#even if the conclusions it seemed to come to were all completely ass backwards

[lenin-it-to-win-it]

nothing like going to the tumblr tag for a book you just read out of curiosity and finding the authors HARD CORE vent posts like Instantly 

[tkaulitzlvr]

HEYYY sorry if this is kinda long but ur my fav writer so i trust u w writing this 🤞

Could you write smth where tom used to be a player but he started dating the reader and seemed really loyal, but they go to a party together, their first party as a couple and when the reader leaves to go buy drinks she comes back to find tom sitting down with a bunch of girls, it looks like he’s flirting with them. sooo the reader gets really upset and walks all the way home thinking he’s cheating already even after only dating for like a month. tom follows her home, trying to explain himself and he eventually explains that he wasn’t cheating, he was trying to get away from all the girls politely, but was kinda trapped. the reader forgives him and it ends in smut or fluff or whatever u want.

SORRY ITS SO SPECIFIC LMAOOO

WHAT IT SEEMS - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom has finally managed to settle down with you, discarding his womanising ways. but, you see something that makes you think otherwise, tom desperate to explain himself to you, certain that you have got the wrong idea.

content: angst + fluff

a/n: love this idea, thank u so much for the request i hope u enjoy !! this is lowk ass tho i’m so sorry😭😭

“we really don’t have to go schatz, i know you don’t like these sorts of places.” tom repeats, standing in the frame of the bathroom door as i apply my make-up in the mirror. “we can stay here instead, i’ll get some snacks from the store, just me and you?”

he tries to reason with me, knowing that i’ve never been a party person. i hated large groups of people, not understanding the buzz that people got from drinking unsafe amounts of alcohol and fucking some random, the idea literally my worst nightmare. i preferred to stay inside and watch a movie, or bake something, finding comfort in familiarity, never described as an extroverted person.

tom however, was the complete opposite. he was a party animal, ending up at a different club every night, with a different girl between the sheets after he left. that is why our relationship was so unexpected, but it seems that tom had changed. he settled down, spending less and less time out at a random bar, instead spending his nights with me, soon realising that the party scene wasn’t something i enjoyed. at first, i was hesitant to believe that he had changed his ways completely, but, a month into our relationship, he has given me no reason to not trust him, this the reason why i am deciding to finally give in and go to just one party, tom having missed out for so long. but he is clearly confused by my change of heart, trying to remind me that he is more than okay with not going, growing to enjoy quiet nights at home.

“tom i’m fine. you haven’t been to a party in forever.” i start, blinking rhythmically as i apply my mascara, before moving backwards away from the mirror and turning to face him. “besides, i can’t stay locked up here forever. i have to live a little.”

he tilts his head, still uncertain despite my clear lack of hesitation. his lips purse together as he walks towards me, resting his hands on my hips. i can tell that he is questioning it, part of him missing the parties that he used to go to. but the new and sensible part of him, the part that is more prominent now, silently reminds himself of how much he has grown to love spending time with me and only me, coming to the conclusion that parties were never as fun as he had sometimes made them out to be, much preferring my company to getting shitfaced in some random club.

“there’s other ways to have fun besides getting wasted all the time. i like that about you. you don’t have to be drunk to have fun.” he says, kissing my forehead softly.

“i want to go.” i state, looking upwards at him, my eyes wide as i attempt to convince him to calm down a little.

“are you sure baby? i don’t want to force you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with. you know i’d hate myself if you got there and didn’t like it. i’d much rather we-”

i cut him off by pressing my lips against his, sealing his over dramatic rambling with a short kiss. “i’ll be fine, okay?” i reassure him, my forehead against his.

he lets out a small smile, sighing heaving before speaking. “fine, get ready. but if you don’t like it, we’re leaving straight away. deal?”

i roll my eyes at his protectiveness, my heart melting at how much he cares. though it is a little frustrating, i can’t be mad at him, nodding my head slowly as a chuckle leaves my lips, my body turning back towards the mirror as i finish applying my make-up, my small crop top and tight skirt already on. tom walks behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, letting his hands rest on my stomach, before resting his head in my neck, planting gentle kisses there as i finish the rest of my makeup, small giggles leaving my mouth when his lips touch a sensitive spot on my neck, or his hands gently squeeze my stomach and his fingers slightly tickle the skin. he smiles behind me, his eyes calm and half-lidded, dreads resting over his shoulders and draping onto mine as he slowly rocks us side to side, continuing to kiss my neck from behind until i am finally finished.

the walk to the club is short, tom’s hand staying clasped in mine as we wander through the darkened streets, few people and the occasional car driving by us. i prefer peaceful nights like this, time to admire the city, rather than being face first in the crowds that daytime brought along with them. tom is speaking about something random, a lazy smile tugging on my lips as i look upwards, not particularly focusing on what he is saying, instead admiring his features - eyes fixed on the way his brown eyes shine, occasional smile gracing his face as he speaks, tongue grazing against his lip piercing. i take in this rare moment, though to some it is simple, to me it is something to be treasured, happy to listen to whatever tom is saying, finding it adorable how he gets so into a conversation when it is about something he cares for.

my cold breath leaves my lips as i exhale, reminding me how bitter the weather is, despite the warmth that the jacket tom had insisted on letting me wear brings me. occasional laughter emits from our mouths, sharing pointless conversation, enjoying the simplicity of each other’s company, our content exchange soon cut off by the sound of overly-loud music, signalling that we have arrived.

the queue to get in is longer than i had expected, tom not phased by this as the bouncer seems to recognise him, flashing him a quick smile and letting the both of us in. it is completely packed, drunken bodies encircling my vision, this enough for me to become easily overwhelmed. tom realises this, bending downwards so that his voice can be heard over the loud music.

“you okay? we can leave if you don’t like it.” he squeezes my hand as he speaks, bringing me into his embrace, his hands now running up and down my arms.

i shake my head, not wanting to leave before i had even given the place a chance. i let out a small ‘i’m fine’ in response, tom nodding his head and leading me through the crowd, looking downwards at me every few seconds, his hand never leaving mine until we emerge, arriving at a smaller section cut off from the rest of the club, being what i assume as the VIP section. the staff there recognise tom like the bouncer had, letting him in as we find a couch and table unoccupied.

he flops onto it, spreading his legs and wrapping his arm around my shoulder as i sit beside him, his other resting on the back of the couch. he scans the area, his lips pursed, head lazily nodding to the beat of the music, fingers tapping against my shoulder.

“you okay?” he shouts over the music, looking over at me and planting a small kiss on my forehead, pulling me closer into his side.

i nod my head, pointing a finger over to the bar. “i think i’m gonna go get a drink. you want one?”

he seems hesitant to let me go, his face falling a little, seemingly surprised at my willingness to walk around alone. the place somehow seems to feel busier, the bar totally packed, scattered with glasses, some empty, some practically full. but i figure that if i want to put myself out there more, i can’t rely on tom to be by my side, wanting to do this small thing alone.

“you sure baby? i can come with you?” he asks, looking upwards and seeing how crowded it has become.

“i’ll be fine. you can see the bar from here anyways, it’s not like anything can happen.” i say, pointing out the direct view our table has to the bar. though it is a little far away, past the small crowd of people forming there, it is in our eye line, tom able to maintain a perfect view of me.

“okay, but i’m watching the whole time. if anything happens i’ll be right over.” he gives in, though i can tell by his tone he is still reluctant. despite this, i stand up, pulling my skirt down a little bit. “and get me a beer please schatz.”

his hand plants a small squeeze on my ass, my body whipping around to scold him, yet my eyes are met with that same infamous smirk, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as i shake my head, a low chuckle escaping my lips. i walk over to the bar, reaching it successfully after pushing through a few wasted bodies. i turn around, squinting my eyes to try and spot tom, seeing that he is still alone, his own eyes searching to meet mine. he spots me, sending me a small smile and wave, his face visibly calming down once i am within his sight.

i turn back around towards the bar, resting my frame against the hard wood. a tall man comes towards me from the other side, nodding for me to order.

“a beer and a piña colada, thanks.” i say, pulling out a twenty dollar bill from my purse and pressing it flat against the table.

he nods, taking the money and starting to prepare the drinks. i awkwardly tap my fingers against the wood as i wait, the music seeming to get louder, leaving me with a pounding headache. my body is warm, unsure of whether it is the proximity of sweaty figures dancing around me, or the sweltering air, everything in the room feeling ten times closer than it would outside.

he places the drinks against the table, shooting me a small smile as i take them, returning the gesture and turning around. my eyes catch a small glimpse of tom from where i am stood, quickly doing a double take as i realise that he is not alone. from a distance, i can spot at least four girls, two at either side of him. he appears pretty content, a large grin from ear to ear as he engages in conversation, the girls way too close for my liking. they are practically up against him, wearing next to nothing, their bodies covered with dresses so skimpy i wouldn’t have bothered wearing anything at all.

he seems completely comfortable, the only difference in how he was sat before being that his hands had moved from either side of the couch, now resting in his lap. i can see him shake his head, that flirty smile never faltering. however i reach my breaking point when one girl leans closer, about to place her hand on his thigh. that’s when i lose it.

i storm towards the table, tom’s attention quickly turning to me as the eyes of the girls sat beside him all turn to me too, curious to see what has been able to divert his attention so easily. his face softens as he seems somewhat glad to see me, this only angering me more. one second, he is entertaining girls because i leave for a minute, then his eyes light up as i return, as if he hadn’t looked at them with that same grin i have seen way too many times before - all before we started dating. my jaw is clenched, eyes cold and harsh as i slam the drinks down onto the table, part of the liquid splashing out of the tall glass from the force.

“there’s your fucking drink, asshole.” i scoff, shaking my head and turning around, starting to find my way through the large crowd in the centre.

i can hear his voice behind me, constantly calling my name as he forces his way through the crowd, only a few steps behind me. i ignore his pleas, feeling like a complete idiot for believing that he had changed.

“get out of my fucking way!” i shout over the music, pushing the last few people out of my way, my eyes finally meeting the exit, leaving it quickly, tom still following me as he continues to be persistent, my name pouring from his lips every few seconds.

the night is even colder than it was when we had arrived, my entire body shivering once i emerge onto the empty street, the distorted blur of music no longer helping to drown out the sound of tom’s voice as it seems to get closer and closer. i continue to shrug him off, speeding up as my heels click across the pavement. my hands run up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself up, now without the comfort of tom’s jacket to keep my temperature high, my small and tight outfit providing no warmth at all.

however, my fast steps are no longer enough to keep myself distanced from tom as i feel his hand on my shoulder, the strength of its hold causing me to stop in my tracks.

“jesus christ, baby, what the fuck?” he asks, out of breath, his chest heaving up and down as i face him, his eyes heavy and filled with confusion once he processes the hurt etched upon my face.

“don’t fucking touch me!” i scoff, roughly detaching my shoulder from his head, my eyes becoming glassy, both from the harshness of the wind and the reality that tom hadn’t ever changed his ways as i had thought. “just fuck off, you’ve done enough. and i actually thought you were different, how fucking naive can i be?”

i turn around, starting to walk away again. yet he speeds up, jogging and moving to stand in front of me, completely trapping me.

“baby, please it’s not what it looks like.” he pleads, his own expression now filled with desperation as he begs for me to hear him out, my mind set on what it had seen - no explanation able to change that.

“really? so i didn’t see those girls all over you?” i challenge, shaking my head as a sarcastic chuckle leaves my lips, in disbelief of how stupid he is making me out to be.

“you’re blowing this way out of proportion! you’ve got the complete wrong idea schatz.” he says, his own voice raising a little as he becomes frustrated.

“do you know how unbelievable you are? i should’ve known, i was never good enough to make you want to settle down.” the tears cascade down my cheeks, my teeth sinking into my lips as i quickly move around him, walking away once again.

but, he doesn’t accept my desire to leave, taking my hand and pulling me backwards, his eyes glossy with tears, his sudden display of emotion taking me by surprise.

“liebe, please can you just listen to me for a second?” he sighs, his voice wavering as he speaks. i stay silent, the tears pouring down my face, yet he takes my lack of response as a sign to continue. “they came over to me. i told them straight away that i wasn’t interested.”

i furrow my eyebrows, a mixture of guilt and disbelief taking over. one part of me feels terrible for not letting him explain, this whole thing my fault if he is telling the truth. but, the more infuriated side of me doesn’t believe him for a second, refusing to even consider that he brushed them off, tom never being the type to refuse a girl’s company. and it is this anger within me that acts out, cutting his explanation short.

“fucking bullshit. do you think i’m an idiot-”

he cuts me off, continuing to explain. despite my cold tone, he remains calm, taking my hands in his own, his eyes softly looking into mine as he speaks.

“i told them my girlfriend is here, and i’m not interested. they wouldn’t give in. i didn’t want to be rude, you know i’m not like that. but i didn’t let them do anything. didn’t you see how i was sitting? i’ve never had my arms closer to me in my life!”

he lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little. but once he sees that i am in no mood to joke around, he shakes his head, straightening his expression before continuing.

“i was literally about to get up to come and find you, but then you came over. i get that it might’ve looked weird from far away, but i promise you.” he trails off, taking one step closer to me, reluctantly reaching upwards to gently graze his thumb across my cheek, applying a little more pressure once i accept his touch. “i promise you that i shut it down straight away. i want you and only you.”

both of his hands cup my face, his thumbs running comfortingly over the soft skin, his eyes scanning mine as he awaits my response, my mind working at a million miles per minute as i try to find the right words. though i am still angry, now more at the girls than him, it is impossible to ignore the sincerity of his words, guilt rising within my stomach as i feel nothing but regret for not trusting him.

“i’m sorry.” i mutter, removing my eyes from his own as i stare at the ground, salty tears rolling down my face more than they had before.

“hey, hey…” he trails off, lifting my chin with his pointer finger, his face falling once he sees my state. he plants a soft kiss to my lips whilst his fingers wipe away the tears resting on my cheeks. i kiss back, his lips soft and warm, enough to calm me down instantly.

he pulls back, resting his arms on my lower waist as his forehead sits against mine.

“you can always trust me. i’d never, ever, cheat on you. i’m sorry for how i used to be, and if i could change it, i promise you that i would, in a heartbeat. i want to be better, for you. you mean more to me than anyone else in this world, and i want to show it. you just have to let me try. okay?”

his lips stay parted as his slightly ragged breathing fans against my face, his warmth contrasting with the harshness of the climate around us.

“okay.” i say, nodding my head. he brings his lips to mine, smiling into the kiss as i gladly reciprocate, feeling his hands bring me closer into him.

“come on, let’s get you home.” he says, pulling away and holding his hand out for me to take. i smile warmly, intertwining my fingers with his as he pulls me closer, kissing my forehead gently. we begin the short walk home, tom stopping after a few seconds. he pulls his jacket off, tugging it along his frame. he takes a sleeve, gently threading my arm through it, repeating his motion with my other arm, until the material completely submerges me, my body warming up almost instantly.

he smiles downwards at me, kissing my cheek quickly, noticing the way a loud yawn escapes my lips after he does so. he bends down, placing one arm behind my neck, the other scooping me upwards by my legs as he carries me bridal style, a surprised gasp leaving my mouth at his actions, however it soon turns into a loud giggle once he begins planting large kisses across my face. he is grinning from ear to ear, his heart warming at the happiness plastered on my face, his hold on me tightening as he places one last kiss to my nose.

his arms remain securely around me as he walks slowly, the rocking motion of his steps causing my eyes to feel heavy, my eyelids beginning to fall shut, on the verge of falling asleep. my breathing slows, close to slipping into unconsciousness, however tom’s low voice prevents me from doing so. he clearly thinks that i have fallen asleep, yet i hear the phrase pour from his lips as clear as day.

“i love you.”

requests are open! keep sending them in, there’s a lot in my inbox atm but i’ll get to it as soon as i can!!

[wandaromanova]

can i request wandanat x r? r wants to propose to wandanat and has been sneaking around to hide her plans of proposal. wandanat thinks r is cheating and maybe leaves her? you decide but angst please and i just love all your work i can't stop re reading them💕

Ruined

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: cussing, arguing, very slight violence, cheating allegations

A/N: hi! thank you for your request! im flattered to know that you love and re read my work! i may or may not have intentionally left this on a cliffhanger whoops 🤭 <3

Ruined | Regret

Word Count: 1.8K | masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You had first met Wanda and Natasha when you were tasked with being the Avengers’ liaison. You were tasked to handpick missions that you believed required the attention of the heroes and assigned team members onto those missions.

You worked very closely with the team, you even lived with them in the compound for convenience. In the time spent working for them, you had grown super close to everyone; most especially Nat and Wanda.

It first started off with the pair going into your office, always asking for missions. You had found it odd considering they never took a break. You didn’t understand why they’d seek out missions when they were clearly exhausted. You figured that maybe they just loved helping people so much that they got excited and anxious for missions, but little did you know what their true intentions were.

They wanted to spend time with you. They wanted to observe you close up and not across a conference table. They wanted to know everything there was to know about you. As creepy as it was, they wanted to get close enough to know what you smelt like. They wanted to know what your lips tasted like. They wanted the relationship with you to surpass professionalism.

Eventually, the two Avengers stopped asking for missions when they came in; they just went to your office for the sake of going there. They’d bring you various lunches every single day and shower you with small compliments.

You’d brushed it off as the women being very good friends that just so happened to be flirts. You were wrong. They were interested in you, in the same way you were in them. You couldn’t help but admire the two beautiful women.

Their green eyes, fit bodies, and kind smiles were a recipe for disaster, in the best way possible. With one look, you’d drop to your knees and do whatever they wanted. They just had to say the word and you would do it, no hesitation. Yeah, it sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it’s painfully and embarrassingly true.

Over the course of time, you had grown closer to Wanda and Nat. Your daily lunches turned into daily movie nights and dinners too. You saw them all the time and you didn’t mind it one bit.

They finally asked you out after a year of spending time with and getting closer to you. It was safe to say, you instantly agreed with a smile on your face as you let out an, “of course! fucking finally!”

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

Now, you had been dating the two women for five years. Yeah, it’s been a long ass time, but it still wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to spend forever with Wanda and Nat.

You wanted to get an actual house in the suburbs together. Not an apartment in the middle of New York, but a place you could call home. You craved the domesticity of it all.

You wanted to settle down and have kids with them somehow; whether it be by adoption or via surrogate. You just wanted to have a family of your own with the two woman you loved more than anyone or anything in the universe.

So, you’ve been sneaking around trying to keep your secret, well… a secret. You were planning on proposing to your girlfriends. Yes, this was a very huge step in a relationship, but you felt as though it was the right time. You guys had been together for five years! You were practically married to them already!

You would sneak off suddenly during your usual movie nights with Wanda and Nat or before breakfast to go and meet with different jewelers. You didn’t want to go into a store and buy their rings. That was not an option in the slightest. They were special and deserved special rings. They needed rings that were as unique and one of a kind as they were. It’s what Wanda and Nat deserved.

So, you were constantly leaving, whether it be early in the morning or the late hours of the night, on the search for someone who could make your ideas for their rings, a reality. You would hide your phone from Wanda and Nat’s view and even changed your passcode in order to prevent them from finding out. You’d face your phone down whenever you left it in a room with the pair, as well.

Unfortunately, in your excitement of what was to come, you didn’t realize how suspicious your behavior had been. You figured that you were being pretty discreet, coming up with pretty believable excuses. You even had some of the team help you with your lies, since you let them know what you had planned.

However, you forgot you were dating a world class spy and a witch. You were wrong, obviously. As each day passed, your girlfriends worried and assumed the worst. They let their minds spiral and searched for worst case scenarios. The worst one of all seeming the most likely; infidelity. They came to the conclusion that you were cheating on them.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

Natasha and Wanda cried to one another on one of the nights you bolted off and zoomed out of the apartment with a lame excuse.

Wanda sat on the couch as Nat held her in her arms. They both had tears cascading down their faces as their thoughts were plagued by you; by your supposed betrayal.

“How? How could she do this to us? After everything we’ve been through? She’s goes and cheats on us?” Wanda spoke brokenly as she released a sob. Natasha pulled Wanda closer, the Sokovian woman placing her head in the crook of Nat’s neck.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know, Wanda. All I know is, this can’t go on any longer.” Natasha spoke, trying to keep her voice steady, but her voice failed her. She came out shaky as the sadness and hurt seeped in. You had betrayed them, or so they thought.

They sat there in the same position, waiting for your return. Finally, four hours later. You had come back to the apartment.

You were ecstatic as you made your way up to the front door. You finally found a jeweler that could make the perfect rings for Wanda and Nat! You couldn’t wait to get on one knee and present the rings to the two women who would forever hold your heart. You were over the moon excited right now.

However, your joy was quickly wiped away the second you stepped foot into the apartment. You took in the sight of Wanda and Natasha on the couch, staring at you with dried and fresh tears on their faces. You instantly shut the door and tossed your keys onto the counter as you rushed towards your girlfriends worriedly.

“Nat, Wands, what’s wrong loves?” You asked as you approached them, but Natasha abruptly stood up before you could get too close.

“Don’t you take another fucking step!” Nat snapped at you, and you stumbled backwards a little, in total shock. Your concern increased as you looked between the fuming redhead and the heartbroken looking brunette.

“Did something happen? What’s wrong?” You were so confused and desperately wanted to comfort your girlfriends. You don’t recall doing anything that could anger and upset them this much.

“Yeah, something happened. Our girlfriend is a fucking pathetic, cheating ass bitch who can’t keep it in her pants.” Natasha spoke with venom dripping from her tone. You literally let out a gasp, her words physically hurting you.

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m not cheating on you guys! I love you both more than you guys could even imagine!” You raised your voice, getting frustrated with the situation.

Wanda suddenly stood up and stuck beside Nat. She stared at you with anger clouding her sadness now.

“You’re not cheating on us? Then why the hell have you been running off at weird hours of the day? Why have you been hiding your phone from us?” Wanda began to fire a bunch of questions towards you.

You froze in your place. The answers to their questions weren’t what they thought they would be. The true answers were the complete opposite of cheating, you were acting weird because you were planning on proposing! But you couldn’t tell them that!

You stood silently as the two women stared at you, breathing heavily. They took your silence as confirmation of their suspicions.

“We fucking knew it. You’re a fucking joke, Y/N. Were we not enough for you? Was two women not enough for you?” Wanda inched her way towards you, eyes glowing red.

You backed away, not in fear, but in sadness. You really wished you could tell them the real reasons behind your behavior, but you couldn’t without blowing up your surprise.

“Did you really think you could go behind our backs without us noticing?” Wanda continued to stalk towards you, like she was about to murder you.

“I swear to you both, I would never, ever, cheat on you guys. You’re both more than enough for me. You’re my home, I’d never jeopardize that.” You tried to convince your girlfriends to believe you, but they weren’t having it.

“Stop lying to us!” Wanda screamed out as she sent you flying back with a scarlet colored blast as she used her powers on you. Your back connected with the front door as you groaned. That was going to be a huge bruise later, for sure.

“I’m not lying. When have I ever lied to you both, huh? Why the fuck would I start now?” You asked exasperatedly as you stood up slowly. You cringed at the pain radiating from your back.

“And here you go again, more lies coming out of your slutty mouth. The fucking nerve you have, Why don’t you go and fuck whoever you’ve been seeing and leave us alone?” Natasha spoke as she moved forward, placing her hand firmly on Wanda’s waist.

Before you even have the chance to speak, Wanda opened the door with her powers and tossed you out of the apartment. She abruptly slammed the door in your face. Wanda and Nat’s angry, pain-filled faces and scarlet colored magic being the last things you saw before the door blocked your vision with a harsh slam.

You sat on the ground in front of the door in shock. They thought you were cheating on them. They didn’t want anything do with you now. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? What did this mean for your proposal? Should you cancel on the jeweler? Or should you hold out hope and pray that they’ll hear you out eventually?

All you did know was that your proposal had been ruined regardless. Whether you told them about your plans or not, the moment was doomed the minute they began to suspect cheating.

Withholding the information from them, caused them to push you away. But now that you look at it, if you had just told them about the proposal, you’d at least be in their arms right now and not on the floor of your apartment complex hallway with tears streaming down your face.

You were at a loss, and you didn’t know if you could gain back the trust of the women you loved.

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[makeste]

save no matter what.

so this is going to ultimately be a post about Deku. however, if you’ll be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to start things off by making a point about Bakugou. specifically, I’d like to point out that back in the day before this kid got Character Development no Jutsu’d, people weren’t always so inclined to view his attitude towards winning in the best light. which is a nice way of saying that he came off as unhealthily obsessed, not to mention more than a little unhinged.

sorry for the image spam btw, I just think they’re funny. he’s so demented lmao. KILL DIE CRUSH.

anyway so we’re gonna do the rest of this below a cut before it gets long. but I promise it really is a Deku post lol. don’t let the pre-readmore stuff fool you. I PROMISE THERE IS A POINT, AND WE WILL GET TO IT.

anyway! so yeah, we really didn’t have the best impression of Bakugou’s whole winning fixation at the beginning there. and I mean, it’s not like we had the best impression of Bakugou himself at the start of things either. we were already primed from the very first chapter to see this kid as an adversary to Izuku. the story goes out of its way to paint him in pretty much the worst light possible. which is why what happens next is so interesting.

because one might see all this and think, “holy heck, this kid is off the shits, somebody needs to set him straight pronto and get it into his head that winning isn’t everything.” because that’s almost the natural conclusion to draw. “look at this kid, he doesn’t care about helping other people at all, all he cares about is winning, someone needs to come along and show him that he’s got it backwards.”

except that’s not what happens, is it? because this is where, much to my delight, Horikoshi came along and started subverting expectations. because not only is Katsuki not rebuked for being so obsessed with winning -- it’s pretty much the exact opposite.

the one and only time Deku ever straight up hands Katsuki’s ass to him is when he says he doesn’t want to win. Deku is IMMEDIATELY all, “THE FUCK KIND OF BULLSHIT DID I JUST HEAR OUT OF YOUR TRASH MOUTH,” and that’s when he sets him straight.

the important people in Katsuki’s life never tell him, “hey you need to cool it with the whole winning thing.” All Might and Aizawa never scold him for it, or tell him that he shouldn’t try with everything he has to win, or that wanting to win is a bad thing. on the contrary, they both commend him for it. and ultimately, he’s told by All Might that this desire is actually one of the two fundamental qualities that every great hero needs.

he completely turns the whole thing on its head. not only is it not a bad thing, it’s actually crucial. essential. because what the desire to win really is, at its core, is tenacity. it’s the fiercest kind of determination. it’s not something he should be ashamed of; it’s something that sets him apart, something that makes him worthy. he is someone who refuses to back down no matter what. refuses to give up, no matter what. and this quality, which is initially misunderstood by some to the point where even the villains mistakenly take him for one of their own in the making, is eventually validated to the fullest degree by the person that Katsuki looks up to the most. his desire to win goes from being this awkward “son wtf are you doing” thing to being one of the core philosophies of the series. and ever since then, we pretty much don’t question it.

so why do I bring this up now? well, the answer to that can basically be summed up in one word.

“parallels.”

so here’s the thing. there’s been a lot of talk lately about Deku’s ridiculous, reckless, and absurdly self-destructive desire to save others while having little to no regard for himself. currently he’s lying in a hospital bed, having broken approximately 218 out of the 206 bones in his little hero body (yes, somewhere along the way he found an additional dozen bones to break). it is worrying. it is Concerning. and it’s raised a lot of questions, such as “???” and “wtf is this idiot doing.”

and a lot of people have been pretty critical of him! this is, of course, an ongoing thing with this child, and people have been giving him grief over it going as far back as chapter 6.

while others have been bothered by it going even further back than that.

and I’ve seen these sentiments being echoed pretty frequently in the fandom as well. and there are basically two talking points that I want to address here. the first is the idea that Deku’s aggressive brand of selflessness stems from an inherent lack of self-worth. in other words, because he prioritizes other people’s safety and well-being above his own, and is willing to go to such drastic lengths to save them, there’s this feeling that he doesn’t value himself enough, that he must not care about himself.

but I don’t think that’s quite it. let’s go back to those parallels first, though. let’s take another look at Kacchan.

what I mainly want to call attention to is the intensity here. again, it’s something that at first strikes most readers as being absurdly over the top. the truth is, I think a lot of people simply can’t relate to it. Katsuki cares about winning with a ferocity and a fervor that most people, for better or worse, simply don’t have. I certainly don’t, lol.

but he does. to him it’s not a shallow, superficial thing at all. it’s important to him, perhaps the most important thing. I think we often talk about it in terms of it being a desire, but imo a more accurate way to define it is not as a want, but as a need. in other words, it’s the opposite of the question “what is it this character wants” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live without”)? instead, it’s a question of “what is it they don’t want” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live with”)?

and in Katsuki’s case, the thing he can’t live with is feeling like he hasn’t tried his absolute best. he needs to give his all in everything he does. he wants to win, but winning just on its own is not enough.

it has to be earned. he has to prove to himself and to everyone else that he deserves it. anything less than that is unacceptable. anything less than that, and he can’t be at ease. he can’t be settled. he can’t rest. and so he puts everything he has into winning, even if it means going to extremes. because it’s that important to him.

it’s something that’s at times alarming and even disturbing for others to witness. but nonetheless, it’s a part of who he is, and at the end of the day his teachers accept that, and the story acknowledges that it’s his greatest strength.

so now, to finally bring this back around to Deku, this is what I keep seeing in his character as well. only in his case, the thing he can’t live with is knowing that he didn’t do everything he possibly could to save someone. or to put it another way, Deku, at his core, is someone who cannot rest until he knows that everyone is safe. simple as that. it’s not just a desire to protect people; it’s a need. he needs to know that everyone is safe and protected. otherwise he can’t be at ease. it’s no different from how normal, everyday people aren’t able to feel at ease unless they know that they are safe and that their loved ones are safe. it’s just that in Deku’s case, this same fundamental need extends to everyone, not just himself and his friends and family. everyone. he can’t live with himself knowing that someone was in trouble, and he had the ability to do something to help, but didn’t. and so, if you literally can’t live with not doing something, you basically have no choice but to do it.

and this is what in my opinion defines Deku’s character. Kacchan, in trying to understand it, noted that Deku doesn’t seem to take himself into account. but I think OFA Prime summed it up a little more accurately. “he rages for the sake of others. for them, he does his best until he can do no more. this young man is possessed by a drive to save others that eclipses all common understanding.”

so yeah. it’s not that he doesn’t care about himself at all, it’s that he cares about others even more. he has that same intensity and ferocity towards saving people that Katsuki has towards winning. and just as it was difficult at first for fans to understand Katsuki’s feelings, it’s hard to fathom the sheer depth of that “save everyone” feeling that compels Deku to break his own body in that pursuit. it’s scary, not to mention extremely destructive and dangerous. and so really, it was almost inevitable that there would be some backlash.

but just like Katsuki’s desire to win was ultimately validated in the end, I think Deku’s desire to save others will be as well. in fact it already is being validated, for starters by the other denizens of OFA, led by Lil Bro as mentioned above. let’s go back for a moment to that same scene.

here we get a huge hint that “Deku gets taken down a notch and chewed out and scolded for his recklessness” is not, in fact, the direction that the story is going in. because in general, when the main villain starts mocking the hero and saying that they’ve done something wrong, that’s a very good sign that said hero is actually on the exact right track. like, no offense, but as far as character critiques go, AFO is probably the least qualified person in the entire manga to start offering those up lol. so yeah. if AFO is denouncing Deku for something, and OFA Prime is praising him for that exact same thing, I think it’s safe to say that means he is in fact doing something very, very right.

“okay but makeste, he nearly got himself killed and broke all of his arms AND legs and is now lying in a fucking coma,” you say, gesturing emphatically to the last page of chapter 298. “so I mean, that’s all well and good that Wonder Boy has the best of intentions and all that, but at the end of the day he’s only one kid. he literally can’t save everyone, and if he pulls one or two more stunts like this, he’s going to get himself killed.”

and okay, but this here is the other talking point that I wanted to address. because it’s true, Deku does need to learn a specific lesson here. but that lesson is NOT that he can’t save everyone. this is a superhero story, guys -- “you can’t save everyone” is never going to be the underlying message, ever. it’s the OPPOSITE of the message. Deku is the hero because he tries to save everyone. because he doesn’t give up on saving people no matter what. that is literally the core of the story. it has been since the very first chapter.

so then what is it that Deku actually needs to learn here? well, once again, it all comes back to those parallels.

btw, I really just love how he’s carrying Katsuki there lol. he’s just so done with him.

but anyway. so, the final exam arc. Katsuki initially wants to win at all costs -- but there’s a hitch. because even though he wants to win, he refuses to do so while working with Deku. enter Deku’s left hook, and one impromptu Rival Encouragement Speech later, our boy has thankfully come to his senses.

but here’s the point -- the lesson here wasn’t “you can’t always win.” rather, the lesson that Katsuki needed to learn was that you can’t always win alone.

yeah. so now you can see what I’m getting at here.

“...on your own.”

that’s the key. this is the one and only thing that Deku actually needs to get into his head. wanting to save everyone is fine! his will to save others has never been a weakness -- it’s been the most admirable thing about him from day one. it’s what makes him strong. it’s why All Might chose him. it’s why OFA has chosen him. it’s what sets him apart, and I firmly believe it’s what will ultimately help him save the day and defeat AFO as well. because what other character would look at Shigaraki Tomura, the person who just impaled his friend and destroyed an entire city, and instinctively reach out a hand to try and save him? and if you don’t think that’s going to wind up being key to the final battle, you and I have very different ideas about this series’ endgame.

Deku’s determination to save everyone isn’t arrogance or futility. it is and always has been his greatest strength. but what he’s missing now, what he needs to learn, is simply to trust. y’all might have seen that theory about the Fourth’s quirk, and why All Might was so hesitant to tell Deku about it. basically, the theory (which is based on an attempted translation of the crossed-out parts of All Might’s OFA notebook) goes that the Spidey Sense was so overwhelming that the Fourth -- whose cause of death was one of the things crossed out -- eventually couldn’t bear it, and went to live alone in the middle of the woods somewhere. and possibly wound up killing himself?? all of which is just speculation right now of course. but it makes sense. and it would certainly explain why All Might, being all too aware of Deku’s self-destructive tendencies, would keep that from him.

but if this is the case, that means it’s clear that the Fourth’s solution didn’t work. “give up and accept that you can’t save everyone” clearly is NOT the answer to be had here.

the answer is trust. trust that his fellow heroes have his back. trust that they’ll be able to help him reach the people he’s not able to reach on his own. trust that they can work together to save everyone. that he doesn’t have to rest the entire world on his shoulders alone.

it’s the one lesson that All Might, his predecessor and his teacher, never learned himself until it was too late. but of course, All Might never had a prickly and determined rival who was ready to step in and deal out some tough love if need be. a rival who, perhaps, just might soon get a chance to repay an old favor.

“I don’t wanna hear you say you can’t save someone.”

I’m just saying. just as Deku has been watching Katsuki all this time, and admiring his determination to win, and emulating it himself, so has Katsuki recently begun to emulate Deku’s determination to save others. we’ve seen it not just in his recent act of self-sacrifice, but even in little things like his habits and tricks of speech. just like Katsuki is Deku’s image of victory, Deku is becoming Katsuki’s image of saving others.

and so I’ll bet you anything that if Deku ever starts to doubt himself, or starts feeling like his dream and desires are futile, Kacchan will be there to set him straight with a good old fashioned Rival Encouragement Speech of his own. possibly with his own left hook to match, though his left shoulder is currently out of sorts atm so he might need to modify that approach a little bit. but the point is, he’ll be there. and he will not allow Deku to give up on himself. he will be there to remind him that he doesn’t have to face this alone.

so yeah! finally managed to wrap up my giant Deku meta which I’ve been working on for ages and rewritten like fifteen times lmao. just in time for this to be relevant for all of a day, probably, depending on what happens once chapter 279 drops lol. but yeah. tl;dr, local boy tries to do too much, but his heart is in the right place, and hopefully all he really needs is a good pep talk from his tsundere bff to set him to rights again. r.i.p. to the Fourth, but he’s different.

[just-come-baek]

out to lunch

Pairing: cooking show chef!xiaojun x personal assistant!reader

Themes: smut

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: You come over to the kitchen set of Xiaojun’s cooking show to tell him you managed to get him what he had always dreamed of. However, once you reveal the big news, you discover his priorities have changed, and right now, the only thing he wants to do is you.

Warnings: dirty talk | fingering | kitchen set sex | unprotected sex | creampie | Xiaojun’s inner diva is showing | 

A/N support WayV lol | writing this for neosmutcollective mini wayv event

Xiaojun was utterly immersed in his world. Though it was already late at night, he was still behind the kitchen counter, chopping ingredients with his favorite knife. Right now, Xiaojun was in his element, oozing precision and determination to perfect his new recipe, and it somewhat felt like a sin to interrupt him.

You had big news to deliver, though. Having heard you out, Xiaojun would surely forgive you for your disruption. He had to. After all, you just managed to get him that cooking book contract he had always dreamed of.

Ever since you two had started working together, it was your goal to make Xiaojun a published author. Though he already owned three restaurants and starred in his own cooking show, Xiaojun was insatiable. The more fame and recognition he got, it was never enough.

You cleared your throat to obtain his attention, but it didn’t quite pull him out of his trance, so you decided to give him an extra minute.

Xiaojun looked incredibly attractive in his own habitat. In his white uniform and ridiculously big chef hat, Xiaojun looked like a whole damn Michelin three-star dish. No wonder he kept beating his viewing records with each new episode. People all across the country swooned over his culinary talent, incredible charisma, and breathtaking looks.

Having approached the kitchen counter, you knocked on the marble surface in hopes of obtaining his attention.

“Earth to Xiaojun,” you softly spoke, looking at his face. Apparently, the timing couldn’t have been worse as Xiaojun dropped his knife on the cutting board and swung it onto the floor, making a huge mess.

“What do you want!? Don’t you see I’m busy!?” Xiaojun barked before he turned around to get a clean set of kitchen utensils. “Get lost. I don’t want to talk to you,” he added, waving his hand at you, trying to chase you out of the kitchen space.

“Ugh, for the love of God, Xiaojun! How many times have we had this conversation? That diva tone doesn’t work on me,” you answered firmly, staring into his eyes, challenging him. His gaze was intense, his jaw was tensed, but you just smiled at him, ignoring his shenanigans altogether. It wasn’t the first time he lashed out at you, and you knew how to handle him.

“Okay, fine. What is it?” Xiaojun huffed, giving in. With his arms folded across his chest, he tapped his foot against the floor, impatiently waiting for the news.

“I got you that book offer. You’re gonna be a published author,” you exclaimed, ready to jump up and down in joy. However, Xiaojun didn’t seem to be particularly excited. “What’s the matter? Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted? I don’t get it,” you spoke, creasing your eyebrow in confusion, trying to read his bizarre expression.

Xiaojun seemed indifferent at best.

“Cancel it. Undo it. I won’t write it,” Xiaojun replied before he proceeded back to his previous task. It wasn’t wise to disturb him now, so you waited until all vegetables were neatly cubed and thrown into a bowl.

“Can you tell me what’s going on? I don’t understand. I thought you’ve always wanted it,” you inquired, trying a much calmer approach. Xiaojun didn’t use his knife now, but he was still holding it, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone earned a cut during a heated argument in the kitchen.

“I have,” Xiaojun replied with a deep sigh as he poured the chicken broth over the vegetables. “But it gets tiring, you know…” he added, as he took off his chef hat and threw it on the countertop, running his hand through his hair. “Everything is happening too fast. I thought I wanted it, but now, when I actually live that life, I realized I am not cut out for this.”

It was heart-breaking to listen to it. You two had been working very hard to get Xiaojun where he is right now, only to come to a conclusion it’s all wrong. Fame was a heavy cross to bear, and Xiaojun was slowly stumbling under its weight.

“Don’t tell me you want to quit,” you whispered, anxious to know the answer. Xiaojun’s eyes were trained on you, and you could see how tired he was. “How about you take it easy from now on instead of quitting it all together? It would be a shame to quit right at the finishing line,” you reasoned, hoping Xiaojun would consider it.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s talk about it, okay?” you interjected before Xiaojun would impulsively ruin his career. “We’ve got only three more episodes to shoot. I could put you on hiatus until you decide you want to continue with another season. In the meantime, you could work on the cooking book at your own pace. Probably, I will make you record some cooking content on social media to keep you circulating on the web, so people won’t forget you. Except for that, your schedule would be clear to focus on whatever you need to focus on.”

Silence.

Xiaojun was staring at his chef hat, pondering your damn good points. When you put it like that, it was hard to say no. Besides, he had a feeling you would talk back instantly if he found faults in your argumentation.

Seconds passed without Xiaojun’s response. You were his voice of reason; he had to listen to you. Besides, not only was his career on the line. If he actually quitted, your superior would murder you. Xiaojun was the cash cow of the company; they couldn’t afford to lose him. He was at their rising star.

“Why do you always know what to say?” Xiaojun rhetorically asked, and you beamed, ready to grace him with an answer.

“I’m really good at my job,” you pointed out proudly. Thanks to your impeccable management and problem-solving capabilities, you managed to help Xiaojun rise to the top. “And also, I care about you. Sometimes, you’re a pain in the ass, but after all, you’re a good person. You are my friend, and I want you to be happy.”

“Fine, let’s do it your way. But we’re not shooting another season until I say so,” Xiaojun caved, smiling brightly at you. “You know what I really want to do, though?” He challenged as he rested his elbow on the counter, straightening his back, trying to appear taller and overall more confident.

His voice was quiet, and it suspiciously sounded as if he told “you.”

Shaking your head, you asked, “what?”

Xiaojun felt a sudden wave of confidence rush through him before he repeated himself clearly. No, there was no shred of doubt. You heard him loud and clear. Confidently, Xiaojun admitted that he really want to do was you.

“You seriously think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” Xiaojun spoke in a somewhat accusing tone, eyeing you from head to toe before he took a cautious step toward you. Intimidated, you took a step backward, and that timid action made Xiaojun smirk.

He knew exactly what type of effect he had on you. All memories of lingering glances you had stolen of him when you had believed he hadn’t been looking came back rushing to you. You weren’t as sly and discreet as you thought you were.

“It really flatters me,” Xiaojun teased with a smug smile. “Don’t deny it, and come here,” he urged, spreading his arms, waiting for you to run into him.

At first, you were sure Xiaojun was just messing with your head. You believed he was teasing you. You imagined him flick your forehead if you walked into his personal space. It was obvious he was mocking you. There was no way in hell that he wanted you the way you wanted him. You must’ve been seeing things.

“Jesus, woman! Hurry the fuck up,” Xiaojun warned you, losing his patience. “If you’re not coming here, I am coming there,” he added, giving you one last chance for a change of heart. “Screw it,” he cursed, surging forward, trapping you in his tight embrace.

His actions spoke louder than words. All your previous thoughts were gone; Xiaojun wouldn’t have bothered this much to pull a prank on you. He was genuine. Xiaojun held you still in his arms, waiting for you to make a move. He would never try anything without your permission, regardless of how delicious your lips looked.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and you rushed, smashing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It was everything you imagined it to be, but tenfold better. You had fantasized about his moment plenty of times, and weirdly enough, Xiaojun’s mouth somehow felt both soft and rough at the same time. “Now, we’re talking.”

You two completely lost it. Hands were running on your bodies as you engaged in a heated moment, relieving your much maddening frustration. It felt amazing, and you wished you could carry on until you both lose all your energy.

“Let’s go to my place,” you mumbled once you pulled away. Xiaojun still held you pressed against him as he waited for you to elaborate, being painfully clueless to your ulterior motive. “It’s much closer from here than yours,” you added, and Xiaojun only smiled dumbly, waiting for you to word your request in an even more ridiculous way.

“Why bother going anywhere when I can have you here?” Xiaojun playfully announced, giggling as his gaze shifted from your gorgeous eyes to the countertop. Almost instantly you realized what his crazy proposition was. Did you really want your first time with him to be on the kitchen island inside the cooking show set? It would be a blatant lie if you said you had never considered this.

“Fuck me then,” you urged, giving Xiaojun permission to ruin you right there.

Xiaojun didn’t waste any time. In an instant, he wrapped his arms around your thighs as he picked you up and gently sat down on the countertop. Except for your pencil skirt, your legs were bare, so you let out a slight hiss once you felt the cold marble against your skin.

Biting your lips, you spread your legs, letting Xiaojun stand right between them.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you here,” Xiaojun confessed before he leaned forward, stealing another desperate kiss. “You remember that time when we fought over the Oreo cake? I was so hard back then. I wanted to bend you over the counter so bad. I almost didn’t hold myself back.”

“You should’ve gone for it,” you whispered as you remembered that quarrel. That night Xiaojun had been the star of your fantasies when you used your vibrating friend to get yourself off. “I was so horny then. Almost as horny as right now,” you added, pulling him by his funny black tie, melting into yet another kiss.

Xiaojun was getting impatient. It was nice, but it wasn’t enough for him. Having untangled the knot of his apron, he yanked it off his hips, throwing it over his shoulder.

“I want to feel you so bad,” he murmured as he slid his fingers under your skirt, pulling your panties down your legs. “Let me prep you up,” Xiaojun uttered when his digits gently fondled your folds, gliding his knuckle inside of you. The moment you felt him, you let out a quiet moan, enjoying his little ministrations.

Xiaojun knew how to please a woman. He curled his fingers inside of you, stretching you out for his length. With your eyes shut closed, you focused on your pleasure, letting Xiaojun spoil you rotten. Though it was just mere petting, it felt nice as hell. He was getting you ready for his cock, and you basked in simple delight.

“Enough of that; I want you to fuck me now,” you kindly spoke, wrapping your palm around his wrist. “Please,” you added when you noticed how hesitant Xiaojun was of letting go. He planned on making you come first before properly fucking you with his cock, but since you asked him nicely, he decided to give you exactly what you wanted. Though he’d love to tease you some more, your pleading tone seemed to do the thing.

Swiftly, he yanked down his pants, revealing his member. It was standing proud, and you looked down at it, admiring it. Without any doubt, Xiaojun was to make your day.

As much as you wanted to return the favor, Xiaojun didn’t let you. Impatiently, he gave himself a few strokes before he aligned his cock with your entrance, rubbing its tip against your folds. Slowly, he pushed his hard length inside of you, making you groan.

Your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened as Xiaojun filled you up with his erection. At first, Xiaojun maintained a slow and steady rhythm. However, as you kept moaning his name and encouraging him to go faster, his thrusts became more rapid. Quickly, Xiaojun snapped his hips, finding your sweet spot in record time.

“Holy shit,” you exclaimed, feeling the knot inside of you tighten. You were moments away from your peak. Xiaojun’s cock stroked all the right places, pushing you off the edge. “Fuck, I am coming,” you shouted, kicking your head backward, welcoming the bliss that ripped through you.

When you were slowly descending back on Earth, Xiaojun kept chasing his release.

You could feel him throb inside of you. Then, an idea crossed your mind. Until now, it was Xiaojun who did all the work, so the least you could do was to encourage him to fill you up, to talk him through his orgasm.

“You fill me up so well. I came on your cock, and you’re still rock-hard. Do you want me to come again?” You complimented him, spilling filth. Though you weren’t sure if Xiaojun would be into dirty talk, you were certain he was eating it all up. Xiaojun was moaning your name as he snapped his hips, falling out of his even rhythm.

Xiaojun was near. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pounded inside of you, being only a few strokes away from his sweet bliss.

“Come inside of me,” you urged him. It was all it took to make him reach his peak. With a choked grunt, Xiaojun came, buckling his hips as he painted your walls with his release.

You remained silent as Xiaojun breathed heavily, trying to come back to his senses.

“If we’re ever doing it, here, again, I want you to spank me with this,” you commented as you reached for the spatula that sat on the other side of the counter. Xiaojun smirked upon seeing the kitchen utensil, tempted to try it out soon.

However, on second thought, tonight was just good as any other day.

“How about we take it with us over to your place,” Xiaojun proposed, and you cocked your eyebrow, excited to hear his suggestion. “Let’s get you cleaned up first,” he added as he bent down to pick up his apron. His release was dripping down your thighs, so he wiped it off with the fabric, looking rather pleased by the fact that you let him come inside of you.

“That sounds like a plan.”

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift - Part 3

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Explicit (18+), PRAISE KINK, sex in a public place (voyeurism if you squint?), Oral sex (Female receiving), PIV sex, gratuitous use of the pet name ‘good girl’

Authors Note: Yeah, we sped right on into smut town in this one. This smutty addition should conclude our little story, and now this ADCU character will forever be known to me as Praise Kink Paul.

Part 1 + Part 2

~

It was eerily quiet as you stared at Paul in bewildered shock, not fully knowing if the word he just spoke actually left his mouth. It didn’t seem real. A man you’d met barely hours ago returning for you. Needing you. But what exactly did that mean?

Paul’s expression had kept its hesitation long into the silence, his body unmoving. He had never been so bold before. Making a move like this, so soon after a first meeting, was absolutely unheard of in his past. And yet here he was now, watching over your face, trying to gauge the thoughts hidden behind your eyes. There was an essence of shock clearly shining in your irises, and Paul could only come to the conclusion he’d scared the hell out of you.

“I- I, uh, I’m sorry-”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his bid at cooling your fear. “What do you mean by… needing me?”

Paul nervously pulled at his blazer collar, realising now how vague and outright creepy the statement must have sounded. Somehow he needed to explain himself without coming off more strange than he already did. “Oh, I just… I wanted to see if you were free for a late dinner. There’s are great dumpling house around the corner and-”

Your lids had narrowed as Paul continued to stumble his way through his words, stopping him again mid-sentence. “You said… you needed me.”

Fuck. He’d definitely freaked you out. He could tell you it was a lie, a colourful way of offering a date, but suddenly the prospect seemed rather difficult. Because in truth, he’d meant exactly what he’d said. He needed you, in a way he hadn’t needed someone for a long time. He needed to know what your lips tasted like, the softness of your skin, the sound of your quickened breaths-

“Ask me again,” you shot out, your demeanour having morphed into one of resolve. Paul could feel his heart rate pick up.

“What?”

“Ask me out. To dinner. Ask me on a date.”

The rhythm of beats turned erratic - a smile already desperate to spread across his face. Maybe he hadn’t completely ruined his chances. With a steadying breath, Paul kept his tone light, hoping to hide the excitement rattling inside his chest. “Would you like to get some dinner with me?”

“No.”

The word pierced the air with such a stinging jolt it made Paul want to recoil. “Uh… oh, but I thought… Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You took a step from around the service counter, a single finger sliding over the cheap marble, keeping your eyes locked with Paul as you moved. The only answer you supplied was a shake of your head, treading closer to the flustered man, his face creased into a positively adorable look of uncertainty.

It was your time to be bold now. You weren’t sure how it happened, when the rush of confidence flashed through your limbs, pushing you into a determination you’d not been allowed to embrace very often. Maybe it was because you’d already endured a horrifying dose of embarrassment today. Maybe it was because you found this stranger so attractive it physically burned your insides. Maybe it was because you had been fantasising about the things he might do to you for the last several hours and your logical brain was currently suffocated by lust. No matter the reason, you treaded towards Paul with a measured composure, until finally you were standing at his front, a thickened air of tension sifting around the two of you, the dimmed lights softly bouncing off the frames of his glasses. You saw him swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, evidently nervous at the proximity. But he wasn’t retreating, he wasn’t edging himself away. When his stare flickered down to your lips, pupils swelling at the sight, you knew this was your opening.

“I don’t want a date. I want what I sent in that message,” you breathed. “In fact, I think I need it.”

To your surprise, Paul didn’t waver like you assumed he would. Large palms were quick to scoop under your jaw, pulling you forward into an impassioned kiss. Two sets of lips colliding in a hungered clash, bodies melting into one another, your own hands clutching at the scratchy tweed jacket he wore. The entanglement was frenzied, rough, much more forceful and impatient than either of you would normally act in your separate lives. In these moments those pasts selves seemed like distant memories, both of you shedding the bondage of your doubts in mere seconds, succumbing to the impulses sparked to life by what should have been an inconsequential meeting.

Each kiss never wavered in its intensity, only thriving with heat and fervour, feeling Paul beginning to suck and bite at your lower lip while his hands wandered over your clothes. The irritation that arrived at the barrier between his touch and your flesh was enough to make another decision resolute.

This man was gasoline to your waiting fire, and you wanted him to pour himself all over you, not caring if the world around you burst into flames.

Before you could get the words out, what was going to be an eager plea, he stole them from you.

“M-More?” he gasped, trailing delicate pecks down your neck. “Would… Would you want more?” The question was followed by the slow push of his hips into you, providing another show of evidence that was too persuading to refuse. Into his collar you grabbed two fists of fabric, pulling him backwards with you. He followed your lead gladly, a tangle of legs treading somewhat haphazardly over the shop floor, avoiding the circular displays of dress shirts until your back finally knocked into the dressing room door.

Even if you’d had second thoughts at the risk this was to your job if you were caught ravaging a newly obtained client on the security cameras, they would have been erased at the way Paul clutched at your hips and ushered you inside the small cubicle, refusing to let his mouth stray from yours as a single hand moved to fiddle the lock closed behind him.

The second after it clicked into your confinement, there was a pause, with a rushed whisper into your ear. “I don’t… I don’t usually do this…”

“Me either,” you rasped back, nails clawing into his hair as he set another deepened kiss on you. “This… I’ve never been… so hasty.”

There was a low groan that rumbled from Paul’s throat as you pulled lightly to tilt his head back, skating your lips under his jawline. He took the opportunity of your parted mouths to catch his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice. “I’m not… rushing you… am I? We can stop… If you want to stop-”

You smile, warmed by his gallantry, before nibbling at the rise of his collarbone. “I want to keep going. Please… Don’t stop.”

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“Say please. Again.”

“Please,” you whined back, delving into a begging tone.

The fingers clutching at your waist tensed at the proclamation, moving down to the curve of your ass as another gradual thrust was pressed into the apex of your thighs.  You could feel it, feel him, the physical indication of just how sincere his desire truly was. It made you ache, made you suddenly feel too empty, too incomplete. Instinct made you about to reach for the buckle of Paul’s belt so you would know the full scale of what would hopefully be yours to take, but he was too quick.

With impressive dexterity, Paul unfastened the button of your slacks, slipping one hand inside while the other became curled around your neck, anchoring you into place. He hesitated at the hem of your cotton panties, his tempered breath warm over your face while your stares held one another’s.

“I want to touch you… Would that be okay?”

You immediately nodded, rolling your hips upward to meet his stilled hand. “Touch me Paul. Please.”

It was a magic word, dashing any of his reservations in an instant. Fingertips swiftly slipped underneath the thin fabric, skimming over the trail of pubic hair that the feel of made Paul’s cock throb even harsher than before. While never explicitly voiced out loud, he loved the natural state of a woman, knowing it set off something primal in him he couldn’t quite explain. The recognition made a hurried groan escape before even dipping into the line of your folds, only for another one to follow at the sensation of slick essence waiting there.

A gasp leapt from your throat, the sound settling into a delighted whimper as Paul explored you, letting two of his fingers trace up and down, teasing the edge of your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he panted, capturing your lips in another fevered convergence. “Have you… Have you been like this since…?”

“The whole time,” you finished. “Since I first saw you, heard your voice…”

Paul’s subsequent groan echoed in the small space. The people in his life were never this forthcoming with their information, and here you were being so unrestricted and honest. He wanted to reward you for it. His movements shifted to centre on the swollen nub of your clit, placing sweetened kisses just below the lobe of your ear. “Do you want to come?”

You mewled as increasingly more intense pulsations of ecstasy began to billow out from your core. Every motion this man made with his fingers was unlike anything you’d encountered before. There was finesse, an elegance in every subtle action, smooth and severe at the same time. “Oh god, yes. I want to come, I want you to make me come.”

“Will you be a good girl for me?”

The question had arrived without Paul being able to prevent it, and he immediately felt a wash of dread simmer through him. What if you weren’t into that? What if he’d fucked this all up with one slip of the tongue?

He needn’t have worried.

“Do good girls get to come?” you asked, nails clawing into the hair at the nape of Paul’s neck.

He couldn’t have been more relieved, increasing his pace on you, a positively beaming smile being pressed into your throat in between the small licks and open-mouthed kisses he began to coat under your jawline. “They do. And you’ve already been such a good girl. So good for me. So wet… So willing...”

“A-anything for you,” you puffed out, breathless at the rising pleasure Paul was igniting, mind blurred from the combination of his exhale skating over your skin and the expert flourishes he traced over your bundle of nerves. “I’ll be anything. Your good girl, bad girl, anything you want.”

“You’re already everything I want,” Paul cooed. While true he’d only seen glimpses of your full self so far, he was already convinced of the words he’d spoken. It made him feel even more courageous, more ravenous to please you. “And I want to show you how much. Does my good girl trust me?”

A delirious hum filled the air as your agreement. How could you not say yes to such a question? You were already putty in Paul’s hand the moment he’d finally kissed you, and with his hardness pressing against your thigh as a promise of what might be to come, there was no way in hell you would have refused. It wouldn’t have been a lie either. You did trust him. Not that you could explain why right now.

With your consent given, Paul retreated from you, only to snatch at your wrist at the same time he unlocked the changeroom door. You gasped softly as he pulled you out into the now darkened space, thankfully having the shop lights set on a timer to switch off before you were meant to leave. Although, it now appeared your night was long from over.

The subtle glow of the computer screensaver guided Paul to exactly where he’d planned, steering you to the edge of the counter and immediately propping you onto it. You would have squealed in surprise if not for the way he led another assault on your lips, standing between your spread legs, also beginning to tear apart the buttons of your blouse and wrench the covering away. The dull, beige bra you wore underneath was the next item to be taken from your body, Paul having the latch unclasped with a single flick of his fingers. As the straps were dragged down your arms, he moved his mouth downwards to a perked nipple, tongue toying with the bud as you rocked your head back with a decadent sigh.

“So beautiful,” he rumbled against your chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

Your fingers snaked into Paul’s hair again, relishing the praise you’d rarely been afforded as he set himself onto your other breast, darting the tip of tongue around the sensitive centre. You could have let him linger there, but you became acutely aware of the shifted balance of your exposure, your torso bared while Paul’s remained irritatingly layered. That needed to be corrected.

You pulled on the inky strands to force Paul’s head back before starting work moving the jacket from over his shoulders. He allows it to slide off easily, hearing a small thud below as the heavy article fell in a crumpled heap. The sweater was next to be peeled off, finding yourself smirking at how Paul’s glasses became crooked from the woollen material slipping over his face. He caught your amused expression, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you giggled softly, fixing the frames to properly sit on the bridge of his nose. “You’re just… so cute.”

A gawky smile spread across Paul’s face. He wasn’t sure he’d been called cute before. He liked it more than he would have thought. The warmth it set off in his chest made him capture you in a kiss once more, although this one was significantly less urgent and more… affectionate. Slower, delicate, mouths moving in a hypnotic synchronicity, so much so Paul didn’t notice you’d unlocked the buttons of his shirt until you were pulling the tucked in portion out of his trousers.

As the dreadful, yellowed fabric was finally abandoned to reveal the torso beneath, you heard Paul release a rumble of satisfaction when your hands began to roam over the uncovered skin. You, yourself had to stifle a moan just from the feel of him alone. You’d imagined in your idle daydreaming a toned form hidden underneath those god-awful clothes, but it hadn’t prepared you for this. Every muscle was defined, tightened, firm underneath your touch, his chest so broad even your two splayed out hands didn’t cover the full expanse. You couldn’t stop yourself from withdrawing backwards just to view it with your own eyes, biting hard on your lower lip as you took in the sight.

It made Paul suddenly self-conscious, casting his eyes down. “I don’t- My job keeps me so busy… Getting to the gym is a little hard-”

“What? No!” you stopped him, realising where his train of thought had gone. You tilted his chin upwards to force your stares to meet. “I was actually just thinking how much more I hate that terrible outfit for hiding all of this-” You let your hands skim down his front, leaning in close, “-from me.”

Paul’s lips curved upwards. “You were?”

“I really was.” You set your lips under his jaw, reaching around Paul’s flanks to scratch your nails lightly over the middle of his back. “By far the sexiest customer I’ve ever had walk in here.”

Paul wanted to scoff. Being called sexy was even rarer for him than being called cute. And yet, with the way you pressed your naked breasts against him, clutching him closer to you while your hot breath at his shoulder made his hairs stand up, it was the first time in his life he believed it might be true. So, instead of dismissing the sentiment, he allowed it to take over, embracing the swell of fearlessness it brought.

Suddenly your pants, along with the panties underneath, were being excitedly wrenched down the curve of your ass, Paul having them stripped from your legs within seconds. If anyone walking past peered into the shopfront, they might have seen you draped over the register now completely devoid of clothing. But, you didn’t care. Not when Paul had proceeded to lower himself between your opened thighs, holding them apart with his large hands, his eyes wide and wandering over your cunt.

“Fuck,” he marvelled. With one long stripe, his tongue travelled up the divide, groaning into your centre. “Tastes even better than it looks.”

Leaning on your elbows, you whined as Paul began to gently lap at you, dipping further inside each time, occasionally holding his focus on swirling over your aching clit. It made you whimper and writhe against him, overwhelmed with an incessant need of the release he’d been sparking for what seemed like hours.

“You want to come huh?” Paul spoke out loud. “Grinding your pussy on my face like that?”

“Please! I need it! So, so, badly.”

Ah, that magic word again. “I know,” Paul soothed, having to palm himself over his trousers just to calm some of the impulse to fuck you right then. “You’ve been so good, doing so well. And you’ll get to come real soon. Just promise me one thing okay?”

“Whatever you want,” you heaved, watching while Paul’s fingertips drifted over the slippery flesh, teasing in and out of the folds.

“Be a good girl and ask my permission when you’re about to come. Can you do that?”  

Again, it was only a pitiful moan you could supply as your answer, which this time wasn’t quite enough to satiate the man gliding his touch over you infuriatingly slowly.

“I need to hear you say it. I need you to tell me what you’re going to do.”

Another cry left you as Paul slipped two fingers inside your heat, your mind blurred from the feel of knuckles moving past the edge of your entrance, stretching you open. “Be… Be a good girl… I’ll be your good girl and ask permission.”

Hearing you say the words, Paul was sure he’d never been so hard in his whole existence. It was almost painful, his cock straining against the zipper he was trapped by, but it was a pain he savoured more than ignored. Even if this was as far as he got, if this scene ended with your cum smeared over his lips and nothing more, he would be grateful for the throbbing down below and gladly thank you for it. So, he dove in.

As the duel sensation of Paul’s tongue and fingers rose in their intensity, your back became flush with the marble countertop, only to have it arched as the rippling currents of ecstasy started shooting through your whole body. Muscles twitching, thighs trembling, you were astounded at how proficient he was at drawing your climax to the surface, somehow knowing the motions and spots that brought it ever closer to the point of breaking. Usually, in those uncommon occurrences a man would want to put forth the effort, many minutes would float on while you chased the seemingly unreachable high. Paul needed only a few of them before your breaths turned staggered and toes began to curl, scrambling to find your voice.

“I… I’m… oh god, Paul, you’re going to make me… Please… please let me…”

He didn’t dare to pull away to speak his encouragement out loud, instead silently spurring you along while keeping his pace steady.

Get the words out, you can do it. Just ask the question. I want to see you come. I want to see how pretty you look when you come.

You bolted up, stomach tensing, snatching both sets of fingers into Paul’s hair. With him captured in your stare as more waves of pleasure crested from your core, you turned begging. “Oh please. I’m so… So close… Can I please come? Will you let me come?”

Paul groaned, the vibrations ricocheting outwards, being quick with his reply. “It’s okay, you can come. Come for me baby, come nice and hard for me.”

Back slumping down onto the cold countertop, you did as you were told. Walls clenched around Paul’s fingers in quickened spasms as your coarse sighs filled the balmy atmosphere. He’d never watched something so enthralling, the way your chest rose and fell with sweat clinging to your skin as you rode out the heavenly bliss you’d fallen into. Only when he was positive you’d slipped into the beginning of your afterglow did Paul retreat, resting over your body to place adoring kisses at your forehead and cheek.

“You did so good,” he murmured.

The connection rattled you back into the current reality, moving to rub your palm over his hidden erection. “We’re not done yet.”

“We’re not?”

You were far beyond the point of playing coy. “Can you please fuck me now? I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Your pleading tone set something alight inside him, dragging you down until your feet made it to the floor and spinning you around in one swift action. Bent at the edge of the desk, a jingle of a belt buckle rung out, finally feeling Paul’s hardness press against your rear. And he felt huge. Thankfully still seeping from your climax, it was with ease he was able to eagerly sink into your waiting cunt, a rousing groan escaping from each of you.

“Oh fuck. You… feel so fucking good.” An arm slinked around your waist to wrench you flush against Paul’s torso, having his panting breath directly in your ear as he continued to drive himself further inside, gradually building his momentum. “Such a tight, wet pussy for me to make mine.”

“It’s yours,” you mewled. “It’s all yours.”

Paul lost his ability to speak, merely producing a growling moan into your neck as the pace and strength of his thrusts amplified, having little restraint left to hold himself back any longer. Repeated lewd, slapping sounds mingled with the coupled moans and whimpers of your collective satisfaction, passion radiating off your bodies in the form of feverish heat. It wasn’t long until you noted the stuttered exhales rushing out of Paul’s chest, a clear sign you didn’t miss.

“Want you to fill me. If… If you want to… You can… Fill me all the way up.”

Sure, it was reckless as all hell, but Paul trusted you like you’d trusted him, and the sound of your begging hit him like a lightning bolt. He lost complete control, plunging harder and faster into you, feeling your ass bounce against him, the pulsing below growing harsher and harsher until finally… release.

His embrace around you was suffocatingly strong as he spilled himself within your walls, sure the grip of his fingers would leave marks to find in the morning. Not that you minded. As the last of his energy dwindled into slackening thrusts, you again felt the dotting of small, sweetened kisses touch your skin, lining the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re amazing,” Paul awed, still tracing his palm over your bare flesh. “That was… amazing.”

About to chuckle at his lack of originality, a worrying thought sparked. “Oh my god!” You spun on your heels to encounter a bewildered expression. “The security cameras! They would have filmed everything! Oh god, I’m so fired.”

To your confusion, Paul had a toothy grin spread across his face. “I’ve got some experience in surveillance. I can handle it.”

“Huh? You do?”

He kissed the wrinkled portion of your brow. “I work for the NSA. And I could have sworn there was some suspicious activity occurring in these premises in the last… 30 minutes or so.”

~

Tagging those who might be interested! Sorry if it’s not your jam

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @fathersonandhouseofgucci @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza @millenialcatlady​

[dynyamight]

For the interaction + action ask: “ You have the most beautiful eyes, I’ve ever seen. “ + attempts to pickpocket, but gropes instead

send me an interaction ask bonus + action

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen." + attempts to pickpocket, but gropes instead

From the moment he landed on the feeble looking man, making his way down the cobblestone pathway, Bakugou knew that was his next target.

Dressed in an oversized robe, with only his soft, round face showing, the merchant strolled the empty street with a satchel, visibly filled with who knows what. But, Bakugou had a gut feeling that it had to be valuables and riches.

The green haired fool had his hands protectively around its shoulder strap; of course there had to be something worth selling.

Swiftly, Bakugou hightailed, right behind the merchant, making sure to keep a relatively natural distance between them. Fortunately for him, the night sky allowed his presence to be hidden better, with only the dim street lamps barely making light.

When the merchant makes a turn, around the corner of the next street, Bakugou allows himself a few seconds to slow down. Give his target some time to look back, and notice nothing.

After his small breather, Bakugou then makes the turn.

“Hi!” The merchant greets in his face.

Taken aback, Bakugou’s left stumbling backwards, barely catching himself in the process. “What the- Holy shit.”

“I deeply apologize, I didn’t mean to scare you so suddenly.” The merchant smiles feebly, his expression painted with worry. “I just noticed we were headed the same way, and I was wondering if you too are wanting to meet with Wizard Yagi?”

Wizard who?

Now, usually, Bakugou would have dropped the mission, head over and found a different person. There’s no point in trying to steal from someone who already knows your face, and has caught you in the act. It ruins the fun in thievery, and Bakugou simply just doesn’t enjoy lying, due to having to talk to the other person.

He prefers to do the least amount of talking possible.

However, today was a complete bust. Bakugou hasn’t been as lucky as he usually is, stealing empty bags, and pickpocketing fool’s gold and counterfeit goods. It’s just been the fucking worst, to say the least.

So, yeah, he’s desperate as fuck. And, this guy looks like he could barely hurt an ant, without bursting into fat welts.

“Sure am.” Bakugou lies, offering an open hand. “You must be Wizard Yagi’s apprentice?”

Green eyes light up, and quickly their hands are met into a firm handshake. “Why yes! How did you know?”

Lucky guess. “The whole town’s been hearing about you. Someone who had extremely, wondrous potential. A fucking prodigy, genius even.”

There’s a slight blush that forms over the merchant’s face. “O-Oh, I wouldn’t say that. The rumors are always so exaggerated these days.”

“Pfft, c’mon. You’re fucking well known.” Bakugou states easily, “I bet you’re the best at magic.”

“Um, I don’t actually use magic.” The merchant weakly admits.

“You don’t?” Shit.

“D-Don’t worry!” He reassures quickly, hands waving dismissively in the air, “It’s a common mistake the folks say.”

“Oh, that’s a fucking relief.” Bakugou genuinely breathes out.

“All is forgiven.” The merchant chuckles, finally gesturing to his satchel at his side. “You see, I gather bunches of resources from the forest, as well as pick up spices and herbals from different shops, and create healing potions. If I could use magic, I think it would have been Light magic.”

“You can’t possibly collect so much, without a couple of coins in your bag.” Bakugou suggests.

“A-Ah, well,” The merchant scratches the side of his cheek, donned with freckles, “I do have riches, in order to trade and purchase.”

It has Bakugou smiling bright. “No kidding.”

“Um, anyways,” The merchant instantly shifts the conversation, “Why don’t we walk together over to my master’s lodging? It can get a little dangerous around here.”

“My, how kind of you. You’d do that for someone like me?” Bakugou teases outright.

The merchant nods confidently. “Yeah, I can protect you, of course.”

What a fucking liar. “Lead the way, then.”

With his huge robe in the way, Bakugou has come to the terrible conclusion that while they walk, he can’t seem to grab the satchel. Hidden by the long cloth, it will continuously appear and disappear, with each step the young man took. It irritated Bakugou, to no end.

“I never got your name.” The merchant chimes from in front.

“It’s Bakugou.” He huffs, still eying at his side.

“My name is Midoriya!” The merchant chuckles airly, shaking his head. “Sorry, you probably knew that already. It’s a force of habit.”

Thank god, he would have never guessed. “Don’t sweat it. I do that shit all the time.”

Immediately, Midoriya halts in his steps. And, before Bakugou could ask, he turns to face him, a wide, joyous smile printed on his face. “Really? You do that, too?”

The satchel has now flung behind Midoriya, no longer at his side. For fuck’s sake.

Nothing comes easy to Bakugou. Hard life comes with hard, strifling times.

“Y-Yeah,” He barely grits out through his teeth, pressing down on the urge to tackle Midoriya, right here and now. “Forgetful ass motherfucker. That’s me.”

“While your language is a bit crass, I completely understand how you feel!” Midoriya states, eyes shining in delight. “It’s like I’ll go to the theater, and the ticket master will say ‘Enjoy the show!’, and I say ‘Thank you, you too!’ It’s absolutely dreadful, right?”

Bakugou has never said that stupid shit, in his entire life. Who even does that?

Apparently, this idiot.

“Absolutely dreadful.” He forces himself to agree.

“My, we have so much in common!” Midoriya laughs, bringing his hands together in a fold. “Perhaps we were bound to meet; you and I. Out here, on this fateful night!”

Sounds terribly romantic. Which then, just like a lightbulb, perfectly brings a brilliant idea in Bakugou’s mind. A way to make Midoriya stand still, and reach around his back for that damn bag.

“Say,” Bakugou begins, taking a step closer, inching his face near, “Did anyone ever tell you are a lovely sight to witness?”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, lips agape in shock. “I-I am?” He weakly breathes out.

“The damn sunset would grow jealous of your rare beauty. Trust me.” Bakugou brings his right hand up Midoriya’s face, gently cupping his cheek. “Believe me.”

He can feel the warmth hit his palm, before he sees the red hue flush across Midoriya’s face. “U-Um, thank you, Bakugou. That’s rather kind of you to say.”

“You know, if we had met under different circumstances,” Bakugou whispers, making sure to add a hint of sultry and sweet into his rough voice, “I know exactly what I would have said, to grab your attention.”

With his lingering left hand, Bakugou reaches around Midoriya’s side. He hovers just slightly over his waist, towards his backside.

At this point, now he was waiting for the right moment.

Despite his calculated movements, Midoriya still had no idea. “Wh-What would you have said, if you don’t mind me asking?” He mumbles quietly.

“I’d say,” Bakugou smirks, ‘Excuse me, sir. You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.”

And, with those emerald, pretty eyes staring back at him in awe, Bakugou finally grabs at the satchel with a tight grip.

There was no buckle. No riches he felt. No crunch from herbs or spices. There was literally nothing he felt in his hand.

Except a piece of firm ass.

And the hard fist that slammed into Bakugou’s face left him unconscious, out on the street.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

[astronomoney]

can i request 15 and 16 with tim drake? it’s alright if you don’t have time for it, it’s alright

Pairing: Tim Drake x reader (both in their 20s ish)

Prompts: Prompt list 15- “Make me”, 16- “If you don’t put a shirt i’m gonna have to kiss you and who knows where things will go from there”

Summary: Just you and Tim having a nice little date

A/n: i wrote this with a female reader in mind but i also didn’t use any specific pronouns so technically it could be gn!reader. also i have been trapped in the MHA fandom for like a 3 weeks so i couldn’t write anything that even resembled DC characters lmfao. Masterlist

Word count: 1.3k

Tag list: @battlenix

Late Night In

Life as a Gothamite is never boring. Every few days there’s a new murdering psychopath with a clever theme. Like the Riddler who dresses in green and asks, get ready for it… riddles! Some other honorable mentions include Killer Croc the killing crocodile, Mr. Freeze the guy who freezes stuff, and of course who can forget Scarface the dummy with a scar on his face.

All these villains prancing around town made dating a superhero unnecessarily difficult. Date nights were few and far between when there’s a killer clown on the loose. But you didn’t let that get in the way. You made the most of the time you had even if it was less time then you wanted.

It had been almost 3 weeks since Tim had a night off and you were dying to see him. Texting was fine for a week or two and you didn’t consider yourself a high maintenance or clingy person but you could only go so long without him. So when he called to say he had a night off you suggested he come over to your place to watch a movie and have some take out.

Your apartment wasn’t necessarily small but it definitely wasn’t big. The door opened right into a short hallway which led to the kitchen. There was a counter between the kitchen and dining area but nothing in between that and the living room. There were two doors and either side of the living room and the door to the left led into a bathroom while the door to the right was your bedroom.

When Tim arrived a little after 8 he was holding a bunch of roses and a cute stuffed bear with the words “I love you” stitched into its belly. There was a duffle bag slung over his shoulder that most likely held his sparring gear and his costume in a secret pocket at the bottom. He looked tired and smelled like a gym which brought you to conclusions that he did not go home after sparring and instead came straight to you.

He immediately started rambling about how much he’d missed you and how sorry he was for his busy schedule.

“I am so so sorry. It’s been so long since I've had a night off and I know you wanted to go to that movie last week and I couldn't make it and-” You cut him off with a quick kiss.

“Tim. Relax.” You said firmly with a hint of amusement in your voice. “You were saving 6 hostages from a madman with a thing for hats. I don’t know about you but to me that seems a bit more important then some random movie.” You took the flowers so you could admire them before heading towards the kitchen.

Tim closed the door and followed you. “If it’s important to you then it’s the most important thing in the world.” He said, putting the bear on the counter.

You smiled at him and started filling a vase with water to put the flowers in. “That is the cheesiest thing I think I've ever heard.”

“That was romantic and you know it.” Tim smiled back at you. “And I really am sorry for canceling last week.” You could tell in his voice that he felt guilty.

“And I really do forgive you,” You turned your attention to him. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.” His body relaxed and he walked around the counter so he could hug you from behind.

His hands wrapped around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulders”How the hell did i get so lucky as to end up with you?” He asked softly. He rocked slightly from side to side as you dropped the roses into the water.

“Oh gross Tim you’re all sweaty!” You exclaimed

“Really? i say that and you’re reaction is ‘Oh gross’. And here I was thinking you loved me.” He said with fake hurt in his voice.

“I’ll love you more if you go take a shower.” You stated, completely unfazed by his guilt tripping attempts.

“Ugh ok,” he sighed lazily while burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?” he murmured in response.

“That means you have to let go.” You tried to break free which only made him hug you tighter.

“Make me.” He started leaving kisses on your shoulder and neck. The soft feeling made your mind go blank for a second and you melted farther into him before pulling yourself out of the daze.

You wriggled out of his grasp and turned around to kiss him before breaking away. “This is really cute and all but you smell like a sewer.”

“Yeah well Bruce said i could only have the night off if i sparred first so i smell like this for you.” He walked backwards toward the bathroom so you were still facing each other.

You shook your head and walked to the living room. “Well then i appreciate your sacrifice.”

He didn’t take long in the shower. You had enough time to grab some blankets for the couch and turn on a Law and Order rerun. The water turned off and about a minute later your boyfriend stepped out.

You didn’t look at him at first, too caught up in the 5 year old fictional court case. He walked over to you and sat down, you leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder. It was then that you actually noticed his lack of shirt. He was a lean sort of fit, not too bulky but not not muscular. You’d seen him shirtless before but the sight still brought a pink tint to your face. You unconsciously let your hands trace his collarbone.

“If you don’t put a shirt on i’m gonna have to kiss you and who knows where things will go from there.” You stated teasingly, pulling yourself out of yet another daze. The doorbell rang interrupting the calmness that had settled over you.

“Are you expecting someone?” Tim asked, turning his head to peer at the door.

“Oh shit, I forgot.” You laughed at yourself and rushed to the door. When you opened it there was a delivery man on the other side holding a bag of chinese food. You thanked and tipped him before closing the door and walked back over to Tim. “I did promise you takeout.” You held up the bag.

After you had dished the food and settled down on the couch you watched the movie. It was nice to be with him again even if you were just watching a movie.

You were nearly asleep, cuddled up next to him on the couch when the end credits started to roll. You stretched and yawned and checked the clock to find out it was already 11:10. It wasn’t necessarily late but it had been a long day for you both. That’s when you decided to ask him the question that had been on your mind since he arrived.

“It’s getting pretty late.” You said standing up to get your dirty dishes.

“Yeah,” Tim followed suit, grabbing his plate and heading towards the kitchen. “I should probably head back now. I don’t want to be out too late, especially not in costume.” He dropped the dishes in the sink.

“Oh right,” you paused “Or maybe... you could stay here tonight.” You suggested. “And tomorrow night… and the night after that?”

“Are-are you asking me to move in?” He questioned a slightly surprised look on his face.

“Well i was just thinking if you lived here then we could see each other a lot more and you wouldn’t have to live in the manor with Bruce but your right it was stupid idea i’m sure they need you there for all kinds of superhero stuff and-” you started rambling before he cut you off.

“I think it’s a great idea!” You were surprised by his response.

“R-really?” You stammered

“Yes really! I’d love to move in with you.”

A/n: i legitimately can’t end a fic to save my life like what kinda half ass ending is that?

[triplexdoublex]

Alpha Omega

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/Tags: alcohol, drunk, attempted rape (colson saves you before ANYTHING happens), potentially triggering dialogue about it the next morning, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, squirting 💦

A/N: Inspired by a weird dream I had and a real tweet I read, the person Jake in the fic was actually Jake Paul in my dream (ew). If you think the beginning backstory may trigger you and just want to read their friendship turn to lovers/smut, then scroll to the 2ND time skip marked with stars (***)

College mid-terms were finally over, which meant the same thing every year: the Alpha Omega annual fraternity party! It was the biggest party on campus every year, and even though it’s not really your scene, you decided to attend this year. Maybe it was the stress of mid-terms weighing extra heavy on your mind, but you needed an escape. But now, five full drinks and some shots later, you find yourself stumbling around the drink and keg area in the kitchen with a half-empty red solo cup, wondering how the hell you're supposed to find your way back to your dorm to sleep off what was obviously a very poor decision.

“Hey pretty thing,” you hear, suddenly feeling an arm slink around your waist.

“Do I know you?” you ask, disoriented and confused as your eyes try to focus on the face of the person touching you.

“The name’s Jake,” he shouts over the music, guiding you out of the kitchen and into the main party room. “You should come back to my room, you look like you need to lay down,” he says with ill-intent, but you’re too intoxicated to argue, letting him lead you up the stairs.

Even though most of your senses are impaired right now, you can’t mistake the distinct, pungent smell of weed wafting towards you as Jake escorts you down the hall once the two of you reach the top of the stairs.

“Yo, Jake!” a voice shouts from an open door, smoke billowing out as you pass.

“Hey Cols, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, man,” he says, blowing a smoke ring as he passes the blunt to his roommate Pete. “Wanna hit?”

“Maybe later, gotta get this pretty little thing back to room,” Jake answers.

“Aye, she alright? Colson questions, quickly rising to his feet.

“Yeah, pal she don’t look too good,” Pete coughs.

“Nah, man, that’s fucked up. She’s gooone!” Colson says getting a closer look at you. ‘You can’t talk her back to your room like this. That’s just wrong.”

“The fuck I can!” Jake retorts. “Look,” he says turning to you and lifting your slumped head. “You wanna go to my room with me don’t you, sexy?”

“N-nno” You slur, drunkenly shaking your head ‘Yes’

“See, she shook her ‘yes’,” Jake argues.

“Yeah, and her mouth said fuckin’ NO, Dawg!” Colson snaps back.

“Listen, I’m taking her to my room and there ain’t shit you can do about it!”

“The fuck there is!” Colson swings, his closed fist making contact with the side of Jake’s face, knocking him out cold.

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

The next thing you know you’re opening your eyes; an unfamiliar room and bed coming into view. You slowly sit up holding your throbbing head

“Hey, you’re awake,” says a soft voice to your right. Quickly, you turn your head in a panic to see a tall blonde sitting on the edge of the bed.

“W-who are you? Where.. Where am I?” you ask on the verge of tears.

“My name's Colson,” he reaches out for your hand. “I —”

“Don’t touch me!” You yell, scooting backwards pulling  the covers up over you when you realize all you’re wearing is a thin, white, mens t-shirt. “Where are my clothes?”

“Aye, yo, it’s not like that. Relax, listen,” he stands with his hands up backing away from you. “I slept on the couch, I just wanted —”

“Where are my clothes!?” you demand.

“You threw up on them,” he answers.

“So lemme get this right … I threw up and you took off my clo —”

“NO! No! God no!” he says waving his arms. “My roommate Pete —”

“So your roommate Pete took off my clothes…?”

“NOOO! Please, just listen. I swear I was just trying to help you and keep you safe.” The desperation in his voice causes you to let down your guard a little. “I was saying, my roommate Pete. His girl. She stayed over last night and I asked her to help get you cleaned up and changed. I saw nothing I swear,” he puts his hands up again.

You sit there in silence, confused, trying to process everything he just said.

“You really don’t remember anything from last night? Do you?” He asks, stepping slowly back towards the bed.”

“No,” you shake your head, disappointed in yourself.

He cautiously begins to sit back down on the edge of the bed then pauses “Can I?” 

You nod ‘yes’ and he takes a seat.

“Yo, you were in really rough shape last night. I’m assuming you had too much to drink?”

“Yeah,” you admit looking ashamed.

“Aye, we’ve all been there. I’m just glad you’re ok,” he smiles. “Me and my homie Pete were just up here smoking when we seen some dude we know trying to take you back to his room. I could tell you were wrecked. Fuck, you where barely conscious. I tried to tell him how wrong that was but he wouldn’t listen so I knocked him the fuck out. I didn’t know where your dorm was or if you came to the party with anyone and I wanted to make sure you had a safe place to sleep it off.”

“ Thank you. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” you apologize.

“Nah I completely understand,” he accepts your apology. ‘That’s why I wanted to be here when you woke up, I figured you might be a little confused.”

“More than a little,” you let out a small laugh.

Colson cracks a smile, then heads to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his athletic shorts. “Here, tell you what,” he says, tossing the shorts on the bed. “ Imma head out there —” he points to the door. Let you get dressed and I’ll drive you back to your dorm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you answer with a thumbs up and a smile as he steps out the room, closing the door behind him.

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

“Seriously, thank you so much,” you say when he pulls up to your dorm.”What can I do for you? I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

“Nothing. Any respectable man would have done the same thing,” he says.”I can only hope that one day if god forbid my daughter even finds herself in that position that someone would do the same for her.”

“Awww, you have a daughter?”

“Yeah,” he smiles like a proud father, lifting his backside from the drivers seat to pull out his wallet. “Her name’s Casie,” he says opening to her picture.  

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he says, then tucking his wallet back into his pocket. “She lives with her mom but I still see her all the time.”

“I’m glad. You seem like you’d be a great father.” you smile. “Thanks again,” you add, stepping out of the car.

“Hey, ummm, wait,” he calls out the car window as you walk towards your dorm.

“Yeah?” you turn back to face him.

“Ain’t you in that bitch Mrs. Pearson’s creative writing class with me?”

“Oh yeah,” you thought he looked familiar. “You usually sit up in the back row right?”

“If you mean ‘take a nap in the back row’, then yeah that’s me”, he laughs.

“Well see you bright and early tomorrow then I guess,” you smile.

“Yeah, see ya,” he smiles back before driving off.

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

The two of you became quite close after that. Gradually moving your seats closer and closer to be near each other in class and pairing up for projects together. You even got to meet his daughter Casie briefly once before her mom picked her up from their weekend visit. You spent a lot of your free time together.It was amazing how you could do absolutely nothing when you were together yet there was no awkward silence or moments: much like right now where you're both hanging out in your dorm just laying on your bed scrolling aimlessly through your phones.

“Oh my god why are men so stupid?” You blurt out in laughter, showing him a tweet on your phone. “This dude really had the audacity to make a whole ass thread about how to eat pussy but he obviously has no clue what he’s talking about; girls don’t squirt out of their clits!’ No wonder girls never cum and have to fake it. Ya’ll mother fuckers don’t even know where the clit IS, and I’m pretty sure squirting is just something made up by the porn industry cuz that shit never happens in real life.”

“Aye, nah I hope you aint including me in that, cuz lemme tell you, ya boy knows where the clit is!  My girls always cum,” he smirks. 

“Yeah, okay,” you roll your eyes. “How do you know they’re not faking?”

“Cuz squirting ain’t made up, that shits VERY real! Maybe not every time but it has happened so I know they weren’t faking,” he smiles. “You mean to tell me a guy has never made you cum?

“Uhn uh” you shake your head no.

“And you’ve never squirt... even ..uhh..by yourself...or with whatever toys you chicks use?”

“I mean I’ve cum alone, but never squirt. No,” you admit blushing. You and Colson have never discussed anything sexual with each other before.

“That’s bananas, dawg!” he exclaims, slapping the bed.

The room grows quiet, the silence feeling awkward for the first time in your whole friendship.

“Aye, uh you trust me right?” Colson breaks the silence

“Yeah, of course, with my life!” you exclaim.”Why?”

“Trust me enough to uhmm...show you what I can do?”

“Are--are you saying you wanna — “

“I wanna make you cum,” he blurts out, cutting you off. “If- if you’ll let me that is.”

“I...Uhmm..I..”, you stumble while thinking it over.

“Sorry… uhhh let’s just forget this whole conversation, okay?” he says ashamed, thinking he made you uncomfortable.

“Why not,” you blurt out nonchalantly.

“Wait!, why not, like… like you … you wanna —”

You silently shake your head yes biting your lip.

“Oh shit! For real?” He says in surprise, getting up off the bed. “Uhh, c’mere,” he calls you over to the edge of the bed.

You do as you're told crawling over to the edge, sitting with your legs dangling off the bed. “You know, you don’t gotta go easy with me,” you smirk waiting for him to make his next move.

“Good, I wasn’t planning on it,” he says, immediately flipping you over and yanking your panties off from under your dress.

“Ugh you boys are all the same,” you groan looking back at him assuming he’s just gonna start fucking you from behind. “Haven’t any of you even heard of foreplay?”

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever eaten your pussy from the back before?” he questions, kneeling down behind you. 

With both hands he grabs your ass making it jiggle for him before delving his tongue between your folds, his tongue exploring every crevice. You gasp at the sensation and feel his muffled laugh buzz against your core, intensifying your pleasure. Gripping your ass tighter, he alternates between plunging a firm, pointed tongue in and out of your wet slit and assaulting your clit with a series of rapid fire kitten licks. Your legs weaken with each lash of his tongue, your body slowly collapsing against the bed.

“Keep that ass up, girl,” he pauses briefly to say. You try with all your might but it’s no use; Colson has reduced your legs to a pile of jello. Roughly he tosses you onto your back, spreads your thighs open and gets back to work. Keeping his tongue focused on your clit, he slides two fingers deep inside of you, his lengthy digits perfectly pressing against your G spot. “I can feel this pussy tightening around my fingers, I know you're close, right?” He pauses to ask cockily.

All you can manage is to nod, ‘yes’, your bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you look down locking eyes with colson; the fiery passion in them is a stark contrast to their ice blue hue.

Colson quickens the pace of his fingers, the sloshing of your wetness audible as he brings you closer to the edge. Then resting his free hand on your mound he gently pulls back the hood of your clit with his thumb exposing the most sensitive part sending your body into convulsions when he rapidly flicks his tongue against it.

“Colson, FUCK!!! ” you scream out in pleasure as the most intense orgasm of your life rips through you. “Oh my god... oh my god,” you chant in pleasure and shock as you realize you’re actually squirting. Colson doesn’t miss a beat continuing to work you through your high, relishing in the mess you're making all over his face and fingers. When you finally stop twitching he removes his fingers and sits up with a smug look. He pulls off his shirt, wipes his glistening face with it, then tosses it on the floor and hurriedly starts undoing his belt.

“You didn’t think I was just gonna stop at one, did you?” He says cockily pulling himself from his boxers. “Awhh, fuck yeah, sooo wet and tight,” he groans as he pushes in, then bringing his hand between your two bodies, and begins to rub your clit as he thrusts.

“Mhmmmhhmm,” you moan, the bundle of nerves still sensitive from your prior orgasm.

“Told ya I could make you feel good,” he teases, his breath ghosting over that one reactive spot on your neck just behind your ear, causing you to let out a little squeak. “You like that?” He laughs, nipping at the same spot while his hips roll in like the tide, crashing repeatedly against the shore of your pelvis. He nips and kisses along your jawline making his way to your mouth, harshly tugging your bottom lip with a groan. Your tongue reaches out, searching for him as he pulls back.

“Fucking tease,” you whimper.

“That desperate to taste yourself on me?” He chaffs.

To be honest you’re desperate for everything he’s giving you right now; you’re body has never felt such pleasure. So when he offers his mouth back to you, you happily welcome the tart taste of yourself still present on his ravenous tongue. Your mouths move in a hungry rhythm, following suit with your hips. Your breaths and moans echo each others, increasing in speed and volume as climax nears. He can tell you’re so so close and he knows just how to get you there. He  grabs your legs pulling you flush against him and throws your legs over his shoulder, keeping your thighs pinned to his chest with both arms as continues to pound you.

“Mhmmm… Yeah, Yeah, Fuck me! Fuck me!”  you whine needily clawing at the sheets as you enjoy his cock from a whole new angle, slamming into your g-spot at the perfect tempo. It’s just a few more thrusts until he has you completely undone, cumming for the second time today.

“Jesus Christ, Colson” you moan breathily as you ride it out.

‘Ughggg,” he grunts loudly, quickly pulling  out, your legs falling to hips as he finishes on your stomach. 

“Can’t believe you were out here talkin’ ‘bout men don’t know where the clit is and no man ever made you cum,” he says mockingly after he catches his breath. “Nah, girl, you just been fucking with some losers. Gotta get you a real man like me.” 

“Well looks like I got myself one now,” you smirk. “ because we will definitely be doing that again!”

“Awhhh shiiiit,” he says loudly, his hand covering his smile. “ Got you addicted to this dick already, huh?” He teases.

“Shut up,Colson-,” you laugh, chucking a pillow at him “- and go get me something to clean off my stomach.”

[legendaryoikawa]

eros 1: love is a bitch / oikawa tooru / eros masterlist 

pairing: oikawa x female reader

word count: 2,665k

synopsis: lingerie shopping is the activity you’ve thought to kill time while your boyfriend was away for his games. little did you know while you were trying on the piece from victoria’s secret, came in oikawa tooru, fresh with his dick turned on upon the sight of your fat ass.

genre: boyfriend!oikawa, smut, pwp (mirror sex, penetration, strip tease, dirty banters, profanities, nsfw themes)

minors dni

taglist: @boosyboo9206 @dokisaki (can’t tag) @godjo @flavostella02 @heykoutaro (can’t tag) @aleacarnin @licitix @katsukis-sad-angel @k-sakura @dokisuki (can’t tag) @black-water-78 @throughtheinterstices @iloverarepares @newfriendjen @aizawaslovebot @ratatouille407 @midnightartist​ @ya-kkun​ @daicrie​ @mochipk​ @kanesshiiweeb​ @134340-cm​ @svgafresh​ @annexerca​ @neavil​ @paigypol (can’t tag) @aggressivelyshoutsokay​ thank you for the love and support!

BE PART OF MY TAGLIST HERE 

You let out a sigh. Exactly twenty five days and fourteen hours pass by and you’re still alone in your apartment complex. You receive nothing; no calls or texts from him. No trace of your boyfriend, Oikawa. Today is his supposed arrival from his training camp but there you are, alone.

The vibrant pink paper bag sits on top of the kitchen island. A lacy lingerie that you manage to haul for half its original price. You know Oikawa will definitely love seeing you in those fits. However you couldn’t help but to feel upset, given the fact that the day is close to conclusion yet, he is still nowhere to be found. What good does it even do to try out the recent lingerie you just bought when Oikawa isn’t even home? It’s like dolling up in front of a ghost. The reaction you expect won’t be thrown out against you. And it upsets you to the core.

But the mere fact you have already gone out of the trouble. To the extent of making an impulsive purchase of buying lingerie got you changing your mind on the spot. To hell be damned, you’ll be trying out the garment, without him or not.

Huffing, you approached the island to grab on the bag. Fishing out the black piece-- it is really beautiful engraved with little gems on the straps and lace on the cups. You didn’t bother going to the bathroom to change. Carefully, you removed your top then your pants. Sliding the lingerie up onto your body isn’t much of a trouble though, but your attention is entirely focused on the straps that you barely notice the movement of the door knob.

The soft footsteps padding through the hall alerts you as you finish tucking in the last strap from behind. There is a pause and it hits every single nerve in your body. You let out a slow exhale, fumbling with the ends of your hair as you feel the looming presence slowly approaching you from behind.

You hear his breath slowly fanning the delicate skin of your neck. You try to close your eyes, trying to act composed as if his presence isn’t something that dominates or overwhelms you. But he is what he is. Even the slow, soft breaths from him never fail to elicit a reaction from you. “This is really something I wasn’t expecting, at all,” he begins slowly. Your breath hitches as you try to think of a possible counterattack to throw against him, making you wait for days. But your body seems to have betrayed you the moment Oikawa set foot in your shared complex. Barely making anything, but you were already growing too flustered.

There is a long pause. You are trying to contain yourself, desperately searching for words. Soft breaths filling in the silence on the dim and quiet hall.

“Who said this was for you?” You begin slowly. Enunciating your words with emphasis while you slowly spin your heel to face him completely. The sight of him never fails to leave you breathless. You let out a quiet yelp when he took one daring step towards you. The soft surface of the granite counter sends a cooling sensation to your spine. You close your eyes, feeling the hot fanning of his minty breath against your face as he drags his words out, “And what if I do something to gain you?”

You are pretty sure it is an innuendo and you didn’t grapple to change the mood between the two of you. You raise a challenging brow, tilting your head backwards as if pushing his buttons further, “And what are you going to do?”

A playful smile tugs his lips. His tone changes into something richer, deeper and dangerous shades of velvet. You try to calm yourself, trying to steady your breathing. Oikawa is someone as bubbly, bright as the morning sun packed with his usual pride. But this time, his tone got your belly swirling with a heavy sensation of pleasure. Your heart makes a beeline to your throat as you wait for his next moves. He inquires slowly, “Mind if I make it up to you?” He calmly states while exuding up smug superiority. As he always should.

You let out an exasperated breath. Playing hard to get when Oikawa is looking too hot and offensive is something too hard for you to contain. Too hard to resist. Too hard to hold in much further.

“As long... as it’s worth the days of your absence, then it’s... fine,” you finally say.

He smirks. Lifting his hand to cup your face, he lets out a slow breath followed by a desperate call of your name. Chuckling, he begins, “You’ll never know how I kept on waiting for the training to end…” he tilts his head, examining your half naked figure. “And to see you in this fucking clothes makes me want to fuck you… right here, right now. Did you really dress up like this to impress your king, huh?” Your cheeks immediately burn upon hearing his words. The way he dominates you. You want him now too, so bad.

You decide to play along with him. Swallowing and engulfing— the sexual tension around is insurmountable. You know he’s doing this to tease you. And you don’t want to give him what he wants, that easily. “What if I said I did? Are you happy with this?” You run up a hand starting to your hip upward to your breasts, cupping them gingerly. Oikawa’s eyes follow every moment of your hand, his gaze pinned down onto your breasts. What a fucking tease, he thought especially when you leaned down to give him a full sight of what is beneath the flimsy garment.

He smirks at your boldness, “I do. I love the design, too bad they’ll be ripped out open as soon as I’ll lay my hands on them.” He sucks a sharp intake of breath. He’s growing impatient yet there is no sign of submission from you yet.

“Who says I’m allowing you to lay hands on these? On me?” You laugh breathlessly. Amusement lacing onto your tone. However, Oikawa isn’t having it. Not to mention his growing bulge.

He scoffs, already fed up. Annoyed at the playful banters thrown between you. He couldn’t hold another round of him playing coy, especially not in this current situation where you’re almost wearing nothing at all.

“Cat got your tongu—?”

He snaps. “How are you holding in? Are your little panties already wet over me?” He speaks confidently, looking down at your figure. “Come on now, give in to me like the little good girl you are.”

The last statement of his took you off-guard. You try to stand up straight however it looks like you are just feigning confidence especially that you cannot maintain eye contact with him. You manage to blurt out, despite the failed attempt at concealing your flustered state. Oikawa watches you, with a condescending smirk on his lips, hands resting on his nape. “Do you really think you deserve any of this? I think not,” you manage to spit out.

You see how his expression changed. Nostrils flaring. His expression darkening. You know you’ve pushed his limits now that he is clenching his jaw then suddenly attacking you, catching you by surprise. You feel his hot lips pressed against yours. Deliciously hot, hard, with a notable sky-high passion. Your hands creep up and clinged on his jersey, catching a fistful of his garment for support. He withdraws to breathe and continues to attack you barely even letting you breathe. His kisses were sloppy, all slippery. Oikawa is the drug you cannot afford to remove out of your life, he’s making you intoxicated with only just his mouth. Just his mouth.

You let out a moan when you felt his hands gripping your hips tightly. Then, he turns you suddenly that made your eyes widen. You feel the growing bulge sticking onto your ass as he presses his body onto yours. Burrowing his face onto the crook of your neck. You lean onto him, your head resting onto his shoulders as he attacks your neck from behind. Sucking and nimbling. Low breathes and moans. Hickies are adorning your neck like fresh flowers with hues of violet, blue and red. Fresh. Oikawa breathes through your nape, and slowly smiles onto your neck.

He whispers, “look at the mirror, baby.”

Confused, you lift your head and saw your reflection staring back at you. The same dishevelled, you. Oikawa grins as he slids his hands down your frame. Adoring the way he elicited a reaction from you. With an expert flick of his calloused hands, the lingerie is already removed from you, that fast and easy. The chilly air from the open window sends a tingling sensation against your naked torso.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he grins. “I want to fuck you in front of the mirror so badly but i need you inside me, now.” There’s a hint of urgency in his voice. He pushes you towards the nearby counter and swoops you easily to place you onto the cold granite surface. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips while he continues to attack you.

You moan into his mouth when you felt his hand running over your thighs. You are growing desperate and needy after his teasing touches. He bits onto your mouth as he shamelessly grinds his crotch onto your clothed pussy. “Love that?” He says between his breathes.

You’re pooling with lust and arousal. With him panting everytime he comes in contact with your heat. And his expression. He leans in further, inhaling your neck, “Damn. You always smell so good.” He breathes loud and grazes his teeth onto your sweet spot. Sucking and marking as he pleases, “I need you off the counter now.”

He pulls you off and turns you around again. He takes a fistful of you hair to whisper directly onto your ear. “I hate begging. But, may I proceed to fuck you with all my fucking might?”

You nod slowly. Pressing yourself onto his crotch, grinding playfully. You can feel his amusement, especially the way you dare to tease him until he was the one to submit to you. You wait for him to move, your hands sweaty against the granite counter. There’s a sound of shuffling— fabric. Oikawa tugs his gym shorts down followed by his black boxers. He takes his cock into his hand, giving it a subtle jerk while his other hand snaking up to pull you undies down your thighs. The sight of you makes him groan, the flesh almost welcoming, he strokes himself again, this time faster.

“I’m on pill,” you begin. Assuring him. You move slowly in your spot, rasping while your wetness drips down your thigs in anticipation. “What’s taking you so long? You’re not serving or anything.”

He sniggers while letting his cock spring free. He pulls the garment down your legs until it tangles into a roll of a lacy garment down down ankles. You kick it away with your right foot and settle on, widening you stance. You feel the rush of excitement coursing through you upon the feeling of his at your entrance. You bit your lip in anticipation.

“My… before you get something you fucking want, what do you need to say first?” He drags out word by word enunciating every syllable slowly down your ear. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath. You calmly say, “Please,” while steadying your hands onto the counter’s edge.

He grins in satisfaction. He drawls slowly, praising you, “Very good.” And positions himself by gripping your hips tightly. Judging by the way of his strong hold, it’ll surely leave out marks the next day. Your mind swirls upon the feeling of his sudden entrance in you, breathes being sucked as he draws and takes his time entering your sweet entrance.

After adjusting, he begins by moving his lips in a slow manner. Then taking you by surprise by exerting in sharp, fast thrust. You feel your thighs coming in contact with the cold counter. You let out soft moans and incoherent cusses filling out the silent room. He encircles his finger down your clit making you gasp for air.

He bucks down roughly onto you. His other hand encircling and busy with your clit. While his other hand is cupping your breast. You moan out shamelessly, cussing him out as the waves of pleasure bubbles down your belly. Coursing like a river.

“Fucking hell. You feel so good.”

You cannot hear him properly as the ragged breathing clouded your hearing. He calls out to you while grinding his hips deeply on you. He moves his left hand to caress your stomach while the other one snakes their way to your hips. Slightly moist with your juices. You whimper while your head drops down. Breast juggling after each of his pounces.

His voice is stiff. “I’m going closs.” His breathing is strained every after his words. You shake your head no, panting hard. He clicks his tongue and works his fingers around your clit, again. Rubbing till you jolt at the intensity of his touch. Gooseflesh has risen up the skin along your hot flesh.

He picks up speed. His thrust deep and hard— a loop of never-ending pounce that you wanted to moan out loud in pleasure. You can feel his sharp poke of his hip bone colliding against the flesh of your ass. You bosom moving after his movements. You let out a breathy whine as your orgasm is approaching fast. You grab his left hand that is groping your chest to hold for support. Digging your nails onto his forearms as you felt the tightening knot forming in your belly.

He let out a strain cuss from behind as you cum. The feeling of your walls surrounding him made him feel high in ecstasy. He pulls out instantly when he cums, his hands freeing away from your body to stroke his oozing cock. You exhale, feeling the hot, gooey liquid drip down your legs.

You are panting hard. You feel your lungs swell as you try to recollect your breath. Oikawa moves to grab a clean towel to clean himself up. Amidst his act of cleansing himself over, you feel him tugging your panties back on for you, planting small kisses along the inner flesh of your thighs.

“Are you fine, baby?” You stand up, trying to steady in your shaky legs. Your hands are sweaty, plastered on the counter as you move your head to nod in approval. You work your way to turn and face him. You give him a sweet smile then running your tongue over your lower lip.

He feels his heart tug upon seeing your sight. So serene yet hot at the same time. He gawks at your breasts, your neck full of his marks and he notes how glowing you are even the aftermath of his relentless fucking.

He leans forward to nibble on your lower lip, then proceeds to kiss you fully in the lips. You can feel your legs crumpling at the romantic gesture, you immediately held onto him for support.

He raises a brow, “Does that make up for my absence?”

You let out a shaky laugh. He tilts his head in confusion. Instead of answering him, you bit on your lip while pressing your thighs together. Your gestures alone are more than just answers to his question. He just needs a consent from you may that be verbal or gestures.

You look up at him, “Aren’t you tired?”

“Baby, I’m an athlete. We’re just starting.”

He grins while tugging you upstairs. Fucking you until you pass out of exhaustion. He really did make up for his absence to the point that you couldn’t walk the next day.

note: i apologize for some grammatical error bdhdhd thank you for 300! also sorry for me being so shit at smut, i tried HAHA

[depressedacadamia]

A kiss would be nice

Summary: Magnus develops feelings for his roomate and has no idea what to do; when theres' some serious miscommunication, Alex and Magnus have to solve an obvious problem.

Pairing:  Fierrochase

A/N: THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER REQUEST!!!!  I swear I'm gonna organise my Masterlist on tumblr coz its a hot mess rn and then I will get a prompt list up. Anyway, I hope this lives up to the expectations of the request- enjoy and comment!

Read on A03        M;List

Magnus liked Alex.

How exactly was he meant to process this?

Yes. Alex was sometimes a girl and other times a boy but what did it make him?

He could remember the moment Alex came floundering into his life, confident about who she was and Magnus could only think about how much he didn't know about himself. It was ridiculous, in his opinion, to think that he fundamentally changed as a person just because he liked someone.

So why did he feel so scared to come to that conclusion that he did in fact like Alex?

“What are you thinking so hard about over there, pretty boy?” Alex asked dryly as he scrolled through his phone while he dangled off the top bunk of their dormitory. Startled, Magnus snapped his head towards Alex and with no game whatsoever stuttered a terrible lie.

“Uh- Uh, nothing.”

“Uhu,” Alex emphasised. “ So that totally wasn't a lie.”

“Yes, Wait, I mean no- wait,” Magnus stuttered out again, his hands beginning to fidget and his palms becoming sweaty.

Alex simply raised an eyebrow before softly sighing and returning to his phone scrolling. He knew that Magnus wasn't the kind to keep secrets in a malicious manner- if he wasn't spilling something, it was because he didn't feel comfortable and Alex knew as well as anyone else that if Magnus was uncomfortable, nothing was spilling from his lips.

Clenching his fists in finality, Magnus got up, accidentally banging the top of his head on the top bunk above him where Alex was elegantly dangling off, his hair defying the laws of gravity by maintaining its rightful position on his head. He rubbed his head, swore under his breath and continued to make a bashful exit from the dorm room.

Alex could tell that something was definitely up.

Sure, Magnus was weird- he sometimes came back home at incredibly odd hours, always seemed relatively silent when one were to ask him where he had been and he almost always wore his lengthy blonde hair in a way that covered the majority of his face; in fact, Alex had thought about tilting his chin up just so he could get a better view of his elegant features.

So what exactly was it causing his roommate to act so oddly?

Magnus was in the bathroom. In fact he was hiding out in one of the stalls, trying his best to avud Alex at all costs. What had started out as a way to skip the horribly boring parts of his classes, now became a full blown ritual in which he would run away to his favourite bathroom stall- the one by the very end, next to the hand blow dryers, were his favourite but also alarmed him because it was there where he could hear whether anybody really washed their hands and there was an alarming amount of evidence which contradicted so.

He would take a book or sometimes just plug in his earphones to listen to music as he essentially hid out in the stall. Sometimes, when he felt a bit more confident- and knew Alex would be off campus- Magnus would hide out in the library; a much more comfortable and all round better smelling place to read, study and or listen to music.

But now as he slowly emerged from the stall after hours of sitting, heading back towards his room, Magnus could only feel this inevitable feeling of impending doom. He had managed to distract himself from the Alex situation for so long and now, he was about to crumble.

It was only a matter of time.

“Magnus?” A familiar and - dare I even say- dreaded voice asked him.

Glancing through the blonde locks of hair which curtained his face, he caught a glimpse of familiar green hair which he had been avoiding.

“Huh?” He managed to mumble.

Alex frowned. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

Magnus’s eyes widened- he had left his phone on silent as he didnt want to deal with others. “I-you did? Sorry.”

“That doesn't matter now. Where have you bee- actually nevermind that as well, come on, we need to get back, it’s already late and I know you have an early class tomorrow.”

Magnus hesitated.

Alex noticed. He refused to stay silent about the matter any longer.

“Okay. Spit it out. “

“What!” Magnus stammered. “ Spi- spit what? Spit wh- what out exactly?”

“The reason you’ve been avoiding me? Did I forget to do my chores or something? Or did I accidentally make some sort of mess of your stuff?”

“No- No, of course not!”

“So?”

Magnus found himself too enamoured with Alex’s features to respond. He could feel the bubble bath slowly overflowing inside his mind. What did it mean if he liked Alex? Was he now a completely different person? What did it matter if he liked Alex?

Wasn't he just like everybody else?

But Magnus’ mind told him that it was so obvious that Alex was in fact not like everybody else, otherwise why was it Alex whom he couldn’t keep his eyes off of? If Alex was so like everyone else, why was it his eyes that Magnus always wanted to stare at, why was it Alex’s hair that Magnus always wanted to ruffle or Alex’s hand that he always wanted to hold?

Why was it always Alex whom he wanted to hug when he was having a bad day?

So when he looked back at Alex, he felt the overwhelming need to throw himself and wrap his arms around Alex so tightly that Alex would have trouble breathing and then - in Magnus’s perfect world- Alex would also wrap his arms around Magnus and they would hold each other in their arms and stand their leaning on each other.

“Nothing,” Magnmus mumbled as he came back to reality.

He walked past Alex, eager to get back to their dorm and just sleep his feelings away- something he was used to doing thanks to his years of being homeless. He wasn’t about to escape when a slender hand wrapped itself around his wrist and dragged him backwards.

“No.” Alex huffed almost angrily. “You’re not running away from me,not again.”

Magnus could have sworn- looking back- that he may have let out a squeak.

“You are avoiding me Mister and I’d like to know why. It’s bad enough that you spend all your time hiding in the bathroom stalls, it’s even worse that you're doing it to avoid someone as fabulous as myself. So if we could quickly get this over with, It would be greatly appreciated and I’m sure it would relieve your nostrils as well.”

“I-”

“You…?”Alex prompted.

“Ilikeyou.”

Alex paused, scrunched up his nose before raising an eyebrow in ridicule and letting out a laugh. And while Magnus truly believed there was nothing more beautiful than Alex’s smile, right now, it was the most damning thing he had ever seen.

Of course Alex would be laughing! Who wouldn't be laughing if some weedy, shady blond kid confessed their feelings for them in the most pathetic way possible!

Magnus had no other choice but to clench his fists to resist the burning sensation gathering in his eyes as he turned on his heel and hurried back to his dorm.

He was curled up on his bed, binging criminal minds on his laptop because what else was meant to comfort you after getting rejected if it wasn’t watching people getting brutally murdered by psychopaths and sadists?

He was wrapped with this specific episode- involving a bunch of very explicit murder- when Alex snatched his headphones right off his head plopped himself in the computer chair that rested right next to the bottom bunk where Magnus had been hiding out.

He could feel himself paling as he remembered that he lived with Alex.

“We need to talk.”

What? He was so sick of Alex making every decision, afterall- it was Alex who chose to laugh at him.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Magnus managed to snap back.

“Why do you keep avoiding me? First in our own dorm, then in public and now you don't even want to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” He retorted, his words coated with so much sarcasm, had there been anymore, he may have become Samirah at that very moment. “Was I expected to hang around after being ridiculed?”

“Ridiculed? What do you mea-”

“-What do I mean? I guess you wouldnt understand what it feels like for someone whom you really really like to outright just laugh at you after confessing. I guess you don't know how- how nerve racking and horrible it is to not feel comfortable and safe wherever you go. I guess you were privileged enough to not deal with doubting yourself with every decision you make and every thought you have!”

Alex started. “I-”

“-No. I’m not finished. Do you know how that made me feel?” Magnus was on a roll. “ Like shit. I felt shitty. I felt like shit and I was curled up like a bratty 5 year old and do you know what I’ve realised? I’ve realised that I have nob reason to feel shitty because I'm not the one who was so insecure in myself that I laughed at someone else who was struggling, esepcially when I rejected a hot piece of ass such as myself!” He finished his ramble with a shout, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and somehow, his hair messy.

“So,” Alex drawled causally. “ Am I allowed to speak now?”

“No.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex sooke anyway. “ I’m sorry that you feel this way and I guess I can't change that I was the person who made you feel like- well, shit, but I have to say Beantown, you really shouldn't assume things so quickly.”

Magnus frowned, turning his shiny, glossy eyes towards Alex finally. “Huh?”

“Well. If you were to give me a chance to explain, I’d be able to tell you that I laughed because I thought you looked adorable. I would be able to tell you that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way and I’m very sorry if I did and…”

Alex held Magnus’ chin, pulling his head a bit down so he was able to fully look him in the eye rather than just looking away under Magnus’ chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“And…?” Magnus whispered hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

“And, I would be able to tell you that I like you.” Alex smiled dopily.

Did Magnus hear that correctly? Did Alex Fierro- the most confident, and in Magnus’s eyes, the most attractive person out there just admit to liking the scraggly kid who used to live on the streets?

“Excuse me?”

Aex sighed. “I said that I like you and your … What was it you said?” He paused for dramatic effect because lighting up his eyes. “ Oh yes and your ‘hot piece of ass’ I believe it was.”

Magnus cringed at his previous words as he started at Alex. Alex fierro liked him!

“What?” Alex smirked on noticing Magnus’s innocent stare.

“Can I try something?” Magnus tilted his head to the side innocently. Alex nodded.

Yes, please do try something, A kiss would be nice.

But to Alex’s surprise, he felt Magnus’s arms being wrapped around his body. It was an odd sensation that at first made Alex want to reel backwards.

But then this familiar ignition in his stomach tugged him back to wrap his arms back around Magnus and bury his face in Magnus’s chest, just about reaching his collarbone.

The hug was brief. Perhaps not even longer than 15 seconds at a maximum, but it was enough for Magnus to feel better.

Alex decided that perhaps next time Magnus would kiss him.

Super cool people Taglist: @wisegirl773 @ddepressedbookworm

[morganaspendragonss]

holding our breath (again)

in which carlos is at the minefield call, like he deserved to be.

title from the projectionist by sleeping at last

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.06 spoilers

They’re late arriving to the scene, the rescue already well underway when Carlos pulls up. His heart sinks when he sees the large 126 emblazoned on the side of the firetruck; normally, he loves getting on calls with them, but an active minefield is the last place he wants to find his danger-magnet boyfriend. His only consolation is that TK should be hanging back with the rest of the team, but that doesn’t stop the fear, which, at this point, is just a given.

Only, he can’t find TK anywhere, and Carlos barely listens to the sheriff briefing them, his need to make sure TK’s safe winning out. He and Owen are the only ones missing, including the paramedics, and Carlos - well, Carlos knows what that means. But he refuses to think it, even if he’s only buying himself a few more seconds of relief.

He heads over to the rest of the 126, pointedly not looking at the minefield as he approaches. Paul greets him with a tight nod, then goes back to staring outwards.

Carlos leans in. “Who’s out there?” he murmurs, though he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t need asking.

Someone needs help, and TK’s nowhere to be seen. It’s an easy conclusion.

Paul’s mouth twists into a sympathetic grimace. “Who do you think?”

Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, feels a hand gripping his shoulder. He takes a couple of steadying breaths, then finally - finally - forces himself to look.

He’s just in time to see TK take another leap, and his breath catches in his throat as he watches TK stumble, hand landing perilously close to the edge of the circle. Carlos had thought there’d be nothing worse than watching the man he loves run into burning buildings, but this… This is some kind of torture, the knowledge that TK’s safety - his life - rests almost entirely on pure luck.

“Why’s TK even out there?” he asks, turning his body towards Paul though his eyes remain locked on his boyfriend. It’s a distraction, of a kind, to stop his mind from barrelling down all the worst case scenarios. “Shouldn’t it be a paramedic with Captain Strand?”

“He is one,” Paul answers. “Dual function medic in New York, apparently. Must have kept his certifications up to date since coming out here. Nancy’s out on medical leave after one of the trial medics ran the ambulance over her foot, and Mr Perfect Record over there chickened out. Captain Vega was going to go but then TK, uh.” Paul stops, clearing his throat nervously, and Carlos feels his own heart rate tick up even as he realises with some relief that TK and Owen are almost at the two boys. When Paul speaks again, his voice is quieter, speeding through the words as if he doesn’t want Carlos to hear them. “He volunteered.”

“He what?” And Carlos does look over then, turning to gape at Paul, which is of course when it happens.

One of the mines goes off.

TK’s name rips out of his mouth as he takes an unconscious step forward, though he’s blocked from going further by a hand on his arm yanking him backwards. Carlos lets himself be manhandled, his mind feeling separate from his body as they wait for the smoke to clear. 

He can just about see TK crouching on the edge of the blast, an arm flung protectively over his head, which at least means he’s alive. He could still be hurt, though, could still be bleeding out, and Carlos has never felt more helpless.

“Breathe, Reyes,” Judd reminds him, leaning close to his ear, and Carlos manages a tight nod even as he feels his chest seize with anxiety. He clenches his hands into fists to stop the shaking, looking over at Captain Vega, praying for a sign that they’re okay.

Then, “Still in one piece,” Owen reports over the radio, and Carlos’s entire body sags. The rest of the team are wearing similarly relieved expressions, exchanging glances and nervous head shakes. Carlos allows himself a moment to breathe before turning back to the scene, his heart in his throat as TK takes the final few steps towards the two boys. 

The rest of the call passes in a blur, Carlos feeling like he’s underwater as he tries to force his body to come down from the anxiety still thrumming through his veins. Pride bursts in his chest when TK saves the boy, but the arrival of the bomb squad sets him on edge again, desperate as he is for TK to be back on safe ground. 

He needs to see he’s okay with his own two eyes, and it’s only the team’s grounding presence at his side that stops him from completely losing it.

It’s an agonising wait, the minutes dragging out painfully, but then -

Then, TK’s walking toward them, an exhausted grin lighting up his face. Carlos stands back as he’s immediately mobbed by the rest of the 126, but their eyes meet over the top of Marjan’s head, and Carlos sees his own relief mirrored back at him. As much as TK can be reckless and as much as he seems to gravitate towards danger, Carlos knows he often gets just as scared as he does, especially now they have this. Especially now that they both have so much to lose.

Judd is the first to step away, following the line of TK’s gaze until he spots Carlos. “Hey, come on now, y’all,” he says gruffly to the others. “Let’s give the kid some space, we ain’t the only ones here for him.”

He punctuates it with a tug on Mateo’s arm, and they all begin to disperse. Judd cocks an eyebrow at him as he walks past.

“What are you waiting for? He’s all yours.”

Carlos nods gratefully, then turns his full attention over to TK, quickly closing the short distance between them to crush him in a hug. TK staggers a little under the force of it, but soon enough he’s hugging back just as tightly, hands fisted in the back of Carlos’s jacket. Carlos drops his head to TK’s shoulder, closing his eyes. 

He’s okay, he realises. This is real. 

TK smiles at him when they separate, though neither of them move too far away. Carlos keeps a hand wrapped around TK’s wrist, his thumb resting on his pulse point. 

“Hi,” TK says.

“Are you okay?” Carlos demands, forgoing any greeting. TK laughs, a little taken aback, but Carlos just… He needs to know. He needs to hear it.

“I’m good,” TK promises. “I swear.”

Carlos nods, breaking eye contact to stare at the field, at the crater that could have ended TK’s life. TK must notice, as he’s suddenly in Carlos’s space again, a gentle hand turning his head towards him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, frowning, and Carlos could laugh.

“Am I? Am I?” He’s aware his voice is bordering on hysterical, but he doesn’t care anymore. He breathes out shakily, scrubbing his free hand down his face. “I’m not the one who just volunteered to walk onto an active fucking minefield, TK!”

He sucks in a breath, clamping his jaw shut before he can say anything else. Carlos can feel the eyes on them and he flushes, staring down at his shoes, trying to blink away the sudden tears. He hadn’t meant to yell, but it had all just been too much all at once, the relief and panic and worry and frustration mixing up inside of him and coming out all wrong.

He shakes his head, preparing to excuse himself, when TK’s arm twists in his grasp, linking their fingers. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, and Carlos lets himself be pulled away somewhere more private. The 126 do a good job of appearing busy as they pass, but Carlos knows they’ll be more curious than they’re letting on, and he burns with shame all over again. TK leads him around the back of the truck, pushing Carlos down on the step and sitting down next to him, their joined hands resting on his thigh.

“I’m sorry -” Carlos starts, but TK cuts him off.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he says. “You don’t need to apologise for anything. God knows if I’d been where you are, I… I don’t know what I would have done.”

Carlos nods. “It was just… When I saw you out there - when the bomb went off - it was the scariest moment of my life, Ty. And then I find out you volunteered? I mean… Why did you?”

“I had to,” TK says, squeezing his hand. “We were just standing around, arguing over who would go, and that kid didn’t have time to wait for us. I knew I could do it, so I said I would. Is that - Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Carlos looks up, meeting TK’s eyes, and his heart hurts at the worry in them. “Of course I’m not mad. I was worried, and I’m still not convinced you’re not trying to give me a heart attack, but mostly I’m just glad you’re safe. It came out all wrong back there, I’m so -”

TK cuts him off with a kiss, and Carlos all but melts into it, eyes fluttering closed. He rests their foreheads together when they separate, smiling softly.

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” he murmurs.

TK hums. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carlos pulls away, bumping their shoulders together. “You were amazing out there.”

TK grins, looking down at the ground. “It was pretty cool,” he admits. “Kind of makes me wonder if -”

A loud bang on the side of the truck makes both of them jump. Marjan’s standing there, a smirk on her lips as she looks between the two of them.

“We’re rolling out soon,” she says. “Cap wants you to get checked out by Vega before we leave, so you’d better wrap this up, loverboy.”

TK opens his mouth to argue, but Marjan holds a finger up. “Don’t even bother. Cap’s already been checked over himself, so get your ass over there.”

She leaves with a warning glance, and TK looks apologetically at Carlos as they stand.

“Sorry,” he offers, but Carlos shakes his head.

“No, I get it,” he says. “Just, what were you saying?”

TK bites his lip, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh. I’m not sure. I’ll see you at home?”

Carlos nods, frowning, but before he can get another word in, TK’s kissing him goodbye and leaving, Carlos’s hand trailing after him until he’s forced to let go. A smile plays at his lips as he watches TK interact with the team, but all too soon he’s being called away himself, and he leaves with a quick backward glance.

“You okay?” his partner asks as he slumps into the passenger seat.

He heaves out a sigh. “Yeah. I’m good.”

She raises a dubious eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, starting the ignition. “Buckle up, then,” she says. “I want to get out of here before the firefighters; I hate getting stuck behind their truck.”

Carlos laughs. “Better step on it. They’re all getting in.”

She curses and complies, the car lurching forward as she speeds out of the field. Carlos watches it shrink in the rear view mirror, the remaining heaviness in his heart slowly fading as the scene disappears from sight. He could have lost so much today, but he knows that that’s always going to be a fear for as long as he’s with TK.

Which will be for a very long time indeed, if Carlos has anything to say about it.

[nightowlfandom]

Mafia! Kim Taehyung- Defensive

Hello There!

ANON ASKS! (I know you weren’t on anon but I’m not sure if you wanted your name out there though, but you know who you are!!!!)

Could I please request a Taehyung smut with 25, 59, and 61 in the Mafia AU? Could it also have some angst? If not that's okay!

You most certainly can, my friend! 

I went overboard with the angst, my bad boo. Lowkey forgot what I was doing lol. I didn’t touch much on the mafia part but only implied it, my bad.

25- What. Did. They. Say to you? I won’t ask again.

59- I didn’t know you liked playing Cat and Mouse.

61- Normal? Baby we’re the farthest from it.

Y’all, I’m in a shitty mood, grr. Like,  I’m just ugh...I don’t know if my mood is reflective of my writing right now but I’m sorry in advance. Hopefully I can make it up somehow.

Leggo!

...

Fuck! Okay Y/N whatever you do, don’t tell him what happened today. A misunderstanding led to some random guy ‘accidentally’ spilling his drink on you. 

You beelined for the bedroom, rushing to yank off your sweater. You tried to gather yourself before you ran into Taehyung. If he found out that someone had thrown rum in your face today, they wouldn’t live to see the next day.

Fate however was not on your side.

“Baby?” you heard as you shut the bedroom door. “Is that you?”

Fuck, if you didn’t answer quick enough...you’d probably have a gun to your face. You always had to make your presence known around Taehyung and his friends, y’know for protective reasons. In his line of work, you couldn’t afford to surprise him.

“Yeah it’s me!!” you replied quickly. You threw your jacket in the hamper, only to realize the spirits had soaked through to your shirt.

Taehyung walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He smiled upon seeing you. “Damn babe, I’m glad your here.” he began. “The day I fucking had-...why is your shirt wet?”

“Oh...um...” you tried to find an excuse as he walked up.

‘Why do you smell like you were at a bar? You don’t drink.” (a/n....BUT AUTHOR-CHAN DOOOOEEESS...)

You looked away from him, too scared to even talk. “Y/N...” he said lowly. “Did something happen?”

“Y-yes.” you looked down. 

“...You gonna tell me?” his dominant side had made an appearance.

“It was just a misunderstan-”

 “Bullshit.”

“No I swear-”

“What. Did. They. Do to you. I won’t ask again.” he said warningly.

“...Some guy threw his drink on me and my friend because they turned him down.” you told the truth. You glanced up at Taehyung who was red. There was hell in his eyes and you could tell your comment had pissed him off.

“Your friend with you?”

“No, they dropped me off.” you replied.

“Where were you?”

“We were at the plaza.”

“Who was the guy?” he asked slowly.

“The bartender.” you couldn’t lie, you wouldn’t dare. You had lied to him one time...out of sheer fear for another assholes life. The guy was barely recognizable after Tae was done with him.

“All I need to know.” Taehyung had marched over to his closet and began rummaging through it.

“Taehyung no! It’s no big deal!” you tried to stop him.

“Some dick HARRASED you and it’s no big deal?!”

“It’s not worth scaring him!”

“Baby...I’m not gonna scare him. I’m gonna mangle him so bad no one will recognize his face for the rest of his pathetic life!” he yanked down a shirt. “Better yet I should have been with you!” he glowered.

“Taehyung, you know that’s a bad idea!” it was your turn to snap. When the most feared guy in town was your boyfriend, people treated you different...you didn’t wanna be stared at in the grocery store just because of someone else’s line of work. You two hadn’t even gone public.

Taehyung turned towards you, dropping the shirt in his hands. “Bad idea?”

“A very bad idea!” you repeated yourself. “You’ll kill him!”

“That’s the point!” he rebutted. “Y/N, what’s the matter with you?”

“I just don’t want you to waste your breath dealing with some asshole.” you tried to explain. “Tae, I’m telling you it’s not worth it!”

“Do you even know what you’re covered in?” he crossed his arms. 

Your silence told him everything.

“How the fuck am I gonna protect if you never let me defend you?” Taehyung glowered. “Some dickface spilled some shit on you and you don’t even know what it is and you want me to sit here and do nothing about it?!”

“Tae, you can’t solve all my problems with your fists!”

“Yes, the fuck I can. But I can’t if people don’t know I’m your man.” he glowered. “It’s almost like...you’re ashamed of me.”

“Tae, baby!” you breathed. You urgently held the sides of his face. “You know that’s not true. I’m hurt you even jumped to that conclusion.”

Taehyung didn’t look at you, nor did he speak. 

“How am I supposed to go about my day when people would be scared to even bump into me. I don’t want you to drop everything just to scare someone. You have way more important things to do that abandon your duties to take care of my problems...but” you stepped back. “you think I’m ashamed of you.” you sighed. “Tae...look at me.” you sniffed. “Please.”

Now it was his turn to look at you. “No, no baby don’t cry please.” he took you into his arms. “Don’t do that, don’t cry.” he shushed you. “I know you’re not ashamed of me...I just hate that I can’t defend you.” he sighed. “I wanna be there with you but with the guys and all this...it feels like I can’t.” he pressed his forehead against yours.

You felt bad. You didn’t want it to come to this. 

“Tae...I’m-”

“No...don’t apologize.” he shushed you. 

“I have to.” you mumbled. “I’m not ashamed of you...”

“I know. I’m sorry.” he said into your hair. “I shouldn’t have said that, baby.” he continued. “I just wanna be there with you...I didn’t realize work had been getting in the way. ”

“I ain’t say all that.” you mumbled.

“Its I didn’t, babe. Grammar, my dear.” he laughed as you looked up at him. “And you didn’t have to.”

“You a teacher? No, then shut up.” you said grumpily.

“Ahh there’s my smart mouth.” he caught you by a surprise with a kiss. It just then dawned on you that he was still wearing a towel. It didn’t seem to phase him though. 

“Could you be normal for once?” you giggled, returning his affections anyways.

“ Normal? Baby we’re the farthest from it. “

He gingerly held the back of your head and he moved his lips against yours. All the tension from earlier seemed to melt off. Your body was pulled against his, closing any free space between you two. 

“Does baby forgive me?” he pulled away and trailed his fingers down your side.

“Your horny ass!” you groaned, stepping away from him. “Away with you!”

“Get back here.” he lightly commanded, you could tell he was teasing.

“So you can get your mangy paws on me? Don’t think so.” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“ I didn’t know you liked playing Cat and Mouse. “ he smirked. “Get your ass back here.” he towered over you as he crossed the room. “Don’t make me repeat myself, babe.”

“Hm..what are ya gonna do?” you looked him up and down. 

In a swift movement, he ripped off his towel revealing all his glory.

“Wanna ask me that again?” he bit his lip as he stepped towards you. 

“What’s gonna happen if I do?” you raised an eyebrow. With a giggle, Taehyung stood right in front of you. He raised his hand and rested his palm at the base of your throat. (...choke me zaddy) 

“You don’t wanna know, darling” he bit his lip. He walked backwards towards his bed and sat down, taking you into his lap. 

He moved his hands from your throat to the side of your face. It was then you realized he was completely naked still. It didn’t seem to bother him. All you could do was laugh as you were practically thrown onto the bed. 

“Take it off.” he began kissing down your neck, yanking at the hem of your shirt. You allowed him to strip you of your shirt. “Take these off next.” He fumbled with the button of your jeans. In no time, your shirt and pants were thrown on the floor. “Damn girl, you’re so fine.”

He began kissing down your chest, hovering his lips over the slope of your breasts. He ghosted over your stomach. 

“You know this proves that all of our problems can be solved by sex, right?” you raised an eyebrow. You propped yourself on your elbow to get a good look at him.

“I don’t have a problem with that.” he laughed.

Taehyung hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and swiftly yanked them off with reckless abandon. 

“Of course you don’t.” you groaned. Tae laughed, crawling back up to hover his lips over yours. 

‘We aren’t done talking about this.” he said, slightly teasing your entrance with his length. “But for now, I’ll let it go.”

(I might, keyword MIGHT make an additional part to this, I just have to see how my internet is looking in the next few days.)

...

[proper-goodnight]

Welcome Home (01)

Summary: Five Hargreeves had been through two apocalypses, joined the Temp Commission, and scraped his siblings asses off the ground more times than he could count. Now, dying in a barn with seemingly no way out, he makes a very crucial decision. One that doesn’t turn out entirely as expected.

Warnings: Strong language, blood/gore, etc. 

There was one thing about laying in a bed of his own blood with the barrel of a gun aimed between his eyes and that was that it brought Five’s world crashing into an entirely new perspective. He could reflect without any of the responsibility of getting up and trying again, no other motives or expectations of saving the world or dragging his siblings off their asses and hoping that they would get their acts together when he needed them to. The last two times, they hadn’t, and looking around the barn, he didn’t expect a third either. 

Nevermind his sibling’s ability to keep a timed schedule, or bother to even do the simplest of tasks if it meant their lives or the rest of the world simultaneously hung in the balance on one very uneven scale. No, there was always a bigger priority that took precedence and damn Five for even bothering to try. His entire lifetime and two apocalypses still wasn’t enough to undo the utter shit that his life had become. 

But he could think about the past and how much he fucked up in his life, how he could have been better, or what the future may have held for him and what he would do if there was somehow a way that he could turn back the clock and make entirely different choices.

Blinking to the end of the world, joining the Commission, stopping an apocalypse twice in the span of a couple of weeks and finding his place back with his family in time to save them only to turn out that he hadn’t. Oddly enough, despite Five having the ability to manipulate time, he seemed to be the only one that never had enough of it.

His head fell to the side, cheek pressed into the solid woodwork of the barn to look at the crumpled bodies of his younger siblings.

All pallid skin and eyes wide open with disbelief. His family was dead--had died--going on the third time now and proving no easier to deal with than the last. Their wide eyes and full irises, the blood that soaked through the barn’s flooring and puddling beneath them in a gory mess, their stench assaulting his nose. 

No matter how many times he had seen it in the last few weeks, it hit just as hard as it had the first time. Five’s expression twisted, and he coughed, his body shuddering with every forceful gasp, pulling air into his lungs that wouldn’t come.

A part of him strongly contemplated doing nothing while he laid on the ground with his life in someone else’s hands. It would have been easier, he knew, to let everything go and give up fighting this long and arduous cycle; maybe finally get the night’s rest that he had been missing out on since his time jump to the end of the world. 

He’d be dead, but that was a minor hiccup in the grand scheme of things. 

If his reality wasn’t still blurring into focus, if the pain keeping him awake wasn’t so fucking obvious, he may very well have. It occurred to him then, casting a look beyond the blurred edges framing his vision, that he wasn’t making the decision just for himself.

In the very back of his mind where he had a tendency to shove all things that would either piss him off or send him over the edge, he could hear the condescending laughter of the Handler, his father’s infamous I told you so pounding against the inside of his skull when he’d advised him against jumping through time in the first place. 

Maybe if he hadn’t, then things could’ve changed. Maybe he could have helped them or saved Vanya from herself. 

Then again, maybe thinking that he would ever have an ounce of free will made him just as much of an idiot as the rest of them. Maybe it was all destined to happen, and none of it had ever meant anything.

That didn’t mean that Five wouldn’t try. 

Trembling fingers curled into loose fists. It hurt, the strain of even the smallest twitch sent a sharp stabbing sensation through every single muscle, splitting through his skull and down through his abdomen until he was gasping. It dulled his senses, the blurring fringes of his vision moving in, spreading, threatening to pull him into the dark and take him. It laughed at his efforts, willing him to finally give up. 

Several decades spent alone at the end of the world, years spent with the Commission, two apocalypses in the span of a few weeks was enough. 

Nonetheless, Five was still the more stubborn bastard.

Seconds. That was all he needed. Not hours, or even minutes, but all he needed was a few seconds and the willpower to not punch each and every one of his siblings for the hell they unknowingly put him through to keep them alive. 

In his hands, the light expanded. Five felt himself being yanked upward by an invisible force. It felt as simple as time grabbing his hand, leading him past a flurry of rewinding images, bodies lurching upward, blood stains levitating from the woodwork, bullets returning to their weapons, wounds closing, a sense of rejuvenation, of life. 

Newfound energy, a deep intake of breath and there was no pain. Only relief. Just a few seconds, a few agonizingly long seconds… 

His body moved in slow motion toward the door, the single most subtle inkling of hope igniting in his chest--a feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. A part of him had almost forgotten if complete idiocy wasn’t the cause of ruining many of his easily salvageable problems.

That hope, like so many others, was quickly snuffed out in service to an alternative outcome.

Just as everything moved back into its original position, Five was thrown off his feet, everything reverting back in one rapid blur--too quick for him to keep up with. The sharp pain returned, wounds reopening themselves as the bullet pierced him again.

He cried out.

The bit of breath that he had managed to grab was snatched from his lungs, the blurred fringes swirling in, and when his back hit the ground below him, he came to the realization that he should’ve made his peace with God before trying this. Every single muscle was tight and shuddering into panicked gasps, and then it all released, leaving him panting and looking up at a familiar tiled ceiling. Weakly, he turned his head sideways only to find six other curious pairs of eyes looking at him, bewildered.

“Five?” Something was wrong. He was looking straight into the face of Luther, much shorter and thinner framed Luther standing next to an equally younger and dumbfounded Allison. 

“Five?! Oh, my God! Where have you been?” Slowly, his head rotated to catch Klaus and Ben on the other side. All young. All kids. 

“Forget that! What happened to you?” Ben piped up, shoving his other brother out of the way to close the distance between them--Klaus shouting a protest in response. 

Five moved first, much faster, swinging his legs over the table to drop to the floor. His hands flew up as they rounded on him, palms out and retreating as he took them in, scanned every single face, listened to every single high pitched prepubescent tone of voice. It was them. Alive and well and completely unaware of what hell he’d been through the last few weeks. 

How far had he gone back?

They hesitated in approaching him now, his continuous retreat leaving little room to embrace him and welcome him home with the open arms that he knew they wanted. This was not happening… This couldn’t have been happening! His chest heaved with every bated breath, his brows drawn into a scowl, retreating until he couldn’t back up anymore. His spine met the wall, almost shrinking underneath their prying gazes, all wide eyed and full of concern. 

“Five, are you okay?” Allison was the first to brave the distance. She persisted, and he retreated, his shoulder scraping against the corner as he moved sideways to the other end of the kitchen. The heels of his shoes scuffed against the tile floor, pivoting backwards. His hand braced against the wall with another quick sweep of their faces. 

“Stop!” He snapped. “All of you!” Sweat beaded his forehead, soaking through his uniform. The pain that hit him so suddenly felt very reminiscent of when he’d been shot at the barn, stumbling with a sudden limp. It knocked the breath out of him; electricity shot up the very center of his chest. He clutched it. His breathing, ragged and heavy, was the finishing touches before he buckled forward. 

When he pried his fingers away from his abdomen, there was a fresh burst of blood, scarlet coating the tips. He’d gone back, but his wounds were still there. “No,” he mumbled. His free hand raked through his hair. “No, no, no, no… shit, fuck, goddammit…” The amount of expletives that left his lips were surprising even for him, squeezing his eyes shut as he processed. 

He’d done a number wrong somewhere. A dent in his equation. He could fix this. 

“Five-” Luther said more tentatively. 

“Shut up.” Five shushed him. He waved dismissively, turning his back. He wracked his brain, flipped it around, molded it over and the only conclusion feasible was that he was the one that had messed up this time. 

He’d go so far as to say again, but considering that everyone was still breathing, he could give himself a pat on the back.

They’d grow. Eventually.

His hand gripped the counter for support. All at once, several pairs of footsteps moved toward him, but he held his hand up, inhaled deep through his nose and shuddered an exhale. 

They may have been intact, but he wasn’t.

Figured. 

“How long have I been gone?” Five asked, straightening stiffly. He turned to face them, catching their concerned expressions in the very center of his vision. It felt judgemental, prying for an answer that he didn’t have. 

Now they know how he felt. He cocked his eyebrows. “A few weeks, a few months? Years?” He prompted when no one answered. 

“Uh, just--just a couple weeks.” Allison answered. “We thought that you got lost, or died or…” 

“Where is Dad?” He went on, gripping the edge of the counter to help guide himself along. “Is he here?”

“He’s out on a trip. Said he’d be back in a couple days. What are you….?” Luther moved to help him, but Five warded him back. He held up his hands. “I’m just trying to-”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Are you okay?”

“Look, the only thing that’s obvious besides your kindergarten crush on Allison is that you’re incompetent. I have gotten this far by myself, and I do not need any of you to tell me what I should be doing, got it?” He had hit a little too close to home. He could see it in their faces, the obvious embarrassment in Luther’s eyes, that and an obvious confusion.

“Who is Allison?”

Five’s lips parted to respond, one more shuddering breath escaping him before his eyes rolled into the back of his head as everything suddenly went black.

Five’s eyes slowly opened to find the familiar darkness of his bedroom. The mattress felt soft underneath him, turning his head to find the equations sketched into the wall. On the bed stand to his left lay a plate with a cup of milk and a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and to the left sat Vanya, looking at him with wide curious eyes and clear worry.

Welcome home.

[otp-armada]

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because Clarke hasn't done anything that resembles romantic gestures toward Bellamy. 

Conceding to march to her possible death in exchange for Roan sparing Bellamy's life. Obstinately fighting against Bellamy's stubborn wishes to remain outside the Ark while Praimfaya burns to the world to ashes. Shattering her soul by choosing 100 people to live and writing his name on the list, because he must survive. She can't have it any other way. Relinquishing 50 of those spots to Azgeda when Bellamy is captured and threatened, and Roan calls her bluff. Desperation driving her to the extreme to ensure the survival of the human race, yet unable to kill Bellamy to keep the bunker closed and the grounders from possibly killing Skaikru. Leaving the guaranteed safety of the fort to stay by Bellamy's side on the brink of global cataclysm. The bittersweet yet soft head and heart exchange she prompted. The hesitation in her last remark before imploring him to hurry. 

4x13 ends six years and seven days post-Praimfaya with Clarke radioing Bellamy on the Ring. An activity she performs daily for six years. In any six years of my adult life, my only daily consistencies have been limited to breathing, eating, and sleeping. This girl is devoted enough to send her equivalent of love letters into the emptiness of space for 2,199 days. Season 5 opens with her trying to survive by herself in an apocalyptic wasteland. She spends her journey narrating to him her unvarnished struggles during the most traumatic experience of her young life to date. Her despondency. Her loneliness. Her agony. Her desperation. Her small victories. Her discovered treasures. Her determination. Her doubt. Her guilt. Her defeat. Her morbid self-reflection. Her relief and contentment. Her happiness. Her admission of missing him. She shares all of it with only him. Only he is permitted to know her to this depth. Not any of her other people on the Ring. Not any of her people in the bunker, a group including her mother. Not a spiritual communion to the great, big love of her life Lxa, situated on her throne in the high heavens and waiting for her trophy wife, for Clarke to stay connected to her dearly departed. Isn't that the sort of behavior that might occur by a bereft widow? 

After finding an oasis to rest and call home, even after discovering a companion to build a life with, she continues with her radio calls. It doesn't matter that he never received her communications. The importance of the gesture- the intimacy of sharing her life and thoughts with him while he was gone- remains the same. The magnitude of her devotion to him made clearer through the absence of a single responding utterance. 

She lovingly tells Madi stories of Bellamy as her hero. Gazing warmly, hopefully up at the stars as if she longs for her vision to cut through an endless pitch-black sky and find dark curls and freckled constellations from thousands of miles away.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense," they say. They say because post-Praimfaya ended with an established B/E.

As Clarke looks up at the stars, questioning if she'll see Bellamy again, we transition to our first glimpse of Bellamy after six years, forlornly looking down on Earth to the very spot of green where he is unaware of who is yearning for him to return to her. Contrary to Clarke, who is covered in warm firelight when thinking of him, he is colored in cold, muted greys and blue, no speck of warm hue. (The rhyming scheme was unintentional, but hey, I'm going with it.) Behind him, his family is sparring, but he's distant from them. He's trapped within this tin can, his arms folded, his body taut, not facing the view on the other side of the glass, but still enraptured by the sight of his home below.  

We see what changes to the characters and their dynamics have taken place until, at long last, we uproariously cheer as Bellamy & Co. find a way to return to Earth, the sole event we've been anticipating for eleven months, to the point we could feel it at our fingertips, jittery and tingly. Bellarke reunion!! He's going to know she's alive! Yes! Finally!! Break out the champagne! We're celebrating, dammit! It's going to be so damn emotional! Authors start crafting mental fanfics. People are bouncing off the walls like bright, errant fireworks, unable to sit still. I can't believe it's finally happening...what do you think it's going to be like? Will he run to her? Will he be stunned and speechless? Will they sob uncontrollably?!? They'll be clutching the life out of each other! Another Bellarke hug!! The very best hug!!! They're never going to let the other out of their sight again! He's going to meet Madi! Mom, dad, and adopted preteen make three!!! There's no way they're not getting together after this!! He just got her back after six years of thinking she was dead!! The reunion's not going to happen this episode, but maybe next week, when do you think? You mean we have to wait seven days before----

B e c h o.

We stood on the precipice of what we agonized and crawled through for eleven excruciating months, only for an anvil to drop, and our heads to be clubbed. Our bodies fell through the floor, descending lower and lower with immense haste, to take up residence in the seventh circle of hell. 

Do you think the framing of these events wasn't intentional?

Do you think the powers that be behind the creation of that calamitous bombshell for our protagonist, intended for us to root for B/E? 

By us, I'm not restricting the effect of the blow to Bellarke shippers. The entire audience, casual and fandom alike, shippers and non-shippers, was meant to await this reunion. We were all meant to feel devastated by this revelation. 

If they didn't want to invoke in us feelings of support for B/E at their inception, how in the name of all things holy is a purported B/E endgame your conclusion? 

"B/E doesn't make any sense," they say, "when last we saw them, she was his enemy. Nothing more, nothing less."

Do I think their pre-Praimfaya status as antagonists rendered it impossible for B/E to have a convincing love story or sexual relationship?

I think, if Jason were so inclined, we could have gotten flashback Ring rendezvous of secret trysts between Bellamy and a googly-eyed, blonde-wig-wearing broomstick designated Clarke 2.0. So no, I don't consider B/E a deviation inherently outside the realm of romantic possibility. Jason is an artist, and this show is his canvas. He can give life to almost any whim he'd like in his work of fiction. Not only that, but B/E is also hardly the first pairing in this series modeled by the enemies-to-lovers trope.

"Bellarke doesn't make sense, they'd say, "absent any concrete evidence alluding to a romantic relationship." "Seven years running, and not a trace of romantic love," they'd conclude. 

Remind me, what was B/E's sublime prologue into coupling up again?

Furiously choking the life out of an enemy in a fit of rage two episodes before revealing her as his new girlfriend evidently can be considered by some an adequate precursor to a sensational romantic relationship. But endangering Earthkru's lives by risking the wrath of two societies in refusing to let Clarke die, pumping her heart for her to stay alive while begging her to fight so she can come back to him, cannot be. 

Either this show is quite the oddity, or it’s fandom's periodic knee-jerk, ass-backwards, charming zeal at play. 

The lack of rising development is all the more reason why B/E's grand unveiling demanded perfection. Instead, our first insight into their union is overshadowed by Clarke and the impending Bellarke reunion. B/E isn't central enough to the narrative to warrant focus that would put to rest any discord of illegitimacy. But you know which pair of the two is concentrated on for seven seasons now? Three guesses... 

But don't despair. Fandom has decreed, by its own appraisal, the shorthand of kissing and sex has rectified the discrepancy of a complete absence of pertinent on-screen development.

"It's not ideal storytelling," they say, "to exclude B/E's development. But The 100 has historically been a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama. It has always evaded expanding on character dynamics to fans' satisfaction.”

The writers have done more to present Josephine and Gabriel as soulmates with less airtime than B/E ever had in total. They don't lack the skill or time to fortify B/E in anyone's mind as the central romance. Jason made a conscious choice not to. Why would he? Does he think the endgame love story of the show's deuteragonist doesn't merit attention to detail by the writing? Or does it seem more likely, it was never his intention for B/E to cross the finish line?

And, for a plot-driven, fast-paced, contained drama, they sure have an awful knack for finding the time to showcase Clarke's kicked puppy reactions to an embracing B/E. We've had three thus far. One for science, one for emphasis, and one to say, "Do you people get it now?"

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say, "if they wanted each other, they'd have gotten together by now." 

A long time ago, someone stated, "Lovers are supposed to do that you know and if they don’t do that it means their relationship isn’t romantic if sexual intercourse isn’t added." 

And to that, I posed the question, "Where exactly is it written that "if a pairing is not made canon by season [insert arbitrarily chosen number here], it will never be made canon, period?" Was I just absent from fandom class that day and skipped to the lesson on slow-burn ships?" We are going into the final season, and I stand by this question today as I did then. Bellarke could refrain from physical expressions of love and candid confessions to season 17, and their journey could continue to exemplify a love story. Because the absence of either one doesn't preclude two people from falling in love. Nor does the inclusion of either one necessitate two people falling in love. 

"Bellarke doesn't make any sense," they say. They say because Bellamy is her dearly beloved, but platonic, best friend.

Well, you've got me there. I'm stumped. How can it be possible for friendship and romantic love to behave as anything but mutually exclusive concepts? It's not as if friendship can be contorted to serve as a foundation for love.

 The cornerstones of strong friendships include trust, care, support, devotion, and many other features of a similar nature. Love- deep and genuine love, that is- involves frequent kissing and passionate, vigorous sex. The wilder the display, the stronger the pairing. The dozens of couples, love interests, and sexual liaisons before B/E who have kissed and had sex before dying must not have first consulted the manual for proper protocol.

And the inverse? Once two people fall in love, they cannot fall back to say, a familial connection. No, no, no. Such a regression would be the work of a tragic, reprehensible flaw in the cogs of the universe. Speak nothing of it.

"It doesn't make sense for B/E to break up," they say, "when B/E has stayed together for two seasons sans any indication Bellamy loves Clarke more than Echo, enough to want to leave his loving girlfriend."

How many times has Bellamy tried and failed to honor his commitment to Echo? How many weak attempts are met with a corresponding scene of Bellamy shifting his attention to the girl he tells himself to get over?

Echo leaves for Shallow Valley, his focus immediately turns onto persuading Clarke not to leave his side. He symbolically chooses Echo in the fireside scene by touching her sword. Yet, he looks at his girlfriend for the first time since their separation with the most aloof expression unsuitable for the occasion. No hope to be found anywhere. They share a brief reunion hug, no time for intimacy. He is reunited with Clarke and casts a nervous glance at Echo when bombarded with Clarke's appreciative gaze. Still no time for intimacy between B/E before a decade-long nap, but time can be carved out for a warm, flirty Bellarke reconciliation, complete with intensive heart eyes. No inspired, emotionally wrought, double sunlit embraces for B/E. If Bellamy is going to look out of a window at his future home, he'll either be by himself or snuggling Clarke into his side. There's no place for Echo in the lock of his arms anymore, only room for flanking him in the way loyal lieutenants tend to do. His girlfriend glances over at him as their exploratory team roughly plummets to new territory, and he does the same at Clarke. B/E reconnects lakeside, him asking for a swim with her and leaning into her arms at a campfire. He sits by her side on a swing set, amidst talk of moving their people into an abandoned village. And it's all well and good for B/E, right? They're presenting the front of a happy, unified couple. 

Until...Clarke walks away behind his sight, and he leaves Echo's side to seek Clarke's missing presence where the flirting and warm gazes and near confessions are kicked into overdrive. He calls Echo to hear his latest discovery, then proceeds to ignore the hell out of her, communicating exclusively to his co-leader. He stares wistfully at Clarke dancing with her new flavor of the night, cannot stop doing so even while excoriating Echo for her stoicism, expressing his frustration at her inability to fulfill his emotional needs. 

He recommits to Echo, as Clarke is kidnapped and her body is stolen, with nary a transition, suggesting we are meant to link the two incidents together. For all his resolve to face the future with Echo, he spends the whole of the next episode with a wary eye on Clarke, to the point that he is the first to realize Clarke is not herself. In the ensuing arc ranging from 6x05 to 6x11, approximately half of the season, what was B/E, again? Was that a thing concurrently happening with Bellamy's Operation: Save My Clarke? Because I seem to be able to recall only Bellarke goodness. Oh, my mistake, there was the consoling hug which, oddly enough, did nothing to soothe him. As evidenced by his choice to grieve alone. No girlfriend he wanted close by for comfort, knowing clear as day she couldn't provide it if she tried. Not with who he just lost. 

B/E gets another brief reunion hug, the majority of which is spent with him peering at Clarke. The show saw that hug and raised us an Austenesque-quality counterpart that would do Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy proud. 

"B/E endgame is the only sensible outcome," they say, "they love each other so much."

I don't contend they don't love each other. But we are shown two people determined but incapable of snuffing their deep-rooted feelings out of noble propriety, and most importantly, out of needless fear of unrequited love. And another two people who sought- and failed- to keep grasping the wisps of a gentle relationship slipping out of their hands since they left their comfortable space bubble. For anyone in this conundrum to be happy, the only natural course of action is for the latter to call it quits. The writing has been on the wall for too long.

Maybe a single Bellarke scene plucked out of the lineup can be interpreted on its own as platonic buddies being platonic buddies. But when all those individual moments are woven together, what forms is an ornate tapestry with a pattern so vivid, any inane rhetoric involving a hint of the word "platonic" is little more than ludicrous anti drivel transparently cooked up by those wishing a different endgame.

I hope you've enjoyed my second long-winded rant, @sometimesrosy, @jeanie205, @travllingbunny. One born of a teaching moment in which I learn for the umpteenth time it's best to steer clear of Twitter.