#where the hell am i supposed to consume content of this guy!?

[skyfumgus]

I am sadden by the lack of pizzahead fluff fics.

Like come on man, let me read fluff of the fucking clown. I feel like it would be very cool

[angel-of-the-moons]

Fun Before (Diaper) Duty

Peter B Parker x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, grinding, dry humping, pegging, sex toys, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, talks of pregnancy, trying for a baby, cumming inside with the intent to make said baby, Peter being a whining mess , Dom(?)!Reader, Sub!Peter, (sort of?) no refractory period, drain this mans dryyyy

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is an AU of sorts where MJ doesn't exist and the Reader is Peter's Wife. Takes places after the first movie (Obvi). It's just a thing that's been bouncing around in my head and I need to get the brainworm out!!!

(And as usual header does not indicate reader's race)

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It had been some time since you guys ran into your... "problems."

It had been some time since he came home after apparently interacting with someone who changed his mind on what you talked about.

Kids.

Babies.

Having them.

He explained in great detail what happened, how Miles in particular had just... changed him. Woke him up inside, made his inner Papa Bear come out.

It made him realize he did want kids.

And if realizing he actually did want kids was something, Peter B Parker really enjoyed the task of making said kids.

The two of you indulged in it as often as possible, twining together in bed, or on the couch, in the shower, in the kitchen... Once when you met him on a rooftop to bring him some dinner when you were in the area.

Yeah, Peter wasn't much of the "public sex" type, the poor guy. The moment he came inside you he was a blubbering--still hard--mess and he web-slung you two home to make love to you properly. I.e he basically let you pin him to the couch and ride him until he couldn't feel his legs.

Even that Spider-Man stamina had its limits.

More often than not he was out most nights doing his Spider-Man routine, fighting crime, saving people... Even picking up an extra part-time job for some extra cash.

"Y'know, babies are expensive!" Peter had laughed with you over some crappy Chinese takeout.

"I know, but honey..." You sighed, finishing off your noodles nd dropping the chopsticks in the paper container.

"My job pays well, and I even negotiated with my boss so I can work from home from now on. I'll only need to go into the office for meetings or something important, so taking care of a baby is no problem. Our bills are covered, and... You got your hero gig. I don't want you to overwork yourself, Peter."

"Babe." Peter smiled at you sweetly. That same, charmingly goofy smile as he turned to face you on the couch.

"I just wanna make sure we have all our bases covered. I love you, and I wanna make sure our baby has everything they're gonna need."

"C'mon, Tiger." You smiled sweetly at him. "You already work your ass off being a superhero. And we're trying to have a baby, and once that baby is here we're both going to have our hands full."

He brought your knuckles to his lips to give them a kiss. "Which is exactly why I want the extra cash. I want to make sure you two have everything you deserve."

You smile and lean in, brushing your nose against his affectionately.

"I already got you, dummy."

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Two more months passed.

Two more months.

Months of you not getting pregnant yet. Neither of you knew what the problem was, you planned meticulously, tracked your ovulation and menstrual cycles... Hell, you even drank some kind of herbal tea that was supposed to boost fertility. But... No dice.

Your doctor told you it wasn't uncommon, that some people just don't get pregnant on the first few tries.

The difference was that you and Peter tried more than "the first few tries".

It was frustrating, but you held out hope.

You two would be parents. You would.

Peter had even told you he was hoping for a little girl.

He was going to name her Mayday.

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Tonight, you had just gotten out of the shower after getting back from the gym. You were sweaty and gross and ugh, you really needed it after staring at spreadsheets all day.

Your hair was a dripping mess, but you decided to let it air dry.

You put on one of Peter's button up shirts and at the last second, decided to wear the laciest panties you owned and couldn't help but grin.

It would be a nice surprise for Peter when he got home.

After all, what husband wouldn't wanna come home to their wife wearing nothing but one of their shirts and a pair of lacy panties?

And bingo! You were right.

You had your back to him as you downed your glass of juice when he came through the door.

"Hey, Babycakes!" Peter whistled as he locked the door behind him again. "I brought some--"

You heard whatever bags he had in his hands drop, along with his keys.

"....Well." He said, clearing his throat as you turned around, smiling at him slyly.

"Well?" You purr, leaning on the wall.

"I feel a tad overdressed." He mumbled, a blush on his cheeks as he looked down at himself.

"Peter B Parker, is that a blush I see in your cheeks?" You giggle.

"I, uh, uhm--" Peter coughed awkwardly; you could see his Adams apple bob in effort as he swallowed an imaginary lump. Then, he held the bag up.

"Got dinner from the Greek restaurant down the street?"

You smile and shake your head, taking the bag from him as you walk to the couch, opening the plastic containers to see what dinner your wonderful husband brought home for the two of you.

You decide to give Peter mercy, for now, as his shoulders sag and he pulls off his trenchcoat, hanging it on the peg, revealing the Spider-Man suit along with the sweatpants he was wearing.

His choice in hero outfits lately had you endeared to him even more, with his quirky nature.

"Uh, I'm... I'm gonna change, m'kay?" He says, a lopsided smirk on his face, cheeks still just a bit pink.

"Mhmmm." You wink at him as he walks by.

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You finished chowing down on your gyro with a happy hum, wiggling in place as the two of you watch whatever dumb cop show happened to be on.

You snuggled under Peter's arm as he licked his fingers clean of the remnants of his food and rubbed his cheek on the top of your head.

"How was patrol tonight?" You asked him softly.

"Oh, boring, actually. Like, a few purse snatchers but thankfully nothing where anyone got hurt." Peter told you.

"Well that's good, maybe supervillains are deciding to take a vacation for a bit?" You muse playfully.

"Oh, god, that would be amazing." Peter groaned, dropping his head back on the cushions of the couch.

"They go to the annual Villains' Club and are like "You know what? Let's all take a trip to Fiji! Give Spider-Man a break!"

You giggle and kiss his jaw, the stubble of his shadow tickling your lips.

"Yes, I concur." You sigh. "That would be amazing."

There's a pregnant pause in the air before you broke it.

"Though, given that we're trying to have a baby... Id prefer it if all your patrols ended this way. With you safe."

"I know, babe." Peter replies quietly.

"I promise I'll be careful."

You smiles and turned your head into his neck, breathing in every scent that is Peter.

You could feel his body tense when you did that,, see that Adams apple bobbing again as he kept his eyes focused directly on the tv, trying to ignore how your fingers slowly crept up under his tank top slowly; nails tickling the soft skin of his abdomen.

You slipped your fingers down, just barely past the waistband of his pj's and his breath stutters.

He wasn't wearing boxers. Perfect. Makes it that much easier.

"Babe--" Peter said, his voice coming out shaky.

"Hmm?" You asked innocently, ever so slowly slipping your hands down further, gliding through the well-trimmed hairs and stopping just above his rapidly hardening dick.

"You--" He groaned, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

"Me.... What?" You sigh, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling the half-hard mass of silky flesh twitch and come to life in your hand

You gave a languid stroke upwards, and back down.

Up, and down.

Up, and down... Working him up to full mast as his breathing increased and a small whimper came from his lips.

"Hey, Pete." You grinned, licking over the thumping pulse in his neck.

"Y-yeah?" He whined.

"Wanna see something you're gonna like?" You asked him, your tone breathy.

"Yes. God, yes--" He gasped, as your thumb swirled over the weeping tip of his dick.

You squeeze his cock again as he says that, just barely above painful.

"Peter..." You scold. "What do you say?"

"Yes, ma'am." He whimpered out quickly, his hands gripping the cushions, knuckles turning white as he grits his teeth.

"That's a good Tiger." You purr, pulling your hand from his pants and swinging yourself over so you were straddling his thighs.

"Eyes open, baby." You cooed, urging him to tip his head so he could stare at you, a little slack-jawed as you slowly undo the buttons of the shirt you wore.

God, that pitiful look he'd get on his face when he was horny always got you going.

When you slipped the last buttons out, you pulled the edges of the shirt open, showing your tits off to him with a smirk.

His gorgeous eyes of course locked in on your breasts first, your pebbling nipples eagerly awaiting touch; but his gaze slipped lower, raking all the way down your body until he saw the underwear you were wearing.

It left very, very little to the imagination. And it did a very, very poor job of concealing how wet you were getting; your slick already seeping through and leaving a dark spot on the dark gray pj's he wore.

You watched his hands twitch and arms move; and instantly you frowned.

"Peter." You say, reaching out and gripping his face with your hand, squishing his cheeks.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

He made a soft noise and dropped his arms.

"No. Keep em up." You order, dragging the tank top he wore slowly up his torso.

He obediently lifted his arms up so you could pull the offending piece of clothing off; and you smiled with satisfaction.

"Good boy." You told him, leaning forward to kiss his lips.

The touch was soft, feather light with the ghost of a promise, one that his mouth chased as you pulled away from him.

He made a weak groan, and you giggle.

"Keep your hands on the back of the couch, you're not allowed to move em until I say so. Got it, baby?"

Peter nodded, doing as he was told and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodding.

"Peter..."

"Yes ma'am." He whispered out.

You smile at him again as your hands greedily paw at him, sliding down his chest and to his belly, softening and round.

"Babe..." Peter groaned, looking off to the side in embarrassment.

It was no secret between you two that he was self conscious of the pooch in his belly, about the softness there. It was why he decided to wear pants over his suit; he didn't like it being on display for everyone.

"Hush," You said to him, gripping softly at his belly, kneading the skin underneath your soft fingers.

"You're adorable. I love your belly. And think of it this way, you've already got a dad bod." You leaned in just a bit, enough to take one of his nipples into your mouth and tugging on it with your teeth.

The sound he made went into your ears and straight to your cunt.

"..And you look good with a dad bod." You assured him with every ounce of love and acceptance you could vocalize.

He shuddered and let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he let you toy with him.

"Now, let's have a bit of fun, okay?" You sighed, positioning yourself so that the bulge in his pants could press tightly against the sopping fabric of your panties, your throbbing clit pressing hard into it.

You were polite and gave Peter a second to breathe, checking to see if his hands were still where you told him to keep them.

They were, and Peter had his head leaned back so you could see the jumping vein in his neck.

You bit your lip and slowly started to grind on him, letting out a soft groan at the friction, each drag of your hips against his throbbing cock smearing your juices along his clothes length, a dark patch starting to form.

God, he looked so utterly fucked already that your mind felt dizzy with how delicious he was sounding.

Soft whimpers and gasps came from Peter as he lifted his hips to meet yours.

You were tempted to scold him, but then again, he was being a good boy.

You plant your hands on his chest, keeping him pressed into the cushions as you continued to hump against his twitching cock, the signs of his precum already soaking through the fabric to join the wet spot of your own slick.

The way he was being so fucking good for you, the sounds he was making, and the little licks of flames that jolted up with each stroke already had you close to wanting to cum. But you held off, instead doubling down, sliding your hips on his even faster than before, mewling softly as he desperately ruts up into you, his jaw clenched so tight you were worried he would crack the bone.

"You're being so good, Tiger." You purr, licking up from his collarbone, to the soft spot on his neck.

You bit down and sucked hard, scratching your nails down his chest as you kept grinding your soaking pussy against him.

You did that four more times, leaving beautiful red-purple marks on his neck.

You feel his hips start to stutter against yours, a deep, heavy groan tearing through his throat.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" You moan softly.

"Y-yeah." He whined.

"Mmm~" You pull away from him, and he makes a frustrated cry, before going silent as he watched you pull his pants down just enough to free his cock.

His jaw slacks as he watched you pull your panties to the side, and slowly spear yourself on him.

You were so wet and fucking tight, he almost came right there.

You press a finger to his lips as he moaned your name.

"You can cum, but only after me. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am..." He whines.

"Good. Good." You smiled, tapping his lips with your fingers.

"Open."

Peter stares at you, his eyes glazed and pupils dilated as his lips parted, letting you slip your digits in so he could lick around them, sucking them softly and wetting them with his saliva.

You pull them free with a wet pop and bring them down to your clit, using the mix of his spit and your slick to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The way his cock twitched inside of you, the way he struggled so hard to keep still while you used your hand to pleasure yourself while his cock was seated fully into you... God, it was bliss.

"Ah... O-Okay, Tiger." You panted. "Y-you can move. Fuck..."

Peter didn't need another word from you; he began snapping his hips up into yours with a whimper, chasing the orgasm that was a hairs breadth away.

And all at once it was like the world came crashing down. Your orgasm ripped through you and you gushed on Peter's cock, your fingers still working at your clit while he fucked into you, a shaky moan coming from him as he emptied himself into you, snapping his hips up into yours almost mindlessly as the both of you rode out your release.

When the two of you stopped moving, you slowly leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder, breathing heavily as you tried to control your leaping heart rate.

You felt Peter slip his arms around you and tug you close, and a smirk played on your lips.

"Did I say you could touch me?" You tease.

"No ma'am." Peter grinned.

"Eh, I'll let it slide. This time." You giggle, leaning back to look at him.

God that smile on his face always made your heart flop.

And of course... Another idea came into your mind, biting your lip as you felt his dick twitching inside you.

"Hey, Pete..." You hummed, tracing invisible lines on his chest.

"Yeah?" He asked you.

"Wanna take this to the bedroom? I wanna play a bit more."

Peter looked like he swallowed his tongue right there on the couch.

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Fuck, you loved it when you did this.

You loved the sounds he made, how he'd grip at the sheets and how he'd rock his hips back to meet the thrusts of yours, spearing himself open on the ridged silicone cock you were fucking him with.

"Good boy." You murmured, gripping his ass tight and spreading his cheeks as you glide the toy in and out, in and out.

He wasn't allowed to jerk himself off as you fucked him; that was always the rule.

"You're being quiet again, baby." You cooed, kneading his cheeks with your fingers.

He let out a groan, but it wasn't enough for you.

You wanted more.

And you were going to take more.

You pulled out, almost entirely, watching the rim of muscles clench and try to drag your strap back in.

You hold like that for a minute before Peter makes a needy whine; and the moment he does you slam your hips as hard as you can into him, rocking him forward and making him moan like a whore.

You decided to keep that pace, arching your hips up to reach every spot you memorized inside of him, leaning forward and pressing your palm into the curve of his spine, forcing him down into the bed.

"Thaaaaat's it... that's it." You hissed, biting your lip.

"Gonna cum already?" You teased playfully.

"Y-yes--" He breathed.

You pulled away a bit and bring your hand down on him, slapping his ass, the sound of skin resounding through your bedroom.

"Ah-ah. What do you say?" You say, your tone full of disappointment.

"Yes, ma'am!" He whined loudly, arching back into you as you roughly fucked into him.

"Good boy..." You repeated.

You slid your hand up his spine slowly, earning a pathetic gasp and whimper from him, watching as he ripped at the sheets so hard that the edges came off the corners of your bed; hot ropes of white cum shooting out and staining the silky black sheets as you fucked him.

You pulled out, and unbuckled the harness from around your hips and thighs, tossing the strap-on onto the floor.

Eh, you'd deal with it when you were done.

You laid on your side next to him, smiling sweetly.

"You good, baby?" You asked him softly.

"Agh... Yeah. Shit." Peter mumbled into the pillow.

You grinned and kissed his knuckles as he released his grip on your sheets.

He lifted his gaze and kissed you before you had a chance to react, his tongue pressing into your mouth and tugging at yours, hungry and needy.

He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths and a glint in his eye.

"Babe, can I..."

"Of course, Tiger." You grinned as he climbed on top of you, gliding his cock through your slick folds.

"We are trying to make a baby, remember? And besides... My legs are tired. You take the lead."

Peter grinned down at you.

"Yes ma'am."

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Draco Malfoy is not the only problem with Dramione

Look, am I the only one who hates Dramione not because of Draco but HERMIONE?

Dramione antis (often Draco antis I notice) usually paint Draco as the toxic person in this ship undeserving of Queen Hermione. How he's a cowardly, dumb ferret and Hermione deserves a real man.

You know what Hermione deserves? A consuming career and a house full of cats! Ron can have her! I feel like I am dissing myself when I diss Hermione since I see a lot of my academic self in her but who the hell sees Hermione as wife or mother material??

No one deserves to be in a relationship with someone who hates them. Hermione is no exception. Hermione does not deserve to be in a relationship with a guy who stands by while she is being tortured or hurls slurs in her face. Or thinks she is worth less than trash.

But based on canon, we know who is more likely to attack their partner and commit domestic abuse. It ain't Draco. Like...do you not see how this girl treats Ron?! The guy she's supposed to like?! While Draco has never laid a hand on her, even when this girl slapped/punched him for no justifiable reason. Him making fun of Hagrid is not justifiable. Slap him when he calls you a mudblood and then we can talk Hermione.

Draco does anything to upset her and this vindictive shrew would probably turn him into a bug and squash him. Or maybe poison him. Or turn him into a bouncing ferret for nostalgia (I read a Dramione fic where Hermione did this - that definitely killed my recent short-lived Dramione reading spree). Magic provides a myriad of possibilities :).

At least with Draco, we don't really see him mistreating his (female) friends. None of his actions towards Hermione is irredeemable. After thorough redemption and maturity, he would theoretically treat Hermione well. His parents may be hostile but he can always just give them the finger the way he did for dear Astoria. Hermione on the other hand is shown to be constantly abusive to Ron yet she's one of the heroes of the story, hardly ever called out for her appalling actions. People need to wake up from their Draco hate and recognize Hermione's flaws as well in this ship. It's more than just her not forgiving him. She would literally hurt him. Like she already hurt Ron! And her own parents!

My mother told me that if your loved one hits you once, you need to leave. Immediately. Ron should have dropped Hermione as a potential love interest the second she attacked him. Because she will do it again when she gets angry.

So yeah, Ron can keep her. Poor Ron. Hermione is hardly a catch. For anyone calling me a sexist, that kind of attitude is not cute in a dude either.

Draco can do better than her. But literally, almost anyone is better than Hermione (I'll be over here enjoying my Druna content).

Actually, the only guy who probably deserves Hermione is Harry Potter himself. She actually seems to be sweeter to him and respects him more than Ron lol. Those two can be vindictive, inconsiderate psychos together while Ron finds better friends who don't see him as a dumb loser. Oh, and Ginny can find a guy who won't dump her the second she cries (like that "crybaby" Cho) or excludes her. Harmione is practically a match made in hell.

[kimmimaru]

Thoughts about Rings of Power. Overall. Spoilers in this so I stuck it under a cut.

So, I spent this whole season anxious as hell about Rings of Power. I’m not a huge fan of twists in stories that have already been told, and due to my ASD I do have trouble adapting to new content in things I enjoy especially when it comes to LOTR. Does that make me a bad person? I have no idea. I just know that I am extremely fussy and uptight about things I hold close to my heart. Because I’m autistic I have special interests and become obsessed with them to the point where it can, sometimes, be detrimental. I’ve gotten better at managing that as an adult but as a child it was pretty intense. I was obsessed with three things as a kid; Star Wars (original trilogy), Final Fantasy VII and of course Lord of The Rings. I have consumed as much LOTR media as I could get my grubby little hands on. So yes, Rings of Power made me nervous. It would have, to a certain extent, whatever platform it was shown on but in this case it was Amazon. Amazon are well known for being money obsessed and not giving a crap about anything except making Bezos richer. So yes, I think I was pretty justified in being nervous about what was going to happen in Rings of Power. As a whole RoP had it’s ups and downs. I’ll start with the ups: Galadriel was brilliantly cast. She looks exactly like I would imagine a younger Galadriel would look like. I enjoyed her acting. Elrond’s actor was also brilliant, he has such depth and also that lightness that all of Tolkein’s elves were supposed to have. A sort of child-like cheekiness that I felt Peter Jackson’s version lacked. The dwarves...I could go on forever about how the dwarves were portrayed in RoP but for now I will just say: AMAZING. I loved Moria. I loved Prince Durin’s friendship with Elrond. I LOVED Disa. I need more of them.  Costume design was wonderful. Absolutely LOVED Galadriel’s dress in todays episode. Stunning green colour.  Still unsure about how I like the Elves’ home set designs yet. I like what we saw but maybe I would just appreciate seeing more?  Now, the stranger...or wizard as we now know (always knew lol). I was, for reasons unknown even to me, CONVINCED they wouldn’t be allowed to use Gandalf so kind of assumed he was either one of the mysterious ‘blue wizards’ or possibly even Radagast the brown as he IS a nature wizard and given the strangers display of magic through most of his scenes you’d assume his magic was nature orientated. Apparently not. They did scare me when the white robed people were calling him Sauron, I was about to switch it off. Glad I didn’t but I HATE shit like that. Wish they hadn’t pulled that stunt. So yeah that’s a negative for me I’m afraid, although a small one admittedly.  Sadoc’s death was gutting, I really liked his character. So that was sad.  Now. Sauron and the question of who he was. I thought it was the dark haired pointy eared one, everything pointed to him. So unless this was part of Sauron’s overall plot (you know, use dark haired guy as a diversion for the elves/numenor), which I hope it was, that was kind of irritating. Again with the stupid ‘twists’ I hate it so much. I don’t watch stuff to then go away feeling tricked. The fact that the ‘king’ of the south ended up being Sauron was actually very good. I am hoping that the dark haired ‘Uruk’ was actually just acting on Sauron’s orders as a distraction rather than it being a red herring for us the audience, because that would be disappointing. I know some plot twists, if done right, can be very good but RoP is based off of material that has already been written and I just have issues with sticking in stupid red herrings for the audience BUT if he was actually a red herring for the characters then it serves some purpose and I can let that go.  Anyway, overall, despite some mixed feelings over some areas of RoP I think it was pretty good. I would really like to see more of Moria and the Dwarves though, lol. Maybe next season will focus on them getting their rings.  Sorry of the long post, I have many thoughts. More than this even but I think I’ll leave it here for now. As an after thought I will add that no, I have never, nor will I ever read or write LOTR fanfiction. This is because I would never be able to capture the same magic that LOTR carries in my own writing. This is not me hating on LOTR fanfiction, write what you want, enjoy writing what you want. It’s just not for me.

[noteguk]

any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself. 

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship 

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here 

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no. 

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles. 

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying. 

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower. 

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times. 

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener. 

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync. 

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling. 

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure. 

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell. 

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates. 

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt. 

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night. 

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?” 

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.” 

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...” 

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked. 

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.” 

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated. 

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.” 

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.” 

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!” 

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said. 

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa. 

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense. 

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.” 

“How’s that possible?” he asked. 

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you. 

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.  

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.” 

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.” 

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years. 

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird. 

But you also kind of didn’t care. 

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?” 

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked. 

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down. 

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?” 

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in. 

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. 

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him. 

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point. 

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”  

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him. 

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt. 

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind. 

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple. 

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.” 

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations. 

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?” 

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on. 

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were. 

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.” 

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth. 

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations. 

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.” 

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue. 

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…” 

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them. 

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him,  meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer. 

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry. 

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression. 

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.” 

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him. 

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.” 

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats. 

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.” 

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked. 

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you. 

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips. 

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to. 

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?” 

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try. 

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you. 

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?” 

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.” 

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?” 

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.” 

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…” 

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear. 

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.” 

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you. 

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips. 

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.” 

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered. 

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.” 

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss. 

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch. 

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream.  “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?” 

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.” 

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.” 

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.” 

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name. 

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.” 

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…” 

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever. 

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.” 

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“ 

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours. 

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.” 

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.” 

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.” 

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.” 

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again. 

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you. 

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts.  “Hey, ___?” He called. 

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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[pascalpanic]

Cooking in the Crest (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: You become sick of the endless prepackaged food you eat while living on the Razor Crest. From a holovid, you and Din try to learn how to cook.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: FOOD is a big warning here; this is all about food, cooking, and eating; some language, and mentions of violence and blood because Din is a hunter.

A/N: this was a request by lovely @binarydanvvers !! I hope you guys like it too :))

The Razor Crest was not exactly built to be a home. The beat up old ship, a pre-Imperial piece of garbage, was mainly meant to be a freighter, to carry loads and supplies around. It had a bunk, yes, but that was mainly for the pilot to sleep. Some ships were elaborately built and crafted to house people, even families; this was not one of them.

You could tell that from the moment you walked aboard. This was not built to be a home, but the Mandalorian and his little green child had made it one. It was endearing, really. It was still cold and harsh, not exactly welcoming, but there were little touches. A sling for the baby to sleep in above the man’s bunk. A few scattered toys for the kid. Extra clothing tucked away, and what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

It can hardly be called a kitchen. It’s more of a food storage area. The Mandalorian man has stored packets of food, dried or wrapped, water, and other assorted food necessities in a small corner of the ship. There’s also a device for heating meals, like the just-add-water foods he carries so many of.

The baby doesn’t complain. Well, he really can’t, considering that he cannot speak yet, but he never pushes away the food. Of course, his favorites are frogs and occasional organic things he picks up on the surface of the latest planet, but he’s never refused a nutrient bar or an instant bread loaf. The kid is always hungry; he’ll take anything.

You’ve been traveling with Din for a while now. He entrusted you with his name not long after he entrusted you with the care of his foundling. He’s a kind man, surprising beneath the layer of impenetrable beskar, with a warm laugh even through the modulator.

In this time, you’ve become exhausted over the endless routine of microwavable carbohydrate packs with dried proteins. A nutrient bar is a nice switch, but it’s endless days and nights of bland food. “Do you even eat? Does your species photosynthesize or something?” You’d asked Din once, teasingly knocking on his beskar.

“I’m human,” he assured you, voice dry. He presents himself as tired of your endless teasing, but you both know he could never be. You’re the energy, the entertainment to him and his little green child.

“I doubt that,” you teased, nudging his hip with your own as you walked past, the baby on your other side, giggling at your words.

The kid is smart. He can’t yet speak, but he can recognize meaning in words and the emotions you convey with your tones. You’ve been steadily working on teaching him the right morphemes to form words, but he’s just not quite there yet. He made a little babbling noise at his father, then turned and looked up at you, grinning with tiny white teeth.

Din must eat, you’ve come to notice. He never takes the helmet off; you’ve never heard his voice without the modulator, you’ve never seen him eat. But the stock of food dwindles at a quicker pace than it would for one and a half people, so he must consume some of it. You’ve noticed that the dried proteins or instant spicy grains go quicker- those must be his favorite. You’ve made mental notes several times to pick up extra when shopping.

As the three of you take off from the last planet, a lively and populous city center, your stomach is happy with its contents: you and the baby had gone on a culinary tour, trying different local delicacies. You glance at the kitchenette in the corner and wince at the protein bars. Surely you’ll be reduced to eating the dry and chalky sustenance the next time you’re hungry.

The baby sits in your lap, bouncing excitedly as the ship lifts off. He coos and waves his hands excitedly as Din turns and navigates, though it’s nothing too bumpy for the little thing to handle. There’s a jolt when you leave the atmosphere, and the baby squeals as the stars rush past when Din maneuvers the Crest into hyperspace.

Once the course is set, Din turns to you. You wonder what he’s thinking; it’s a shame you can’t see his face. “We should be at our next location in about a day.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, heightened over the prospect of eating more dried, flavorless food. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Do I know how to what?” Din asks, cocking his head.

“Cook. You know, make food in a way other than using the microwave.”

Din stares at you for a minute. “No, I really don’t. I’ve never had reason to.”

“You don’t consider eating this bland shit eternally a reason?” You ask, folding your arms. The little green baby on your lap mirrors your actions, looking at his father. “I don’t either, but I think we both need to learn. I’m sick of this endless dried food and nutrient bars and instant grains.”

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. How?”

“How what?” You ask, taunting him back from his earlier sarcastic question.

“How are we going to learn how to cook?”

You shrug. “We could take a cooking class on some populous planet. They have them for couples.”

Din looks at you, sharply even though you can’t see his face. “Okay, well, two people,” you chuckle, though you can’t help but notice the rigidity of his body. You’re skilled at reading his body language by now; something changed in him when you said couple. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, cyar’ika, I am a Mandalorian. I’m not exactly going to fit in with the happy honeymooners at a cooking class, searing bantha for my beloved.”

You frown at him. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Din. Work with me here.”

Din is frowning beneath the helmet. You can just tell. “I don’t exactly take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a request. Please.”

Din sighs. He’s quiet for a minute. Then: “Fine.”

“Yay!” You grin and brace his beskar helmet in one hand, pressing a kiss to the visor. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“I don’t know how fun that can be,” he grumbles.

-

The holonet turns out to be a surprisingly vast resource for cooking and recipes. You’d never expected this much to be uploaded to it. There are traditional dishes from Tatooine, Naboo, anywhere really. The first struggle is deciding what to cook.

You stop at another populous planet next. Thank the Maker, you mumble as you put the baby in the wrap carrier that straps him to your chest. “We’re gonna make something good, huh kiddo?” You ask and smooch the baby’s little green head. He just coos in return.

Wandering through the planet, you find various little specialty shops, and you mark off the list you’ve created. Spices from the shop specializing in them, fresh vegetables at a stall, meat from a grocer. When the foods are all collected, you return to the ship, where Din has purchased a portable heat source to be used for cooking.

The business Din has on the planet goes quickly and he’s back before you know it. You’ve barely had time to clean the vegetables under the small refresher sink before you hear the clink of beskar and the baby’s excited laughter at his return.

You carry the bowl of vegetables and grin as you spot Din on a crate in the corner, wiping down his armor of blood. “Welcome home, bounty hunter,” you tease as you arrange some crates to form a table and chairs and set the holoprojector in the center. “How’d we do today?”

“Wonderful,” he grumbles as he wipes a smear of mud off his chest plate. He finishes then looks at your arms, holding the ingredients. You set them down and the hot plate as well. “We’re cooking now?”

“I’m hungry,” you shrug.

Din nods. “I suppose. Do you want me to get piloting us out of here and then we can start?”

You shrug again. “We paid for a full day and night. Might as well use it.”

He nods and begins removing his beskar, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You cock an eyebrow at him and tilt your head in confusion. “Don’t wanna get any food on the beskar.”

This makes you genuinely laugh, throwing your head back. “Oh, blood and dirt and mud are okay but no food? You have some odd standards, Din.”

No one has called him by his name since he was a child. You’ve never even said it aloud save for once or twice. The sound of your voice saying it is like the sweetest music; he could listen to it eternally. He’s a little nervous inside, tingly and fluttery from the feeling. Thank the Maker his helmet doesn’t let it show.

“Go wash your hands and let’s get going,” you order him, stacking two extra crates and setting the child on top so he’s the same height as the two of you. He’s delighted by the view, looking around.

You put the vessel on the hot plate then turn it on, unsure of how quickly it heats. Din returns not long later, sitting on his crate across from you. “First step?”

To answer his question, you turn on the holovid. A cheerful Zabrak narrates for you and shows you the steps, starting with the first: to chop the ingredients. Din reaches for his leg and you shoot him a glare, pausing the video. “You were not about to use that knife to prepare our dinner.”

Din just looks at you. “Why not?”

“God, you’re impossible,” you laugh, though it’s lighthearted teasing. “No, use this, a clean one.” You hand it over along with a few vegetables. Din starts cutting with neat precision, the yellow tuber vegetable falling in perfectly round slices to the surface you’d laid down before.

The baby whines in protest; he wants in. Looking around, you scramble for something before giving him the softest vegetable and a plastic utensil. “How’s that?” You ask him.

He’s delighted, slicing his vegetable and mirroring his parents and the video. When the step is finished, you press play again and it informs you to add some of the oil and cook the vegetables first.

Din pours them in, causing a sizzle from the hot cooking vessel. “Ooh, it must be ready,” you grin and drizzle some oil over the top.

“I don’t think that’s the order we were supposed to do it,” he points out, rewinding the video.

“Oh well,” you shrug and stir the vegetables. The aromatic plants waft from the steam, making you sigh in happiness at how wonderful the recipe smells, even now. “Can you smell under there?”

Din shakes his head.

You frown. “I’ll close my eyes. Lift your helmet and take a smell, it’s delicious.” You squeeze them shut as if to prove you’ll do it.

He would never trust anyone else like this. He’s surprised he even trusts you enough, but he unlatches his helmet and lifts it just enough to catch a whiff of the delicious smell. He sighs happily too and puts the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “Well, we’re not doing terribly! What’s next?”

The video plays a little longer, telling you the next steps: add the spices to the cooking vegetables, stirring them in, then the broth you’ve purchased.

Picking up the bag, you rummage through for the intended spices. “You wanna do this part?” You ask Din.

“I’ll probably mess up.”

“Give it a shot,” you say with a warm smile and hand him several small pouches of spices and a measuring stick.

His fingers are thick and worn without the gloves, and the sight of them pinching the bright orange powder and sprinkling some in the pot is truly humanizing, indicative that this man is Din, not The Mandalorian like you knew him as before. He does that with the required spices, choosing to go by heart rather than the measured values.

You go next, adding the broth to the pot and closing your eyes to listen to the beautiful hiss of the liquid against the hot metal. “Do you think you could cook on beskar?” You tease Din. The man just shakes his head.

The recipe then indicates for you to cut up the meat and add it before covering and letting it boil. Din uses the sharp knife you’ve provided to once again, neatly slice the meat and add it to the pan. “You’re quite precise with that thing,” you inform him with an impressed nod.

He snorts. “I know the ten quickest ways to kill someone with it.”

“Still, precise to do that,” you laugh. You cover the pot and sigh, setting a timer on the holopad to the amount of time needed before the meal will be ready; thanks to the specialized tech in the hot plate, it won’t take long at all.

The baby shows you his knife work with the mushed vegetable. It’s considerably less impressive than Din’s, but you ooh and ahh over it all the same, making the baby beam with pride. “Your knife work rivals your father’s, little man,” you tease the baby and poke his side.

“Yeah right,” he snorts again and leans back against the metal wall of the Razor Crest’s hull.

While the food carries on its quick cooking, you prepare three bowls and spoons to eat with, setting each in front of where the three of you sit. The bowl is much smaller for the child, but he seems just as pleased.

The timer dings and you clap your hands together in excitement. “Let’s see!”

Lifting the lid, the smell that wafts out makes your stomach growl. “Oh, this is going to be good,” you sigh, setting the lid aside on the heatproof surface and scooping some into each bowl. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warn your boys as you a hand them their respectful bowls.

“It sounds wonderful but… you know I can’t eat it,” Din reminds you.

That makes you frown. “Of course you can. We made it together.”

“No,” he sighs. “I can’t eat it because I’d have to remove my helmet.”

The idea crosses your mind as quickly as his words. “Well then.” You stand and push your crate aside, then pull him up and do the same. With your bowl of stew in hand, you plop down on the floor and turn your back to him. “Now you sit with your back to me.”

“Cyare, I-“

“Just humor me, Din. Please.”

He sighs and gets on the floor, groaning at the creak of his joints and popping of his back. Din presses his back to yours, sitting with his legs splayed carelessly to either side. “There. This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now eat. I won’t look, and the kid is your foundling, he can see you.”

Din is hesitant at first. He sits there for a moment while the baby slurps his dinner, pondering what to do. Then he remembers how much he trusts yoh. How you’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for you.

He removes his helmet, setting it to the floor with a heavy clunk. “There we go,” you smile and reach behind you to pat his chest. “Eat up. I bet you’re hungry from that hunt.”

“Hungrier from making this,” he grumbles as he scoops a spoonful, ungracefully shoving it in his mouth and moaning in content. “Oh, that’s damn good.”

“Isn’t it?” You laugh, eating some yourself and smiling at the flavor. “Seasoned just right,” you affirm him, resting your head back against his own. You can feel that he has hair- well, now you know he isn’t bald.

“Cooked properly thanks to you,” he reminds you.

“Ha! I don’t know shit about cooking. Thank that holovid,” you chuckle, nestling your back against his. You can feel every little notch of his spine, the lumps in a perfect line cascading down his body, as his back presses against yours. He’s warm, and you can feel him breathe in and out slowly- he’s relaxed. Good.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you eat your meals. The kid has long finished his tiny bowl and has passed out in his seat, which makes you laugh. He’s missing the sight of his helmetless father thanks to a post-meal nap.

No words need to be exchanged. There’s meaning in the silence, in the fact that you can hear his breathing and his real voice, the hard gulp of his throat as he swallows yet another bite. Maker, he’s so wonderfully human. You absolutely adore it.

When you’re done with your stew, you set your bowl to the side. Din does the same, and his back relaxes against yours. Neither of you are quite ready for him to put the helmet back on, so you breathe the unfiltered air with him, listen and feel him breathing, try to take in every detail of what his body feels like pressed to yours, even if it’s back to back.

“Din?” You ask softly after a few moments.

“Yes, cyare?”

“I promise my eyes are closed,” you tell him.

“What do you mean-“

Din is cut off when you close your eyes but turn, kissing his cheek. You can feel stubble beneath your lips, and above it smooth skin. God, he feels so damn warm. With your eyes still closed, you hug his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Din breathes slowly, forcing his heart rate not to accelerate into hyperspeed. “It’s not putting up with you,” he admits. “It’s enjoying you. I really do.”

The words make you flushed and flustered, honored that this strong and silent type has used such eloquent words to compliment you. “Thank you. For all of this, Din. Thank you for letting me know you.”

He’s grinning ear to ear, and he turns his face to kiss your cheek back. “You can know me all you want to, mesh’la.” Din puts his hands over your arms and takes one last moment in your arms. “Well, we need to put the child to bed, and I’m legally supposed to be wearing my helmet right now.”

You turn and sit with your back to him, smiling and nearly giddy from the moment. “Who’s gonna yell at you if you don’t? Mando police?”

Din groans and puts his helmet back on, ignoring you. When you both stand, you hug him for real this time, chests pressed together. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” he mumbles through the modulator and presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. “Let’s do this more often.”

“I agree,” you nod and kiss his helmet one last time.

-

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[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

so get this. I was gonna roll around in Tombstone related fluff today - but no, no - this post came across my dash so Now We Are Gonna Discuss the Carnal Consumption of Meat as it appears on That Show Supernatural.  YEAH BUDDIES!

(also my sincere apologies to OP of the inspiration post who innocently tagged it with “lunch date!”  because I am about to go Elsewhere, cursedly).

Let’s all go meat man, after the cut!

This analysis centers primarily on 5x14 Bloody Valentine.  The title of course is a semi-homage to a 3D Slasher Film Jensen starred in circa 2009. 

Which I will be renting soon I guess.  ,[<- parasocial panda GET BACK IN YOUR ENCLOSURE]

Also Its Really Fun that the trailer for Said Cinema ends with “nothing says date movie like a 3-D ride to hell” [are you also thinking of Cas pulling Dean out of hell, or are you normal?]  ***unironically the teaser for 5x14 is -

EXT. SIDEWALK - IN FRONT OF ALICE'S APARTMENT BUILDING

RUSSEL 

First date.

They then eat each other.  Literally they eat each others flesh.  They also do it while dirty talking about it.  SPN IS A SHOW 

ALICE Ugh! I've been so alone. So empty...

RUSSEL I know. Me too.

ALICE I want you, Russel---All of you... inside me...

[they both take bites out of each other, Alice chewing on a piece of Russel's flesh]

****Remember this detail, as it is important.

ANYWAY, it’s truly Cursed that not only are we doing an homage to this 3-D Jensen Horror Date Flick but also this episode is specifically centered on Valentine’s Day.  The day honoring romance and love Now Coopted by Hallmark, everyone, that is the day spn writers chose to introduce us to 

Sir Horseman of THE Biblical Apocalypse Famine. 

Canonically, we are aware that the show is drawing from the book of Revelations in its depiction of the Four Horsemen.  Here’s what it says about Famine -

"When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.”

-Revelations 6:5

Famine holds scales (used to weigh out grain in times of food scarcity).  Spn’s depiction is represented as hunger, a bottomless pit of need.  It consumes souls (demon and human alike).  

Cas describes Famine a little more poetically:

CASTIEL 

"And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty... "

"... and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. "

"His hunger will seep out and poison the air. "

***Consider a prior season in which we are introduced to the Seven Deadly Sins.  Which are the sins associated with hunger?

Gluttony

and Lust.

***this is also important

Back to the episode.  Case cold open, and we find out that Alice was a Nice Girl.  In that she didnt drink, smoke or

have premarital sex.

***So Alice’s hunger for the sin of Lust caused her to succumb to it; and her demise was presented as Gluttony (literally eating her partner’s flesh). HMM

Famine’s presence is affecting the town, and Cas is not immune.

DEAN 

And when did you start eating?

CASTIEL 

Exactly. My hunger-- it's a clue, actually.

***They lay it out a little more in case you missed it ->

SAM 

I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food.

CASTIEL 

Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something--Sex, attention, drugs, love...

***this is so important.  but of course because its spn and our textual narrators are generally unreliable (even in a Ben Edlund episode, yes I know)

we get a red herring

CASTIEL 

Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it.

***but that’s not accurate.  they didn’t get married or become obsessed with each other (remember the cursed coin in 4x08 Wishful Thinking and the unconditional love wish? not what happened here). they had premarital sex.  they did the thing Alice considers wrong, and dark, and sinful.  and then they ate each others’ flesh.

DEAN 

Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?

CASTIEL 

It's my vessel-- Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect

***mad lad Jimmy Novak’s hunger is for...red meat?  He is starving for red meat?  You are telling me that the Novaks, red blooded conservative religious midwestern Novaks, ate RED MEAT SO SPARINGLY that Jimmy Novak was LITERALLY starving for it?!?!  No way.  Absolutely no way.  This is a man who was such a religious zealot he STUCK HIS HAND IN BOILING WATER and accepted an angel of the lord into his own body but his secret hunger was for fucking ground beef?

give me a damn break.

to me this is an absolute coverup.  Because Cas’s burger consumption is not related one iota to his vessel Jimmy Novak.

it is a representation of Cas falling.  Cas’s cravings for meat represent his growing (and very much prohibited) feelings for...humanity (Dean Winchester), and they are presenting as Gluttony in the form of his downing more and more copious amounts of red meat.  

SERIOUSLY, consider this - at one point the depiction is so desperately carnal that he is eating raw ground beef with his bare hands. It is fucking uncomfortable.  and it is SUPPOSED to be.  Famine stirs up hunger for the prohibited.  For the sinful. That which we are starving for but do not believe we can ever have, so we lust and we lust and we LUST after it, but should we allow ourselves even just a taste of what we have been ravenously craving, we binge it until we ourselves disappear into the oblivion of our own sinful, dark desires.

Since You Want More Examples of why this cant possibly be hunger for Cheeseburgers and Cheeseburgers alone, Consider Famine’s effect on Dean.  Remember his doctor kink?

**when its revealed that Doctor Corman has succumbed to Famine’s poison by drinking himself to death, Dean - very uncharacteristically by the way - reacts by saying out loud

DEAN Thanks. Crap! I really kind of liked this guy.

***please note that Doctor Corman says the following to Dean in the prior scene they have together -

DR. CORMAN [to Dean]

Agent Marley, you just can't stay away.

****was that a flirtation?

***Also, Dean doesn’t want to go out and chase tail for Valentines Day.   

SAM

I mean, what do you always call it-- Uh, unattached drifter Christmas?

DEAN 

Oh, yeah. Well... be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year.

SAM 

So you're not into bars full of lonely women?

DEAN 

Nah, I guess not. [takes a sip of his beer] Ahh. What?

SAM 

That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.

***oh look we are relating things to eating again.  sex/lust to gluttony.  hmmm hmmm hmmm

ANYHOW -  *takes deep breath*

 this is also the Episode Where This Scene Lives

****JACKTING JOICES

oh and speaking of jacting joices, this is also the Dean Notices Cupids Crotch Episode.

frAckles, I am once again asking why you only permit celestial beings to hug you from behi-[gunshots]

but Dean isn’t hungry.  Why? Famine has the explanation, and we get it after Dean immediately runs inside after Cas heads in to complete his portion of their plan barely giving him any time to do so because he misses him that much.

FAMINE 

I disagree. [Famine moves closer to Dean and touches him] Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.

DEAN 

Oh, you're so full of crap.

FAMINE 

Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! 

***not Dean making all of those homophobic/homoerotic jokes every time he’s in danger or feeing uncomfortable; not that, that can’t possibly be what Famine is referencing, right?

I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. 

***not THIS parallel:

AMARA:

You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel, except… It's cloaked in shame

You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions. 

***not the motions of performative heterosexuality!!

***Dean’s not hungry because in his heart he truly believes that he can’t actually have what he hungers for.  That Thing Which This Episode Overtly but Also Very Clearly Made Obvious.  It’s an angel riding shotgun [I did Do That and I am Not Sorry], eating a burger in the front seat of the impala.  But, I’ve deviated from the meat of this essay [gunshots] [this time just for the bad joke].

BONUS

there’s Exists another episode in which a man ravenously consumes red meat; eventually succumbing to eating raw beef with his bare hands in the season prior to this one.  

Yes Supernatural the Show That Brought Us Not One But Two Scenes of Persons Carnally Consuming Red Meat With Their Bare Hands.  

This episode is a MOTW - the man in question is a rougaru - a monster that starts out as human but due to some specific genetic disorder (hmmm hmmm hmm crack in THE chassis hmmm hmmm) soon begins to be extremely hungry - “for everything, but eventually long pig.” AKA human flesh. 

Wanna know the kicker?  

Episode’s called Metamorphosis.

(GIF by jackttwist)

I’ll see myself out.

[DOUBLE BONUS for extra credit:

if you really wanna wild out, go watch the scene of Jack the rougaru looking at himself in the mirror in 4x04 - and then meander on over to 7x01 and check out God!stiel looking in the mirror as the leviathans writhe inside him over there. It’s worth the walk.]

***oh and @lilac-void​ im tagging you in this one because in exchange for your KIND creator content nomination I guess I will respond by cursing you with an Honorary tag in this, a Meat Meta.  you’re welcome slash I'm sorry XO [but seriously thank you again for your kindness and appreciation; it really motivated me to sit down and get moving on making more content <3]

[autisticcassandracain]

I have many thoughts on the weird phenomena in the DC fandom and the Batfam fandom specifically where probably the majority of people just straight up. haven’t interacted with the source material. and almost all of those thoughts can be summarized as ‘lmao that’s weird and mildly concerning’.

and because I’m annoying I will list them all here right now <3

1. To preface this post, I mean, obviously, comics are inaccessible as all hell, both in the disability kind of way and the ‘you need to understand the concept of hypertime to fully comprehend the DC timeline’ kind of way. Because of this, even if you don’t have a disability that prevents you from reading comics, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to look at the amount of comics you need to read to have even a base understanding of a character and go ‘no thanks <3′ and just enjoy fanart and fanfic in a vacuum. Ultimately, this is fandom, this is supposed to be fun, it doesn’t really matter.

2. That said, it’s VERY weird to me that the majority of this fandom just straight up hasn’t interacted with the source material, and moreover, that it’s considered rude to tell people that they should do so. It’s especially weird considering the amount of fanon-only fans I’ve seen who straight up have a superiority complex over canon. The idea that it’s gatekeeping to tell fans of something to actually interact with canon is just. so weird, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what ‘gatekeeping’ actually entails. 

3. But honestly I’m less interested in discussing the ways in which canon and fanon fans should interact with each other (personally, I think it would be helpful to create separate tags of some kind, but that’d require quite a big overhaul of the current fandom state) than in figuring out how this actually happened in the first place. On the one hand, it’s obvious; long-running superhero comics the way DC writes them have made themselves so thoroughly inaccessible that most people are simply too daunted to even try. Most media has a cohesive beginning and end (or at least, a planned end somewhere). Comics just... don’t.

But I do think it says something that, even among people who are clearly interested in the characters (since they have, you know, entire blogs about them), the effort to get into comics just seems to be too much to even bother. This really doesn’t bode well for the future of DC Comics. Obviously, I am no expert on anything at all ever, but I’d personally be surprised if DC survives beyond the few decades, at least in its current form/without a big overhaul.

4. But on the other hand, I don’t think the confusing state of DC Comics is the only thing to blame here. Fandom has a well-known problem with reducing any character down to archetypes to more easily ship and write fic/make content with. This problem is particularly prominent in fanfic, which, if you read enough of it, you’ll eventually start seeing not just the same tropes and trends, but essentially the same fics over and over again. And not just within the same fandom; everywhere, or every large fandom, at least. 

Fanon Batfam is entirely built on a bunch of those tropes; insecure/depressed sadboy Tim, team mom with optional hidden trauma/emotional problems Dick, bad boy with a heart of gold + sadboy combo Jason, abused sadboy Damian/angry easily-villified-for-fic-reasons monster Damian, good dad Bruce for found family fic and bad dad Bruce for angst fic, etc. This all culminates in a found family dynamic that’s generic and malleable to whatever fic the writer wants to write.

(This isn’t getting into the ship fic, which I avoid like the plague because the vast majority of it is incest, but I’d bet real actual money that the tropes in those fics fall under what is often preferred by the Migratory Slash Fandom.)

By having a decent excuse not to get into canon (the inaccessibility of comics) and a, by now, well-established fanon fandom, many fans feel free to use the batfam fandom as essentially an excuse to write whatever fic with reduced archetypes and tropes they personally feel the itch to write, without having to bother with even consuming a canon. This is compounded by the fact that canon itself is often contradictory and frankly bad, meaning that whatever interpretation of a character you want/need to go for your fic is at least theoretically backed up by canon (for example, you can just as easily cast Bruce as an abusive shithole dad who his kids need to get away from as a loving father figure who cares deeply for his children), which you can always use as a defense if people question your characterization.

5. This focus on fandom trends and tropes over actual creativity or care for the characters is also visible in the way bigotry manifests in this fandom; namely, in literally the exact way you’d expect. The female characters and characters of colour are shuffled to the side, non-existent, vilified, and/or reduced to harmful stereotypes. 

Barbara is probably the one I saw the most often in fanfic, but usually just as ‘Dick’s girlfriend’, and even then, she was often vilified for Dick angst (especially in fics about examining Dick’s trauma from his canon sexual assault; Kori also often gets the short end of the stick in those). After that, probably Stephanie, who fanon fans don’t really seem to know what to do with, so she’s basically just there as comic relief waffle girl, most of the time, though sometimes she can be used to either further Tim angst or further vilify Tim, whatever the fic calls for. Cass has gotten included more in batfam fics as of late, likely in response to critiques of fandom racism for leaving her out, but again, it’s clear people don’t actually know what to do with her. She’s often reduced to a racist stereotype of a quite, stoic therapist for whatever guy du jour needs it. That, or she’s in Hong Kong and just not there. Duke especially gets left in the dust in fandom, usually just being non-existent, but when he’s there, he’s almost always nothing more than the straight man for the actual fun characters to play off of. Talia probably has it the worst, though, and almost universally gets vilified by fanon stans in order to write sadboy Damian.

All of this is extremely predictable behaviour and falls entirely in line with general fandom misogyny and racism; ignoring or vilifying women and characters of colour, or using them as very minor characters at best. The only two characters of colour who aren’t regularly left out of fic are Dick and Damian, who are both also conveniently the two characters most often drawn and written in a whitewashed manner. In addition, there’s a real trend of demonizing Damian in fanon fics where he isn’t written as an abused sadboy, which I’d argue is in no small part due to fandom racism, considering Damian’s behaviour is in no way as bad as Jason’s, who doesn’t get anywhere close to the same demonization and gets woobiefied instead. I also find it convenient that Damian is probably the batboy who receives the most vilification in fic, when he’s the most obviously non-white of the batboys they’re willing to acknowledge.

Fandom often cries for more diversity in canon, only to ignore the diversity already there and focus on the same generic white guys. The batfam fandom is a brilliant example of this.

Which is not to say that fandom racism and misogyny isn’t present in the canon parts of the fandom (and canon itself); it absolutely 100% is. But I’ve found that canon fans are also more likely to like and care about at least one of the characters I’ve listed as ignored/vilified, and are willing to create and consume content for them, whereas fanon fans... aren’t, really. I’ve never seen a fan of fanon Cass the way I’ve seen fans of fanon Dick, for example. Obviously, this could just be by coincidence, or I’ve just surrounded myself with people like that, but it’s been a trend I noticed. Racism and misogyny is present in every part of this fandom and should be addressed as such, but I feel like it manifests the most blatantly in the fanon parts of this fandom. 

(I’d also recommend the articles Migratory Slash Fandom’s Focus and Beige Blank Slates, which expand more on the type of fandom racism I think is especially prominent in the batfam fandom, as well as literally every article in the What Fandom Racism Looks Like series.)

6. All this leads me to conclude that the majority of fanon fans don’t actually like the characters all that much; they’re convenient excuses for them to participate in fandom. Which I also think is, in no small part, a reason why so many of them react so negatively to being told to pick up a comic; they came to this fandom specifically to consume it as a fandom, because they wanted the fandom experience without having to consume a canon. 

This is not a phenomena unique to the batfam fandom (again, see the Migratory Slash Fandom), but it does fascinate me. While fandom is often said to be an experience focusing on transformative art, I think it’s also safe to say that, especially as fandom has become more mainstream, an increasing amount of people are looking to it less as a way to engage with their favourite pieces of media, and more as a type of media in and of itself. I think the reasons for this are similar to the reasons mass media entertainment like the MCU are so popular; you gain a lot of enjoyment out of it with very little risk involved. 

By consuming the same fics of the same characters (or the same archetypes) over and over again, you are rarely at risk of being challenged or even disappointed. It’s often very clear right from the start whether or not a fic will appeal to you, and if it isn’t, it’s easy to just look for another one. It requires less emotional investment than most other types of media, even ‘popcorn media’ like the MCU - or, yes, DC Comics. It’s safe, it’s enjoyable, it’s comforting, like McDonalds, but just like McDonalds, it’s ultimately bland and unsubstantial. 

7, TL;DR. Ultimately, I don’t think it’s like, wrong to enjoy the fanon version of the batfam without wanting to engage with canon, and I certainly don’t think it’s okay to harrass people over it. But I do think it’s in large part based on a desire to interact with fandom rather than other pieces of media because people are scared of being let down by those pieces of media (or worse, just uninterested in actually thinking), which is mildly concerning. 

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

[connordavidscamera]

Living, Learning, and Filming Ch. 10 | Connor Brashier

A/n: Sorry for the delay, work and classes have been hell the past couple weeks! But here is the second to last chapter and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Summary: it’s the first time you’re seeing each other since your date. It’s… well, it’s something. 

Word count: 1.8k

***

Week 10

Filming is only easy when you and the subject are comfortable with one another. Neither of us are comfortable now. I can't look at Connor without seeing those lipstick stains on his jaw and down his chest, the way his hair was fucked from her fingers. He would have been the most beautiful I've ever seen had those stains been from me and if his hair was messed up by my fingers. But they weren't it, it wasn't, but he’s still so beautiful, and I hate him for it. 

And since this is the first time we’ve seen each other since that night, I don’t think it makes things any easier. He’s tried so many times to get me to talk to him. He’s texted, called, he even showed up at the dorms once, but I didn’t let him in. He knocked and asked for me for a good fifteen minutes before he finally caved, realizing that I wasn’t going to let him in now, or ever if my heart would stop trying to control my being. 

And now he's looking at me in a way that says "I'm sorry." But I don't know if he's sorry he did it or because he got caught, and I don't really want to know the answer. Because knowing would mean that he would have to explain and I can't let him explain. I can't get hurt again. Especially not by him when he holds my entire heart in his hands and just one misstep from him and it'll be completely shattered. 

"So, we uh… we still have to do the interview." Connor says, picking at his fingernails.

I sigh, "I know. That's the last thing, right?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Then we just have to put them in and add a few overlays and the background music."

"I can put the clips in if you want to do the overlays. You're better at layering."

"We could do it together. I think we should both be okay with the ending before we turn it in."

"Fine," I nod. "Should we do the interview now?"

"Oh, um. Yeah, I guess. Outside would probably be better. It's kind of loud in here," he says, fiddling now with the napkin under his cup.

I nod, "Lighting isn’t great here either. Let's go."

The wind is cold, hitting us hard when we walk out of the cafe and I immediately regret leaving my jacket in my car. I wrap my arms around my middle, curing into myself as we walk down the street to the small cluster of trees that I don't really consider a park, but the city does. I don’t realize I’m shivering, curling even more into myself until I feel something heavy covering my shoulders. 

“You look cold,” he mutters.

“No, Connor,” I start to protest, but he stops me.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Promise.”

I sigh, “Thank you,” I mumble before slipping my arms through the sleeves.

It’s difficult to get the camera set up with the uneven ground, but we find a rock that gives us just enough height to keep the tripod from moving too dramatically with the wind.  “You ready?” I ask after fixing the settings to accommodate the harsh light the clouds are casting over Connor’s perfect facial features. It’s rude that he can be my whole life - the only thing occupying my thoughts on any given day - and I want so badly to hate him. I want to hate him and I want to be mad at him. But I can’t. I can’t do it. Because he’s sitting there under the tree and even in this light he’s beautiful and I want to kiss him over and over and never stop. 

“Y/n? You okay?” he asks.

I blink, bringing myself back to reality. “Yeah. Sorry. Um… we’re recording. Full name?”

“Connor David Brashier. I’m twenty-one, and a junior here at UCLA.”

“What are some of your hobbies?”

“Surfing, filming, playing video games, and... hanging out with you.”

I clear my throat, shaking my head. That answer wasn’t necessary. 

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

“Ten years?” He nods. “In ten years I see myself still filming. Maybe having actually directed a movie or music video or two. Married, hopefully. Maybe even have a kid or two, or three. Depending of course on who I’m with, if she wants kids or not. You want kids?”

“Connor,”  I scold. 

“What?” he smiles and my heart flutters. “It’s a general question. You want kids?”

I sigh, “Yeah, someday I might want a couple… Next question. I asked this when we started this project. You said you could see yourself falling in love,” I look down, not wanting to look him in the eyes as he answers. “So, have you ever been in love?”

“I have,” he answers instantly. “I am right now actually, and I’m looking at her right now. And she’s beautiful.”

---

“Is the lighting okay?” I ask, tugging on the sleeves of the jacket he gave me earlier. 

“Lighting’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just,” he steps forward and brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. “You had an eyelash.”

I feel myself turning red, and I shiver at the contact. I want to keep him there. I want to grab his hand and keep him against me, but I don’t. 

“Ready?”

I nod, “Yeah.”

“Full name?”

“Y/n y/m/n y/l/n.”

We go through the same standard questions I asked him and I know what question is next. I dread answering it.

“Last question.”

“Okay,” I look down at my hands, covered by the long sleeves of his jacket. I’m surrounded by his scent and I want to drown in it, which is how I know what my answer is going to be.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” I nod. “I am now. It’s consuming. It drives you. But it stops you too.”

He tilts his head at me. “What do you mean?”

“Suddenly things you used to do alone don’t feel as good as when you do them with that person. And when you’re not with them? It’s tourture. You want to spend every moment with them and you can’t and it sucks. It sucks because they’re not yours.”

He stops recording, I know because when he’s kneeling down in front of me, I don’t see the blinking red light behind his head. “Not yours? Y/n, I’m yours. Utterly and completely.”

“That girl from the other night said otherwise.”

He sighs, “I was hurt. You went out with Shawn. You said no and then you said yes and that hurt, baby. It hurt so much.”

“He told you?” I shake my head, “I didn’t kiss him. We had dinner and I couldn’t stop talking about you. That’s how my date went. That’s why I ended up at your place.”

“But how was I supposed to know that? You wouldn’t talk to me the same after I told you I loved you. You didn’t even tell me about your date. Shawn did.”

“Yes. He called me after he asked. He wanted to know if I was okay with it. And I wasn’t, y/n. I wasn’t but you weren’t mine and I couldn’t make that decision for you. But we’re here now. We’re on the same page. I want you, you want me. What’s the problem here?”

“The problem is that neither of us are relationship material.”

“What do you mean we’re not relationship material? You’ve read more books about relationships than anyone I know.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Connor!”

“Y/n! I want to be with you. Why are you pushing me away?”

“Because I can’t ever believe this is real if it started as a joke. Or if you’re gonna go out and fuck any girl with boobs at the first sign of trouble. I like,” I stop myself. “I love you, Connor. But this relationship would be built on lies and that’s not what I want.”

“So you’re never going to believe me? No matter how many times I say it? No matter how many nights I spend outside your door, begging you to talk to me? No matter how many times I promise you that it’s only you? That it’ll only ever be you. No matter how many times I tell you that you deserve that romance you read about? No matter how many times I promise to try and give that to you? To be the cheesiest boyfriend known to man. It’s not gonna be enough.”

“I want to believe you, Con. I do. But it’s hard right now. Maybe now just isn’t our time.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Y/n. Please. Just… give me one more chance.” His hands find the sides of my face and I hate that I melt into his warm touch. 

I sigh, pulling his hands away reluctantly. “I’ll have to think about it.”

He nods, “Take your time. But I can tell you this, I’m not going for anyone else. That night? Nothing else happened. She was kissing me-”

“Connor, don’t.”

“No, I have to make sure you know. You told me that nothing happened with Shawn. I believe you. And I need you to believe me when I tell you that nothing happened. I had her leave after you left. I didn’t want to have sex with her. Brian thought I needed a rebound, just someone to take my mind off you. But it didn’t work. It wasn’t fun being with her. It didn’t help. Baby, you’re the only one I want. I haven’t gotten over the feeling of your lips on mine since it first happened.”

I shake my head, “You have to stop.”

“What?”

“Stop saying things that make me want to kiss you. I can’t kiss you.”

“I give you permission,” he shrugs with a sheepish smile.

I laugh, really laugh. “You’re an idiot. 

“But I got you to laugh. That’s a good sign, right?”

I sigh and run my fingers through his hair. “I need time, bub.”

“You called me bub. Is that a good sign?” he asks, hopefully.

I rest my forehead on his. “Connor, please.”

“I want to kiss you,” he mumbles, his lips inching closer to mine. 

“I want you to kiss me.” I confirm, closing the distance. I sigh in content, and his tongue roams my mouth. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. And I don’t need the time. But that’s my heart talking. My brain still needs it, which is why I pull back. “A week.”

“A week?”

“That’s what I need. I’ll have an answer for you then.”

He nods, “C’mere.” He kisses me again and I let him, feeling warm, feeling safe in his arms once again.

***

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[angel-of-the-moons]

I am OBSESSED with the way you write the spiderverse characters!! You write them legitimately perfectly I can honestly hear them and play out the scenes in my head so perfectly! I wanted to request something with Pavitr after I saw the parental figure fanfic you did! Sort of in a similar vain with injuries and angst and comfort. Perhaps being an older sibling figure to him alongside Hobie, but reader kind of just doesn’t….really care about themselves, seeing a bunch of rubble or glass about to fall directly on top of him and pushing him out of the way to take the brunt of the damage and ending up getting extremely hurt in the process. I’m a SUCKER for hurt/comfort and for Pavitr being beside himself with fear “Pav! Pav let them go let the medics help them!!” “NO!! NO I need to stay-I need to stay with them PLEASE!! PLEASE I CAN’T LOSE THEM”

I'm sending all you guys Spider-Medic's therapy bills and tab at Starbucks I STG 😭

Super Glue

(Was used in Vietnam for wound closure. My Grandpa backed this fact up! It's why we always had super glue in the house as a kid!)

Pavitr x Older Sibling Figure!Spider-Person Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of Injury, blood, battlefield surgery, mentions of possible death. Angst with a hot side of Pavitr's soft fluffy heart getting stepped on again

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

It was supposed to be routine. A routine mission. Easy in, easy out. Nah the bad guys, save some people.

So how in the world could it have gone so wrong?

None of you were anticipating Green Goblin lobbing new sticky bombs at you guys!

The only thing at the forefront of your mind was "protect". Damn what happened to you.

All you ever cared about was protecting the others, members of your team, civilians. You didn't care if you got hurt, you never did.

When Pavitr expressed concern for you, you just patted his head and told him you'd be fine. Bloody face, busted lip and nose... you'd smile. For them, you'd always smile. No matter how bad the pain was.

No matter how many times you almost died.

Like now.

Right. Now.

The only thing your mind saw was the bombs being thrown Pavitr's way.

On sheer instinct alone, you reach out, sling some web and pull yourself towards him, using your leverage and another string of webs to pull Pavitr out of the way as the bombs detonated on the support columns of the front half of the bank you were trying to protect.

The last thing you remember was your ears ringing, the smoke in your lungs, the feeling of glass shredding your suit and skin, and the collapse of rubble.

You didn't remember anything else.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

Pavitr climbed to his feet as quickly as possible, frantically looking around the carnage for you.

Hobie and one of the Peter Parkers was busy finally webbing Goblin up, pinning him to the wall of the nearby bodega.

Pavitr meanwhile, was consumed with the thought that something happened to you. He couldn't see you, you weren't answering.

Everyone knew that Pavitr adored you just as much as Hobie. You two were the older siblings he wished he had.

The one who everyone took to calling Spider-Medic gripped Pavitr's arm, talking to him, but Pavitr couldn't hear him over the ringing and blood rushing in his ears.

Pavitr felt his heart stop and blood run cold when he saw your hand sticking out of the rubble.

Even Medic went into autopilot, rushing over alongside Pavitr to pry the shattered brick and concrete off of you.

Thankfully it collapsed in a way that didn't kill you, or fully crush you.

But you had a piece of rebar sticking out of your side, your suit shredded and bloody from the shards of glass.

You weren't moving.

There was so much blood.

"Aw, hell." Medic's voice said, as he immediately pulled out his flashlight from one of his hip-bags.

He gently pushed your eyes open one at a time and checked how responsive you were. The sudden light blinding you made you groan, and twitch, whimpering when the rebar reminded you where it was lodged.

"Hey, Punk!" Medic shouted.

Hobie's spiked head immediately swiveled towards you guys and ran over.

"Okay, Pavitr?" Medic asked him, handing him some sterile gauze patches.

"Y-Yeah?" He stammered.

"You need to hold these down and be ready to apply serious pressure. We gotta get that rebar out. We don't have time to cut them loose, we can't afford to stay in this universe for too long. We have to get 'em back to HQ." He said, his military training kicking in.

"Okay, O-Okay." Pavitr said shakily, doing as he said.

But the moment his fingers touch the tender area around your wounds, you flinched and whimpered against causing him to recoil.

"Kid, regardless, this is gonna hurt. They're gonna scream, gonna cry. You can't ease up the pressure or they'll bleed to death. Understood?"

"Y-yes sir." Pavitr said, choking the lump in his throat down as he gripped the wound as he was instructed.

"Punk, you and I are gonna pull 'em up on 3. Got it?"

"Got it." Hobie nodded grimly.

Pavitr didn't hear the countdown. All he could hear was your mouth opening to scream as you were yanked off the piece of metal, all he could see was the blood that gushed from the wound in your side.

Immediately, Medic went to work.

He ripped open his packs and slapped on some sterile gloves over his suit, grabbing a bottle of alcohol.

He had Hobie hold you down while he cleaned your wounds out as fast as possible.

Pavitr paced, his hands wringing, your blood soaking through his gloves and into his skin.

He didn't like the smell of it, how it felt.

"Please please please please please--" Pavitr kept saying, his eyes wide and terrified as Medic began stitching you shut with the efficiency only a man who was accustomed to treating on the battlefield could wield.

"Please please please help them, d-don't let them die, I..." Pavitr was starting to hyperventilate, even as Peter put his hand on his shoulder, the teen trying to avoid looking at the bloody mess that you were as you were stitched up.

"P-Pavitr." He tried to say, his voice cracking. "Just... just let Med do his job, okay? Th-they'll be fine. Okay? Right?"

"I c-c-can't lose them. Not them, too!" Pavitr blubbered out, emotion gripping his heart like an icy fist. "I can't lose anyone else! I can't!"

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

You woke up, body sore, bandaged from head to toe. You couldn't see out of one of your eyes, but that was probably from the bandages on your head.

You crane your head, neck aching in protest as you look next to your bed, at the body curled up in the uncomfortable chair next to you.

Poor Pavitr was dressed in some basic scrubs, a thin hospital blanket wrapped tightly around his body as he snored softly.

You sigh, and try to sit up.

Bad idea.

You immediately swallowed a cry of pain that bled through the anesthesia.

But it was still loud enough to wake Pavitr up.

The poor guy immediately went into action and rushed to your side, your name leaving his lips like he thought you'd shatter if he spoke too loud.

"You--you're awake! You're not supposed to be!" Pavitr told you.

"Yeah, I guess nobody told Med that I have a high tolerance for medications." You grunted.

"Here!" Pavitr said, pushing the button on the side of your bed, letting the back of your bed crane so you were sitting up without straining your stitches.

"Thanks..." You sigh, easing back a bit.

"I feel like I got hit by a truck." You groaned.

"Or seven. And got trampled by a herd of buffalo."

Pavitr swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry--"

"Pavitr..."

"If--if I was watching my back better, you wouldn't have--"

"Hey, kid." You reach out and bop him on the head softly, his shoulders scrunching as you do. "I'm alive, ain't I? Stop apologizing."

"But, but--"

"No buts. Take the win. We'll be okay." You smile thinly, trying to ease his fears.

You could tell it didn't work.

"Hey, you kids!" Medic barked as he walked into your suite.

You winced, prepared for another lecture from him.

"You better not roughhouse and ruin the twelve hours of work I put into keeping your guts inside you! Or make me regret using all that super glue!"

You and Pavitr look at each other, and finally laugh.

[fruitymimi]

Free Bird 3 - Keigo Takami x Reader

free bird masterlist

endeavor calls keigo to his office to tell him important information and keigo couldn’t be happier.

pairing: keigo takami x GN!reader

warnings: yandere themes, mentions of trauma/abuse

a/n: THIS FINALLY TAKES PLACE IN CURRENT TIME LMAO. sorry this chapter is so short! i wanted to get something out before i got out of my lunch break, part 4 should be out soon!! hopefully today? idk don’t quote me on that but thank you guys for the support! <3

word count: 1676

As ridiculous as it sounds, Keigo still thought of Y/N everyday. He’d never gotten to say goodbye to them, so to Keigo, their relationship never ended! In Keigo’s mind, that was still his soulmate, still his partner, even when they moved to America because of All Might believing they would thrive under a Western hero’s training. Just a bunch of bullshit. 

He saved himself for them. He’d never kissed anyone, never slept with anyone, never thought anyone was as gorgeous as Y/N. To be fair, Keigo didn’t get the “privilege” of being Endeavor’s definition of independent until he was 21. Even if he became a pro long before that. 

But now, Keigo’s life was a little less monitored. He lived in a penthouse, of course Endeavor owned the building it was in. Endeavor always told him certain rules he had to follow, but Keigo always got a bit testy with him by replying with something that was smart-assy. 

Endeavor wasn’t fond of the way Keigo spoke to him most of the time, but now that Keigo was known by the public eye, he couldn’t risk the winged-hero telling the press about the conditions the hero commission had him living in for most of his life, all the mistreatment they tried to mask it by saying, “It’s just hero training!”

And Keigo wasn’t fond of the way Endeavor treated him, but, when Keigo actually thought about it, he had nowhere to go. He didn’t have anywhere to call home. He damn sure wasn’t going back to his parents, hell, he wasn’t even sure if they were alive. 

Countless times he’d thought about what would happen if he ended up asking Endeavor if he could see them just one more time, but Keigo couldn’t bring himself to care enough about their well-being to even consider having the conversation with him. He knew he was supposed to feel bad, but he couldn’t. 

Each time he tried to feel pity for his parents, he remembered that they were lied to by Endeavor & the hero commission and ended up just giving their child up for free, not getting a single paycheck for their kid. It was funny to him. They thought they were going to be filthy rich, but ended up being a couple of nobodies who were now child-less, possibly homeless, possibly deceased, who knows? He wished nothing but guilt onto them, he wanted them to feel what he felt his entire life. 

Endeavor couldn’t deny his feelings, either. It wasn’t many, but there were times where he wanted to pull-out of the deal with Keigo’s parents and let the man live a normal childhood, much like he deserved, but at the end of the day, Endeavor wouldn’t even do that for his own children. Why would he do it for Keigo?

He’d often find himself thinking about this, thinking about how different Keigo would be had he not stepped into his life. That’s how he ended up here, seated on his desk as he waited for Keigo to come knocking at his door. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of something thumping against his office’s window. He turned his head, only to be greeted by Keigo standing at the glass door on the office’s balcony. 

Endeavor looked up at him, startled. “Keigo..” he mumbled, standing up to unlock the glass door. Endeavor blinked as he watched Keigo walk into his office. “Why didn’t you come in through the door?”

Keigo brushed off his jacket, shrugging. “I had a nice lunch, decided that I could work off the calories by flying in.” Keigo said to him, clicking his tongue. Keigo walked over to Endeavor’s desk, sitting down in his big, leather spinny chair.

Endeavor furrowed his brows, closing the door. “Whatever. Takami. You know how I feel about you sitting in my seat—“

“Yeah, yeah. How long have you known me, Number One? I’m here on time, so just tell me what you called me here for. I’m a busy man, I’ve got important things to do.” He spun around in the chair, bending his head back to keep eye contact with Endeavor. 

Endeavor sighed deeply, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Anyways,” he leaned in. He knew what he was about to say was a terrible decision. Of course, it was one made by Endeavor. “Do you remember your training days?”

Keigo blinked, tilting his head. He almost had a look of annoyance. “‘Do you remember your training days?’ Of course I do. Did you think I forgot any of it?” He mocked Endeavor.

Endeavor bit down on his lip. “Well… do you remember Y/N?” Endeavor asked Keigo.

 Oh, boy…

How could Keigo ever forget?

He had multiple videos of them saved on his phone while they were on TV interviews, he kept up with them as if he was their #1 fan… in a way he was? 

Every night he heard about them being on TV, he’d stay up until he couldn’t keep his eyes open just so he could hear their smooth voice. He remembers the night where their hero costume was revealed, he was practically drooling in front of his TV. He’d replay the videos countless times during his night shift, too. He’d have their voice ringing through his airpods while he was on patrol. 

He was so happy for them when they were announced the #3 hero, of course, they were beaming on the screen and Keigo could have sworn he saw a twinkle in their eyes. He remembers them thinking they couldn’t become a top hero with their “stupid quirk”, though Keigo always believed in them and didn’t allow them to talk down about themselves.

He couldn’t go to sleep unless he rewatched at least an hour's worth of content. He could replay them in his head word for word, he never got sick of seeing the same ones, hearing the same stupid podcast. 

He’d listen to their voice to calm down after a hard day at work. He would use them as therapy, as an escape. Keigo would no doubt consume fan content if he wasn’t absolutely disgusted by their fans. They’d sexualize them, speak about them in ways that only he was allowed to. In his mind, Keigo was the only one who was allowed to think of them in that way. 

That wasn’t it, no, no. Keigo would constantly daydream about the day they would be with him. He’d fantasize about what his lips would feel like pressed against their skin, against their—

Keigo stopped spinning in the chair, gripping the armrests. “Yeah. ‘Course. I remember the day you took the love of my life away from me, too.” 

“They weren’t dating you.”

“Just get on with what you were saying, Endeavor. If you’re gonna talk about what you did and why you did it, I’m all ears.” 

Endeavor for once was debating with himself. He had a conversation with All Might about this, and Toshinori of course disagreed with him. 

“Endeavor. All I’m saying is he can’t handle seeing them again. You can’t just let him be the one who shows them around because you’re too busy. Why do you think we’ve avoided this for years?”

“You’re the one who told them they could come back to Japan. I didn’t say that! If they move back, nothing is going to stop that boy from finding them. And that’s. Your. Fault.”

“My fault?! Last time I checked, I didn’t groom Keigo into being a hero. I’m doing my job as Y/N’s mentor. You’re the one who has a track record of being a shitty authority figure.” 

“...Why can’t you help them settle in? They’re your student. Are you not capable of being All Might anymore?”

“Oh, so you’re trying to be funny? You know if I were to do it, I wouldn’t be able to protect them if something happened. You know this, Endeavor.”

“Whatever. He can’t be that mental anymore.” 

Endeavor took in a breath, looking up at Keigo. “They're coming back to Japan. I need you to help them settle in. You know, show them around town, help them move into their new home..”

Endeavor could see Keigo’s wings flutter at the sound of that. He cursed himself for not listening to All Might, but he couldn’t just agree with Toshinori as stubborn as he was. You’d never catch Endeavor agreeing with anything the former number 1 hero had to say. He’s always held too much resentment to allow himself to agree with anything his said. His fragile pride was too strong.

Keigo blinked a couple times, his eyes going wide. “You’re… serious?” Keigo asked him, sinking into the chair. He didn’t know how to feel, his palms got all sweaty and his cheeks grew pink. “Don’t joke with me, Endeavor.”

“I’m not joking. Toshinori can’t do it, if someone targets them, he’d be useless. I’m going to be busy,” doing absolutely nothing, “and you’re the next best hero. So I trust you.” Bad idea. 

Keigo nodded his head. “I can do it! When… When am I gonna see them?” he asked, placing his hands on the desk in front of him.

“Tomorrow. Their flight comes in tomorrow at 12 PM. But Keigo, we need to have a talk.” Endeavor folded his hands on his lap, leaning in to make eye contact with him.

Keigo rolled his eyes, looking at the man. “What? A talk about what? What could we possibly talk about other than their arrival? Unless you’re going to apologize.” Keigo asked him. He just wanted to know more about tomorrow, he didn’t give a shit about whatever Endeavor had to say.

“You know what? Nevermind. Be at the airport by 11 AM, don’t lose them.”

Keigo smiled, standing up from the seat. He straightened his jacket. “I’ll tell you how it goes, Enji.” He said to him, moving onto the window. 

Endeavor watched as the man flew off. 

What has he done?

[tiifalockhart]

Safety

@wistful-wings​ asked: Since you asked, request time! :D Somehow a degrading Genesis winds up in a soft warm bed with someone looking after him because damn he's sick the guy needs some love and care damnnit.

Pairing: Genesis x Reader

Warnings: mentions of starving, death, trauma, depression and anxiety.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I have finally delivered the Genesis content. Hope this is okay!! Thank you so much for your request, feedback is always appreciated!

Ao3 || Masterlist

Everything was cold.

His skin was cracking, his fingertips were permanently cold, his hair and features had all turned an ash grey. It was a curse: living a life where Genesis already knew his fate. No matter how hard he fought, he was trapped in a shell that was falling apart. He fought like hell to end up losing to himself. 

Every day, breathing became more and more of a chore. His on-setting depression began to consume him. Sephiroth’s words from Nibleheim rang in his mind unendingly, he was constantly reminded of what he was to become.

“You will rot.”

One of his only friends throughout his life, his partner, his idol (no matter how much he hated to admit it now) had destroyed him with those three simple words. He felt like shit. Genesis ruined everything... Now Angeal was dead, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be found. All of this for revenge... If he had quietly left, maybe they would still be alive, maybe they would have come with him. 

As much as he hated Shinra for what they did to him and the others... It certainly wasn’t worth losing everything.

For years, he had been hiding from anyone and everyone. He was afraid to show his face, the shame and guilt of what he’d done consumed him. What would Angeal do if he were still alive? He would have turned himself in... Or something like that, wouldn’t he? Dammit. It was conflicting... Genesis was so unsure of himself majority of the time now. 

He was so cold and lonely, his body was failing him in more ways than one, and his intrusive thoughts certainly didn’t make the long and dreadful days go by any faster. Life was... Painful to say the least. Genesis managed to find a cave to hide in, somewhere where the sunlight wouldn’t give him migraines, where the public eye couldn’t find him, he felt surprisingly safer in that cave than he did with his own thoughts.  He struggled to find peace, his mind screamed at him over and over about how he was a monster, how he killed his friends and how he deserved this unbearable fate. 

Eventually, the pain of existing became too overwhelming one day, and he found himself wandering through Midgar aimlessly, trying to find some kind of release from this dreadful life. He thought it was the end for sure this time, his coughing had gotten worse, his limbs were weaker than ever, his skin was pale and his hair was the color of the Modeoheim snow. He didn’t have enough power within himself to perform a fire spell to attempt to warm himself up again. He knew this was the end. Maybe... It was for the better.

When he blacked out finally, no one would have ever known he was gone. Genesis was a distant memory at this point, who would have cared about his disappearance? He prepared himself to face the meaningless afterlife, to be rejected by the Lifestream and simply float out to nonexistence. 

So, when he heard that gentle voice coaxing him back to life and reality, confusion hit him like a truck. Genesis thought he was dead for sure this time, so why was it he could hear a voice calling out to him?

“-ello?”

“Are you okay?”

“Wake up, you’re safe now.”

Confusion flooded Genesis’ features when he stirred. He wasn’t floating aimlessly in the Lifestream... He was alive still... Somehow. His eyes examined the room around him. He appeared to be in a bedroom, small potted plants and knick-knacks decorating the open space. Next to him, he noticed you sitting in a chair, a look of concern decorating your features. Once he was full aware and all his senses returned to him, he sat up quickly, a distrusting glare taking over his features. 

“Where am I?!” He demanded, staring over at you. You raised your hands in surrender automatically, your eyes widening at his sudden outburst. 

“You’re... You’re in my house. I saw you passed out, I thought you were hurt-” You explained hurriedly, sitting back in your seat. “I made you food... And brought some water.” 

He raised a brow and glanced over at the plate and cup sitting on the bedside table. From what he could see, it was already better than anything he had been eating for the past years. Hesitantly, he relaxed a little, nodding lightly. “Thank you.” Genesis muttered softly.

A sigh of relief left your lips as he seemed to calm down. “Are you feeling okay? Do you feel sick? Maybe weak?” You asked, examining him for any injuries. He shook his head slowly, frowning slightly. 

“No, I feel normal.” He lied, even though his mind was racing with thoughts. Why did you take him in? Why did you trust him? It didn’t make sense. Do you not know who he is? He was bewildered from your... Normal response to him. 

You nodded awkwardly in response. “Well... You can make yourself at home until you’re ready to go.” You stated, standing and heading towards the closet. “I have some old clothes that might fit you. You can also use the bath if you wish.” You explained, placing a couple of towels on the foot of the bed, along with an oversized sweater and sweatpants combo. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought you here... I couldn’t leave you there, though.” 

Genesis looked over at the outfit and towels, narrowing his eyes slightly. Now you’ve decided to take care of him? He didn’t deserve it, he was a murderer, a manipulator, a... Monster. Monsters don’t deserve to be taken care of. He pushed those thoughts away quickly, attempting to find his voice once again. “Thank you.” He responded, his voice sounding strained. It sounded like he was forcing it out. 

However, you didn’t waver. You simply assumed it was him struggling to be thankful, which was fairly naïve. How were you supposed to guess that he was having an internal battle between his confusion and his intrusive thoughts? “Well... I’ll be downstairs. Dinner will be ready soon, you should come downstairs after you bathe, if you’d like.” You explained, nodding awkwardly. 

Genesis didn’t respond this time. He was unsure of what to say. The tension in the room simply grew thicker the longer you stayed there, so you left fairly quickly. After the door closed again, Genesis let out a breath of relief as he pushed himself off the bed and stumbled over to the mirror. His hair was still white, all color had vanished from it. His dark circles, his pale complexion, his colorless eyes all stayed the same. No wonder you brought him in, he looked like he was on the brink of death. He let out a shaky breath as he pulled away from the mirror, unable to stand looking at himself anymore. Instead, he distracted himself with moving to the bathroom. Walking was a chore in itself, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else at the moment. Dammit, why was he so weak? He used to fight battles back to back, now he can barely walk a few steps without feeling like collapsing. 

After finally reaching the bathroom, he took his time with bathing, appreciating the feeling of warm water flowing down his back. The scar on his back appreciated it too, it didn’t sting when the water hit it just right. It was... Nice. His sore muscles could relax a little, while his limbs slowly regained their strength. Once he was out of the shower, he pulled on the loose clothing, silently appreciating the looseness and comfort of them. 

Just as you requested, Genesis arrived downstairs awhile after the two of you parted. His eyes scanned over everything in the house, he noticed small mementos from your family and friends, picture frames of different people, random things that managed to explain the type of person you are. He also noticed that the small dining table was set for two people, you and himself he assumed. Out of everything he noticed though, you were nowhere to be found. He checked the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room once again. There were no traces of you anywhere. A confused expression settled on his features, until he heard the front door open. Hesitantly, he entered the room and raised a brow once he saw you. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize you would be done so quickly.” You pointed out, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips. “I was just feeding the street cats.” 

“I was in there for an hour.” Genesis mentioned, which caused your cheeks to obtain a light shade of pink. “You feed... The street cats?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, a lot of them get dropped off here. It’s really sad, so I make sure I feed them every morning and every evening.” You explained, guiding him back to the dining room. “I decided to go ahead and do it, I figured you’d be longer than an hour.” You added, heading into the kitchen as Genesis took a seat at the table. He found you to be such a curious creature... You were kind to everything, no matter what its background may be. He watched you closely as you worked, his eyes following you as you returned to the table.

You carefully placed an extravagant meal in front of him, a shy smile forming on your lips. It consisted of steak (behemoth meat), along with other healthy sides. He stared in amazement as you placed the final item, a small basket of bread, in front of him. “I usually don’t eat like this... I figured today would be the day I make something nice.” You explained awkwardly, taking a seat across from him. “Feel free to eat as much as you like, or as little. The rest will be used as leftovers for myself or the cats.” 

Once you began to serve yourself food and eat, Genesis finally snapped out of his daze and followed along, serving himself relatively small portions at first. He wanted to taste everything first, before digging into his favorites. Unfortunately for him, though, he found everything to be absolutely delicious, it was the best food he’s had in years, even when he was working at Shinra. He finally gave in and decided to fill his plate with everything, hoping that he could eat it all.

The two of you stayed in silence most of the meal, you didn’t seem to mind that Genesis wasn’t interested in conversation. He was grateful for that, his face was so full the majority of the time that there was no time to speak. Somehow, the two of you managed to finish the meal on your own. Genesis felt like he was on the verge of a food coma by the end of the meal. He was beyond thankful at this point, you had done so much for him with no questions asked, you were quite literally a gift from the goddess. 

When you were cleaning up, Genesis decided to show his thankfulness a little. He helped you carry the dishes into the kitchen, and he offered to clean them as you wiped down the table. To you, it was a sweet stranger, especially from a stranger like him. You could sense him beginning to trust you, which calmed your nerves a little more. The odd factor was the fact that the two of you had hardly spoken at all. Besides a couple small exchanges of words, it was mostly silent between you both. It was a little unnerving, but you couldn’t think of anything to fill the void with, so you simply dealt with it. 

As the night rolled in, the awkward silence that you and Genesis had slowly developed into a comfortable silence. You ended up introducing him to the cats outside, but he appreciated them from afar. You also offered some books he might like to read, he was uninterested in them. Eventually, it was getting too late and you were fairly exhausted. 

“I’m going to sleep soon. You’re free to do whatever you wish... If you stay, that’s okay, but you also don’t have to stay.” You explained, looking back at him from the stairs. 

He raised his brows, a heavy feeling forming on his heart. “...Are you sure? That you don’t mind me staying.” Genesis asked, his tone a bit quieter and sensitive. 

You smiled in response to this. “It’s your decision. I don’t mind having you around.” You answered, giving him a reassuring nod. He hesitated and looked away, a conflicted expression forming on his face. You took this as the end of your conversation and continued up the stairs. 

“Wait!” He called out, taking another step up. “I didn’t really say thank you.” He stated, furrowing his brows. “I... I don’t know how I can make it any more genuine. But seriously, thank you for everything.” Genesis murmured, looking down at the floor. 

A soft laugh left your lips, which caused him to look back up at you in confusion. “Why thank me? I’ve just treated you like a house guest.” You pointed out, snickering. “You’re welcome... I guess? I thought what I did was bare minimum...” You muttered the last part to yourself, before shaking your head and looking back at him. “I’ll do better tomorrow!” You decided, a determined look in your eyes. 

For what felt like the first time in awhile, a smile formed on Genesis’ lips. It wasn’t a smirk, or a deceiving grin, it was a genuine and heartfelt smile. It felt... Weird. He liked it. Maybe he’ll stay for longer then... “I’m looking forward to it, then.” He responded, matching your lighthearted banter. 

The both of you stood still for a moment, as if finding some way to continue, before you finally broke the silence again. “Well... I should get some sleep to prepare for tomorrow. See ya.” You waved down at him, before heading off to your room for the night. 

Genesis couldn’t really describe the feelings he felt at that particular moment, but he knew that staying was a better idea. A fresh start... Maybe it won’t last for so long, but it was a nice break, especially since the position he’s in currently isn’t exactly the best. Or maybe... He didn’t have to explain himself. He was going to stay because he wanted to. 

He felt safe with you, and that’s all that mattered. 

[vrednic]

favors | collateral damage (pt.3)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: Derek finds himself in trouble, and Scott is nowhere to be found. Will Serena be the one to save the day?

Word Count: 3,026

Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoy part 3! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE*

*PART TWO*

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Two weeks had passed since my first full moon. Scott and I still weren’t on speaking terms, and we both seemed to prefer it that way. On school days, he’d leave the house early to avoid running into me. We didn’t have any classes together, so that made it easy to stay out of each other’s way at school. He had lacrosse practice most days, and they usually ran late, so by the time he got home, I was already in bed. He had also made things official with Allison, so naturally she consumed every other spare second of his life. Part of me felt immense relief because I was able to delay the inevitable confrontation that we would have to have at some point. However, the other part of me also longed for her best friend. I wanted to blame the full moon for the harsh words I said and the dismissive manner that I treated him, but I couldn’t. It was all me.

Scott was the “It” boy when it came to the supernatural. Someway, somehow, he always found himself in the middle of whatever supernatural crisis threatened Beacon Hills. He was a reliable friend and a fantastic leader in-the-making. I recognized that Scott now held the responsibility to save and protect those who were oblivious to our world, as well as those who were a part of it, but my jealousy obstructed all rational thought. I wanted my brother to be there for me the way he was there for complete strangers; the way he meddled in situations that didn’t even concern him. When he didn’t show up the one time I needed him, the disappointment was simply too much to bear.

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

I was sitting in biology, filling in the bubble for the second to last question of the test we were taking. The room was completely silent except for the swift sound of pencil on paper. I looked up at the clock above the chalkboard, and the hands indicated that there were forty-five minutes remaining in class. I flipped back through the booklet and revised all of my answers. When I was content with all of my responses, I pushed up from my desk and walked towards the front to turn in my test. As I neared the front of the classroom, the smell of blood invaded my nostrils. The scent was too faint to be coming from within the room, so that meant that its source was somewhere on the other side of the classroom door. I finally reached the teacher’s desk and placed my booklet on top of the thin pile of completed tests that were already there. I grabbed a copy of tonight’s homework located on the podium next to the desk, and made my way back to my seat.

As I tucked the homework sheet into my biology notebook, my supernatural hearing picked up the sound of two distinct voices coming from the hallway.

“Where’s Scott McCall?” asked the first voice.

The second person shut their locker, the sound of metal on metal ringing in my ears. They spoke gruffly. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I asked you politely, and I only do that once.” This time I was able to identify the first voice immediately. It was Derek.

“Hm. Okay, tough guy,” responded the second voice. It was low and laced with arrogance, just like Jackson’s. “How about I help you find him if you tell me what you’re selling him? 

There was a pause. Then, “Well? What is it? Is it Dianabol? HGH?”

“Steroids?” responded Derek, his tone unimpressed.

“No, Girl Scout cookies,” scoffed Jackson. “What the hell do you think I’m talking about? Oh, and, by the way, whatever it is that you’re selling, I’d probably stop sampling the merchandise. You look wrecked.”

There were a few counts of silence. I closed my eyes and focused my hearing, not wanting to miss a single word.

“I’ll find him myself,” said Derek at last.

“No, we’re not done here!” growled Jackson. There was a sound of movement, and then I heard a body slam up against the lockers. I heard Jackson’s soft groans of discomfort as Derek walked away, his feet dragging slightly as he did.

I knew that it was none of my business, but curiosity got the best of me. I got up from my seat and walked swiftly, but subtly, towards the teacher’s desk.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

Mrs. Grey stopped typing at her computer long enough to peer up at me through her glasses. “Sure, just take the--”

“Great, thanks!” I said, wasting no time to rush out into the hall. Jackson was leaning against a row of lockers on the opposite side of the hall, clutching the back of his neck. I smelled blood on him, but the scent didn’t match up with the one from earlier. We made eye contact for just a moment.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he snapped at me.

I shrugged.

I looked down both ends of the hall, but Derek was already gone. Luckily for me, he left a trail of blood in his wake. I followed the scent past the double doors that led to the soccer and lacrosse fields. I walked onto the middle of the grass and scanned my surroundings. At first glance, both fields seemed empty, but the scent was still present. The only problem was that I could no longer pinpoint which direction it was coming from. The wind had picked up, so now the scent seemed to be coming from everywhere. I decided to move my search onto the perimeter of the field. I checked under the bleachers, by the concession stands, and in the bathrooms, but there was still no sign of Derek. I let out a sigh of frustration and began walking back to the school.

I stopped mid stride when I thought I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Derek was slumped against the side of the storage shed, thick black blood dripping down his left arm. There was a pool of it right beside him growing by the minute. His face was pale and slicked with sweat, and there were dark grey bags under his eyes. If I didn’t know he was a werewolf with supernatural healing abilities, I’d probably think he was dead. I ran over to him and crouched down to his eye level. His eyes found mine; they were no longer cold, but pleading.

“Scott,” he mumbled. “Find Scott.”

I ignored him and instead examined the bullet wound in his arm. The bullet itself seemed to have melted into his skin, glowing a sickly silver-green color. The area around it was swollen and his veins were turning black, a clear sign of a fast-spreading infection.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” I told him matter-of-factly. “Whatever it is you were shot with, it doesn’t look good. I need to get you someplace safe so we can find a way to fix this.”

“You need to find Scott,” he repeated, breathless.

“I’ll find Scott,” I assured him. “But after I get you out of here. There’s no way I’m leaving for dead here.”

He looked up at me with those beautiful, tired eyes. He knew there was no point in protesting, so he mobilized every ounce of strength within him and tried to slide up to a standing position. I came over next to him, positioning his good arm around my shoulders, wrapped my arm around his torso, and attempted to begin walking. We made it a few steps before I felt him leaning out of my grasp. I stopped and gazed up at him.

“Okay, big guy. I know I’m a werewolf and all, but I’m still only 5’4. You’re almost an entire foot taller than me, so I’m gonna need you to help me out as much as you can.”

He nodded and we resumed walking. I led him across the field into the student parking lot. I found my car in the maze of vehicles and unlocked the passenger side door. As soon as Derek eased into the seat, I shut the door and came around to the other side. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot onto the road, heading towards Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. If we were lucky, traffic would be light at this hour, and we’d arrive in a matter of minutes. Derek looked around alarmingly and reached for the steering wheel. I stomped on the brake to stop us from veering into oncoming traffic.

“Are you crazy?” I screamed at him. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“You can’t take me to the hospital. Anything they give me could potentially speed up the infection and kill me,” he said. He sounded exhausted, but his tone was firm nonetheless. “That, and the Argents are probably looking for me. I’m sure they’d love to finish me off before the infection gets the chance to.”

I blew out a sigh. “Where am I supposed to take you, then?”

“The animal clinic. Hopefully Deaton hasn’t left for the day. Maybe he knows about something that’ll help.”

I did as I was told and quickly made a U-turn in the opposite direction. I drove frantically, stealing glances at Derek here and there to make sure he was still breathing. His eyes remained closed the entire way, but I found comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest.

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

Once we arrived at the clinic, my heart sunk. Deaton’s car wasn’t in the lot, which meant we were alone and running out of time. I retrieved the spare key from behind the dumpster and hauled Derek inside, leading him to one of the nearest chairs so he could sit while I called Scott. I patted my back pocket for my phone, but it wasn’t there. I ran out to my car and searched the floor and seats for its location, but it was futile. I must have dropped it in the field while I was carrying Derek to my car. I sprinted back inside, where Derek was clutching his arm in agony. I brushed the hair from his forehead gently, which caused him to open his eyes.

“I lost my phone,” I admitted nervously. “Do you have yours?”

He shook his head. “I lost it last night after I was shot.”

Great, just great.

I stopped for a moment to collect myself. After my moment was up, I left the room to find Deaton’s office. I turned on the light and waited a moment so my eyes could adjust. When they did, I found the office phone sitting right by his computer. I picked up the phone and dialed Scott’s number. It rang for several seconds, and just when I thought the voicemail was going to cut the call short, I heard someone pick up on the other end.

“Hey, Doc,” Scott answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Scott,” I said. “You need to get to the animal clinic now. Derek’s dying.”  

There was a momentary pause of confusion. “Serena? Why are you calling me from the clinic? What’s going on?”

I walked back over to Derek and handed him the phone. “It’s Scott.”

“Listen to me carefully,” said Derek. “You need to get me the bullet, or I’m as good as dead.”

“What are you talking about? What bullet?” I heard Scott say.

I paced around the room, trying to keep my anxiety in check. I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt so affected. It’s not like Derek and I were friends. So why did the thought of him dying suddenly seem so unbearable? I could no longer stand to look at Derek. The infection was running its course, eating him from the inside out. He had begun to resemble a rotting corpse. I turned my back to him and focused my attention to the desolate road outside the window, trying to flush out any and all thoughts of death from my mind. I bit my lip, hoping that Scott would walk through the door any second now and save the day, just like he always did.

“Last night when I was looking for Peter… the Argents were there,” Derek explained. “Kate shot me with a bullet laced with wolfsbane. It’s causing some sort of infection that’ll kill me once it reaches my heart. That bullet is the only antidote.”

“Okay, I’m on it. But, uh, do you happen to know what it looks like?” asked Scott.

Derek didn’t reply. I turned around just as he fell sideways onto the floor. The phone slid out of his grasp and across the room. I heard Scott begin to panic over the line. 

“Scott, hurry!” I yelled, loud enough so he could hear. 

I dropped down on my knees next to Derek and gently patted him on the cheek, urging him to wake up, but he remained unconscious. I pressed my ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat, but I heard nothing but silence. My own heart hammered in my ribcage and tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

“You’re not dying on me, you bastard,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had managed to escape from the corner of my eyes.

I placed the heel of my hand in the center of his chest and began doing chest compressions. After thirty compressions, I lowered my lips down onto his, giving him two rescue breaths. I was surprised by how soft and warm his lips felt against mine. I continued administering steady compressions, but there was no sign of resuscitation.

I stopped and stared at his lifeless body. I refused to let him fade away just like that, but I had no idea what else to do. Scott would have figured something out; he always did. But I wasn’t Scott.

I felt so small, so useless.

So defeated.

Derek jerked abruptly, gasping for air. His eyes fluttered open and scanned the room until they met mine. I flashed a small smile and gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance. I helped him up to a sitting position on the floor.

He tipped his head back against the wall and gave a low groan. “I know you thought you lost me there for a minute, but trust me. I don’t go so easily.”

I managed a soft laugh. “I know.”

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

What seemed like an eternity later, Scott finally strolled through the front door of the clinic with Stiles in tow, holding a small golden bullet in his hand. He crouched down next to Derek, who took the bullet immediately and screwed off the tip to release its contents. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit the wolfsbane on fire. Ignited, it emitted a dark blue smoke, which irritated my nasal passages. I set my discomfort aside and focused my attention on Derek, who gathered the ashes into his hand and rubbed them onto his wound. He let out a sharp roar of pain that lasted several seconds, but he healed almost instantaneously. I let out an audible sigh of relief which seemed to go unnoticed by all the boys in the room.

Scott extended his hand and helped Derek up. He still looked a little worse for wear, but the rosy hue of his cheeks was starting to return. The eyebags were gone, leaving behind the olive green eyes that were once again fixed into a hard stare.

“Glad you’re okay, man. I’ll see you around,” Scott told Derek.

Stiles mumbled under his breath. “Hopefully not anytime soon.”

Derek shook Scott’s hand firmly-- an expression of silent gratitude.

Scott and Stiles walked past me toward the front door. Just when I thought Scott was about to walk out, he turned and walked back, stopping in front of me. He gave me a bear hug and kissed my right temple. 

“I’ll see you at home.” He pulled away and walked outside to Stiles’ Jeep. I was about to walk out myself when I heard Derek call my name. I whipped my head around to face him and found him looking at me with those sharp, penetrating eyes. There was an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Why did you do it?” He asked me softly.

“Do what?” But I knew exactly what he meant.

“Save me.”

I felt my pulse quicken and my cheeks heat up. I looked down at my feet and cleared my throat. I hated the thought of potentially stumbling over my words after one small sign of attention from Derek Hale. After a few counts I finally mustered up the courage to look up again. He was still staring.

“I never got the chance to say thank you,” I told him. “For risking your life on the night of my first full moon. You saved me.”

He took this into consideration. “Well, I didn’t do it--”

“For me?” I asked. “I know.” I recognized deep down why Derek did what he did that night, but it hurt much more to admit it out loud. “I know that you did it for Scott, and that’s okay. I know his alliance is important to you.”

He opened his mouth to protest. “That’s not what I was--”

I suddenly felt hyper aware of how ridiculous I sounded trying to explain myself to him. The warm, fuzzy feeling of attraction was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a hollow emptiness and a fiery desire to get the hell away from here-- from him.

“A life for a life, Derek,” I stated bluntly. “You saved my life, and now I’ve saved yours. Don’t read too much into it. I was simply returning the favor.”

Without so much as a goodbye, I turned on my heel and walked out into the cold autumn night. Every fiber of my body wanted to look back, to fetch for some sort of reaction, but I couldn’t go down that path. Not with Derek. I knew better than that.

I needed to be better than that.

TAGS

@broco8​

@slytherinrising​

[slasher-smasher]

16 yrs old

Sinclair Twins x Reader

A huge thank you to the wonderful @thesightstoshowyou for beta reading my mess. I know I just posted the first one, I just have a lot in my head and want to get it down. Thank you for those who are reading, really makes my day. This one is a bit longer. Other parts here: 8 yrs, 19 yrs pt1, 19 pt2\

Warnings: none

Today was a beautiful day. There were no clouds in the bright blue sky, and the trees swished with the caress of an unusually cool breeze that blew through the town of Ambrose.

You were walking toward the station and laughing with friends you made while visiting your Uncle over the summer. Your parents have been fighting more at the most ridiculous things, so you relish the time you get to run away to the busy town.

“There’r drinks at the station we can ‘ave,” you say while wiping the sweat off your forehead.

As your little group enters the blissfully cool garage, you pass your uncle who was currently tucked underneath the body of an off-yellow vehicle.

“Hey Grumps, can we git some soda from the cooler?” You squat down next to him so you can hear him better.

“Sure, don’t care,” the muffled grumble replied, “Er, that Sinclair boy left gifts for ya’ earlier. Sumthin’ ‘bout yer birthday. It’s in my office.” You stand with a puzzled look on your face.

“Sinclair boy? No way it was Vinny. He never leaves the museum.” You ponder while walking to the small office that was tucked into the back. Looking at the desk you find the “gifts,” and let out a short laugh. One was of a poorly whittled wooden rabbit. Or, at least, you think it’s a rabbit.

“Oh Lester,” you sigh with a smile on your face. Next was a wax sculpture of a moth. The figure itself was unnerving in the usual Vincent fashion that just made you love it even more. The moth’s wings have the image of a woman’s face. It was a joke from when you embarrassed yourself when hanging out with Vincent in the House of Wax.

You moved some old papers and let out the highest pitched squeal when a large moth fluttered at your face from being disturbed. You tripped over the chair that was behind you. There was no noise but you could see Vincent’s shoulders shake from his place by the piano, his eye shining with amusement.

“Oh shut it! The damn thing tried to jump on my face!” You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but you were happy that the normally stoic man was laughing. A voice that sent chills down your spine broke you out of reminiscing.

“Ya gunna pay fer that?”

‘Oh no,’ you panicked as you gathered the gifts and raced out of the room.

You come into the sight of your friends protesting and saying Y/N gave them the drinks. The eldest Sinclair himself leans against a yellow car that looks like he was working on judging by the grease on his coveralls and cheek. His arms are crossed over his chest, pale eyes set in a frown.

“Bo Sinclair, quit bein’ an ass! Ya’ know Grumps lets me ‘ave some drinks.” You stomped right up in front of the young mechanic, clutching the figures to your chest. He was a whole foot taller than you, so the intimidating effect from your friends’ point of view was a bit washed out.

As Bo looked down at your face, then the sculptures.

He straightened and grabbed your jaw in a firm grip with his right hand, rough from the engineering he likes to study.

The touch making a dream you had flash like lightning behind your eyes of the way his hands caressed your skin and how you awoke breathless, angry, and slick.

His lips slid into a smirk that made you want to slap it off…or maybe run your tongue across it.

‘Fuck off hormones!’ you scolded.

“How was I supposed to know they were with you Prince/Princess?” he asked in that condescending way of his. The blood in your cheeks boiled. You would never admit nor understand why this bastard of a man gets under your skin so easily.

“I told you not to call me that,” you gritted out through your teeth not taking your eyes off his blues that now shined with glee. Oh, how he loves revving you up.

Bo was just about to make a retort that would make you want to break his handsome face when your Uncle yells, “Boy! Git the fuck over ‘ere and help me with this tin can. What am I payin’ ya’ fer?”

Bo closes his eyes and growls under his breath. When he opens them, they are a darker shade, the same shade as when he is angry.

“Another time, sweet cheeks,” he winks as he caresses your cheek with his thumb before he letting go and turning to lean over the hood while your uncle is under. He acts as if you two weren’t surrounded by tension so thick you can suffocate on it.

“Yer still on the fucking fan belt? Damn it old man let me do it.”

“Prick,” you huff and turn to your two friends who seemed like they were frozen, “Let’s go, ya’ll. I want ter see them new puppies they got.” The offer of cooing over cute things seems to perk them up and the chatter and laughter resumed as you all exited the garage.

As you leave you can feel the red-hot burn of Bo’s eyes crawling up your legs and body. Mainly, your ass.

‘Nope, not looking.’ You force yourself to face forward, not at the stormy eyes that follow you as you walk to the pet store down the street. You did your best to ignore the tingling on your face where he touched you.

Later, you find yourself lounging on some dusty couch under the House of Wax where Vincent usually works on his art and spends most of his time. You were facing the ceiling, lost in thought, arms draped over the back, legs crossed at the ankles. The candle that Vincent had for a light source bathed your skin in a warm glow. All you could hear was the scrape of a pencil over the paper as Vincent sketched in his book.

You were thinking about something one of your friends said while you were gushing over the tiny puppies.

“Hey, are ya and Bo together?” she had asked while cuddling a wiggling puppy to her chest. You let out a sharp bark of laughter and shook your head violently.

“With that jerk? Hell no. Most of the time I wanna bop him in the nose whenever he opens his mouth.” You giggled as you watched the pup you were giving attention nibble on your fingers.

“Yeh, but ya’ basically grew up wit them Sinclairs and even went ter the funeral. You guys must be close righ’?” asked your other friend. The mention of Trudy and Victor’s funeral made you sad, though it didn’t show on your face.

You had mixed feelings about it. They weren’t the best of parents; God knows you know firsthand with your own. But you were saddened about how it all ended; Trudy getting sick, and poor Dr. Sinclair. Despair, like a black viscous goo consuming every good thing in your life, swallows you up too. They all deserved better.

You remember when you saw Vincent, Bo, and Lester all standing in front of the casket, heads bowed in their black suits. Lester, being at the age of seven, only knew that his Momma and Pa are gone, too young to grasp the concepts of sickness and heartbreak.

Vincent was, as usual, stiff, and with his mask on you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. You wanted to comfort and embrace them, but what made your heart feel like it was constricted by fishing wire was Bo. His hands were balled into fists, his face pinched like he was going to scream any second. One would think he would start throwing things, but it was his eyes that gave it away. The watery bright blue eyes that were looking at the face of his mother and jailer.

You have never seen them that clear blue before. A dark, stormy ocean seemed to permanently take residence in his eyes, but not that day. You will never understand the relationship the boys had with their parents, the twisted love they had. Hopefully, the neighbors who volunteered to take them in will fill the gaping hole that has been created.

You doubt it.

The scrape of a chair on the floor made you blink. Lifting your head, you watch Vincent get up from the desk and stand in front of a small block of wax that will soon be transformed into a creature born from the man’s dark imagination. His head cocked to the side as if debating what to do. His midnight hair that is getting longer every year brushed over his right shoulder. Getting up from the couch, you groaned at feeling of the small pops when you stretched.

‘God, how long was I zoned out?’ you thought. Walking behind him, you bit into your bottom lip in hesitation. You knew you had a bit of a crush on the quiet and probably emotionally stunted artist. He was so much better to deal with than that bastard of a twin of his.

‘Ah fuck it,’ you thought, then proceeded to wrap your arms around Vincent who stiffened like he’d been electrocuted.

“I never thanked you for the moth. It’s lovely,” you whispered into his shoulder blades as you laid your head on the middle of his back. He was still like a statue and you started to get worried you overstepped, about to let go when you felt him relax and squeeze your fingers once with his soft warm hands, the total opposite of Bo’s. A soft raspy, “Welcome,” could barely be heard.

You let go and step next to him, tilting your head to see his good eye. You always felt naked when that light blue eye was on you. You did not see any expression in them, just a cold emptiness.

“It was a monster of a moth by the way. I nearly escaped death.” You grinned as you saw him roll his eye in exasperation, “Also, Lester is gunna cut his fingers off wit those knives of his. He’s just thirteen. Where is he gettin’ all those damn things?” Vincent just shrugged and picked up some tools from the tray and proceeded to make his next creation. You huffed and walked back to the couch and ungracefully plopped onto it, content to watch him work in silence.