#so you start seeing flashes of blonde hair and red eyes when you KNOW no one else is around

[tiniestbee]

Drabble/Fic idea based on The Apparition by Sleep Token I will probably never write in the tags 😋👍🏼

[shaisuki]

𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

ft. bully! gojo satoru and geto suguru

content warnings college au, heavy bullying, gaslighting, noncon, dubcon, implied sexual assault, allusions to depression/suicide, alcohol consumption, drinking, implied drugging, fatphobia, overdosing, naoya zen'in is an asshole, humiliation, threats, minor oc character. dead dove do not eat.

notes this might come as disappointing since some of you wanting revenge what this two idiots had done to reader. their are some matters that i think is too complicated and impossible so i came with this way as the breaking point where reader starts to retaliate/plan her revenge. will get to it later and to that anon, who asked for the revenge, i will get once i start to finish this one up. please read the warnings, i don't want someone bitching in the comments telling me that the contents above is uncool. it truly is not cool. that's why it have warnings. it is on a fictional context. do read the warnings before continuing. also do let me know of what you think of this chapter.

read part one, here. two here.

SERIES MASTERLIST

synopsis you let them take and take what they can from you. you were a nobody after all but everybody have their breaking point.

the world is a blur to you. colors of red and blue dances in your vision while voices whispers to you. what's happening? you can't move. it's like your body were made of lead. you can't understand what they were saying. multiple faces stares at you, are you dead? is this what you see when people surround you while they lower your casket. is it? you hope it was, cause you didn't plan on living anymore. there's nothing worth moving forward and the world around you turns black.

there's a beep and then silence. you hear before you see and when you opened your eyes, all you can see is a bright light above you. it took you minutes to adjust your vision and realize where you are. you're in a hospital. laying on a bed and you started to get irritated at your oxygen mask. you tug at it. getting frustrated why it keeps coming back at you before someone put their hand on it. completely removing it and there you breath. your sight darted to the hand who helped you until your sight travels to his arms and then to his face. a brief recognition flashes through you.

“nanami?” you call his name unsure but you know it was definitely him. it was hard to mistake him for someone. there's his blonde hair, neatly parted. his pristine beige sweater paired a dark colored trouser, not a crinkle in sight and his signature silver watch in his wrist. you met him once at the literature club and decided you were going to be there too not until it changed due to some circumstances. his lips parted but before he can speak, a cheery voice interrupted him.

“she's awake!?” said haibara, you also knew him since he and nanami were always together. seeing your confused state, his voice died down. “what happened?” you asked them and they exchanged looks before haibara answers you.

“we found you passed out in the lawn. thought you were drunk but you weren't breathing.” haibara's voice was soft while he slowly breaks down the reason why you ended up here.

a doctor comes inside to your room before haibara can finish. you took note of her pristine white coat with her surname embroidered on it. clicking her pen and whipping out her clipboard she pulled out of nowhere. you were distracted by it. the doctor's eyes is on you now and you began to frown.

the doctor coughs clearing her throat before speaking. “hello, ms. (y/n). i'm glad you're awake now.” noticing your confused expression she pauses began answering the question. “to answer your question you were unconscious for two days and is brought for possible assault. we need your con—”

“no!”

“ms. it would help for you t—”

“you heard me!? i said no!” you scream at the doctor and your tears appeared in your eyes. you didn't realize you were screaming. nanami and haibara stand there in silence but the looks on their face said otherwise. concern painted in their faces and the doctor bows before leaving. looking at the men inside in your room to call her if you need anything.

cause if they would test you, they would find the remains of their sperm inside you and then report? who will believe you? it would be buried like the case of another girls like you who were too afraid nor fight their abusers. you don't find the point of that. they would twist the words out of you. it was easy to believe than you.

you curled up in bed and did the next thing you can. cry. now, you're in here and the events before this plays in your head in repeat.

“f-fuck”

satoru curses out while suguru bites your ear. your body like jello as they spilled their load for the nth that day. both of them lowered your body after fucking your brains out. warm up, they say. you shiver as you feel their cum running down your thighs. feeling disgusted as it began to stick after being exposed to the air. you grab the wipes but suguru stopped you, grabbing it from your hands and cleaning you up. fixing your skirt in the meantime.

“worth every penny.” suguru mutters. staring at the new clothes they bought for you. a baby blue corseted puff-sleeved, square neck top matched with a black skirt that rests on your mid thigh is what they forced you to wear. it feels tight. intentionally buying it one size smaller than you usually wore and it more feel you like a stuffed sausage rather a comfortable piece of clothing. you can't say no to what they wanted. you're a bit of grateful that they allowed you to wear your white sneakers rather than those kitten heels that would put your feet in blisters.

satoru's fingers brushes through the expanse of your exposed flesh. playing with the small bow in your top. sighing, “suguru, can we have more with (y/n)-chan?” his best friend chuckles at him. “idiot, we're already running late, after that we can.” satoru pouts. “tch, party pooper.” he ignores gojo and moves his attention to you.

“smile, this is your first real party. you're going to enjoy this.” suguru lifts your chin up with his finger and you obediently nodded. “ditch and you know what will happen.” he warns.

it was a bad idea. the moment you stood in the front door. the party was already in motion. you can hear the people inside shouting profanities and booming music mixed with already drunk frat members and student bodies. this was never really your crowd and when you were shoved inside with gojo and geto you were done and you already felt like crying. you look at the duo in front of you. they were already engaged in conversation with the other people here.

“gojo, you son of a bitch. you fucking came.” a guy hollered in the side and you see more of his features as he gets nearer. a snarl in his face with multiple piercings in his ear. a hair dyed blonde with green accents.

“ah, zen’in. wouldn't missed this just i could wipe that smirk off your face.” gojo mocks him and before the guy whom gojo called zen’in darts his sight to you. he raises a brow. “you two in fat bitches now?” pointing at you with hand cupping a plastic cup. gojo scoffs. “none of your business, zen'in.” glaring at him but he can't see that gojo's looking at him with dark glasses in the way. “then you two wouldn't mind me using her.” he suggested and suguru gaze darkens at him. “fuck off, naoya.” almost growling at naoya and the latter raises his hand in mock defeat before finding shit he could entertain himself with.

suguru scowls after naoya left, he looks at you like you just turned his mood sour. “you're an embarrassment.” he says and you bit your lip. keeping the tears at bay and you don't really want to embarrass yourself more at this party. “hey, hey suguru.” gojo taps his shoulder. “let loose, don't naoya get to you.” satoru glances at you. his blue eyes peering in his glasses. “you're right.” his stare cold at you. “find a seat, (y/n). you're embarrassing us now with you around.” you nod and you find yourself in a vacant corner. near to those already wasted or just plain chilling in the couch in front of you.

what did you expect? that were all sex talk or when they're in good mood. all those praise and compliments are just enough to feel you good about yourself for a bit and then they'll come destroying it. you stare at the view through the window. the night's particularly beautiful and peaceful except the place you're in and you're already missing the comfort of your bed.

you take a sip from your cup. a girl gave it you earlier saying that it's a special concoction that's only made at this parties. unsure you took it. not wanting to show ungratefulness to someone whose only been polite to you and she seems nice. you cringe slightly at the taste and the burning of the liquid as it flows down your throat. coughing you bring down the cup, not used to drinking.

your first time being a party, your eyes wander how your peers lost their selves in the influence of alcohol. some where dancing and mingling. talking like they were friends and you caught of others taking their business upstairs. you were kind of jealous how everyone are the life of the party and you sit here in your misery. you continue to observe everyone and you caught gojo. it's impossible to miss his tall stature and his white hair standing in the crowd. a petite woman is linked to him. her thin arms are wrapped around his neck and it was clear what they were doing. there they stood in the crowd. kissing.

“satoru.” gojo was taking a swig of his drink when a girl approached him. calling his name like they were lovers but it was more like an ex-fling. never had a relationship with her. she was only a temporary fun. “ah, sar—ah, sayuri.” he almost curses at himself. sayuri playfully pouts at him and there it is, the batting of eyelashes. “that's mean, satoru. you already forgot me.” her lips puckers before placing a hand in his chest. if this was a another party of gojo and he really liked this girl. he would have taken her upstairs. he caught you in the corner. you were like a child in awe at the people in this house. gojo almost chuckles at your cute antics but suppressed it and then a cruel idea pops in his mind. “missed me?” he asks sayuri and there was no answer needed as he crashes his lips to sayuri. his sight never leaving yours and when you caught him. he watch as your eyes widens, you lower your head in embarrassment before chugging that drink in your cup in one swig. he smirks in the kiss as he watches you wiped your tears away. he always liked making you cry.

you should have ditched this stupid party, even it means getting punished by those again. you were hurt. they always like to torture you. listen as they tell you how worthless and unlovable you are while they keep girls who are clearly not you by their side. those girls were perfectly fit for them to be seen in public and you were there for them to humiliate you. with your head lowered, you stifled a sob. wiping your tears with your hands shaking. they kept flowing and you kept messily wiping them and with that you slowly made your way outside. discreetly making your way through the door and you almost laugh. you were a nobody. you're not made for pretty things and this goddamn outfit you wore only added to your misery. you never felt beautiful and it looks ugly on you. wrapped a sausage with a different and it will still look the same.

no one noticed you leaving except for suguru's watchful gaze.

suguru finds his friend making out with a girl he definitely doesn't remember. suguru slaps his back and satoru broke the kiss. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and ignores the girl he was just making out seconds ago. suguru points the door where you left earlier. you're really looking for trouble and with that they left following you.

sayuri was stunned being shoved aside again. she was angry. how the fuck did you get those two's attention especially gojo's? she's beautiful. she's thin. academically excelling and you, a fat nobody bitch easily made those two fall for you. she knows they were just playing at you and sayuri could take it but being shoved again by satoru isn't what she expected tonight. she's going to be satoru's bride. it was decided from the start and satoru knows it. their fathers friends since their college days had made a decision to marry their son and daughter before they were even born and she did everything she can just to have satoru's attention but why can't she even get to look at her without her trying. it's your fault. it's your fucking fault! you deserve to die. you're fucking stupid for accepting that drink like you're a fucking saint and now, maybe you'll rethink your choices of making those your own and satoru will only have his eyes for her and only her.

weird. why are your hands sweating? it's cold. freezing cold. you know this temperature at night is normal but why are you freezing cold. hah, your vision's starting to get funny too. where there always stars in the sky? ahh, i want to go home. i wonder if akira's still awake. i didn't told her that i was going away tonight. my eyes hurt. you were crying. this was your thoughts as you walked away.

it was to easy to catch you with their long strides. satoru grabs your flabby arm angrily. “we told you, you don't leave without us. do you really want to get punished, (y/n)-chan?” his voice snarky as he digs his nails in your arms. it hurts. it really must really hurt but you're suddenly numb to feel anything. you just stare at him in confusion and then you hear voices. they were calling them to get back.

gojo scowls at them. your knees buckled and you sat in the ground. geto tsked. “we're going back to you later.” he says and they left you there and there were loud cheers. you lay there in the ground. numb and your vision fades away.

you blinked as you stare in the nothingness. that's what you last remembered. they left you there and you hoped you died. you can't take another bullshit of what they put you through. the tears continuously flows from your eyes and your blanket is wet with tears. haibara puts a comforting hand in your shoulder and you bursted crying again. this was the real kindness you felt since the accident. they didn't blame you. they only stayed and made sure you were resting enough. stranger they maybe or an acquaintance. you would never forget this kindness from them.

days. nights. you stayed in the hospital until you were cleared. you made nothing of what happened to you. putting it in the records as an allergic reaction in which the hospital agreed. just like that even when you're in the brink of death of what happened to you. if you took the procedure for assault. they would be guilty but it was days old now and bruises are left in your skin as nothing but reminders of the humiliation of what they did to you.

for now, you're going to cry. cry until there's nothing left to cry for.

[minarisplaything]

Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous.  To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures. 

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

 "Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[titan-senpai]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do Valentino x reader, where someone is getting a little bit too close to Valentino for readers liking so when he's busy doing something else reader deals with that demon. Have a good day

[Hello! Thank you for requesting! i loved your idea. I hope you have a good day too anon!]

[Warning: Alchohol, Blood, Smoking, Toxic relationship]

A night out with your mans goes horribly wrong as your seeing red.

Stepping out the car Valentino holding the door open, " You look marvelous my dear." He smiled as cameras flashed around us.

I stood up wearing a skin tight black dress with white leather straps around my chest, a fur coat that matches Valentino's white coat with hearts, black christian Louboutin heels. "Thank you dear" I smiled as my lips now covered in a dark red shade curled upwards, as Valentino led us inside his Club.

Walking to our reserved seats as he sat down I put my coat down as I sat next to him crossing my legs smiling as he lit a cigarette to smoke. "Welcome Valentino, Anything i can start you guys with?" A bartender wearing a uniform asked us. "We'll do the usual '' He exhaled putting his hands around my waist.

I decided to stand up " Where are you going doll?" He asked as i looked at him. "Nowhere" i smiled as i sat on his lap " Thats what i thought" He inhaled another puff as he forced my lips onto his exhaling his smoke into me passionately making out right there.

FInally i caught my breath smiling as I kissed his cheek leaving a dark red kiss mark. " You're mine." I smiled at the mark on his cheek. "And you're mine." He puts his hands on my thighs.

" Here are your drinks" The bartender came back, placing 2 pink drinks with a passion fruit on the glass. " I'm going to the bathroom" I said , kissing his cheek again, standing up fixing my dress as I blew a kiss and walked to the bathroom.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before I walked out the bathroom I sprayed his favorite perfume pushing the door open to see a girl sitting next to him with her hands on my man. I stood there waiting to see how it would end. She took a look at my drink and drank it with her pink lipstick now on it. My eyes were seeing red. I stormed there smiling politely " Hi, can i speak to you for a second ma'am " I smiled so innocently "of course dear." the blonde woman stood up drunk from one drink. " I'll be right back dear." I waved to Valentino as I led her to the backroom of the club.

closing the door shut. "What did you wa-" before she could finish her sentence I slapped her with my purse " You desperate piece of shit" I gave her a fist to her face smudging her pink lipstick " You are really a desperate cock whore aren't you. "I grabbed her by her neck pushing her against the brick wall. '' Do you even know who I even am." My pupils turn red and my hair flies up, the blonde bimbo starts choking.

As I came to my senses I didn't want to kill her. I wanted to make her suffer. "Do you know who i am" I asked again letting go of her throat throwing her to the floor. "I don't know- I'm sorry" she cried as she tried to crawl away.

" I am Y/N His motherfucking Girlfriend if you come near him ever again." I walked towards her, my heels clanking on the stone floor. i Bent down, lighting a cigarette exhaling in her face. " You won't see another day." I looked at her with a toothy grin, scaring her away. as i stood up kicking her in the face one more time. Breaking her nose.

" You better run bitch" I turned around to the door again walking inside not wanting to deal with this mess, fixing myself as I walked to Valentino " welcome back doll..." He smiled as he patted the seat next to him, I sat on his lap instead looking for comfort. " You wont leave me right?" I leaned into his neck inhaling his cologne as he held me tight " No doll, I won't leave you" He smiled as he saw the blood on my heels.

grabbing a tissue as he wiped the blood off my heels "You made a mess didn't you?" He asked as he kept cleaning them. I nodded in his neck as I couldn't face him. " That's my girl" He held me closer to him as I whispered into his ears. " You know.. all this got me horny tonight." I smiled running my hand across his chest and to his stomach. "Let's go shall we." he said holding me in his arms as he walked outside.

"Let's go home, my doll..." 

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[richardsgraysons]

touches

prompt — all the ways jason todd touches you / jason todd x reader

tags — some nsfw

A STORMY SEA AT BAY;

his fingers are harsh, and you wince when he grips at you like. that.he doesn't mean to hurt you, by god, no. he doesn't ever want to see you flinch. and as soon as you do, he stumbles back.

you realize what's happened. he's going to hate himself now. "jason, no—" you call out, reaching for him, but he stumbles back and runs into the darkness of the night where it'll shroud him. and in that night, he basks in his anger and self-loathing for a while before the boy in blue comes to calm him down. you sometimes wish you could, but he'd be too ashamed.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles when he's back in your arms. he holds you, tight, but not like when he was angry. there is a silver tear dancing on the edge of his eye but he never lets it drop. "i didn't mean to." and you know he doesn't so you hug him back and don't say a word.

EUPHORIA IN A SKY OF STARS;

he grips your thighs as tight as possible, and his face is buried between the valley of your thighs. he's letting out sighs of pleasure through quiet muffles as the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own whimpers and his comments—"fuck, pretty girl, you look so fuckin' good right now. give me another one, yeah?"

your thighs are shaking and you cannot even think properly, not when his eyes are hazy and he looks up at you like that. his fingers are digging so deep into your flesh that they draw out bruises, his tongue swirling around, and occasionally his teeth graze over your inner thighs. you forget that his helmet is to the side, that you're on a rooftop and anyone can appear in seconds and see you two like this. "best fuckin' thing i've tasted in my entire life," he croons, as he shoves two fingers in you.

SLEEPING IN AT SUNRISE;

his touches are gentle, soft. your hands run over the bruises he's collected from last night, and the blood that's dried on his hair or his head or back from last night's patrol and you worry about him. your fingers cup his jaw and you plant delicate butterfly kisses over his face in worry. "i worry about you, jay," you say when he whines at the touch but you know he adores it.

"i'm alive in one piece, aren't i?" he muffles as he flips over to the side so his back faces you. you pout and he knows you're pouting. he flips right back in a flash and he grabs you by the neck and pulls you close before pressing a kiss on your forehead and pushing. yourhead so it lies in the crook of his neck.

"i'm never leaving you," he murmurs, his eyes hooded and lazy. "it's gonna take everything in this universe and more for me to ever even think about not making it back to you." and those are just words, you know, but words have a lot of meaning.

I THINK ABOUT YOU EVEN IF I DON'T KNOW IT;

"so that's what i said to him that other day!" that blonde girl laughs, brushing her arm against jason. jason just nods at her, doesn't even mean to say anything ot her and just keeps his blank face. you've been scowling at her for the past five minutes, and for the past four minutes, she's pretended like you don't exist.

jason looks down at where she's touched him and then shrugs. "i have to go get a drink," he says blankly, his face neutral. the both of you turn around in near perfect sync and start walking down together. jason grits his teeth in anger, thinking about something else (maybe how that blonde girl has been treating you), and takes your hand and squeezes it. he squeezes it so hard it hurts a bit.

"jason," you wince, looking at your red hand. it's cutting off blood. he looks down at your hand in surprise and then his eyes widen for a few seconds before letting it go.

"i'm so sorry, i didn't know i was holding your hand, and with that grip—" you shush him peacefully.

RED IS JASON TODD'S COLOR

"fuck," jason snarls as he pushes you against the wall. there's something in his eyes. jealousy. red is always jason's best color to wear, you've known that for sure. his hand wraps around your throat and he kisses you hard.

"you liked making me jealous, didn't you?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow. there's a glimmer in his eyes as his lips bite down on your neck so hard that there's a faint sliver of blood. you let out a yelp. "seeing me all riled up for a guy whose cock is probably the tiniest fuckin' thing you've ever seen. tell me, did you like me jealous of a guy who can't even please you the way you know i can?"

you open your mouth to answer, but he clamps his hand. over before ou can speak. "don't even fucking answer," he snarls, before ripping your jeans off from your body. you didn't even know anybody could do that. "i'm about to teach you what the right answer is."

[endless-ineffabilities]

there's hope for us yet - (2/2)

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader

The reader realizes that her true Anakin will always exist, in some spark or another, however miniscule. And she reconciles with what she must do in order to get him back.

masterlist ▪︎ part one

GIF by nerdside

When your eyes open once more, you're lying on something soft.

A sense of familiarity eases in as your fingertips glide on the silk sheets underneath you. And that scent. Which can only be...

"What were you dreaming about?"

Your head falls to the side, slowly, dreading what you'll see. Because you know, without a doubt, it's all going to break your heart.

Anakin lies on his side, with his torso bare and his head propped up on one sturdy arm, looking at you all starry-eyed.

Like he always had.

You can help but let out a shaky sigh. Why did I have to lose this? Why did I have to lose you?

He notices the switch in your expression. And as if he's heard your thoughts, he whispers, "I'm here, stardust. I'm never leaving you."

But you did.

You sit up halfway, and find yourself saying, "What about all that you said? About Senator Palpatine? If you... if you truly believe that, Ani, then I could... " I could lose you. Your words echo in your head. He must have heard them to be meaningless ploys.

"You don't understand, stardust. I'm doing this for us. For you! This way, we can be together forever. Nothing can take you from me."

You lean forward, gripping his hand tightly. "Nothing will, Ani. Your visions won't come into fruition. You're not gonna get rid of me that easy, you know." You smirk at him to assuage his concerns, but his frown stays in place.

You massage your thumb in between his ruffled brows, in a show of easing the tension in his expression. "I love you," you breathe.

"I love you, stardust," he says, his voice breaking with emotion. He presses his forehead to yours. And then, his lips on your own.

His breathing is heavy, his mouth frantic. His hair falls forward, casting shadows on the sharp angles of his face.

I love you, he keeps saying. Though he claims your lips again and again, before you can get the chance to say it back.

Your fingers tangle in his unruly blonde tresses, anchoring themselves as he slides down and nips at your collarbone. His hand dips inside your blouse, gently pawing at your chest.

When he looks up at you with his mischievous smirk, you nearly forget where you are. You want to.

"Ani..."

I want this to be real.

"It is real," Anakin responds without missing a beat. He lowers himself further, hands gripping your hips. His fingers trace a line underneath the waistband of your trousers. "Give in to me, my stardust. This can be as real as we want it to be."

"Now is not the time..." Your words halt when he presses his lips to your hipbone.

"Why not?" Anakin purrs, then proceeds anyway. His breathing is warm against your skin, as he carefully starts to undo your trousers.

It certainly feels real. Any world, any reality - Anakin Skywalker will always have the ability to set you afire.

Your stomach is in knots, in equal parts excitement and anxiety. You want to focus on him and only him, but your gaze is directed towards the ceiling. Or lack thereof. All you see is an apparent simulation of the night sky, with thick gray clouds to reveal a storm simmering and waiting to unfold.

You were so caught up in Anakin that you failed to notice your surroundings.

"Where are we, Anakin? This isn't your suite."

He sighs, shaking his head. "That's what you're thinking about?"

Lightning flashes overhead. Dread rips into you as it casts a glow above everything. It had been only for a split second, but it was enough.

The sky glowed red. You see much clearer now.

"Let me take your mind off it, stardust." Anakin had pulled himself up suddenly, covering your line of sight. Everything, like always, is just him.

He grips your jaw in one hand, forcing you to look right at him.

"Anakin..." your voice is a low warning him. You notice how it sounded more of a question. Your guard is up, your hands bunched up into fists at your sides, no longer lovingly pressed against him. Suddenly, the comforting feel of the silk sheets feels like a betrayal. A lie.

"Kiss me," Anakin purrs. His lips take yours, roughly. His teeth clashing against yours in the movement. "This is all I want. You're all that I want." He grows frustrated when you don't kiss him back. Almost rabid. One hand keeps your face against him, while the other freely roams all over your body. His fingernails dig into the flesh of your thighs. "Say you're mine."

"No," you struggle to take a breath, squirming underneath his solid form. "You wanted something more. And now you have it."

"Because of you," he implores. "I did everything for you."

"I never wanted you to cross over into the dark side." Rage is evident in your shaking voice. You find your strength and propel yourself from underneath him, footsteps carrying you away from the bed. He follows suit but you put your hand up. "Stop." He doesn't listen. When has he ever?

For me? How dare he blame me?

Anakin reaches you once more, looking pained. That familiar frustrated furrow in his brow making him look youthful. Almost vulnerable.

Like that brazen young Padawan whom you met a long time ago. The one you fell in love with.

You wait for him to speak. To begin his tirade. He was fuming just a minute ago, surely he has some lovely things to share. About the past. About what you lost. What he sacrificed it all for.

The new Empire. Palpatine. Darth Vader.

Each one a dagger right through your heart. Reminding yourself that he did not choose you.

But he was lost.

You shake your head at your resolve breaking. One look at his broken expression and it all falls down.

He was lost. He was manipulated.

"Forgive me, stardust." Anakin says. His forehead presses against yours, and he holds you close. The makeshift sky above you seemingly calms, no longer displaying the occassional flash of crimson red. You feel the tension leave your body, and nearly slump against him.

A minute passes before he finally speaks again, "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this."

You know full well that he apologizes for much more than causing you to grow irate moments ago. He means everything.

"I know," you finally admit. Your eyes flit over his features. His eyes gently shut, his fingertips memorizing the planes of your face. "But this... this was the end."

"Well," he slowly smiles, and it is one of both sadness and acceptance. But when his eyes hold yours, it betrays the Anakin that would never accept defeat, who would never relent to losing the one he loves forever. "Why don't we go back to the beginning?"

The scene fades before your eyes, but Anakin remains.

And he always will.

It is the day after your thirteenth nameday, and your Master has granted you leave for the entire week.

It gives you the chance to interact with the visiting Padawans from other Jedi Temples, but you find yourself sitting all alone in an alcove in the inner courtyard.

Training has not been easy as of late, and you're beginning to doubt whether you deserve to be in the Jedi Order at all.

Lost in thought, you make the hilt of your lightsaber hover to the side. Spinning it midair. Tapping it against the stone in a sporadic rhythm.

Maybe if I fail, I can make a living off of these party tricks.

Then a voice breaks you out of it. "That won't be much of a living, but I have a better idea."

The boy you will soon know to be Anakin stands there, with his sandy mop of hair along with its signature Padawan braid, and curious gaze. He looks to be about your age, but already much taller.

"Stay out of my head." You respond on instinct, letting annoyance win over.

"Don't you want to know what I had in mind?" He sits across from you, unfazed. Clearly this is a kid who holds himself in some high regard. His force feels like determination and honour.

And defiance, as well as a simmering fury, but you will find this out much later.

"Not really," you shrug, trying to play coy. Your interest is piqued, but you're still discomforted by the thought that this random Padawan is tuning in to your deepest emotions.

"Well," he sighs. Something tells you it didn't really matter what your response was. "I was thinking that I can help you train. I can feel that the Force is strong with you, as it is with me."

"Is it, now?" The pair on this guy. But he's right. He has the power to bring balance to the galaxy. He just doesn't believe it yet.

"It is. And trust me, I tend to be right about these things." He smiles, and it is one of boyish innocence and wonder. Years later, he will change, but you will find that his smile remains the same.

You shake his hand in introduction, and you fall into conversation. How long is he visiting your Jedi Temple? Where did he come from? How is he finding his training?

It's polite conversation. It's a normal afternoon.

But it's also the beginning of everything.

"Come find me," he says to you, before he leaves.

"I will."

As he walks away, you notice a cloud of smoke encroaching upon him. White tendrils twisting in a race to get to him. Anakin. You blink hard, trying to get clear of the haze. His figure is morphed, doubled in size. Something's not right.

The white tendrils turn red. Darkness creeps in from all sides, and you know there is danger here.

"Wait!" You scream out. I have to warn him.

You take sure, long strides toward his figure and your bones ache. You're certainly taller now, and stronger. Much older than your thirteen years.

"Anakin, wait!"

He turns, and it is not Anakin. You freeze upon seeing the unfamiliar being, towering over everything, dark mask firmly in place.

Darth Vader. You realize just where you are, and why you're here, running around moments of impermanence.

He starts to speak, and you're startled to hear that the voice does not come from Vader's deep, chilling synthesizer.

"Come find me," he repeats. It's Anakin's voice. The one you've always known.

"I will," you say once more, the meaning of the words renewed.

And then everything is lost in a blinding flash of light.

You find yourself back on the suspended path, amidst millions of the same pathways to memories and forms of reality. The galaxy stretches eternal, the stars unending.

Anakin stands calmly before you, as he did when you arrived.

"You have to go back, stardust. Ahsoka needs you."

"I know," you say, not willing to say goodbye, but there's no other choice. You take his hands, committing the feeling to memory, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"Will you come find me?"

taglist: @maggiecc @fandomwarrior98 @irishbl0ss0mz @sarahbutnot @anerdypanda @valsarchives @avitute @standwithcap @lwkaslvt @yourusername1 @queenv319 @hesvoid3434 @caramelcandescence @eykismyfav @maratheidiot22 @leahthesith @hestia-fires @geekygirl127 @solaceinwritings @hueanhdang

"I always will."

[aezuria]

Hear me out.. happy Golden Retriever bf x broody black Cat gf, but it's Jason Grace x daughter of hades reader 👀👀

*ੈ✎ light of my life, where are you?

content: jason grace x daughter of hades! reader

╰┈▸ warnings: none (until the ending oopsie)

librarian's annotations: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON AND JUST SKIP THE ENDING IF U DONT WANT ANGST

maybe it was your gloomy disposition, or the fact that you were a daughter of hades, either way, most people avoided you like the plague. you didn't mind it all too much—you were usually one for solitude.

that was until you met jason grace. you disliked him from the start. dislike, not hate, because you couldn't bear to hate the person who always stuck up for your brother. but he was too bright, too overbearing for you. very much not your style.

(that's what they all say at the start)

he was just too good to be true! how could he be all these things everyone claimed him to be? they just had to be exaggerating.

but when he flashed his dazzling smile and tender gaze, you knew that all the rumors were true. even so, you pried your eyes away from him. you would not be wooed by a roman so easily!

jason did not make it easy for you. he followed you around camp like a lost puppy. he tried to be subtle, but his tall form wasn't exactly hard to spot. you went to your cabin? he followed you to the door, claiming he wanted to see nico. you went to the training grounds? he picked up a lance and started examining it a little too hard. when you finally confronted him about it, he just laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, saying, "i was trying to work up the courage to ask you to be friends."

how were you supposed to not like him after that?

despite your lack of romantic endeavors, you were sure that friends didn't do what jason did. he opened the door for you, made sure you ate proper meals—and sure, those acts were pretty "just friends" level. but he also tied your shoes, put flowers in your hair, and hugged you so warmly whenever you were feeling especially down. you felt the unmistakable flutter in your heart whenever he did those things, instead of your initial distaste for him.

your confusion was answered the next evening. you swore nico had muttered something about jason being the only guy (besides him) he'd trust with you, right before telling you to go into the woods. "there's a surprise there," he had explained. "just trust me, okay?"

the sun was starting to set, its rays darting between the leaves and casting a soft glow on the grass. "go to the woods... can he be any more specific?" you muttered, before you caught a familiar head of blond hair in the corner of your eye. you turned and walked towards him, brushing away the branches as you did so.

"y/n!" jason beamed as he caught sight of you entering the clearing. he straightened up and messed with something behind his back. he shifted his feet and pulled out a bouquet, offering it to you shyly. "i asked the dryads what your favorites were. do you like them? did i organize them properly? are these actually not your favorites and they were just lying to me-"

"jason." you cut him off and smiled, taking the bouquet and smelling the freshly picked flowers. "i love them, thank you."

he swore his heart stopped. your smile was the most gorgeous sight he's ever seen. you were like an angel; why was it that no one thought to make you smile more often? he met your content expression with a wide beam of his own.

"really? i'm glad!" jason sighed in relief, before clearing his throat. "um," his voice cracked, face flushing red at that. "i wanted to ask if i could be your boyfriend? i just, you're so sweet and strong, and pretty... anyone would be lucky to be yours. but, i want to be that lucky guy, if you'll let me?" he looked into your eyes so earnestly, there was no other answer but yes.

"you know i love you, right?" jason whispered into your hair. your warmth brought him comfort in his otherwise cold cabin, empty and unfeeling, just like his father's attitude to him.

"uh huh. and i love you too." you mumbled sleepily into his chest. "but do you have to go?"

he laughed softly. "yes, i do." jason combed through your hair, silk between his fingertips. "i'll be back before you know it."

"do you ever think that we don't deserve this?" you whispered, eyes already shut as sleep slowly overtook you. "that we shouldn't have to fight someone else's battles?"

"yeah." jason rested his chin on the top of your head and squeezed you tighter. "sometimes i think that too."

shadows pried your eyes open, then slipped around your heart and squeezed. he was gone. you could feel it. you knew and yet you hoped and prayed that you were wrong. he was supposed to come home later, right? he would.

but the darkness settled in your stomach and weighed you down until morning.

and so you waited and waited, for nico's familiar shadow, or a chariot riding from the sky. what came was the former. you felt the comforting coldness of your brother's appearance, but jason's warmness was nowhere to be held. nico's dark eyes were rimmed with barely kept tears, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

"he's gone." your brother's voice was as dead as jason, as final as his last breath.

never had you begged and pleaded to your father so much; never had you needed to. never had you imagined a life without the sun, your sun. never had the ghost of your soul escaped in a pitiful shriek of agony, or became one with the dirt as salty tears.

and you knew, just as you knew death, that a part of you had died with him.

[kirikorik]

Jealousy - Liefje, do you agree to become completely mine?

Joost Klein × fem!reader.

Warnings: Aggression and jealousy. Kisses! Non-canonical behavior. I don't know English/maybe there are a lot of mistakes. This is my first post!

Summary: You and Joost are best friends. You meet another guy backstage at Joost's concert. Joost is jealous and angry... Aggression/jealousy and resentment...

♡♡♡

The beats of the music are passing through your body in waves. Your eyes are watering from how fast the floodlights on the stage are flashing while you are hiding behind the scenes. Your eyes are glued to the dancing Joost, he shouts something loudly in front of the his fans and raises his hands up in response to the cheers.

A slight smile appears on your lips when he picks up a water bottle standing on the edge of the stage and after taking a few sips pours the water over his head. It's damn hot outside and even though he's wearing a T-shirt and shorts, his body is covered in sticky sweat anyway and his blond hair sticks out in different directions.

You met Joost quite a long time ago, even before his first tour and before he became so popular. But fortunately, even with the advent of his fame, he did not forget about you. You often went with him to his concerts and came to his studio where he recorded his songs, you even starred in one of his videos…

Your heart started beating faster when you looked back at Joost, kneeling in front of a crowd of his fans. Something turned over in your stomach from how fast he was moving, how he was imitating… explicit movements. You wanted to bring your legs together because of a pleasantly aching feeling. But you couldn't do it. Or rather, you didn't dare, because Joost turned his head in your direction, repeating this vulgar movement with his pelvis, and grinned when he saw how you looked away. Fortunately, from a distance, he couldn't see how red your face was.

Joost is your best friend, and you can't feel the way you feel about him right now. You just can't. Firstly, because it is wrong in relation to your friendship. And secondly, because you were sure that Joost wouldn't reciprocate, he's not that kind of person. Joost could flirt with anyone, could grope, of course, by mutual consent. He could even kiss someone if the person didn't mind. But he never kissed you, never touched you, and never touched you with more meaning than as a friend. Only you. But it was for the best, otherwise you weren't sure you could hold back your feelings.…

You turned around with your arms crossed over your chest. The concert was already coming to an end, there were one or two songs left, so you hurried to the back of the stage to wait for Yost there. But, thoughtfully looking around, you did not notice the man approaching you and crashed into him.

— Oh! — a surprised exclamation burst out of your chest. You should check where you're going more often. — Excuse me!

— No need to apologize. I was lucky that such a beautiful angel crashed into me. — the guy said with a sweet smile. You recognized him almost immediately. It was Marcus, one of the interns helping on the tour. You met him a few days ago in the dressing room when he was helping the staff, then you had coffee and chatted a little…

— I… oh...... Thank you… — you began hesitantly, embarrassed by the compliment. You looked at the guy: black hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, shirt and jeans, nothing special. No tattoos, no fancy hairstyle, no accessories of any kind. The exact opposite of Joost. But honestly, you're not upset about it. You needed a distraction a long time ago. Otherwise, you might go crazy soon. A playful smile appeared on your lips. — You're that guy from the dressing room — Marcus, right?

— Yes, and you are that pretty girl — T/n. — Marcus nodded affirmatively, smiling in response. Sparkling and without a grin, as Joost always did. But still, his gaze slid over your body, tight jeans and T-shirt. His smile widened, and there was something dangerous in it. You didn't care what it meant, because right now you just wanted to take your mind off Joost.

— That's right. — you answered, squinting, looking into Marcus's brown eyes with a half smile. — Listen, would you like to have coffee with me again sometime? Relax and unwind? — you asked decisively, licking your dry lips. A drop of sweat rolled down your back. It seems Marcus didn't take your offer quite right:

— How can I refuse a date to a girl like that? Especially with… — his voice trembled, Marcus cast a casual glance at your chest and moved closer to you. — I think you should relax in my car, it's been a busy day, we could have some privacy there… — the brunette grunted vulgarly, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wasn't the exact opposite of Joost, but he was someone much worse. Marcus moved closer to you, wanting to hug you around the waist, but you almost jumped back in fright, now you didn't want to relax or rest.

— Today? — you drawled uncertainly. — I'm not sure what… — you mumbled in embarrassment. Your eyes darted from side to side in search of something that could save you now. It was a shame that you suggested it yourself, wanted it yourself, and now you were running away in fright… You've always done that.

You got goosebumps between your shoulder blades. Someone was looking at you, but before you could turn around, someone's hand was on your shoulder. You were yanked to the side, hugging your neck with the bend of your elbow, pressing you against a wet, sticky body. It was Joost. You realized this when, out of surprise, you put your palms on his ribs. Under his translucent white wet T-shirt sticking to his skin, prominent muscles showed. It was… The tips of your ears were on fire, but the scariest thing happened when you raised your head…

Someone else's lips touched your lips sharply, greedily and brazenly. You opened your eyes dazedly, but Joost looked sideways while sweetly running his tongue over your closed lips, wanting to penetrate inside. You tried to push him away, but he held you even tighter. His piercing, ice-like eyes darted to you, and his lips stretched into a smile during the kiss. In a dangerous grin.

— Lieverd?(sweetie) — Joost grinned, casting a questioning glance at you, you noticed discontent in him. He was tense. Then the blond man looked at Marcus again with more menace. The guy cowered under Joost's icy, menacing gaze. — I've only left you for a couple of hours, and you're already flirting with some vulgar intern? Am I not enough for you? — he sang sarcastically, pulling you even closer, forcing you to bury your face in his shoulder. Joost smelled of sweat, dirt, something muscular and something else… tickling your receptors, which made your knees buckle. Your fingers are intertwined, and your nails are digging into his skin. You could still feel his angry kiss on your lips.

— I… — frowning, offended by Joost's words, Marcus wanted to object, but did not have time, because Joost immediately shushed him in his own manner, clicking his tongue. He looked at the brunette contemptuously, and he had to close his mouth. It's the first time you've seen your best friend… is it right to call him that now? Is this the first time you've seen him jealous? Exactly. Joost would never allow himself to humiliate someone for no reason if that person is a stranger to him. Only if he was very annoyed, upset or very angry about something. Joost was. The hand on your shoulder tightened, his rough fingers stroked your cheekbone, and you snuggled closer to Joost, feeling goosebumps running through your body.

— Boy, can you leave us alone? I need to chat with my girlfriend. — the blond man casually rolled his eyes, thrusting his free palm into the pocket of his trousers. You were still silent, not knowing what to say, your head was empty, too empty.

Marcus just nodded and tried to escape as quickly as possible, probably offended and a little humiliated by the fact that he was flirting with the girlfriend of an artist at whose concert he was moonlighting as an intern. A moment after you were alone with Joost, you were abruptly moved and pressed against the hard surface of a brick wall. Your breath was taken away and your chest tightened. It was shameful to admit that his jealousy, although it was unclear for what reason, caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Especially that angry look in his blue eyes, the way he was breathing fast and how his chest was heaving, and perhaps how wet, disheveled bangs fell on his high forehead, or how he towered over you with a direct threat and how his big palms squeezed your forearms not allowing you to escape. You were in a cage, but you liked it, even though you looked confused.

— Naughty girl, — Joost bent down and scorched your flushed face with his hot breath, you cringed and tried to instinctively move, but the blond immediately put his knee between your legs, tilting his head sideways and grunting: — You will not escape.

— Joost, I don't understand what… — you began to mumble, not daring to look into his eyes, but immediately the blond squeezed your chin, demanding to look only at him, pressing on you with his whole body. You're lying when you say you didn't like it.

— You all understand what love is, — Joost laughed low and hoarsely, licking his dry lips, you glanced at them, and he lifted the corners of his lips in a grin. — Did you want to make me jealous? Nervous? — he chattered, bending over your red ear. You felt something tighten in your lower abdomen, and instinctively clamped Yost's leg between your hips. He noticed this action by casting a gloomy glance down, swinging his knee and immediately returning his gaze to your flushed face. «You did it, girl. I was insanely jealous and I was ready to hit this freak just for coming up to you. Yost whined out loud, pressing his wet torso against you, wanting intimacy. His nerves and hormones were running high, his fists itched, and God knows what else… You swallowed, turning away guiltily, but then frowned. A bitter realization came.

— We are not dating and we are not a couple. You didn't have to… — you muttered discontentedly, turning away. And really, what does he think he is, to take and kiss you like that, to threaten… Joost's grip became tighter, the heat between your thighs became more and more difficult to contain. You wanted to cry and hit Joost so hard at the same time.… He's such a jerk, but you'd hate yourself for any of these actions. You already hated yourself for loving him.

— I don't care. — the singer immediately grumbled jealously through his teeth, lowering his palm to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as if wanting to squeeze it harder. You liked the contrast. Joost liked to keep you in check, to himself. — You're mine. — he chuckled, bending down to your temple, smearing his lips on the edge of your ear. — I just haven't had time to propose to you yet, he said casually. — you frowned in surprise, what, what proposal?! A proposal? What?!

Joost ran his tongue over his teeth. You knocked him off balance, made him feel a nagging pain in his chest. When he saw some freak flirting with you, making vulgar jokes and offering you privacy... he snapped. Joost would have killed him if you'd agreed to go with that damn Marcus in his car. In truth, it was his mistake that you still aren't dating. He just wasn't sure he could be a good guy for you. Even if he's a bad guy, he can't watch others want you anymore. You were beautiful, and Joost was so damn selfish, so he didn't care. He doesn't care about others because you're his girl, no one else can touch you.

— Liefje(my love), do you agree to become completely mine? — He croaked... knowing the answer damn well…

Don't post this anywhere without my permission!

[paladin-heart5]

Heart to Heart

Leon Kennedy x female reader

Summary; Leon has a nightmare about losing you, and you're right there to comfort him

Word count; 827

CW; mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fluff

The chill air flowed through the window that was slightly ajar. Just enough for the curtains to sway, letting the moonlight slip through. It was a beautiful night. Cool enough for her to snuggle into his chest for warmth. While he laid with the blanket on half of his body, even though he's shirtless. It's a peaceful sight, the couple had a long, busy day. The rest is much needed. 

Leon, however, was struggling with another nightmare. The past still weighs heavy on his shoulders. His brain just tortured him. The nightmare consisted of the norm, Raccoon city, Spain, all those bioweapons. This time it was about her, losing her. Frozen in place as she's being hurt, right before him. He couldn't move, all he could do was scream, shout for the killers to stop. Her eyes are glossy, full of fear and sadness. Her cries echoed, making him thrash. Red. That's all that was visible, the color of blood, the color of their eyes. It haunts him. He'd do anything to protect her, but he failed.

Leon jumped awake with an audible gasp, followed by heavy breathing. “Nonono, please.” He cried, heart beating rapidly, sweat drenched his hair. This jolt caused her to pop up in a hurry. Seeing her love in such distress made her heart cry. Concern flashed through her eyes as she carefully grabbed his hands.

“Leon, Leon, honey.” She called as she made him look at her. The blue in his eyes were darker, he must've experienced such a scare. She doesn't often see the great Leon S. Kennedy break. When he does, it's after so much bottling up. His eyes do widen at the sight of her, alive and well. The moonlight made her look heavenly.

“Y/n… you're alive.” His voice cracked, another thing she didn't often hear. She always encouraged Leon to express his feelings, good or bad. It was a hard shell to break, but he eventually started to open up. This situation will definitely have to end with him opening up more.

“Of course I'm alive baby. Did you have another nightmare?” Y/n asked softly, her voice quiet but comforting. It was true music to his ears. He could only pull her close, clinging for dear life. 

“I thought I lost you. I can't- I can't live without you.” His grip tightened, almost crushing her.

“Hey hey, baby, you aren't going to lose me. I know you'll protect me from anything and everything. And I want to protect you from those horrid thoughts. It's okay, let yourself fall apart.” She calmly spoke to him as he hid his face in her neck. Her fingers gently combed through his blonde locks. His quiet sobs slowly started to die down, her warmth and gentleness was like a healing potion to him. 

“I love you so much, Y/n. Please don't leave me.” He whispered, interlocking their fingers together. Y/n carefully raised his hand to her lips, placing a sweet kiss. 

“I wouldn't dream of it, darling. I'll always be here, waiting and worrying when you'll come home. I'll take care of all your wounds, and I'll love you forever.” She chuckled, rocking the both of them. Leon smiled softly, taking in her scent. He'll do whatever it takes to live, to come back home to her, to keep her safe. All he can think to do is place kisses on her neck. 

Y/n giggled and laid him back on the bed. She carefully straddled him and wiped away his tears. She then laid her head on top of his chest. The sound of his beating heart was much more steady. Leon relaxed a bit more as he held her close. 

“Do you ever.. have nightmares about me?” Leon asked quietly, making you look at him.

“Often, when you're on missions.” She answered simply as if it didn't matter. Leon looked at her with a frown.

“With no one to comfort you?” He asked, Y/n shrugged.

“Well no, sometimes I'll call Claire and she'll comfort me. Or I'll wear your favorite hoodie, it smells just like you!” She explained, her boyfriend melted a bit at the way her eyes lit up. 

“I promise to try texting or calling you more when I'm gone, okay? And tomorrow we're going to get those stuffed animals where you can put your voice in it.” Leon says, rubbing her back. Y/n tilted her head and chuckled.

“You mean a build-a-bear?” She asked, he blinked.

“That's what they're called?” He responded, you could only laugh in response.

“You're such a goof!” She snuggled into him, the tiredness returned to her with a yawn. Leon smiled at her, he rubbed her back gently.

“Get some rest, baby. Sorry for waking you.” He says quietly.

“Don't be sorry, I want to help.” She hums as she closes her eyes. Letting the sleep overtake her, Leon watched her peacefully.

"Thank you." He whispered.

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

[gavisfanta]

Heyyy bestie, can you make one from fermin?

Something where the reader and he haven't seen each other for months, if you want you can smut (if you feel comfortable, of course)

Reunited - Fermin

summary: Fermin comes home after a long time and you two are happy to see eachother again.

warnings: smut 18+

Life in Barcelona was hard when basically the heart of Barcelona was away.

Atleast for you, Fc Barcelona has always been an important part of your life.

The club has won over your heart when Messi played his first game. Your dad always went with you to watch the games when you were only 6 years old, ever since then you went to most of the games. Your father sometimes went with you but not as often as he did before.

The one night when you were out clubbing with some of your friends you met Barcelona's La Masia players.

Gavi and Fermin who hadn't made it to the first team yet. That between you and Fermin was predicted by Gavi.

Gavi saw the way Fermin looked at you dancing. Gavi still remembers exactly how it went.

"Talk to her." gavi mumbled towards his friend as he was staring at the girl in the tight black dress for over an hour now. Fermin turned his head ti look at the 16 year old Gavi who was annoyed with him.

"What?" Fermin asked a bit taken aback about Gavi's words.

"Oh come on, you're a creep, staring at her for over an hour without making a move. She'll love you, she looks fun. Ask her about her number of something, I don't know." gavi rolled his eyes while he suggested his Bestfriend to do something.

"What if she won't like me?" Fermin asked worried that he'll get rejected by the yet nameless girl who was talking to one of her friends.

"Ugh" gavi groaned while rolling his eyes. He gave Fermin a look before standing up.

"No Gavi- what are you doing-" Fermin stood up running behind his friend. Gavi walked over to you and tapped your shoulder.

"Yeah?" You asked while turning around after feeling the tap on your shoulder. You came face to face with a brown haired boy with fluffy hair.

"Hey, my friend here doesn't know where the backstage is, I heard you know and could show him?" Fermins eyes lit up with fear as he watched Gavi talk to you.

a small smile made its way to your face and you nodded your head. Gavi stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Of course." You stood up from the booth you were sitting at with your friends and looked at the shy blonde haired boy.

"Thank you so much." gavi gave you a wide smile and then you started walking while Fermin followed you.

"My name is Y/n, what's yours?" You asked while walking through the crowd of people with him by your side.

"Fermin, I'm sorry about my friend. It's just-" Fermin tried to say but you shook your head.

"No worries." You flashed him a smile again and Fermins breath paused. Suddenly everything around him was going in slowmotion as he lookrd at your sweet smile, your perfect black dress and your hair sitting perfectly. The blue and purple lights on your skin and reflecting in your eyes.

Thats when he knew that he fell in love with you.

Now barely one year of talking and two years of dating later here you were, sitting on your bed.

You were excited, sitting on the bed wearing your red lingerie, which was sitting just perfectly around your curves.

You felt your core getting hotter as you were imagining what kind of things Fermin will do to you.

He wasn't home for way too long because of the summer USA tour.

After like 4 weeks of sending nudes and texting and calling all night you finally could see him again, or even feel him again.

You put down your phone as you heard the door unlock, you sat up and leaned back a bit as the door swung open.

"Mi amor..." Fermins eyes immediately scanned your body and then he looked up to your eyes.

"Come here, let me hug you." he opened his arms and you couldn't help but smile too. You stood up and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and finally inhaling his scent again.

"God I missed you." Fermin kissed the top of your head before pulling you into a long and passionate kiss.

His hand slowly roaming down to your ass and he spanked it which made you moan into his mouth.

"Now let's get to my favorite part." He whispered into your ear after pulling away.

He immediately pushed you back onto the bed and crawled over you, looking down at your breasts.

"I missed you, so so much." He mumbled while diving into your neck, sucking at your sweet spot while you threw your head back.

"So, so, so bad." He mumbled and took off his shirt in a second. You traced your fingers down his abs and squeezed them slightly. He whimpered softly against your mouth and then you wrapped your legs around his torso.

Fermin then put down his full body weight on you and you used that to turn things around.

A shocked expression was seen on Fermins face as you were now sitting on top of him. Your face covered by a huge smile as you were looking down at him.

You then got off of him and sat down next to his body, he was stretched out on the bed so you took things into your own hand.

Bending forward, you pulled down his trousers with his boxershorts.

You leaned down and kissed the tip of his hard dick. Pre cum leaking and running down his whole lenght.

As you kept placing sweet kisses along his tip Fermin was being a bit inpatient.

He groaned as he took his dick into his hand.

"Suck me off princesa." Fermin smiled as he buckled his hips even more forward. Burying his cock inside of your throat.

The sudden contact of his tip with the back of your throat made you gag but ypu took him deeper inside of your mouth.

"Yeah, just like that." Fermin moaned as you began to swirl your tongue around his tip.

Then you took him out of your mouth and you swirled your hands around the part that wasn't in your mouth. Your tongue still licking around his tip.

"Yeah, just like that." He groaned again. He grabbed your hair and made it into a make shift ponytail.

After repeating the same process you felt his dick twitching inside of your mouth. Fermin who was barely able to keep his eyes open moaned loudly.

Just a few seconds later you felt his dick shoot 4 or five times inside of your mouth.

Fermin laid down on his elbows, looking as you swallowed his cum. However, after you swallowed you didn't stop. You kept massaging his dick with your hand while looking up at him.

That sent him into over sensitivity.

You smiled as you let go of his dick after he moaned again.

"Why did you stop." Fermin asked you, drops of sweat sitting on his forehead and his hair messed up.

"I want you inside of me." You climbed over him and pulled down your lingerie. You slid it down your body which left you fully exposed to Fermin now.

"I missed you." fermin mumbled as he kissed you, you gave him a small smile and then alined yourself with his dick.

"Fuck." you whimpered as you slid down fully on his dick.

Fermin threw his head back as he felt you again, your walls clenching around him, you holding him tight. He kept gripping your hips tighter until he was sure that hes gonna leave marks.

You started moving your body up and down, riding his dick in a slower pace than you usually did.

"Yeah, fuck." Fermin groaned and then you started to ride him faster, putting your hands flat on his chest for support.

He then started to buckle his hips up as he felt the warm knot form in his lower abdominal.

"Fermin-" You moaned as you felt yourself get slowly to your high.

"I know love." He mumbled and then lifted you up, he started to push himself up and kept thrusting into you from below.

You moan loudly at a point where you couldn't hold yourself up anymore.

"Come for me, come around my dick. You're doing so good." Fermin praised you to push you over the edge as he felt that you were close.

"Joder Fermin." You moaned and just a few seconds later you collapsed on top of him as you were riding out your high.

"Wait a second princesa." He whispered against your skin and as soon as you felt like your orgasm had calmed down a bit you sat up again.

Then you started circling your hips while he was still inside of you, Fermin gripped you with his fingers.

"I'm close, just one second." Fermin said and buckled his hips forward again.

You then changed your pace and you started going uo and down while gripping him, it made it more difficult to move up and down but you managed it.

Fermin groaned as he grabbed your breasts and pushed them together.

The next thing you felt was Fermins dick shooting strands of cum inside of you. You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his chest.

Fermin moaned at you leaning forward and that made you even tighter.

"Gosh you never disappoint." Fermin smile as he kissdd your forehead as you looked uo at him.

"I missed you amor." You kissed Fermin. softly, still affected by your orgasm.

"I missed you more."

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Parties.

Pairing: Natasha X fem reader

Fluff :)

Warnings: none I think. Nat being jealous hehe

The start is written by @azaleavolkova so full credits to them!

Nats pov:

As per the end of a tough mission, a stark party was thrown. Probably one of the biggest yet, all paid for by Stark. I don't even think he monitors or has anyone to monitor who comes in. And that's why I'm here, I was invited as a plus one, to my beloved soon-to-be spouse. Yes, I'm engaged. And yes, I love them as much as my heart can. I mean, I'm constantly thinking about them.

Anyway, here I am, in the elevator at the Avengers Tower, in a black, long flowy dress, the straps of the dress wrapped delicately around my neck. Along with the dress, I have a cute little moonstone teardrop pendant with little tree branches on the sides on my neck, completing my outfit.

A ding rang throughout the elevator, the doors opening soon after. My eyes widen almost immediately after I saw how many people were here. I quickly regained my composure, walking through the doors confidently, looking around the room and seeing widen eyes, even some dropped jaws.

"Pick up your jaws, or else a fly will get it's way into it." As soon as I said that, a little fly flew its way into one of the guests' mouths, being spit out just as quickly as it went in.

I roll my eyes and walk through the crowds. Ignoring the stares and attention. My eyes searching for my fiancee. But unfortunately they aren't here yet. I silently curse and walk down to the bar.

Its been half an hour. I'm on the sidelines of the party mainly surveying the entry. But since my fiancee hasn't shown up yet I've decided to amuse the men that have conveniently surrounded me and offered drinks or a cigarette. Eventually I take one of the men up on their offer and take a glass of champagne from the man.

The guy himself isn't too bad looking. He has dark messy hair and brown eyes of the chocolate variety and if I wasn't engaged and in a happy relationship I would've given him a shot. But I found the love of my life and have no interest in the guy.

I chat amongst the men. My eyes lingering on the entrance. Though another blond man blocks my view leaving me slightly pissed. Now how am I meant to see my glorious fiancee when they walk in!?

It's been another half hour. I'm almost sick of the men. I'm holding my third glass of champagne and yet they still haven't shown up yet. I think atleast. That is until a group of men part slightly and I see her.

There standing in a teal dress that blends into navy blue is my fiancee y/n. And she looks gorgeous. Her hair styled into a braided crown. My eyes glued. I don't even remember the fact I'm surrounded by men until one speaks up about how he'd take my woman. I am now very tempted to rip his head off. But y/n would be disappointed if I ruined this night to I refrain till later.

"hold my drink boys. I'm going in."

I smirk as I hand one of the men my glass. His mouth opening slightly. I fix my red hair and step away from the group, ignoring the shocked stares from the men who thought they had a chance. I walk over to the greatest woman in my life and I kiss the back of her hand.

"glad you could join us darling."

I mumble against her skin as I pull y/n close. I've missed her. But I do get a giggle from the love of my life.

"Tasha it seems you have a shocked fan club behind you."

Y/n smiles. I roll my eyes. I could care less for the mob I just left. Instead focusing on y/n.

"let's not discuss them."

I ask as I step away from y/n pulling in her hand. She has pearl bracelets on. They look almost as pretty as she does. Y/n smiles back.

"you seem jealous."

Y/n grins. I look less amused.

"one was being unprofessional when describing a relation he wished to have with you."

I speak low. Jealousy flashing through my eyes. I know it does because y/n laughs.

"don't worry Tasha I only have eyes for you."

The affirmative voice calms down the green monster inside me. I pull y/n into a kiss she easily reciprocates. I want to hold onto the moment forever.

A/n: This is a work that was started by @azaleavolkova and full credits to her. The rest of the fic is my own original work however. The first four paragraphs were written by @azaleavolkova.

[mykoreanlove]

Deceptive bonds

Changbin’s house parties were notorious for all kind of things: snoring coke on the bathroom tiles, messy sex in confined closets and serious philosophy discussions over the kitchen counter. You would never admit this to others but secretly you were proud to have participated in all those activities. Weren’t your college years made for that?

Today’s party provided you with a new experience though – a smooth and comfortable make out session with your boyfriend amidst dozens of eyes.

You were sitting on Felix’ lap giggling and kissing, touching him as much as you could. The two of you haven’t been dating for very long, hence you were all over each other without having a care in the world.

You admired everything about him: his blonde hair that fell into his chocolate brown eyes, the countless freckles on his cheeks or heart shaped lips that made your heart flutter everytime they landed on your skin. Felix’ grip on your hips tightened as he distracted your train of thought.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Love.

He didn’t know you that long, but he already gave you the world’s most significant nickname. Warmth spread in your body, and you smiled comfortingly. “Just how much I like you.”

His lips turned up before they crashed on yours, eliciting a storm of butterflies within you.

Being with Felix was nice – it felt safe and comfortable.

Your mind started to wander as you noticed how different it felt from what you were used to with…

“Get up.”

His voice was deep and underscored with rage. Felix broke off the kiss and stared at his friend in bewilderment. It took you a second before you were able to make eye contact with him – he always had you enslaved with one of his glances.

Hyunjin didn’t even look at you, his eyes stared directly at Felix. “They are waiting for you. You signed up for beer pong, remember?”

Felix sighed in annoyance. “Oh shoot, shit.” He turned around and flashed you his brightest smile. “Y/N, will you be okay for a while? I have to go show them how it’s done, Aussie style!”

He was so excited, you could never say no.

“Go. Show them how it’s done, angel.”

Hyunjin flinched at your nickname for his best friend but luckily no one noticed. Felix kissed you quickly and made his way to the outside, ready to give it his all.

After he left, Hyunjin finally acknowledged you. He held out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it.

You stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“We need to talk. Now.”

The rage in his voice was nothing compared to the one in his eyes – they were darker than the night.

You got up and slapped his hand away. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

As you made your way to the kitchen, you passed the closet in which you went down on your knees for him once. You came to a halt and watched the pantry as memories of that steamy night flooded your consciousness.

It didn’t take Hyunjin much time to come after you, so he yanked you into the closet with him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

The space was anything but narrow, not a single piece of paper would have fit between the two of you. His scent clouded your vision just as it did back then. Hyunjin was breathing heavily, his chest was heaving with a lot of emotions.

“Am I out of my mind? Are you? Y/N, are you for real?”

There was so much emotion in his voice, yet you had trouble identifying what it was. Even though the inside of the closet was barely lit, you were still able to see him clearly. His porcelain skin was framed by his dark clothes and red hair, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched. You pinched yourself and winced at the pain.

“See? That hurt. I am real, yes.”

He rolled his eyes at you in annoyance.

“I can’t believe you. You’re dating Felix?!”

You smirked. “Yeah, I am. Why do you care though?”

He was getting more agitated by the second.

“Why do -I- care? You’re dating my best friend when it should have been me!”

Now you were the one rolling your pretty eyes at him.

“Oh please. Spare me the bullshit, Hyunjin.”

He took a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves.

“Listen. I know what this looks like and I- “

“Oh, do you?”, you snapped at him angrily. You both glared at each other as if you were going to rip off each other’s heads.

Or pants.

“Don’t”, he gritted through his teeth.

You chuckled maniacally. “Don’t what? Tell you how much I like you? That I’m in love with you? That I want us to be more? Don’t worry, we already did that play.”

Memories of you begging him to choose you flooded your mind. Hyunjin and you were a thing for a couple of weeks – you considered those weeks to be the best ones of your life. Being with him felt exciting, thrilling, and unstable. He always kept you on edge, never letting you know what he was up to. That love you shared was obsessive, passionate, and mind-blowing, just like the orgasms he gave you. But that was all he had to offer as Hyunjin denied you more of him.

“Is that why you’re dating him now?” You could have sworn to detect vulnerability in his tone.

“Can you really blame me?” He didn’t say a word. You sighed heavily.

“Felix makes me happy. I feel safe with him, like I can rely on him. He’s a good guy and I think I deserve that.”

He furrowed his brows, thinking a thousand thoughts at the same time. Hyunjin didn’t find the right words to say, so he let his body speak for him. His slender fingers grabbed your wrists and traced patterns on the soft skin.

“Is that really what you want?”, his tone was soft, barely a whisper.

His touch alone was enough to make your mind go blank. You didn’t dare to look at his eyes in fear of what you could do.

“Y/N”, he whispered your name, “look at me. Please.”

You tilted your head and looked into his enticing eyes – the rage was gone and substituted with longing.

“I know what I said to you back then. And back then, I really meant it. But now…”

His hands trailed up your arms and laced behind your neck, pulling you close to him. “Now that I see you with him, I can’t help myself. I had no idea that I want you like that, y/n.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, his eyes set on seducing you. “You should be sitting on my lap, baby. Just like you used to. Remember how you did that? Remember what we did in here?”

You felt like suffocating. He was taking your breath away.

“Stop”, you muttered.

He grinned innocently. “I won’t do anything, y/n. Felix is still my friend, after all.” You felt your shoulders relax, feeling like you escaped the danger.

For now.

“But- “, his lips traced your throat slightly, “I’ll be waiting, baby.”

You didn’t understand. “Waiting? For what?”

He was oozing arrogance, laughing against your skin.

“We both know how this is going to end. Number one – he is going to fuck this up. I know him, y/n. There is more to him than his angelic persona. Or number two- “.

He backed off a bit and placed his thumb on your lips, slightly applying pressure. “You’ll get bored very quickly. He is safety and I am danger and I know how much you crave that adrenaline that only I can give to you.”

You didn’t even realize you were sucking on his thumb, too engulfed by the words he said. You slapped his thumb away as soon as you realized, looking down feeling ashamed.

“That’s right, baby”, he chuckled mischievously before exiting the closet, “I know what you truly want. Don’t make me wait too long.”

[webslingingslasher]

banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?” 

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.” 

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?” 

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?” 

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.” 

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid. 

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.” 

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.” 

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes. 

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?” 

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?” 

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.” 

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello. 

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard. 

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year. 

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own. 

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside. 

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’ 

‘Give me five minutes.’ 

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs. 

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting. 

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed. 

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it. 

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively.  “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.” 

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?” 

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.” 

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?” 

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.” 

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries. 

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.” 

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.” 

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.” 

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.” 

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.” 

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.” 

“So this was all for nothing?” 

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.” 

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.” 

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs. 

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture. 

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie. 

“Then introduce yourself.” 

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent. 

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out. 

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this. 

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.” 

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out. 

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears. 

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text. 

‘friend?’ 

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions. 

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash. 

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time. 

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left. 

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders. 

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?” 

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ. 

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing. 

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-” 

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.” 

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?” 

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.” 

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.” 

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring. 

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend. 

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious. 

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy. 

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.” 

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?” 

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.” 

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?” 

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.” 

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.” 

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.” 

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.” 

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed. 

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.” 

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours. 

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too. 

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?” 

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.” 

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged. 

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.” 

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.” 

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition. 

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny. 

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch. 

“She’s difficult and entitled.” 

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul. 

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained. 

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?” 

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back. 

“It’s so soft.” 

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?” 

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious. 

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting. 

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight. 

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion. 

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him. 

“Peter, hi!” 

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.” 

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?” 

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.” 

“I know how to hug.” 

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.” 

“No.” 

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too. 

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.” 

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear. 

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.” 

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin. 

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.” 

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink. 

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.” 

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second. 

“Which album?” 

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?” 

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.  

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?” 

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.” 

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked. 

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back. 

“Who’s that?” 

You point at yourself, “me.” 

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch. 

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.” 

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown. 

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.” 

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone. 

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.” 

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away. 

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time. 

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?” 

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand. 

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.” 

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other. 

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for. 

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.” 

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.” 

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.” 

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up. 

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body. 

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.” 

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning. 

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.” 

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs. 

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section. 

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care. 

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.” 

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach. 

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his. 

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though. 

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?” 

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.” 

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself. 

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!” 

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit. 

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move. 

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.” 

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?” 

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!” 

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.” 

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.” 

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.” 

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.” 

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second. 

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.” 

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.” 

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.” 

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter. 

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.” 

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch. 

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity. 

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work. 

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger. 

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.” 

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now. 

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.” 

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.” 

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.” 

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?” 

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more. 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them. 

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?” 

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy. 

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.” 

“You act like one.” 

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’  You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug. 

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.” 

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him. 

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to. 

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell. 

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish. 

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more. 

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later. 

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky. 

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?” 

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter. 

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in. 

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket. 

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!” 

The good one? 

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute. 

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.” 

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort. 

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.” 

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad. 

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky. 

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored. 

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.” 

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.” 

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall. 

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him. 

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?” 

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do. 

CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

 Prince next, “Sam Mason.”  

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?” 

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.” 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck. 

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you. 

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it. 

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color. 

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space. 

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it. 

“Right,” one step closer. 

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you. 

“And then?” 

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation. 

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself. 

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.” 

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening. 

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-” 

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip. 

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time. 

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him. 

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that? 

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading. 

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same? 

“Parker, you out here?” 

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker. 

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you. 

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.” 

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing? 

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.” 

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened. 

Just so you could keep it to yourself. 

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream. 

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball. 

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up. 

“Cheers, Parker.” 

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling. 

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor. 

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges. 

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest. 

“I bid Isaac Barns.” 

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality. 

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again. 

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first. 

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking. 

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you. 

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now. 

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch. 

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you. 

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research. 

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter. 

‘big brother season.’ 

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless. 

[fxrmuladaydreams]

Logan Smut! 7 minutes in Heaven with Logan- He’s dared to choose someone in the group to play with and he picks you! He’s so sweet and nervous but also frat boy coded I imagine he’d be cocky as hell when he’s in the group and choosing you, but as soon as you’re alone he reassures you that you don’t have to do anything at all if you don’t want to, you ask him what he’d want to do if you’d say yes to anything and you spend all 7 minutes making out and whispering in each others ears everything you would do to the other, coming back out of the closet he’s hard and you’re both scarlet red and clearly dishevelled from making out with your hands in each others hair and all over your bodies but manage to somewhat keep your cool until you can subtly leave the party and act on your desires

!! logan weekend requests are now closed !!

i love frat boy logan so much. and i know literally nothing about fraternities so please don’t come for me. this turned out longer than i meant it to

Logan Sargeant was your typical frat boy. He had the blonde hair, the toned body, hell, he was even from Florida. You had a few classes with him here and there, all of which he chose to sit in the back with his friends while you sat further towards the front.

He was constantly hanging out with the other guys in his frat, all equally athletic and equally popular.

You friend had begged you to go with her to one of their parties. She suggested that maybe you meet one of the guys and hook up, let loose a little before midterms. You agreed to go, only to get her to stop begging you.

The house was crowded. Multicolored lights flashed in the living room area, making it seem like more of a rave than a party. You make your way to the kitchen in search of something to drink when you see Logan. Like usual he’s got his group surrounding him. He looks up to make eye contact with you and gives you a nod and a small smile.

You feel yourself flush, turning away and taking a drink. You keep near the edge of the party for most of the night, just people watching, until your friend grabs your arm. She’s definitely tipsy, her eyes glazed over and her balance slightly off.

“Come on, we’re going upstairs to play seven minutes in heaven!” She shouts over the music.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You tell her.

“Fine then. I’ll go by myself.” She huffs as she stomps upstairs.

You follow her, afraid to leave her alone. When you get upstairs you see a group of people in one of the bedrooms, almost huddled together in a circle. You recognize Logan and a few of his fraternity brothers.

“Two more players!” One of the guys shouts.

Everyone takes a seat on the ground as the rules are explained. A bottle sits in the middle of the circle and gets spun. Whoever it lands on has to pick who they want their seven minutes in heaven with, and the two of them will be locked in the closet for those seven minutes.

The game starts off as expected. The bottle lands on someone and they pick to go with their boyfriend/girlfriend, then come out of the closet giggling and blushing.

You’re not too surprised when Logan’s fraternity brother Oscar ends up picking your friend. They’d been seeing each other on and off for the past few months.

When they come back brandishing unruly hair and lipstick marks down Oscar’s neck, everyone cheers.

When Oscar spins the bottle after returning, it lands on Logan. Various girls in the group all give him a flirty smile, hoping to advance their chances on him choosing them. His choice however, comes as a surprise to everyone in the group.

“Y/n.” He says, smirking.

Oscar looks surprised, but a grin rests on his face.

You slowly stand up and walk to the closet, Logan following you with a hand on the small of your back. Someone closes the door behind you, and sudden you’re trapped in dark, close quarters with Logan.

He reaches up to pull the string connected to the light, illuminating the room in a warm orange glow.

He looks almost nervous, holding his hands behind his back. “We don’t have to do anything.” He tells you softly.

“Why did you pick me?”

“What?” He asks.

“Why did you pick me?” You repeat your question. “I didn’t even think you knew my name, and there were a lot of other girls who would’ve killed at the chance to be in here with you.”

“I know your name…” He says, with almost a defeated tone in his voice. “I know a lot about you, actually. I know what songs you like because you tap them on your desk with your pencil. I know what kind of books you like to read because you’re constantly reading up until class starts. I know what classes you like, and which ones you don’t based on how you interact with the professors.”

“Wow.” You’re shocked. You didn’t think you were even noticeable to Logan.

“And I know you don’t want to be here at this party, so I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to.” He says.

You look up into his pretty green eyes and feel a pull towards him.

“What would you do though? If I let you?” You ask him quietly.

He takes a deep breath, then answers. “I would hold you close, like this,” he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. “Then I would guide you to hold me.” He slowly lifts your arms to rest them over his shoulders. “And then I would study your face, try to memorize every little detail.” His eyes travel around your face, back and forth between your eyes, then to your nose, then to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours. He bumps your nose softly with his, then looks down at your lips. “And then I’d kiss you.”

It’s like he’s put you under a spell. You glance down at his lips. “Kiss me.”

He tilts his head forward, capturing your lips with his. The kisses start soft but get needier and needier as you keep going. His tongue slips into your mouth tangling with yours as you tangle your hands in his hair. He steps forward, making you back up against the wall, and presses his hips against yours.

Just as you reach a hand down to slip under his shirt against his abs you hear a knocking on the door.

“Times up!” A voice you recognize as Oscar’s shouts.

You pull away from Logan and attempt to catch your breath. He does the same, a pink blush covering his cheeks.

“We should go out there.” He says, a small smile on his face.

“How are you planning on hiding that?” You laugh as you point at the very obvious tent in his pants.

“I don’t need to, you will babe.” He pulls you to him so that your back is flush against his chest before opening the door.

Cheers and wolf whistles greet you as you exit. Everyone stares at your swollen lips and messy hair, but mostly Logan’s hands, which hold onto your waist, and pull you down so that you’re sitting on his lap.

[dulcewrites]

Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.” 

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.