours. “So...” he says.

“So...” you mimic. The two of you break into laughter, so refreshing compared to your usual tension. When your laughter dies down, you repeat, “I really, really like you, Draco.”

“I really, really like you, too.” he copies and you smile like a complete idiot, but you don’t care because he’s doing the same. Although neither of you said it, you’ve seemed to come to an unspoken agreement that you two are a couple now.

You hold Draco’s hand as you exit the classroom and come face to face with Colin Creevey and his camera. Before either of you could react, he snaps a picture and runs off. 

You and Draco stare at each other as you hear Colin running down the corridor, yelling about the new couple. Draco looks like he wants to chase him down, but you suggest celebrating your new relationship somewhere more private. He spares Colin a second thought before guiding you to his room.

[weasel-b33]

500 Miles (j.p x fem!reader)

Description: A few years after the birth of your son Harry, you and your husband James recall the beginning of your relationship. (NO VOLDY I CAN NOT DO THAT TO MYSELF) 

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, A little Swearing, idk Cute Daddy James, Prolly many spelling errors I wrote this late and I am very tired...

 (THIS IS MY FIRST TIME EVER WRITING SOMETHING KINDA SIRIUS hehe SO IM SORRY IF IT IS TERRIBLE) 

Also the dates may be a bit wrong so im sorry in advance!! 

italicized is flashback!! 

Lyrics used in the song are from “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers (I KNOW THE SONG CAME OUT IN ‘87 BUT SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF PLEASE)

(not my gif)

The rambunctious laughter of the four year-old toddler and his father echoed throughout the large estate.

“Daddy!” exclaimed the messy haired Harry, “Can I please have a story.” Heavily emphasizing the puppy dog eyes he learned from his godfather, Sirius, a few years prior.

James Potter, the man unable to say no to anyone, tried to recall a story he had not told his son. Thinking back to the fairy tales of a prince slaying a fictional dragon, even though they are very much real, to save the princess that his mother used to tell him, James realized he was all out of good material. 

“I’m sorry bubs, I have nothing new too share,” the bespectacled man added lamely. The disappointment was instant on the child’s face, but luckily before the waterworks began, Y/N Potter strolled through the foyer into the den.

“Mommy!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and bonding over to his mother, nearly knocking her over with his brute strength.

“Umph- Where’s the fire lovey?” you questioned with a slight chuckle. The dramatics of your son were never a surprise. Between his father and Sirius, you were surprised he had not acted much worse. Walking, more like sliding due to the child gripping your calves, over to your husband and lightly pecking his lips you ask, 

“What’s wrong now?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sheepishly stated, “I sorta don’t have a new story to tell him... he’s a bit peeved, if you couldn’t tell.”

A loud laugh tore through your throat as you pet your son’s hair affectionately.

“Come off Harry, Mommy has a perfect story to tell you,” you crooned softly.

“You do?”Harry questioned, rubbing the tears out of his stunning green eyes.

You picked him up and sat down near James, “Yes poppet, I have a very interesting story about how two very special people fell in love.” 

James quickly turned his head and quirked a questioning brow, “It all started when they were 15...” 

November 7, 1975

Quietly sitting on the vermilion couch of the Gryffindor Common Room, you began to fade out the noise of Lily ranting about the recent History of Magic exam, and Marlene’s long monologue over if she should or should not cut bangs. Instead, you were beginning to rip out each and every one of the hairs on your head because your Potions essay was nearly finished, yet you could not get those final words to conclude it all. 

Across the common room, a rowdy group of teenage boys, better known as the Marauders, were planning the newest prank on Snape. 

"We should give him that shampoo that will change his hair pink,” Sirius added.

Remus shook his head disapprovingly, “Pads, we did that last time come on..”

“WE HAVE NOTHING! WHAT IS WRONG WITH US, MOONY, HELP I’M DYING OF NO CREATIVITY!” Sirius exclaimed throwing himself across the scarred boy.

Although, many people turned their attention to the dark haired pureblood, James seemed he could not take his eyes off the girl nearly burning holes into her parchment, the girl he has fancied since he was 12. 

While playing with the snitch he stole, he said, “What if we tried that new rain spell we learned in charms today?” 

“Too difficult, we have not had enough practice.” Remus dismissed. “Well what if I found someone to practice on?” James added quickly turning to face his werewolf best friend. 

“Sure... Whatever, I could care less- Pads, get the bloody hell of me before I kick your arse,” 

“I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY REMUS JOHN,” Sirius yelled beginning his quick climb up the stairs to the boys dorm, with Remus and Peter quickly following.

“You comin’ Prongs?” Remus asked to the brunette still staring at the girl with shaky hands.

“No, I’ll come up in a few, still want to try to figure this prank out...” he said quietly. The lanky boy followed his best friends line of sight and quietly smirked to himself.

“Alright, don’t wear yourself out too much.” 

Even throughout the commotion, you still made no move to change your line of sight. That was until Marlene nudged you and whispered into your ear.

“Psst! Oi! Y/N! Why is Potter staring at you?” 

You quickly shook your head and waved off her question, opting to continue to find the right words.

Well until your blonde friend gripped your jaw, and turned your head to the direction of the boy. You instantly made eye-contact with the messy haired Gryffindor and quirked a brow. He smirked and turned his head away. You thought nothing of the interaction, until you felt a sudden drop above your head...

Instantly, it seemed as though there was a storm in the common room. Looking towards the ceiling you saw the dark rain cloud above your head. Quickly turning your head to the essay you were writing you noticed it completely wet and ruined. You jumped into action, trying to salvage what you could, but it was too late. Ignoring the screeches of your friends and fellow housemates, you began to look for the source of the cloud.

That was until you made eye contact with the laughing and smug James Potter.

“POTTER!” you yelled. Almost immediately the rain stopped, but the damage had been done. “JAMES POTTER! YOU BETTER HAVE A REASON YOU STARTED A STORM IN THE COMMON ROOM!” 

Hearing the commotion, the rest of the Marauders came down to the common room to witness what was happening. But all they saw was a yelling match between you and their brunette best friend.

“YOU ARE A DICK JAMES POTTER! KARMA IS A BITCH AND SHE IS COMING! IT’S GONNA BE SO NICE TO SEE YOUR FACE WHEN ALL YOUR ACTIONS FINALLY COME TO KICK YOU IN THE ARSE!” you yelled.

“What? I did nothing, I don’t mean to dampen your mood, but I have no idea what you are on about.” James replies smugly.

“UGH- YOU ARE A BULLY AND A RIGHTEOUS, STUCK UP, EGOTISTICAL ARSEHOLE! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS BECAUSE-- OH MY! I-” You were quickly being dragged away by your red head companion. 

“Y/N, he is not worth it... let’s just leave.” 

“NO! I HAVE TO RESTART MY ESSAY! I WAS THIS BLOODY CLOSE. UGH- YOU ARE AN ARSE JAMES POTTER I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT!”

“Y/N, it was just a prank, its no big deal relax.” James said.

“RELAX! ARE YOU KIDDING... I-” you paused taking shallow and rapid breaths, ‘you know I can not believe you think its funny. You truly have no regard for people and how they feel do you?” you asked slowly and meticulously. 

“Prongs, just apologize and lets go..” Remus said quickly.

“I- I didn’t realize it would be that big of a deal.” James tried to say to you, but it was no use because you had already dragged Lily and Marlene out the common room and to the library to re-start your assignment. 

“Oh, COME ON! I did not” James stated jokingly.

“Darling, you must certainly did, I barley passed that essay as well. I blame you for me getting an E in that class.” You replied giggling.

“Moooommmyyy! Story, get back to the story,” Your son said dramatically, grabbing your cheeks and turning to face him for extra effect.

Hearing a chuckling from James in the background, “Alright bubs, back to the the story”

January 23, 1976

After months of back and forth between you and James, he was fed up trying to get your attention. From roses to chocolate, to even a firework show in your honor, James believed he had done everything to apologize to you for his stupid prank and prove his affection.

Tired of his friends constant whining, Remus and Sirius decided to take matters into their own hands and talk to someone who knew you better than anyone else, Lily and Marlene.

“Oh Evans, Mckinnon, we are in grave need of your beautiful minds” Sirius flirted. Remus smacked him across the head adding, “Ignore the git, we need some help its about-”

“James?” Lily and Marlene said in unison.

“Yeah...how did you know” Remus questioned. “Are we gonna ignore the fact they spoke at the same time” Sirius said, once again receiving a blow from his friend.

Rolling her eyes, Lily remarked, “Well, Y/N has been complaining about him for months,” Marlene quickly interjected, “...and you never are without him so its an easy assumption. 

Now its was the boys turn to roll their eyes to the back of their heads. “Anyways, he will not shut up about getting her to forgive him... so we were wondering if you had anything that could work to get her to forgive him?” Remus pleaded with the best Sirius puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Fine,” Lily and Marlene said jointly.

“THEY DID IT AGAI- OH NOT YOU TOO AS WELL!” Sirius exclaimed rubbing the now sore bump on his head. 

Ignoring the dog’s dramatics, the group of four began conducting a plan for James that would knock Y/N’s socks off.

At this point, Harry had nestled between his parents and fell into a deep sleep.

The two of you put him to bed and settle down back into the living room.

Looking longingly at his wife, James says, “Well, might as well finish the story love... it is the best part.”

Giggling at the antics of your husband, you shrug and began to finish the story...

February 14, 1976 

The Great Hall looked as though Cupid had just went on a decorating rampage. The room lined with pink and red hearts and the sight of loving couples nearly made you want to gag. Then, you remembered the boy who has dying to get your attention for the past months and can not seem but to get excited.

What does he have planned for you? Is he gonna get me a gift? Do I look presentable? 

“WHAT!” you quickly think to yourself, “Why in Merlin’s name am I excited to to see Jame- Potter. Godric I can’t feel like this for him... He his as a fly that buzzes and will not leave me alone... but he is not the worst to look at”

You quickly snap out of your thoughts as Lily starts to put food onto your plate. You begin to eat, but can only think of one thing.

James Potter.

“Why?” You begin questioning again, “Godric, Y/N You like him... No I do not.. You realize you are having this whole conversation within your brain, right? It is obvious you like him...” you grumble to yourself as you realize your psyche has won once again.

Lily noticing your strange behavior begins to question if you discovered what they have planned. 

Almost as though the boys heard Lily’s thoughts the beginning of the plan is activated.

Instantly, the candles in all of the Great Hall extinguish and there is the beginning of a song plays.

Suddenly, a spotlight shines onto the teachers table where atop, James and the rest of the Marauders stand, Remus and Sirius with guitars and Peter on the drums. James holding a mic begins to sing...

When I wake up, Well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.

Your head snaps to the noise and there you see in all of his glory, James Potter holding a microphone staring straight at you.

When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along.

Quickly shoving the breakfast roll down your throat you nearly choke as you see the boy slowly make his way towards the front of the Gryffindor table.

When I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.

Your eyes widen comically when you see James Potter jump onto the Gryffindor table. 

And when I haver, hey I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's havering to you.

Slowly, the boy begins his walk across the table to where you sit. You try to make a run for it, but Lily and Marlene quickly grab your arms and anchor you down to the bench 

“What friends you are!” you hiss at the two.

Marlene just rolls her eyes and Lily pinches your hip.

And I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who rolls a thousand miles To fall down at your door

Once the boy is standing in front of you he reaches down for your hand. Stubbornly, you ignore his gesture, well until your two friends throw you up onto the table with the love struck brunette. 

When I come home well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you And when I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you.

You grip onto the boys biceps for stability and are forced to look into his ravishing hazel eyes...

In that moment you forget all that he has done to you in the past and all you can think about is him and you. 

But I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who roles a thousand miles To fall down at your door.

Smiling, to yourself, you grab the face of the boy in front of you and mold your lips together. Ignoring the cheers of your classmates, the only sounds you hear are the background noise of the boy’s best friends signing backup. 

Da da da  Da da da                                                                                                            Da Da Dun Diddle                                                                                            Un Diddle Un Diddle Uh Da Da.....

Smiling to yourself and grabbing the hand of the man you love you start laughing.

“What’s so funny, love?” James asks.

“Nothing.... Just we began dating because you performed a whole song and dance in front of the entirety of Hogwarts.” you reply breathlessly.

“Well, hey, look at us now... happy, healthy, and a true family.” he replies smiling at your antics.

You lay down your head into the lap of your husband, and look up into his hazel eyes you got lost into all those years ago, “Such a sap, Potter, such a sap...”

Kissing your cheek softly, “Only for you, my darling girl... only for you...” 

“I love you Jamie”

“I love you more, my love.”            ______________________________________________________________

AHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! IM SORRY IF IT IS SO BAD!! THIS IS MY FIRST FIC PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I COULD DO ANYTHING BETTER!!! AHHHH (but like kinda like this story... kinda proud ;))

[sparetimeimagines]

Needy | Light Yagami

Tags; smut, degradation, choking, virgin!reader

Hi I have another light request 🤦🏽‍♀️sorry I'm sorta having light brain rot and I can never find good light smut 😭🙏but basically I would like to request a light x reader smut where the reader is virgin and light shows her the ways yk, for kinks, degradation, edging and choking

“Wait, what?”

“Could you... you know...” Those large doe eyes full of innocence plead for his attention, though it was your small sweet voice that stopped him in his tracks.

“What?” He’s short, no patience for your dumb requests. Light rolls his eyes, collecting himself completely before turning into you. Your knees turn in, those eyes dropped to your hands, a mumble hardly audible passes your lips. “Speak up.”

“Well. Uh. You see, I...” you struggle to find the right words as he grows tired.

“What? What is it?” He growls. “Look at you. You’re such a horny mess you’re practically dripping.” He bites the inner part of his cheek. “Just spit it out.”

He waits, the scowl and furrowed brows already set in from the close call he just walked away from. His whole secret identity as Kira was almost up in flames as the clues came dangerously close to him.

“Can... you teach me how to...” you mumble.

Light loses his patience, tired of some mumbling virgin wasting his time. He turn away, the balls of his feet curving him to the door.

“Light, wait!” You yelp, grasping his arm, desperate for him to stop.

“God, what do you want? You’re so annoying.” Yanking his arm from your grasp, he blocks the exit. The burning inn your throat reeks of desire. You’ve never wanted something so much in your life. Would he be a token? To claim in as your first...

“I want you to sleep with me.”

“Why in the hell would I want to do that?” He’s taken back, a hand running through his hair.

“I.. I just thought... you have more experience and I-”

He’s irritable and unwilling to let you finish.

“Stop mumbling. If you have something to say then say it.”

Your eyes grow large at the bluntness of his voice. The tips of your fingers burn at the want to feel him. To feel his cock in between your legs at your tight hole. You need to feel him like no one else had.

“You like hard stuff and I want to do it too. With you... I want to do them with you.”

“You want me to tie you up?” He’s unamused.

You shyly nod looking at your feet as a cackle uproars from his chest. He eyes you down in disgust.

“You. You want me to treat you like a whore.” He rolls his eyes shaking his head.this has to be a joke.

Who’s setting him up?

“Y-yes.”

“Ok then.” He cocks his head, “Let’s go.”

“What? Right now?” Instant regret fills your veins whilst your heart furiously beats in your chest. There’s no turning back now.

He grabs your arm pulling you into the bedroom.

“Yes right now. Get on the bed.”

“Right now?” Maybe you’re asking for too much. Someone like Light... he could hurt you.

“Did I stutter?” He push you down onto the bed, throwing his things down on the floor.

He will destroy you.

Without missing a beat, he rips apart your legs crawling in between them.

Light’s hand clutches your throat, pinning you directly into the mattress.

Your body stiffens at the surprise, breath catching sharply in your chest. He feels the hard swallow pulse under his palm and smirks.

“I can’t teach you these things, stupid girl.” He pulls your shirt over your breasts, “however I can show you.” Light gropes your breast, pulling your nipple out, them hardening at the instant exposure. “Take notes, I have no intentions of slowing down for your virgin ass.”

He twists your erect nipple in between his fingers, smacking the countered one with a fresh red mark.

“You’re so damn desperate to be touched. I bet you’re soaking yourself at the thought of my cock popping that sweet cherry.” His lips replace his fingers around your nub as he moves down your body. “Never been touched. Yeah I bet you stay up thinking of my fingers around your throat.”

He scoffs, biting your breast, forcing your mouth open to gasp, he rushes his fingers into your wet hole.

“Was this how you pictured losing your virginity? Being treated like a whore... of course you have. I see the way you watch Misa. You’re so jealous... pathetic.”

His fingers touch the back of your throat leaving you gagging, tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Can’t take it?” Light releases his hand, smearing your spit across your face. “Too bad.”

His fingers hook your bottoms completely disposing of them, his knee kissing your wet heat.

“Look at you. I HAVE NOT TOUCHED YOU! Why are you soaked? You’re disgusting.”

The heat presses your cheeks in embarrassment. You’re a vile creature. You should be grateful to even be in his presence. Your mouth is replaced by your sobbing cunt, he aggressively petting you through your panties. Your swollen clit is tender through the fabric.

Needy hips arch against his body, leaving him laughing at your state in mockery. How can you be so pathetic. To think you’ve spent time fantasizing of him touching you...

He sits up to catch an eye at the situation shaking his head.

Your hair messy, lips fucked out, tears already leaking. Breasts exposed, your tummy and hips untouched while your cunt is sobbing for attention.

“You asked for it...” he shrugs tugging on your demised panties no longer having purpose.

Your body exposed in front of him, you attempt to shield yourself in shame.

“Nuh uh uh. Spread em.” He shakes his hand in disapproval. “Can’t be modest now. You wanted this.”

His hand cups your swollen pussy, instant gratification making your body squirm.

“Don’t you move, dammit. Not while I’m using that tiny little hole.” His finger dips wet against your heat. “Tell me what you want.”

Your mouth is left ajar, jaw quivering to his touch, those bold fingers leaving you stretching beyond anything before.

“You’re so tight.” He hisses only one finger into your entrance, pumping past your desires, those pretty eyes of yours rolling into your skull. “Look at me. I’m doing your sleazy ass a favor.” He slaps your cunt, that hand gripping your jaw, forcing your attention on him.

“Such a rude girl. So ungrateful.”

Light unzips his pants letting his hard cock free.

“Think he’ll fit?” He pumps his cock, each vein and curve brushing against his wet fingers. “Let’s find out.”

He brushes the head between your folds as a warning before stretching your poor holes to your max, leaving you breathless.

“Oh... oh-“ you’re unable to find worth. “Tight. Ow.. ow fuck. You’re hurting me.”

“You’ll be ok.” He slowly thrusts into your body showing the smallest about of mercy.

He watches amazed by your folds stretched out. He didn’t believe your body was going to adapt to his thick cock.

He removes his cock inspecting the damage done.

“Hmph. You’re not a bleeder...” he observes his cock before showing it back inside earning a cry from those pink lips of yours. “Fuck you’re so tight. Needy virgin. Tell me how I feel.” He smirks, his head gripping your hair.

“T-tight.” You gasp not adjusting well. “You... ow, tight.”

The sounds of his hips smacking against yours is exhilarating knowing he’s the first one to make you cry out like that. He’s panting at the mete fact that he’s destroying your innocence. He’s getting off to the fact that you’re giving him your virginity.

He’s after the fact that he has destroyed you for anyone after.

“Stupid virgin. Cant even form sentences.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re so stupid. I’m fucking you raw right now and there’s nothing you can do about it. If I wanted to ruin you forever and put a baby inside you because I want to, I can. I can make it where no one will ever want to touch you again.”

He smothers his finger against your clit, the over stimulation far too much for your first time.

“You belong to me.” He smirks, his face showing a glint of possession. “This pussy belongs to me.”

His thrusts are restless, no afterthought to make you feel good. “You’re so pathetic.” He grips your legs holding them apart. “Hell. You’re desperate ass probably loves this. Yeah, you like to be used like a whore. Tell me.” He admires your swollen red cunt with his cock stuffing you. “How does my cock feel knowing I’m about to fill you with my seed?”

He thrusts slowly, his hand running up your leg.

“You. Your too much. Too much, Light.”

“Aww. Too bad.” He bottoms his cock into your cervix, letting you yelp as his cock twitches his white cum along your walls.

“Ruined. You’re ruined.” He pulls out jerking his cock, allowing the remaining cum fall on to his new fuck toy, you. “No one else is going to want you after this. I think I’ll keep you.” He climbs off you, cupping your swollen heat with overstimulation towards your clit.

Your hips buck at him and he soaks in your crying sobs.

“Take it. Love it. You wanted this job, now do it. Be the fucking hole you are.” He lets go of you. “Now get off my bed and clean yourself up.” He rolls his eyes fixing himself. “I’ll expect more from you next time.”

Tag List:

@comradedani

@darkrose33

[babiekeiji]

IF REQUESTS ARE OPEN MAY I REQUEST TSUKISHIKA OVERSTIMULATING U BC HES A SADISTIC KINKY ASS BITCH

Stronger Than - Tsukishima Kei 

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

synopsis: you swear you are stronger than your emotions; but maybe not so when you’re around tsukishima kei. 

warnings: nsfw! includes vaginal fingering, overstimulation, choking, some sorta mutual masturbation :) 

a/n: i wanted to give tsukishima stans more content, so here you go! have fun

--- 

You’ve always been confident in your resilience to temptation, as well as your concentration towards any task given to you. You’ve never been the person to slack off with work, nor have you been the type to let your emotions get the best of you—for almost all of your life, you have learned not to get your heart too over your head. 

You swear you are stronger than your emotions, but maybe not so when you’re around Tsukishima Kei. 

Especially not when he has his long fingers knuckles-deep into you. 

It’s prom night, and as class president and the overall head of the prom committee, there was no escaping your attendance; so you show up as decent as you think you can, in an outfit you’re comfortable in enough. Everyone is having a good time, and so are you and Tsukishima Kei; even if you are both cramped inside of the venue’s storage room. 

“A-ah,” you whimper as Kei hits a particular spot within you that has the hairs on your arms raising. “Tsukishima—!” 

“Hah,” He scoffs, “Are you that weak for me already? It hasn’t been three minutes and you’re almost putty in my hands, baby.”

“Shut up,” you say in a breathy voice, “I’m not putty.” 

“Are you, now?” 

Tsukishima starts to move his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace, his thumb rubbing slow circles onto your clit; and though it does feel amazing, you can’t help but want his fingers to move inside you faster, deeper, harder. You whine again and throw your head onto his shoulder, feeling your knees start to buckle at the sensation of his fingers. Tsukishima laughs and holds you from behind, making sure to support you so you won’t fall. “Ah, yn,” He dips his head by yours to whisper into your ear, “All you have to do is ask me nicely to finger you properly, and I’ll have you coming in no time at all.” 

You want to come. You know that. You’ll do anything to come by Kei’s nice fingers.

But you decide to toy with him a little more, just to see how far he can go before he loses his mind. 

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m going to ask,” you breathe raggedly, “Fuck me like you mean it, Kei.”

His expression grows dark; you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker. 

Tsukishima Kei’s fingers move in and out of you rapidly now, and you can feel the orgasm that was once so out-of-reach slowly approach with every movement. “You want that?” He asks, voice almost megalomanic, and you can’t help but find him so fucking hot when he’s domineering. “You better be careful what you wish for, baby—this isn’t going to end well for you.” 

As Kei’s fingers continue their ministrations in and against you, he manages to wrap his free hand around your throat, constricting your airways. Tsukishima places one of his legs in the middle of yours to keep you from buckling out underneath him. 

Kei leans down to kiss you with as much fervor as he has fingering you; his tongue now deep into the cavern of your mouth, kissing your teeth, sucking your tongue, biting your lip—he’s doing everything he’s able to, and has you coming for the first time that night. 

“Kei!” you scream, and Tsukishima places his hand above your mouth to keep your moans muffled. “Mmf, Kei, Kei—!” 

He takes his hand away from your mouth and starts palming himself through the fabric of his dress pants, “As annoying as you can be, you look extremely hot when you make that face of yours; you mind making it for me again?” 

What? 

You realize only then what he means; you realize too late that his fingers are still inside of you, and that now he’s moving them impossibly fast, faster than the pace he was going before. He wants me to cum again, you think, and you’re sure you can’t think anymore because all of the sensations are all so heightened by your first orgasm, you’re not sure you’ll be able to cum again. He already has my cum on his fingers—but he wants me to cum on them again? 

“Oh baby,” he asks through ragged breaths, his one free hand now trying to undo his belt, “You finally want to admit that you’re practically weak at the knees just because of me?” 

You decide that now isn’t a good time to be a brat; though you do love how rough Tsukishima gets on you, you’d also love to orgasm again. “Yeah,” you admit, clutching his arms for support. “Only you do this to me, Tsukishima,” you cup his face, bringing him closer to you; close enough that you feel his breath on your skin, close enough that you feel the heat that he gives off, “Only you.”

Tsukishima starts to kiss you, and for once, your head’s finally aligned itself with your heart—you want Tsukishima Kei. You want him the way he wants you. You can’t help but take note of the blush that starts to creep up to the tips of your ears as Tsukishima moans against your mouth. “Fuck,” he curses, and the speed of his fingers coming in and out of you hastens, bringing you to moan as well. 

A few moments later and Tsukishima finally has you moaning in his clutch, nothing on your mind except how good it feels to have his fingers inside of you, all while he plants kisses all over your neck and face. He comes alongside you, and rests his head on your shoulder. You take initiative to card your fingers through his blond locks as you both take a minute to rest. 

“So,” he pulls his head back, the signature Tsukishima-shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he asks, “Dinner tomorrow at seven?” 

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Want to be on the tag list?: Tag list form

A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!

Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: on chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)

Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.

----------------

PRESENT

----------------

Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.

When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.

November, 2018

They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,

“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.

“No, why?”

“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.

“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”

“What did you do?” Elias was curious.

“Oh, I broke his face”

Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”

“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Yeah so anyways-“

Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.

_______

Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.

Dice and ice (February)  2019:

Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock. 

He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.

Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.

“Petey!” Brock shouted. 

Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock. 

“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.

A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion. 

Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night. 

“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you. 

“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”

Elias nodded and looked back at her.

She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.

“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”

She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”

He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.

Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.

Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.

“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.

“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.

As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.

“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.

“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”

Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”

“Wait, so she’s moving here?”

“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.

Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.

The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her. 

“You doing ok?” he asked.

“That obvious?”

He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”

That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”

“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.

“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”

There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.” 

She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”

The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-

Oh shit, what is he doing?

He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.

That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”

“Jackass,” she quipped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.

“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.

He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.

Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed.  He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.

So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.

----------------

PRESENT

----------------

As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.

-----------------------------------

❗️To be notified when new chapters are posted, add yourself to the taglist❗️: taglist form (click on link)

Taglist: @calgarycanuck @suffering-canucks-fan @all-time-fanatic @callllumhood @prettyboycozens @predshockeyfan @mellany1997 @2manytabsopen @lmao-i-only-know-hockey @peachyotps @yourlocalgranolagirl54 @fitnessfreak498

CREDIT: proof readers 🥰 @siriushxney @iateyourdonuts @petey-patty @hufflepuff-girlx @cherrylita @quinnsbxtch @immmbabyyygraceee 💕 and my BAAAABEEE @imagines-r-s

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 3

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNINGS: slight angst?, gross/cringy couple, language

A/N: Hyunae is a normal person guys 🤭

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jisung froze in place, his eyes wide. He hadn’t even said a word and you were already angry with him? He didn’t even know how you could tell it was him—your back was turned and you were staring intently down at your laptop. And he certainly hadn’t expected you to snap at him when he finally found you tucked away in the library.

“Huh?”

“If you plan on bothering me while I’m studying, I will not hesitate to throw my laptop at your head.” You threatened, not once taking your eyes off your notes.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Jisung defended, suddenly ready to block any flying objects from hitting his head. “I just got here!”

You turned your head to send a quick glare to him, just to make sure he knew you weren’t happy with him, before resuming your typing.

To say you weren’t happy with how your little dinner went the other day, would’ve been an understatement. You were currently giving the silent treatment to three of the five people who were at the table and even though you really had no reason to be mad at Jisung, he pushed your buttons so you wanted him away. Unfortunately, it seemed that you had grown a parasite.

“Come on, Y/n. Seriously?” Jisung asked.

Your head shook, eyes rolling in dismissal.

“Yes. I’m—” you sighed, hand lifting to rub over your eyes. You were tired and your eyes hurt. What were you studying again? “I’m serious, you asshole. I need to get this shit done and over with.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

Even without looking at him you could tell he was pouting, his lip pulled up and brows furrowed.

“I didn’t do anything this time!” Jisung defended, rounding the table to look you in the eye. “Why’re you mad at me?”

He sounded so much like a scolded child, it took everything in your being not to just grab your stuff and leave. Though, as tempting as the thought was, he’d probably just follow you and you’d be right back at the start.

“You’re annoying.” You answered simply.

He stood there for a moment, watching you with too much intensity for your liking. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, his eyebrows slowly forming into a frown as the seconds tick by. It was unnerving to say the least.

But finally, Jisung sighed, reaching over to shut your laptop.

You gawked at his blatant disregard of your words.

“I—” You stammered, reaching out to grab his wrist in whatever attempt you were making to stop his disruptive behavior. “You can’t—!”

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked, freezing you in your spot.

When… did you eat last?

He waited for your protests and whines but none came, there was just a big puff of the last bit of your resilience. Jisung rolled his eyes fondly, his way of silently saying, “yeah, exactly”. So he continued onward, pulling your chair out and sliding your laptop into your bag.

“Let’s go.” He droned, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of your chair.

You released a small groan in defiance but it was short-lived as Jisung maneuvered your head to rest on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapping securely around your waist to keep you from going limp.

It hasn’t been the first time he had to drag you away from the library, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. You were too stubborn for your own good.

You sighed, finally just slipping into the warmth of Jisung’s shoulder. “You don’t have to baby me, you know.”

You felt Jisung’s body shake in a silent chuckle.

“I know. But I want to.”

You had always felt strange whenever Jisung took care of you. It wasn’t like Minho, who was your actual brother. Your relationship with Jisung was something that felt both artificial and natural all at the same time. He felt obligated to help you just as Minho did, but that only made things between the two of you feel fake. Though you knew he sincerely cared about your wellbeing.

If only he would stop trying to fit into that mould that Minho built around himself. Maybe then Jisung and you could be really good friends. But that would never happen while he was trying to compensate and prove whatever it was that he was trying to prove to whoever he was trying to prove it to.

Maybe after that he could be more than your brother's best friend.

“Lix is going to punch me if I miss our lunch again.” You huffed into the fabric of his... sweater?

When did he start wearing those?

Jisung patted your arm, “Well, he won’t be punching you today. You need to eat.”

Your eyebrow raised as you shifted enough to look at him.

“And you’re going to carry me the whole way?”

“Of course.” He nodded without a second thought, a proud smile on his face. “Where are we going?”

Jisung could be really cute sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at that realization. He thrived off of making other people feel good, and when he succeeded, he got giddy.

You struggled to pull your phone from your back pocket, scrolling through all the messages you and Felix sent that morning. You hummed, “Felix said we were going to Haven.”

Exiting the library, Jisung groaned, “Again? We just went yesterday.”

You shrugged against him. “He has a soft spot for Jeongin.”

Finally reaching the chilly air waiting outside of the university building, you cursed under your breath. No matter how many layers you threw on, the autumn wind was always there to seep through them, nipping at your sensitive skin. The leaves were finally changing, which was beautiful, but you couldn’t really appreciate their beauty when the wind and rain whipped them off their branches.

It was a little like college; no matter how pretty or vibrant you were, the whirlwind of work and studying always threw you around enough to knock you off that pedestal. Until you were bare and ready for summer to come again so you could recharge.

The cycle was a bitch.

Jisung sighed with you, his eyes gazing out at the pretty leaves as well. Gradually he adjusted you enough so he was able to slip his arm from your waist and then sliding it over your shoulders. The extra padding if his sweater was nice against your cheek, bringing just a little bit of warmth.

He peaked at you in the corner of his eye, looking forward again to avoid being caught in the action.

“Do you want to take the bus? It’ll take a little longer, but at least we won’t blow away.” He suggested with a small snicker as his bangs whipped around his eyes.

You considered it, hands finding warmth in the fabric of his grey pullover.

“Sure, but it’ll probably be packed since everyone is getting out of class.”

He looked to be weighing the options in his head, but suddenly he was at a standstill, his once-limp arm going completely stiff around you.

“Ji?” A delicate voice rang, followed by a small laugh. “I called you twice, baby. Where were you?”

Ew, you frowned, what a movie moment.

Hyunae stopped in front of you, her tawny locks swinging in a pretty braid at her ribs and her thick sweatshirt hanging loosely down around her thighs. You knew it was Jisung’s—you had seen him wearing it before. Hell, you’d seen Minho wearing it.

She wasn’t in anything extravagant or flashy, but with her honest eyes and round cheeks, she didn’t have to be to stand out from everyone else in the world.

The moment her eyes made a sweep of Jisung’s frozen position, they flickered to you, her face slowly settling into something akin to a frown. It was a look that could make anyone feel sad, her face looked unnatural when sullen.

With a nudge from you, Jisung jumped to his girlfriend’s side, leaving you exposed to the chilling wind.

Boys were stupid, weren’t they?

“Sorry, angel—”

Oh, gag.

“—Y/n stuffed herself in the library. Someone had to pull her out for some air.”

He smiled down at her, unconsciously maneuvering his body in the way of the violent wind, shielding her small frame.

She nodded slowly, again looking over towards you.

“Okay. But Ji,” she paused, grabbing his hand to gain his attention. “You know how I feel about you being affectionate towards other people, right…?”

Jealous, insecure, though not completely irrational—

Jisung bent closer to her, lips curled apologetically. “I know, baby. I’m sorry, but it’s like second nature with Y/n! She’s like a baby sister, you know that.”

Hyunae sighed. She was ready to spout out more choice words, but with a small smile, Jisung began to pepper her face with quick kisses, bringing a melodic giggle to her lips.

They seriously couldn’t have forgotten about you. You were standing three feet away from them.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, finding the flying leaves much more interesting than the display in front of you. The giggling stopped and things suddenly felt much more uncomfortable.

“I’m going to head over to Haven, okay?” You asked, ready to speed-walk as far away from their little reunion as you possibly could.

Hyunae places a chaste kiss to Jisung’s mouth before grabbing his hand and hooking it around her waist. She patted his stomach, fluttering her long lashes up at him, “I could go for something to eat. Can I tag along?”

Your nose scrunched up in distaste.

She had to be laying it on thick on purpose. You had seen the two of them together before and sure, they were a lovey-dovey couple, but did she have to look up at Jisung like he had hung the stars in the sky?

Jisung wasn’t any better, his cheeks a nice rosy color, and his hands touching all the little curves of her waist.

Every moment you were within range of Hyunae, you were ignored. She wasn’t outwardly an attention seeker, but just her being there called everyone’s eyes. Not that you wanted to be the center of attention necessarily, it only bothered you when you spoke out and were completely brushed off. Your words going in one ear and out the other with both Hyunae and Jisung, it was frustrating.

They were always in their own little world, and you couldn’t have been the only one who didn’t want to be there to witness it.

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded obediently. “Of course you can, sunshine.”

Well, if you hadn’t been hungry before, you definitely weren’t now.

You deadpanned, spinning on your heel, “Great. I’ll be on the bus then.”

“We’re definitely going on the bus though. Your pants look too thin to be walking around in this weather.”

Hyunae giggled at her boyfriend’s words.

Maybe you could lose them and take the next bus back to your dorm.

You weren’t being petty—no one liked being ignored. That was a fact. Stepping up to the campus bus stop, the last of the crowd was piling into the bright blue vehicle, and you released a relieved sigh. The last thing you wanted to do was sit and wait for ten minutes while Jisung and Hyunae cooed and pinched each other’s cheeks.

Your relief proved to be in vain, however, as you slid into the last remaining seat, only to be followed by the couple. They stood directly in front of you, their shadow casting down and becoming the only thing you could see.

Never had you thought that you would be able to feel your stomach flipping upside-down inside of you as Hyunae pulled Jisung down into a kiss in front of everyone in the crowded bus. Would you really be committing a crime if you threw them out the window? Could it be considered a public service?

“Baby, stop! There are people here…”

Seriously, what kind of sadistic soap opera were you living in?

You had thrown yourself out of your seat the moment the bus crawled to a stop. It was a good thing the diner was the first stop or else you probably would’ve walked the rest of the way and risked being caught in the wind. Even then it would’ve been better than sitting and pretending not to see the cuddling happening a foot away.

You were going to order a cup of coffee and leave with a stomachache—that was your plan.

Maybe Minho would be home and you would be able to slide into his bed and beg for him to cuddle you. Not that there was a particular reason why you were suddenly feeling needy and void of attention, Minho was just kind of squishy and made a good pillow on occasions where you had to force yourself to sleep before you attempted to squeeze more studying in.

“It took you long enough to get here.” Felix called as you slid into the seat beside him, waving off the confused look he sent you. You simply motioned towards the smiling couple and watched as your best friend’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”

You deadpanned, “Quick, kill me before they get here. We can both get out of this.”

“No way, you get the easy way out. I’m here stuck with murder.”

You patted his shoulder sympathetically, the sides of your mouth finally twitching at the corners.

“Trust me, jail for life is better than five minutes around these two.”

“You’re being dramatic. Let the young couple be gross.” Felix said as he nudged at your arm.

“Screw you and your dumb romantic heart. To normal people this is bordering on public indecency.”

Felix’s lip curled at the side as the two sat down on the other side of the table, Hyunae grabbed one menu for the both of them and opened it to discuss amongst themselves and they had to be covering every single disgusting couple trope out there. No matter how many times you witnessed it, it would always surprise you as to just how much you wanted to throw up.

But it was when Felix mouthed the word “jealous” did you determine that your day was just going to be shitty and you couldn’t do anything about it anymore.

“Did you order yet, Lix?” Jisung chimed, his voice almost sounding brighter than it had before. Did Hyunae really affect him that much?

“No. I was waiting for Y/n to get here.” He shrugged, holding up his own menu.

Hyunae looked up, her eyes shining with worry.

Gross.

“I hope we didn’t intrude or anything.”

Who even said “intrude” anymore?

Felix shook his head. “You’re fine. Y/n is usually a bummer to eat with anyway.”

Hyunae glanced your way before chuckling, shaking her head as she refocused back on Jisung who was desperately trying to show her something on the laminated sheet in front of them. He was actually a child.

Who got excited about menus? He ordered the same thing every time he ate at Haven, what was there to be excited about?

“What can I get you guys?”

Jeongin’s smile just barely lifted your mood, and you were grateful.

Felix set his menu down, “I’ll just have a Coke, and I wanted to know if I could order off the dinner list?”

And with that question, your mood was immediately diminished. You frowned, sending Felix a look similar to disgust.

What kind of day were you having?

“Can even be considered dinner? It’s four o’clock, who eats dinner at four in the afternoon?”

“It’s called the early bird special, you disrespectful baby. Old people do this shit all the time.” Felix pointed, sliding his menu across the table to Jeongin.

“Sorry that I don’t know the routine of old people, Felix.”

Jisung frowned, his eyes trying to catch yours to assess what was wrong, but you were too busy ripping up what was left of Felix’s napkin. Though, Hyunae noticed where Jisung’s gaze was lingering, and slid her fingers through his.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” Hyunae asked, voice lit with the intention of lightening the mood. “You seem a little grumpy today.”

But you saw nothing humorous in her comment. You bit your tongue, hard enough to taste the faintest of copper.

“A coffee.”

“Just—?”

“Just a coffee, Jeongin.”

The table went tense at the way your voice rose, Jeongin moving quickly to jot down your simple request, no longer looking up from his notepad. You would’ve felt bad had you not been so frustrated with the turn out of the day.

Hyunae then cleared her throat, her brows raised in the smallest action of judgement. It was similar to the many looks she had shot at Hyunjin during one of their many heated arguments, and that was what you hated about Hyunae. Not only did she get on every one of your nerves by being the world’s best girlfriend, but she had the incredible ability to make you feel like you had done so much wrong just within the few seconds of her flashing that look.

“Okay, then. Me and Jisung will have—”

And her “Me and Jisung,” that was what made your stomach churn the most.

“Sorry, Jeongin.” You said, startling everyone, including the boy you addressed as you stood from the booth. “I’m not feeling very well. I have to go.”

“O-Okay. Feel better, Y/n.” Jeongin said, moving out of your way.

“Woah woah woah,” suddenly, Jisung was standing too, grabbing your arm before you could rush out the door. “Where are you going? You need to eat.”

For whatever reason, his words only infuriated you more, feeling your ears heat and muscles tense under his grip. Was that what it took to get his attention? You had to throw a fit before he gave you the time of day?

You ripped your arm from his hold, not even giving the table a second glance before spinning on your heel.

“Fuck off, Jisung.”

As you stormed off, throwing open the door and leaving with a huff, Jisung watched your retreating form with wide eyes. It was as if you had slapped him, mouth gaping and brows furrowed in confusion.

Felix sighed, suddenly feeling bad for pushing your buttons in that ordeal. “She’s tired.” He concluded, slouching in his seat.

“I’ll say…” Hyunae quipped.

And for whatever reason that was, Jisung really wanted to snap at her, to defend you and tell her to quit being a bitch. But his voice was lost as he looked down at her, only able to muster up a silent scoff as he sat back down. He didn’t even push away her hand when it reached for his.

What perfect timing to realize that he was afraid of his own girlfriend.

He was such an asshole.

Both your and Jisung’s thoughts were very similar at that moment.

And how you could go from leaning your head against Jisung’s warm shoulder to wanting to rip his head off was unbeknownst to you.

You had to leave in that moment, if you hadn’t you didn’t know what you would’ve said… or screamed. You were just so frustrated and so tired, convincing yourself that no, you did not want to cry in front of everyone who was enjoying their early bird special.

There was school, all your homework creating a permanent dent in your life filled with papers and essays and tests, and there was Minho there to nag at you and chase away any boy that gave you the time of day. They had always been in your life. But now there was Jisung and Chan, new emotions and problems to throw into the mix. With everything going on, it was difficult to keep up, and you actually missed the moments when it was just Minho there to tuck you under his arm and lecture you about boys.

In your thoughts, you never even noticed how you completely walked past the bus stop and had come up to a quiet playground on the edge of campus. How you had managed to walk that far, you didn’t know. Perhaps it was all the pent up stress that just had you zoning out and walking, or your body was subconsciously trying to get you kidnapped so you didn’t have to deal with your problems anymore.

You were feeling a bit better, so either way, it worked.

Finally, you found your legs carrying you to one of the swings, the black seat reminiscent of your childhood where you would always burn the backs of your legs in your hurry to get there before everyone else. That black rubber always got so damn hot.

With a small smile, you sat down, almost disappointed to feel the coolness against your jeans.

Your legs of course bent awkwardly under you, you weren’t a kid anymore unfortunately, and it was pretty strange to push off on something that you had forgotten entirely about but had thought so highly of before. Despite it being strange, it felt nice, and you were thankful that the wind was dying down as it was getting later in the day, the sun making its way towards the ground in front of you.

Rocking yourself in the swing you reached back for your phone. You wanted to apologize to Felix for storming off and probably worrying him, he was sort of your mother in that way. But you weren’t really ready to squeeze back into reality like that, so you called someone else.

“Y/n? What’s up?”

You felt your lips quirk up.

“Nothing much. What about you?”

The man on the other line hummed, the faint sound of typing just barely made out. “This song isn’t fitting together and I kind of want to scream, so I’m doing pretty good.”

“I think I’m doing pretty good then too.”

You rested your head against the chain of the swing.

“Did something happen?”

You made a sound that could be read similarly to “yes, but I think I’ll sound stupid if I tell you”, but it successfully pulled a laugh from him, so it was worth it.

“I don’t think you want to listen to my woes.”

“I always want to listen to your woes.”

His tone was joking, but his words were genuine, you could tell.

And finally, you were smiling, as difficult as it had been all day, you were able to while talking to him. There was no Jisung, no Hyunae, no judgment. You could talk to him without worrying, and you knew that for sure.

“And I want to throw up because of how cheesy that was.” You retorted, using the same joking tone he had spoken in.

There was the sound of shifting, and ruffles of fabric—as if he had just stood from his desk and fell back onto his bed.

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m already feeling bad about my song. Now tell me about your day so I can feel better about mine.”

You snorted, pushing yourself off on the swing once more.

“Okay, Chan. Whatever you say.”

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

10. Is something wrong?" And 11. “Is there anything I can do to help?” For boggie or rebuke

hey you know how i just sent you the mystery rebuke fic? yeah it turns out it was your ask that prompted it. anyway here you go apparently all i can write is rebuke cuddles on the studio couch.

you're the swimmer with pockets of stones | rebuke | G | 2.3k

ao3 link in reblogs!

--

Bobby doesn't mean to let it show during practice. Usually, he's pretty good at keeping all this stuff under the surface, smoothed and hidden, layered over with a mixture of standoffishness and charm that tends to turn people in the other direction than whatever's going on for him internally.

Concerningly, he might be getting close enough to the boys that they can start to tell. This wasn't his intention, initially — the music thing has always been about gaining a reputation, some sort of following, maybe getting famous one day, and he really does believe in the music Luke Patterson writes, thinks it could really get them somewhere. But he didn't necessarily intend to get to know the members of the band like he has. Didn't expect for one of them to move into his studio, for sure,

It's not like he wasn't intending on getting to know them at all . It's just that he didn't anticipate how quickly Reggie would tilt his head, narrow his eyes, and ask, "Is something wrong?" when Bobby misses his entry spot for the fourth time in a row.

"No," Bobby barks, and it's a little sharp. Alex and Luke both give him equally sharp glares back. They all know they don't talk to Reggie like that. Immediately, Bobby amends, "Sorry, Reg. Just scattered today. Not your fault."

Not your fault . The mantra of apologising to Reggie. Swallowing and trying to take it on board (Bobby can see it, can see Reggie telling himself that it's okay, that Bobby didn't mean it, that not everything is his fault, that's why they always remind him, that everything's okay, over and over, because all these things show very easily on Reggie's face when you know where to look for them and how to read them) Reggie says lightly, "Yeah, no worries."

"We can try something else?" Alex suggests carefully, tone still crystal in a way that lets Bobby know he’s fucked up but Alex is choosing to let it slide. "Luke said he wanted to go over Long Weekend again before the gig on Friday."

"That's a good idea," Luke agrees. "We're more familiar with that one and besides, I just sorta wanted to see how this new song sounds out loud. We won't have it ready for Friday."

They totally could have it ready for Friday. Bobby knows he's being the weak link here.

So he tries extra hard for Long Weekend . Really does his best to nail all the timing, all the pitch, throws in a few improvisational notes just to make Luke grin over at him, delighted and surprised, because Luke might seem like a control freak but he actually loves to collaborate more than anything else in the world.

It just sucks that the rest of the rehearsal can't go as well as that does. Bobby fades in and out, his eyes scramble the music on the page, and before he knows it, Luke is calling things off, saying they can catch up tomorrow, that this isn't going to work itself out tonight, clearly .

It stings a little, but Luke's not wrong. Bobby, master of keeping his face neutral, can barely keep his eyes open even though he knows they're lying to him, even though he knows that he's going to be stuck wide awake the moment he lays his head back against anything and tries to sleep, because that's how it's been for weeks now.

The Mercers never let Alex stay over any more, not since he came out (and it sucks, and Bobby kinda hates them even though he and Alex aren’t all that close), so he packs up his sticks and the homework books he'd left scattered in the corner ready to head home. Alex says his goodbyes mostly like normal, though his eyes linger on Bobby, narrow and a little too insightful for Bobby’s liking.

Bobby replies, and to his own ears he sounds pretty normal, which is why he doesn't understand when Reggie and Luke exchange glances over the top of Bobby's head as soon as Alex is gone.

“What’s gotten into you, man?” Luke asks, ditching his guitar in favour of sitting cross-legged on top of the table in the centre of the room, across from where Bobby sits on the couch. “You’ve been acting kinda weird for a while, but this is a new level of weird.”

“I’m fine,” Bobby grits out. He feels cornered, the way that Luke is sitting there, and Reggie’s hovering awkwardly between Bobby and the door, hands behind his head, probably stretching out his fingers if Bobby knows him well enough, which he does.

How did he end up knowing them so well? And why are they pushing so hard to find out what’s going on with him? He hates this conversation. He wants it to be over.

He wants to sleep.

“Dude,” says Reggie quietly, “you weren’t acting like yourself at all today. Like, yourself is always a little weird,” he says, like a joke, but he looks a little scared, like he might be stepping over the line. But it’s Reggie, so Bobby allows it.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to us about it,” adds Luke hopefully. “We’re your friends.”

“Right,” Bobby says, rubbing his eyes, “because you’re so honest with us about everything, is that it?”

“Well – hey, that doesn’t seem fair,” Reggie interrupts, tone a little protective. “We’re not talking about Luke right now. If we want to stage a Luke-tervention later, we can, but—”

“A what?” Luke says, baffled.

“Like an intervention,” Reggie explains, in an exasperated tone, like this really should be obvious, “but for you.”

“Oh,” says Luke, nodding like that actually did clear it up.

They’re idiots. Bobby wishes they weren’t making him smile. Maybe he’s just delirious. He listens to them banter for a few more minutes and feels himself slipping, feels the way the room is spinning a bit around him. Knows he won’t be able to sleep, feels it in the ache in his body, but it hurts anyway, how bad he wants it. How much he wants to be able to reach behind the veil and pull the sleep to him, pull it over him like a blanket.

His bandmates are suddenly on either side of him, like they’re ready to catch him if he falls, Reggie’s voice cautious as he says, “Bobby? You good, man? You looked woozy for a sec.”

"Tired," is all Bobby manages. His voice comes out a little strangled.

"Yeah," says Luke, in a sort of punched-out voice that makes Bobby think Luke understood more than Bobby meant him to. “We know.”

How do they know? Bobby hasn’t told them. He hasn’t told anyone. It’s just been him and his empty room and the ceiling staring back down at him for hours, until he gives up, gets up and switches the lights on and tries to read, tries to write music, tries to do anything. Though honestly, lately he’s been too tired even for that. Too exhausted and frantic to do anything but stare at the roof and wish it would fall on him and knock him out, send him down into the black lake of sleep where he so desperately wants to drown. But he hasn’t told Luke or Reggie about any of that.

"We want to help, man," Reggie continues, almost painfully earnest and sweet, "Is there anything we can do?"

Bobby shakes his head no before he's even let himself process Reggie's words, because help and Bobby are only things that go together when Bobby's doing the helping, not the other way around.

Without even opening his eyes, Bobby feels Luke push Bobby's arm up so Luke can snuggle up against his side, resting his cheek on Bobby's shoulder, stubborn and warm and soft. Seemingly following his initiative, Reggie loops himself around Bobby's other side, a little gangly but just as safe, tucking Bobby's head under his chin instead.

"Does this make it better?" Luke asks, in a small voice. Bobby feels his throat move, the vibrations of his voice. "Or, uh, or worse?"

Bobby goes to say neither, to say, it doesn't matter, to say, you guys will sleep better without me here taking up all this space . To say, I should go to my own room . But he doesn't say any of those things, because having them so close and warm around him is sorta making him want to cry, in a really weird, horrible, overflowing way, like he's a bathtub filling up with tears and they're reaching his throat, not too far from reaching his eyes.

"Better," Reggie decides for him. Takes the weight off his shoulders. "C'mon, Luke, let's go to bed. Bobby can just lie here until he feels better."

Luke makes an affirmative sound, pulls the blanket back up over the three of them, and Bobby feels like he's sinking deep in his own achy, exhausted body, like he's finally letting it overcome him, like suddenly instead of being the bathtub, he's just in one, and he's letting his head slip under the water, letting it engulf him. Reggie runs a hand through Bobby's hair, light and gentle, and Bobby sinks deeper. Luke wraps an arm around Bobby's stomach, fingers squeezing at Bobby's waist, and Bobby sinks deeper.

Instead of lying awake for hours until his eyes burn and his teeth ache, he's asleep without being sure when it happens.

—

When he wakes, Reggie and Luke pushed in on either side of him still, wrapped even more tightly than he remembers them being the night before, he feels unbelievably light, even with their weight pressing in all over him. He feels like his eyelids weigh ten pounds less than they did the day before, even as his body succumbs to being part of the couch cushions, even as a yawn pulls at the edge of his mouth and suggests to him that maybe, they try to sleep for just a few more minutes.

—

Bobby wakes again when the sun starts to spill in properly through the garage window at the back, illuminating the studio and casting their instruments into bright colours and dark shadowy relief across the floor. This time, he's only being restrained by all four of Luke's limbs, somehow, like their genius songwriter has decided to abandon his pursuit of music for the better pursuit of fully transforming into a koala bear. For a few moments, blinking and looking around, Bobby can't see Reggie anywhere.

It doesn't really alarm him, though. It's not like there's anyone else around, and Reggie's always been an earlier riser than him or Luke, more spritely than the rest of them. Luke’s still snoring, has drooled a tiny bit on Bobby’s t-shirt. Bobby should probably be more grossed-out by it than he is.

Before he can start to theorise about where, exactly, Reggie might have gone, he’s already returning, nudging the door open with his hip because his arms are full. He gives Bobby a big grin, as usual far too awake for the hour (Bobby doesn’t think he’s been that awake at any hour, recently).

“Aw, man. I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer, but… I brought us breakfast?”

Reggie must have gone up to the house, which means he probably would have had to talk to Bobby’s parents, at least his mom. Bobby’s stomach twists in embarrassment at the thought, not of Reggie, but of his mom, her scattered workaholic brain probably so far from being able to handle a conversation with a sweet kid like Reggie first thing in the morning. But still, Reggie’s carrying plates that have toast and jam, and he’s got a big bottle of orange juice, and he looks so proud of himself, like a little kid with a picture they want you to put on the fridge.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bobby says, his voice still hoarse from sleep, but sounding better than it did at any point yesterday. He must have gotten more sleep just last night than he did in the five nights beforehand.

“I know,” says Reggie brightly, setting the plates and bottle down on the table across from the pullout, “but that’s what friends are for, right?”

Huh. Friends. That’s one way to put it, Bobby guesses. In his head they’ve just been – bandmates, always, but – he guesses if Luke and Reggie are snuggling up to him overnight, hanging out at his place on days when they’re not doing music, if Reggie’s casually chatting to his mom –

Maybe they are friends.

He looks down at the toast. Reggie’s spread the jam almost neurotically evenly, but on one piece he’s drawn a wonky smiley face, with two circle eyes and a big stripe of jam in a curve that mirrors their band logo for the smile. It looks vaguely demented, but Reggie grins and points and says, “That one’s for you. So you’ll be in a better mood today.”

Luke yawns, stretches and wriggles, squishing Bobby a little bit in the process with his warm limbs. Bobby looks from one to the other, from Reggie’s face to Luke’s body curled up against him, and suddenly his stomach is full of something that’s a little more concerning than just the sense of being friends unexpectedly. Something different.

Bobby sighs a breath out quietly to try and shake off the feeling, and Reggie grins, like he gets something, which is nerve wracking until he says, “You don’t wanna move, right? I can feed you so you don’t have to get up!”

Honestly, Bobby would really rather Reggie didn’t, after the possibly concerning revelation he had moments ago, so he shoves Luke maybe a little harder than he needed to, ignores Luke’s startled yelp, even though it makes him want to laugh and the want to laugh makes the fluttery feeling come back to his stomach. Rather than laughing, or showing any of his feelings, Bobby just mutters, getoffme , and sits up to grab a piece of toast. He'll deal with everything else after breakfast.

(He takes the smiley face piece. He’s not a monster).

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later.

Intro: Steve and Katie have an unwelcome late night visitor…

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

W/C: 1.9k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: The first of two (yes, two) special 29th May Birthday One shots. Happy Birthday Tony! Man, I missed writing for these guys in this timeline! This fits into SSB within “I Told You I Said Yes”.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Steve...” Katie groaned, her head tilting backwards as Steve gave another deep thrust upwards, “right there... Jesus.”

“Good?” Steve panted as his hands grabbed her waist, finger tips digging into the flesh that covered her hipbones.

She nodded, grinding on him faster, his hands pulling her down making sure he hit as deep as he could.

Their soft, intimate sounds filled the room and, wanting to be as close to her as he could get, Steve sat up drawing a gasp from Katie as he did so. His hands moved to her back. One splayed half way up her spine, the other cupped the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her long, silky hair as he pulled her face to his. He kissed her, hard, his tongue dominating hers as he swallowed her moan, one that rumbled in her throat as if it came from the depths of her belly.

They’d already danced this tango once already that night. After a few beers with the team in anticipation of Tony’s birthday (minus Natasha as she was still on something Fury was running), they’d retired and gotten a little frisky some two hours prior. But then Steve had woken, his super sharp hearing alerting himself to some form of ransom noise deep in the floors below them and, well, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’d hugged Katie close.

Too close.

As ever he was unable to control his reactions to his girl and had ended up with a boner. Meaning she’d woken with him basically rutting up against her back, feigning innocence when she’d given him a grumble at the fact he’d dragged her from her slumber.

She hadn’t been grumbling for long.

“Stevie... I’m gonna...” Katie’s forehead pressed into his, her mouth open as her lips hovered over his, and he thrust upwards again, his nose brushing hers softly, like the touch of a butterfly.

“Let go. Doll,” he panted, actively fighting his own high, “cum for me.”

Her chest heaved, pert nipples brushing his bare skin and her movements stuttered. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, which cracked into a half grunt, half moan as she felt herself go, her body positively floating from her high.

By the time she came round, Steve had also finished, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he gathered his breath. Katie collapsed forward with a soft chuckle, her forehead pressing into his collar bone as he fell backwards, taking her with him.

They lay still for a moment, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as Steve pulled the bedding up around them. The smooth cotton brushing over her sensitive skin made Katie shudder a little. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his large hands running up and down her spine.

“Am I forgiven for waking you up?” He asked and she shrugged, not even bothering to try and find the strength to sit up. “It’s three AM. I’ll think about it.”

Steve chuckled and she sat up slightly, leaning down to give him a slow kiss.

“Love you.” she pulled back a little, her eyes shining in the dim light, and Steve smiled.

“Love you too.”

Fifteen minutes later they were both settled down and on the verge of sleep once more when a loud crashing in the apartment made them both sit bolt upright.

“What the...” Steve was out of bed in a flash, wrenching the door to their room open.

Katie was seconds behind him, stopping only to grab Steve’s shirt from the chair at the vanity. As she shrugged it on, she ran into the hallway and heard a familiar metallic whoosh. There was the squealing of metal on metal and Katie flicked on the light just in time to see a flash of blue, red and white as Steve’s shield flew back to his hand. He looked over to Katie as she stepped towards him, her mouth falling.

“Is that...” she glanced down at what looked like a version of one of Tony’s suits. It lay motionless on the floor in two pieces, Steve’s shield having severed it at the waist. The failing electrics sparked as the various boards and cogs died, before it fell silent.

Steve nudged it with his foot. It didn’t move. He turned to Katie, a frown on his handsome face.

“Did he tell you he was making them autonomous?”

“That’s nothing new, JARVIS has always been able to control them remotely.” Katie shook her head as she crouched down, her hand gently touching the helmet. She tried to move the face plate but it didn’t open. Rapping her knuckles on the skull, she was met with a solid sound, not the usual hollow echo.  “JARVIS?”

There was no reply.

“Why isn’t he answering?” Steve looked at her.

“Tony might have him down.” Katie answered. “He runs the updates at night some times. I do know one thing though.”

“What?” Steve asked as she stood up.

“That couldn’t have gotten in here without Tony letting it in one way or another.” She glanced at Steve, her pretty face full of annoyance. “Imma kill him, fucking idiot.”

She turned to leave and Steve gently caught her arm. “Honey...”

“Seriously? You want me to let this go?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his head, “I want you to wait for me to put some clothes on.”  

Despite herself, Katie grinned as her eyes scanned Steve’s naked body, his shield still on his arm. He rolled his eyes and nodded to the suit on the floor, “I’m going to give him his property back, along with a piece of my mind.” **** Tony spun round, his brow arching as Steve and Katie walked into the lab. But whatever smart quip he had been about to come out with died as he spotted what was slung over the super soldier’s broad shoulders. With a loud slam, Steve threw the two parts of the robot down on the desk.

“What did you do to it?” Tony moaned.

“Threw my shield at it.” Steve folded his arms over his chest, the sleeves of the white ribbed Tee he had shrugged on straining over his thick biceps.

Tony was that distracted by his destroyed robot that he failed to notice Katie stomping towards him. She drew her right fist back and punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow, Kiddo!”

“You dick!” She yelled. “What the hell were you doing sending that into our apartment?”

“Wanted to test your reaction to it.” Tony shrugged. “See how it came across.”

“How it ca- Tony, it’s half past 3 in the morning!” She shrieked.

“Exactly.” Tony scratched his beard. “Total element of surprise. I thought you guys would give me a base of how people would react to them. Can’t have been that well if Spangles felt the need to cut it in half with his frisbee.”

“We had no idea what or who it was.” Steve felt his anger beginning to rise, “what was I supposed to do?”

“I’ve told you before, big guy. Ask questions, throw shield later.” Tony shrugged, “I can’t believe you killed Iron Kid.”

“Iron Kid?” Katie blinked.

“Yeah, the name’s a working progress.”

“Tony, what is it?” Steve pressed.

“It’s a prototype.” Tony informed them. “I had the idea last week. The Avengers exploded after New York. You should see the piles of fan mail that the guys downstairs sort each day.”

“Less bragging, more explaining.” Katie narrowed her eyes.

“The point is, we attract attention. So I had a thought about something that could help keep the public at bay,” Tony gestured to the pile of metal, “we can use them to issue instructions, help aid the emergency services. Keep civilians out of the way.”

Katie and Steve looked at one another, and Steve hated to admit it but the idea made sense.

Sorta.

“Clearly I need to rethink a little.” Tony mused. “I mean if they freaked you out then...” “It freaked us out because it was in. our. apartment!” Katie groaned. “In the middle of the night.”

“That’s the point, it was supposed to have the element of surprise, wake you up.”

“Well there’s your first fuck up!” She hissed. “We were already awake-“

“Why?” Tony frowned

“Because we just finished a great, sweaty sex session.” She shot back and Steve groaned, feeling the heat in his neck as he looked down, his bare toes flexing against the cool floor of the lab. “And you wanna be grateful we had finished because if we hadn’t I’d be really, really mad. You get me?”

“That’s.. disgusting.” Tony wrinkled his nose.

“And you’re an asshole.” Katie shot back.

With a shudder, Tony moved and picked up a screwdriver. He turned the helmet up aside down and opened a small hatch at the back. Stooping slightly, he prodded and poked at something inside.

“Huh, least the main board wasn’t damaged.” He straightened up and turned to face them both. “So, other than scaring the shit out of you what was it like? Voice interface okay? Too much me or not enough me or-“

“There was no voice interface.” Steve replied.

“What?” Tony frowned, “JARVIS was supposed to be controlling it. It should have told you why it was there and-“

“Well he didn’t.” Steve rolled his eyes, his already stretched patience wearing dangerously thin.

“He didn’t...huh?” Tony frowned and Katie moved past him to a computer.

“Oh for the... he’s on mute you dumbass!” She tapped a few buttons and JARVIS’ voice rang out.

“Thank you Miss Stark.”

“Shit.” Tony gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, buddy. Forgot I turned you off.”

“Mr Stark, may I suggest you call it a night, Sir? It is rather late and you’ve been awake for almost twenty-one hours. Miss Potts instructed me to ensure you-“ “And that is precisely why I did.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie let out a growl of annoyance

“I’m done. Come on, Steve.”

She stalked towards the door and Tony looked up. “You not gonna wish me happy birthday?”

In response she raised the middle fingers on both her hands, flipping him off over her shoulders as she stomped out of the door.

Steve watched her go before she turned to Tony. “You know, I think you’re onto something. Keeping civilians away would make things a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Tony nodded, eagerly. “We’d need a fleet of them, an Iron Fleet, no that’s... like i said, the names a work in progress.”

“We can discuss this tomorrow. Give it some proper though.” Steve took a deep breath. “Just don’t send any more into the apartment, please?”

Tony saluted him and Steve rolled his eyes. He turned to go before he stopped, and looked back at his friend.

“Happy birthday, pal.”

Tony snorted. “Cheers, Spangles.”

Tony watched Steve walk out of the lab, before he glanced back at the destroyed robot.

“Mr Stark... Miss Potts is awake...”

“Ahh shit.” Tony groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I don’t think a Roman Legion would protect you.” JARVIS replied and Tony stilled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Iron Legion.” He tossed the screwdriver up in the air and caught it, chuckling. “JARVIS, you are a genius.”

“Why thank you, sir. And now I really must insist you go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m going. Lock everything down will you? Oh, and order us all breakfast from the diner on the corner of fifth.”

“Of course. The usual?”

“Yeah. Have it delivered about 10:30. Should be enough to calm Kiddo down.”

“Very wise Sir. I’ll ensure there’s extra bacon, just in case.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love extra bacon?”