#But i kinda doubt jt. >>

[theunintentionallyawesomeone]

Ok, spoilers for episode 5 but something I liked, especially after all that happened in 4, was the scene with Husk confronting Alastor about Mimzy.

I will admit that, after ep. 4, I was having a hard time seeing Husk's situation with the same gravity as Angel's.

Of course, it sucks to be under the thumb of someone much more powerful than you and be at their beck and call, but I didn't see how Alastor treated Husk being nearly as bad as how Valintino was treating Angel. Their relationship wasn't healthy but it didn't seem as bad.

But that scene? That changed it.

Husk's situation with Alastor is just as toxic and abusive, just like Angel and Valentino, albeit in a different way.

Both Alastor and Valentino see their respective victims as objects, something they own and can profit from. Angel and Husk are tools to them, not people or lovers or friends.

Because of that, Husk nor Angel can call out negative behavior of their abusers without dire consequences.

When Husk criticized Alastor and made a dig in retaliation to being belittled, Alastor responded threateningly as a reminder to his "pet" that he has the power to put Husk down if he wanted to.

It really cemented to me that Alastor doesn't view Husk as anymore than an attack dog cat on a choke chain.

[scrybe-of-death]

ok yeah the sh4tt3rg1rl tag is really beginning to bother me can we get some new ideas comin in

[stereopticons]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tags (and the distraction), @kiwiana-writes and @filet-o-feelings!

1. How many works do you have an AO3? 96!

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 358,657

3. What fandoms do you write for? Primarily Schitt’s Creek and RWRB. I have 2 911 WIPs that I’ll probably never finish and one 911/SC crossover threesome fic that I do kinda want to finish but I don’t see myself writing for that fandom regularly.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the lie between your teeth (Schitt’s Creek)

if i’m not beyond repair (Schitt’s Creek)

never knew a home until I found your hands (RWRB)

love you in moderation (do I look moderate to you?) (Schitt’s Creek)

so bitter and so sweet (Schitt’s Creek)

So basically, angst, angst, smut, smut, and a coffeeshop au

5. Do you respond to comments? Always, eventually! I’m just really, really slow.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably the SC MCD fic lol

(we’ll always long for) one more song

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Basically all the others? Obviously there are some that are just tooth-rotting fluff the whole way through but I kind of feel like the lie between your teeth feels like the happiest payoff

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not lately. It could be that I haven’t been writing much though.

9. Do you write smut? I have been told that filth and feelings is my trademark (also btw I have not given up on kinktober, it’s just slow going)

10. Do you write crossovers? I have! I wrote a pre-canon SC/Crazy Ex-Girlfriend crossover (twist yourself around me) and there’s the above mentioned threesome fic that maybe I’ll get around to finishing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not a whole fic, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I haven’t, but might be open to it if someone asked.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! (B)13 Reasons Why with @blackandwhiteandrose and parallax with @indestructibleheart. Always open to more collabs!

(What happened to 14? Why is there no question? This is only 19 questions!)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Well, you see, I’m very stubborn and mostly refuse to give up on any of the wips even though realistically I know they won’t all get finished. I don’t think I will finish the 911 wips I mentioned before but that’s more because I don’t want to anymore.

16. What are your writing strengths? Idk man, I guess I’m pretty good at feelings? I am really struggling with writing lately so I don’t know how to answer this.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Getting words on the page? Having any original takes? I guess plot and the interstitial stuff like dialogue tags and transitions?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If the character speaks a language other than English, I think it’s fine but definitely run it by a speaker of that language if you don’t know jt.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Rent

20. Favourite fics you've written? This is so hard to answer but I think today it’s shine like silver, the David was a talented pianist as a child canon divergence.

Tagging @hippolotamus @blackandwhiteandrose @indestructibleheart @rosedavid @blueeyedgrlwrites and anyone else who wants to play

[thorneytowers333]

thorney towers shoes thoughts (please bare with me

boyds shoes are honestly very plain. the rest of his outfit probablt says the rest of his design overall but the shoes are simply just shoes (also shes bery cute look at her)

we never actually see glorias shoes, but we can observe her dress! i find it interesting how it seems she painted it herself alongside the dirt nd grass rhat has combed to it. poor girl

fred probat has the most interesting shoes that fit the rest of his design; even if jts just two differently colored sandals. over where i live, wearing two kinds of shoes often meant youre lazy.. although i suppose it can be seen as fred and napoleon. but thats very much a reach

although edgars shoes dont seem like much, theres little hearts on each side! it reminds me of his jacket and how decorated it is; alongside them being little hearts :]

crispin so far actually has the nicest looking shoes but his pants feel kindaaa. emo-ish. doubt that was even the intent but he'd give off the gibe of dressing well if that makes sense

sheegor has the cutest shoes! they kinda feel like bear paws on the bottom, but they are pretty much boots (they also look pretty big, alongside the ovenmits she wears). she seems to be mayching with pokeylope too :]

[longeyelashedtragedy]

tbh did not send the Lamps chara ask (shy) however I was seriously considering and someone beat me to it. if you feel like it and have time/energy after the others pending then I would massively enjoy expanded Redders thoughts. and/or JT if you like vintage Chels beyond Frank. ik that the skipper (derogatory) corrupted Grealo but he no doubt sunk claws into Frank first

i can definitely do redders for ya! JT i don't know too much about. i know he has some controversies, but that ain't my business lol. i appreciate how he made franko feel and i'm intersted in how the 2 of them have taken different paths both about how they act toward each other and how they talk about roman abramovich post-ukraine war 😂 (would love to hear more about how he corrupted grealo.) BUT. jamie i've got a lot more to say about.

i feel like if you read jamie's odd autobiography and then think of him through that lens, he's a real diamond in the rough of a fascinating footballer. he seems kinda brainless and vapid but i think some of that is because he has too much going on in his brain to use it for that sort of thought. i don't even mean that as a diss. that's a real thing!!! but let's see...

favorite thing about them: well, he certainly seems unpretentious and easy to talk to, which i like. has some good taste in music, is still close to his parents, always takes franko's side and defends him 😂

so, this next part seems like a weird thing to list as a "favorite," as i'm sad he suffers or has suffered in this way, but out of all the things i've read about mental health, both fiction and non-fiction, jamie's book described some of my specific childhood/teenage Horrors so well it was like i wrote it and i was so surprised that he went through all that and admitted it so unselfconsciously. that combination of talented kid with an idyllic life (this was me, albeit in other ways than jamie lol) who lives in this private world of pure fear. some of the things he mentions, like having to paint his room cheerful yellow to ward off Bad Thoughts and Scary things, and being so afraid when he saw the exorcist as a teenager that he slept with the lights on and couldn't get the movie out of his head for weeks--the isolating strength of these kinds of fears is sooooo fuckin real man. he also describes needing to watch the same movie every day for comfort when he got home from school where he got bullied and teased for being a little different, and his attachments to his toys that he'd have to do little rituals with every day to help him feel Calm, and how he took them to school to try to make friends and kids stole them :( he also describes his older self as having something Dark inside him, like when his close friends would become occupied with a girlfriend, he'd kind of freak out and try to get in the way, because he was afraid of losing their support.

his book also describes very sinister perceptions of the external world too, a lot of kind of scary or just ominous scenarios drift through the book (a creep that tried to grab him in the park, the scary, dark corridors under dean court stadium when his Daddy was in charge of bournemouth--i related to that too--, rumors of some weird creep working at tottenham when they wanted to sign young him?)

i apologize if this is repetitive to anyone reading but i had some very particular Problems as a kid and i've just never seen some of them articulated the way jamie articulates them. and i just found all this so...fascinating. i think it explains a lot about his adult self and provides such a contrast between him and brainy franko (see headcanons section!)

least favorite thing about them: he cut his hair and has a beard! i'm predictable--if a footballer had long hair and now doesn't, this will be my response. otherwise, what's there really to dislike? he's kind of inoffensive imho

favorite line: uh a few

"Frank Lampard has a vision for seeing things." (i-hope he actually said that for real)

from his book:

and, for the "franko was too old when he was young" headcanons:

oookay then, anyway:

brotp: idk, who does he hang out with? i like his interactions with the guys on ALOTO even though his main feature is clearly to be the punching bag. maybe with stevie g? with Daddy-Uncle Harry? lmao

notp: his new wife. at first they didn't look as miserable together as he and poor Louise always did, but he just posted a video from their maldives vacation today, and woof--she looks miserable. well, i'm not here for blonde scandinavian models and i think jamie is too childish to do well in a Grownup Married Relationship. again, kind of like with franko, i don't mean childish like... "spoiled entitled manbrat" or "hasn't lost joie de vivre"--more like. is trapped as kid because of his own mind. i think if a therapist saw only jamie and franko as clients, and no one else, they'd be set for life

otp: well...there can be only one. i'd love for jamie & franko to give romeo + juliet their happy ending 😭 they are weirdly...made for each other. and hey--according to the internet it's legal! 🫡👮🏼

random headcanon: so many! lampardverse is sort of all about Jamie in a sense, and i think as a child Jamie so very much appreciated the solid steady presence of his younger cousin. franko's psychological issues are of a very different nature lol, plus we know he's a master of repression (can relate) and we imagine that he'd help jamie with his homework and read him chapters of the narnia book, and eat the food jamie refused to eat.

another one is that jamie is super dependent on his Well-Known Dad. they do a lot of stuff together and idk on ALOTO one of the main purposes seems to get jamie overwhelmed and stressed--because he gets like that very easily--so it feels like Uncle Harry's presence is just. very necessary for him.

fascin8ing! YMMV.

unpopular opinion: i don't think i have one? are there popular or unpopular opinions on jamie redknapp? hahaha

a song i associate with them: hmmm, not really any? i do have him singing shimmy shimmy ya by ODB at franko in "red red red" lol. but i don't really count that 😂

favorite picture of them: let's do a few!

gay af behaviors (affectionate)

whump tendencies

bougie gay cou-- (cousins? couple? choose your own adventure)

THANKS for coming along on this wild ride!

[thatiranianphantom]

what's your opinion on the 6x22 jabitha scene?? their entire future together because imo it seems extremely suspicious they had them go through their whole lives together like that as if they don't plan on them lasting which I always felt anyways tbh!! I had a friend of mine tell me they thought that scene solidified jabitha endgame because IMHO it did the exact opposite!! jabitha are a very poor imitation of bughead only not nearly as amazing and perfect! they tried but failed to make them anything like bughead, jabitha are the most boring couple ever, after tangs! I was just wondering what your opinion was on it because the very few jabitha shippers I've seen think their endgame because of it ugh sorry not sorry but bughead will always be the best ship of this show, same with varchie they can't erase them no matter how hard they try or replace them!! sorry for bothering you btw <3

Hello love, you're not bothering me! I'm going to refer to them as JT in this, just so that it stands a chance of not showing up in the tag for the maybe 4 shippers.

Okay, so I guess continuing JT is theoretically possible as much as anything else in s7? But I have some severe doubts. Number one, Tabitha is and was a historically unpopular character, and JT is an incredibly unpopular ship. This isn't a bias thing, this is actual facts. Numerically, statistically, JT is a really really bad idea. That's to say nothing of the fact that the actors look like they're being forced to interact at gunpoint.

(Sidenote: how-do, Melinda! For your sake I hope it takes you more than 5 minutes to find and reblog this. And you should probably consider removing your full name from some of your socials. Just an aside.)

Anyway, could they return to s6 or keep the JT going in S7? I guess, but it's been to the detriment of both characters, who have really nosedived in popularity because of JT. Then we have to consider if they did, what story would there be to continue? Life with the JT kids? BA planning their wedding? Percival is gone, the comet has hit, the couples were wrapped up with a neat little bow, in all seriousness, what story is there to return to?

Then we get into Tabitha's role this season. The line she got in the description was very 👀 , as is the fact that she's hardly been seen in BTS this season. Making her an angel talking to Jughead makes her plot entirely contingent on his, and per RAS, we know that he kinda settles into the 50s thing at the end of the first episode. Again, this is all spec, but given her unpopularity, and given how much they need to keep this season to things that work, I do wonder if she is very sporadically in the season or only in the first episode. Who knows really, but is JT a thing I am worried about? Nah, not really.

(Also, thanks for mentioning Tangs, one of the most genuinely hilarious parts of last season. Without hyperbole, a couple with zero fans, I about died laughing when they were on screen. Chemistry comparable to JT, acting skills minimal to none, compatibility nonexistent, married on a lie. Ah, sweet love.)

Hope this helps!

[oraclemoontarot]

for reals the other thing im seeing lots of in recent times is idols being more open to foreigners in their ideal types and obviously not a huge amount but if you exclude a lot of foreign korean mix idols then its still quite a number who are more keen on foreigners and im quite surprised really because knetz sort of are the driving force of these groups yet I still see international fans act as delusional and cringey as knetz in terms of wanting to be especially jks fs. whoever jks future spouse is better thank her lucky stars that shes not famous. if she was famous i think people wouldve sussed her out by now yet im kinda concerned ik its daft but imagine her or him being normal then thrown into the spotlight? why? because they dating jk and now have to deal with both jks lifestyle sasaengs and other crazy ppl. she gotta soak up the privacy before they meet cause i want them to meet but all hell gonna break loose.

I think thats kind of the mad part of the idol scene in general tbh. You dont quite know how some ppl are gonna react and sadly I think for some idols its going to be dramatic especially when jt comes to their partners. theres no doubt some idols are far more spoken about than other members which i find interesting too like what makes one idol stand out so much more than other members? for instance i havent seen a huge trend of asks for jins fs occasional but its mostly jk jimin and v!

That's so interesting. I'm not sure if this is true or not, but I've noticed that idols who have a more endearing, soft, or cute persona tend to have the more deluded fans - or those who are the most objectively attractive with a 'quiet' attractiveness if that makes sense. Like, jk, jimin, and v are endearing with cute and humorous personalities and v is objectively the most attractive. Plus they're younger so would appeal to younger fans who tend to be more delusional, which comes from a place of naivety. It's also fan culture that could play a part. Each idol has their own respective fanbase. For example, jks fans could act different to jin's fans etc.

I see that though - in terms of idols being more open about foreigners as their types. This is also a generational thing. Younger people tend to move further from previous generations and can be more 'open-minded' when it comes to certain things - mainly due to the internet now at least. South Koreans are being exposed to more foreigners nowadays (where their parents and grandparents may not have come across nearly as many foreigners, with South Korea being a mono-ethnic country) due to the popularity of their country and culture, especially if they live in or near touristy places like Seoul, Busan or Jeju. Idols are also interacting more with international fans after increased global popularity of kpop since covid, on top of fancalls etc. If idols are interested in western pop culture too, just like kpop fans are interested in Korean pop culture, they could also be more open to such things.

These are just some of my thoughts that feel more so like speculations - or a jumbled yap pls 😭

Also, knetz get a bad rep but I feel like it is the minority. Negative comments or news are always the most popular as usual. I have Korean friends from school who later became fans of kpop and they're quite chill and far from delusional. Plus, kpop basically runs on and feeds into delusion - it's their whole concept of making the idols appear 'available' and familiar. Hence why dating for idols is essentially taboo unlike with western artists.

[this-should-do]

i think i might genuinely be a genius for using "gordon" "freeman" to refer to different aspects of gordon and using "gordon freeman" to refer when the two aspects are functioning in tandem i feel so smart for it, i hope it comes across as impactful and clear for readers as i hope lol

[noisy-weasel]

I think the problem with daenerys stans is that they think her "good" end could have ever happened in Westeros. If dany ever does cross the narrow sea in the books, there's no chance she has a happy ending. Her going crazy is inevitable. The only way she has a chance of a good end is if she stays in essos. Essos has been her home for the majority of her life, she likes the people there and feels their struggles as her own. Plus, the targaryen dragonlords were born in essos, in old valyria. Westeros is nothing to her but an obligation, and if she becomes queen the targaryen line is dead with her anyways since she is barren. Her only chance of a good happy ending, is in essos.

[youngjaaes]

.

[writethrough]

Hi, how are you. Can I request a Malcolm Bright imagine. Reader is kinda like a female Sherlock Holmes or an member of behavioral analysis unit from criminal minds…… Angst to fluff….

thank you

Little Parts

(Malcolm Bright x Female Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse, death, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 3315

A/N: Thank you for this request! I chose to go the BAU route. Though I didn't necessarily mention Criminal Minds, I do use the lingo. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I definitely did not expect my OC Nancy to have as big of a presence as she does. I do think I need to work on my angst. I love reading it, but writing it is a different story. I hope you enjoy it!

Nancy Whitmore had murdered six people: five women and the husband who came home early and found his wife mid-abduction. Two shots to the chest, the first time Nancy ever used the gun she held to force the women to come with her.

Those two gunshots were what started this all. Nancy had panicked and fled with the wife, not worrying about the scene she left behind.

When the NYPD connected this to the other missing women, they called you. As skillful as Gil and his team were, your expertise would be invaluable.

And it was. So invaluable, in fact, that Nancy Whitmore knew she had to do something.

—

The bullpen was abuzz with every available person preparing for tonight. Nancy had escalated since word got out that a profiler had joined the investigation. And if you were right, there would be another victim before midnight. You had to get her before then.

“We know she stays within this area,” Gil said, tapping a marker in the circle he drew. “And we’ve released a statement telling everyone to stay indoors when it’s dark.”

“Staying home isn’t going to prevent our unsub from kidnapping who she wants,” you said. “We’ve seen her murder outside of her preference when cornered. I doubt that’s changed.”

“Everyone else is just a means to an end,” Malcolm said.

You nodded.

It hadn’t taken long for you to figure out these women represented Nancy’s mother. From what you gathered, Mrs. Whitmore ruled her household with an iron fist. No one, her husband or her children, was safe from the abuse she inflicted.

Nancy’s father protected Nancy from his wife, but once he died, Nancy had to step up and protect her younger brother. The brother's death at the tragic age of twenty-five was the catalyst for all of Nancy’s crimes.

“As long as Nancy feels the need to protect others from her mother, it doesn’t matter who gets in her way. Nothing's going to stop her from reaching that goal,” you said, rubbing your temple.

“What I don’t understand is how she can’t remember that her mother is dead.” JT’s frustration was evident.

“She’s blocked so much out. Her brother’s passing triggered her, and the only explanation she could come up with was that her mother murdered him,” you explained. Nancy’s brother died in a freak accident at his job. A cable snapped at the construction zone, and that’s all it took for his life to be taken. Nancy’s trauma filled in the blanks and then some. She thought her mother had returned or that she didn't actually die, and Nancy had to do the one thing she’s been doing since she was thirteen��survive.

“We need to figure out where she is. We have patrol cars at every address of hers, but not one of them has seen her.” Gil dragged both hands down his face.

“It’s getting late. What if Nancy already has her next victim?” Dani asked.

“It’s possible,” you said. “But even with Nancy's escalations, she follows a pattern. She grabs them once it’s dark, not before, and she keeps them alive for three days. She has to follow that.”

“I hate to say this, but if worse comes to worst, we have seventy-two hours to find her and the vic,” JT said.

You nodded, stifling a yawn.

Gil gave you an empathetic look. “I know we still have a ways to go, but none of us will be any help if we don’t get some sleep.” He paused, scanning the four of you. “We’ll take shifts. Some of us should be here if anything happens.”

“I’ll stay,” Malcolm said.

You weren’t surprised. It didn’t take a profiler to know Malcolm Bright was an insomniac.

“Me too,” Dani said. “Go tuck your kid in.” She nodded to JT, who gave her a grateful smile.

“Alright, you two, go home. I’ll call you if we hear anything.” Gil gestured for you to leave.

You were about to protest when Malcolm cut in.

“We’ll be fine.” He leveled you with a look. “You’ve been going since you landed two weeks ago. A few hours of rest will only help us catch our suspect sooner.”

You sighed, knowing he and Gil were right.

“Fine,” you said. The clock read 8 PM. “But I’ll be back here by midnight.”

A bit more than three hours should be a good enough power nap.

Malcolm gave you a gentle smile. “Wouldn’t have expected anything different.”

—

You and Malcolm had taken to each other like fish to water.

You had arrived at the crime scene and met everyone except Malcolm, who had been running late.

Edrisa had finished her preliminary evaluation when he walked up to you, speaking to anyone who would listen about his theory on how the vic ended up here. Every part was pretty plausible, but one.

“Everything about our killer is tactful. She doesn’t let her anger get the best of her because she can’t afford to. There’s more at stake for her,” you said.

It was like you pulled him back to reality. His brow furrowed, and he finally registered that you were new.

“She?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Like I said, I don’t see anger when I look at this woman’s wounds. I don’t even see pleasure. How many male serial killers do you know that you can say that about?”

Malcolm couldn’t help but think about his father. The person who took more pleasure in his work than anyone he knew.

“SSA (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand.

He gave you his name. You didn’t bat an eye. It made him think—hope—you had no idea who he was. It was a day later that hope came crashing down.

“You know who my father is?” His eyes widened, a pang resounding in his heart.

You shrugged. “Course I do. Did you really think I wouldn’t read up on the team I’d be consulting with?”

“Well, no. I just thought maybe you’d focus on the case more.” Malcolm couldn’t look you in the eyes. And your heart went out to him. He’d probably been judged by his father’s actions his entire life.

“We’re not our parents, Malcolm,” you said gently. “If we were, I’d be a cheating accountant or a bitter middle school teacher.”

“Those are two very different professions from dear-old Dad,” he said.

“Yeah, they are, but the point is everyone has a shitty little part of themselves that they keep hidden. And some of us do a better job than others.”

“And what shitty little part are you hiding?” He tried to disguise it as a joke. However, he also desperately wanted to know the truth. He wanted to know if maybe, just maybe, you were a little like him.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

—

The taxi to Dani’s apartment dropped you off a block away. Traffic in the city was no joke, and you weren’t about to pay to sit in line for who knows how long.

You and Dani had attended the academy together. When she found out you’d be consulting with them, she offered you a place to stay. The problem was she only had one key, and you’d typically carpool to and from the precinct.

Pulling out your phone, you clicked on her number.

“Everything okay?” She greeted you, concerned.

“Yeah, but I may have to pick the lock to your door,” you said, trying to remember if you had a bobby pin in your bag.

“Shit. I completely forgot.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve kinda been focusing on more important things,” you said. 

“I can run it over to you. We haven’t gotten any calls yet, and it’s not like my place is far,” she said.

“That’d be great. It’s been a minute since I had to break in somewhere,” you joked.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” Her voice sounded like she was facing the other direction, but you still caught it. “Everything’s fine. She forgot to take my key.”

There was a brief silence as whoever responded, and then she was back.

“Your boyfriend’s concern is touching, but you should tell him to cool it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My boyfriend?”

“Malcolm.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing.

Unconsciously, you caught the steps of someone jogging behind you and moved to the right out of their way.

“Malcolm and I are just friends,” you said, thankful to be alone as heat surfaced to your cheeks.

“Yeah, and what about the dumb smiles and little glances you give each other,” Dani asked. You could hear her smirk through the phone.

“I don’t give him dumb smi—”

—

The unmistakable crack of metal hitting something bounced through Dani’s head as she rushed back to the precinct. Everyone had returned and convened in the conference room after she had called them.

Malcolm paced as he ran through everything they knew about Nancy.

She abducts women from their homes, taking them away from the place they have power. Three days later, the women are found beside dumpsters, handcuffed. It was Nancy’s way of handing over her mother to the police. Deep down, she believed she was helping.

Malcolm shook his head. That didn’t make sense for you. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you. The only hope Malcolm had was where you were abducted outside of Dani’s apartment—outside of your temporary home.

The clock was ticking, except they didn’t know how long the timer was set for.

They had to find you.

Malcolm had to find you.

—

Nancy paced in front of you. She hadn’t said a word. You weren’t entirely sure she knew you were awake.

By the looks of the beams of light pouring through the slats of wood, it was early morning. You’d been out for a few hours. Hopefully, the team had a decent start on finding you.

Your arms were cuffed behind your back, and the metal chair you sat on dug into your biceps. Nancy had even tied your ankles to the legs.

You had to find a way out. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you—to you or to a potential victim.

She was unraveling, and you had to make it seem like you understood her. You had to stay calm. She had to think you were on her side. If at any point she felt threatened, you’d be done.

“Why did you have to get in the way?” She mumbled it as if to herself, then repeated it louder, frustration baring her teeth.

“I was asked to,” you said, trying to make yourself smaller.

She had to believe she was in control.

She rubbed her face roughly. “You could’ve said no. You should’ve stayed away! But you had to stick your nose into family business! She’s gonna hurt someone because of you!”

Angry tears lined her eyes. You made sure to look down in shame. You had to make her think you were submitting.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you whispered.

She stepped closer until you could smell her breath.

“I don’t believe you.”

You didn’t see her raise her hand, but you felt the searing heat of the bullet rip through you.

—

“What if she’s already dead, Gil!” Malcolm asked, staring at the man, willing him to see that they had to find you.

“You know you can’t think like that,” Gil responded. “(Y/N) is a seasoned agent. She’s been trained for this. You need to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

“It’s not (Y/N) that I don’t trust. Nancy has deviated so far from her usual targets. There’s no telling what she’s done or will do to her.”

“Fine. You’re right, but panicking won't help (Y/N). You need to take a deep breath and work this case with the rest of us. Got it?” Gil was leaning forward, hands on his desk and eyes pleading with Malcolm.

He’d finally nodded after exhaling loudly through his nose.

“Good. Now tell me why Nancy is doing all this," Gil said slowly, urging Malcolm to do what he did best.

—

The pain in your shoulder made it harder to concentrate.

You weren’t sure if she meant to hit you there, and that thought didn’t comfort you. Nancy was spiraling, making your stomach churn at the possibility of not getting you or her out alive.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she had whispered as she wrapped your shoulder. She had said that so many times you were starting to repeat it in your mind. You had begun to believe it, and then she did this. She showed you a little light that maybe she wasn’t that far gone.

Maybe you could still help her.

—

They were so close.

They’d been able to piece together where Nancy was keeping her victims. And they were on their way, sirens off so as not to scare her.

You had to be alive. Malcolm didn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t.

The small shed they arrived at looked ready to collapse.

After Gil announced their presence, you appeared out the door. Nancy followed, gun pressed to your head.

“She needs to be stopped!” Nancy cried.

“Your mother is dead, Nancy! She’s gone. You’re safe,” Malcolm said, keeping his voice calm.

“No! She’s not! She keeps coming back!” Hysteria crept into her tone. You had to do something.

“Nancy,” you said. “I promise, if you let me go and go with them, they will get you help. You’ll never see your mother again.”

She let out a pitiful whine. “You can’t know that. She’s always there. She won’t leave us alone.”

“Nancy.” You tried to make your voice as soothing as possible. “Have I ever lied to you?”

This seemed to stump her. She was quiet for a few moments.

You looked around. Malcolm and the team watched you both, waiting for any sign that she’d take things too far.

Malcolm’s fists were clenched like he wanted nothing more than to rip you away from Nancy and shelter you in his arms. If only it could happen that easily.

“No,” Nancy finally whispered, letting the realization settle in her bones. “No.”

Her hold slowly loosened on you, and the gun lowered until it hit the ground.

You turned to her.

“It’s going to be alright,” you said as JT cuffed her and read her her rights.

You hadn’t noticed Malcolm had come up behind you until your arms were freed. You hissed, the wound in your shoulder flaring up and dizzying you.

He kept a hand on your back as Nancy was led away.

“Come on. We need to get you checked out,” he said, ushering you to the ambulance.

You nodded, his voice coming through fuzzy. Now that you were out of danger, everything hit you all at once. The kidnapping, the pain, the fact that you could’ve died.

Your body was heavy.

The last thing you remembered was Malcolm’s arms around you as you fell.

—

You opened your eyes to the darkness out your window. The smell of the hospital and the beeping of your heart monitor told you where you were.

Slowly, you turned your head to face the other direction and met Malcolm’s exhausted eyes.

“Hey.” He said it softly as if you were still sleeping. “How are you feeling?”

You missed the way his fingers twitched toward your hand.

“Tired,” you said.

He nodded. “Get some rest. I’ll let the doctors know you were up.”

He placed his hands on his thighs to push himself up, but you stopped him.

“Sit with me for a bit? While I’m still awake.” The sight of Malcolm comforted you the longer you were conscious and the more you remembered. You didn’t want to be alone.

“Okay,” he said.

You lifted your fingers as if reaching for him.

“I think you’re supposed to be holding my hand,” you hummed. You could blame your bravery on the morphine later.

He chuckled and ducked his head but pulled his chair closer to your bedside and slipped his hand into yours.

“Better?”

“Much,” you whispered. Your grip was weak, but Malcolm could still tell when you tried to squeeze his hand.

His under eyes seemed darker than usual, and instead of his hands trembling, his index finger grazed your inner wrist in a steady back and forth.

“When did you last sleep?” you asked. You wanted to stay awake. You wanted to live in this bubble with him before reality set in. It didn’t matter how long you’d been out or the questions you’d be asked. All that mattered was being here and having him close.

He shrugged. “A few days ago.” He paused. “I was preoccupied.”

With finding you.

You let out a slow breath. “Sorry to be such a bother.”

He heard the edge of teasing in your tone, but he couldn’t let even a smidge of you think that.

“You could never be a bother. Just don’t go getting kidnapped again, will you? I’d prefer it if you were out of harm's way,” he said.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe you should put out a statement. Make sure all the bad guys know.” This time the teasing was prevalent.

“I think I can put up a few billboards.” He tried to fight the smile forming. “I’ll even have Ainsley do a whole segment.”

You chuckled until the pain in your side made you stop.

“The doctor said you have a concussion,” Malcolm said, brow furrowing in concern.

“Nancy hit me with something.” You steadied your breathing.

“You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Just getting better.”

You weren’t sure if he noticed that he was squeezing your hand, but you didn’t mind. It grounded you. And the way Malcolm was staring at you set your heart fluttering. And the damn heart monitor was giving you away.

Malcolm looked at it, then you. “Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m fine. Promise.”

“If something’s hurting, you need to tell me,” he insisted.

You bit the inside of your lip, debating whether or not what you were about to say was a good idea.

“That’s not why it did that,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes.

“...What do you mean?”

You glanced up at him through your lashes. “I mean…you make me nervous.”

He tilted his head, still not seeming to get it.

“I don’t understand. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He was about to pull his hand away, but you kept your hold.

“You make me nervous because I like you,” you said, giving him a shy smile. “And according to Dani, you like me, too?”

“I…well, of course, I do. I just figured nothing could come out of this since you’d be back to Quantico…” The blush was evident on his cheeks, and it made you all the more smitten.

“After this? A cushy 9-5 sounds incredible,” you said. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

He grinned, leaning his elbows on the bed. “Where should our first date be?”

You answered him with a smile of your own. “Go find us some jello, and I’ll say yes to a second.”

He stood, still smiling, and was going to leave until he bent down to kiss your forehead.

“Be right back,” he whispered, thumb coming up to brush your cheek.

For a moment, you leaned into his hand with closed eyes. The subtle motion of his finger lulled you into a sense of peace.

You hummed, sinking further into the bed.

By the time Malcolm returned, you were fast asleep. He took up his position by your side again and started making a mental list of where he should take you for your second date.

[flashyfucker]

longshot | tyson jost ✷

MY MASTERLIST / talk 2 me! :) summary: on a night in bed, you match with your best friend’s teammate on tinder. it’s real convenient that he happens to be crashing on your friend’s couch.     tyson jost x fem reader. word count: 5.2k SORRY warnings: smut with feelings (this is a bardownbitch production, obviously.) degrading but  like as a joke kinda? it’s a super sarcastic relationship but she gets a lil turned on by it lol. alcohol mentions.  dedicated to bffs @97soroka​ and @toplinetommy​! ty for the endless inspo!! xxxx

His first picture should’ve been a red flag.

Not the stomach-turning shirtless, mid-pump gym selfie kind of red, but the heart-squeezing brunch with mom, ask the waiter to take a photo kind of red– a shade that wouldn’t be red at all, on any other night, if it were anyone else’s tinder profile. 

Alas, Tyson’s name stares at you, makes your mouth feel dry. Tyson’s cute ass photo with his mom and his brunch and his bouncy curls stares up at the dark ceiling after you drop your phone to the bed, your face buried in your hands, assessing the situation, feeling like you’ve been caught, somehow. 

The faint text reading less than a mile away feels all too real when he’s right down the hall. 

As you grope the bed to find your phone, you have half a panicky idea to screenshot the profile and send it to your friends in a flurry of “oh my god what the fuck look at this” and “lol should I swipe?”.

When Mikko pops up in the big group chat, a chaotic little part of you wants to send the screenshots their way, tack on a “Josty’s on the hunt” message and watch your extended circle flame his profile.

You think better of it, though— knowing how this looks (how it is, really). Curled up in JT’s guest room after movie night, after almost everyone else’s gone home, swiping tinder at something-past-eleven. It’s not subtle, and you doubt your frustration will be helped by your friends cawing about it in the group chat, so you shut up and hold your breath before tapping through to Tyson’s next photos.

You’re hit immediately with an obscene amount of thigh and bicep in a gratuitous wakesurfing shot, and the low hum from the space heater in the corner fills your ears as you groan almost silently into your fist, rolling your eyes because why does he have to look like that? And, shit, since when does he make this little ache bloom between your thighs? Your shaky fingers grip your phone a little tighter, letting your head sink deep between two pillows, like shielding half your face will make this any better. 

The next photo is from a few months back, taken at the party where JT had first introduced you to his friends after you’d moved out from Illinois. You were still a little reserved around the boys, so you and the girls huddled and Tyson had approached you periodically, gradually tipsier but charm never wavering, to make sure you were good, top up your drinks, ask if you needed an uber (or a shot).

It’s not until now, tapping through his fucking tinder profile, that you realise just how sweet that’d been of him, watching out for the new girl for nothing in return. And it’s not until now, staring at a photo where he and the boys are shirtless, fake flexing in sunglasses at nighttime, camera flash exaggerating the ridiculous contours of his body, that you realise, shit, maybe you’ve got… a thing… for Josty. 

JT’s presence in the photo right beside Tyson churns your stomach. You grew up with his little sister, and in the absence of an older brother of your own, JT was what you wound up with. Scanning the picture, its familiar background, you vaguely remember the variations JT spits when introducing you– “my sister’s sister” and “basically my sister”, and you know what they’re meant to imply, when he says them to his friends, but as you stare at Tyson’s tinder profile, of all things, you meekly hope Tyson hasn’t taken those dumb implications to heart.

Tyson’s last photo makes you scoff, the pixelly mid-celly action shot, avalanche logo proud on his chest, a little flex buried behind a stack of largely unassuming photos. Once the feeling of ugh, obviously he had to include that has rolled through you, you find yourself smiling a little, endeared by it— sorta proud. And fuck, yeah, maybe the way your heart squeezed at that first photo was a red flag, flailing at half-mast, a harbinger of a crush you hadn’t really known you harboured.

It takes a full five minutes of restless back and forth in your head, deciding you’ll play it off as a joke on the off chance you match, and looking away from your phone while you do it, to finally swipe right.

You heave a choke, eyes bulging, as the It’s a Match! graphic fills the screen immediately. Snapping up in bed, you lock your phone as though that’ll make what’s just happened un-happen, waiting, frozen in the dark, for something. Like he’s going to yell down the hall from where he’s meant to be sleeping in the living room, or something.

Your head swims with thoughts of oh, this is a joke, and we both swiped right because we know each other, no other reason, trying to rationalise it, knowing, somewhere in your head, that it’s not as big a deal as it feels, with the way your heart is pumping. You know you’ll laugh about it while playing never have I ever at some party down the line, maybe. Still, you wince when your phone vibrates against your leg, once, twice.

What are u wearing rn baby? Jk. come hang

You want to scream-laugh and bury yourself under the covers and most of all, pretend you hadn’t seen the messages. Pretend he hadn’t messaged mere moments after you’d swiped, so you could pretend you were sleeping. Climb out the window? JT lives on the tenth floor. Fuck JT’s nice ass apartment. You’d known this could happen, but you’d kinda assumed it wouldn’t. That he’d swipe left if he found you (better still, roast you in the group chat like you’d wanted to do to him. He’s too nice for that, though. Of course he is.).

You hold your breath as you slip out of the room, pulling up the door handle to silence its latch as you close it slowly— and you hold your breath as you shuffle down the dark hall as though the press of your socks to the hardwood could possibly rouse JT through the walls.

As you breach the light blanketing from the floor lamp in the far corner, Tyson twists on the couch to greet you, smug little smile on his face as he throws his arms out, says “Welcome to our first date.” without a lick of sarcasm, and you scoff a laugh, easy.

The tension you’d fabricated is drained away, seeing him all smiley in a dense nest of blankets and pillows like this.

“Damn. No candles? Romantic music?” You let your eyes dart around the room comically, assessing the night’s damage: the packages leftover from midseason cheat snacks, the deck of cards strewn over the table. 

“It was a last-minute thing. I have popcorn, though.”

Tyson leans to lift the bowl on the coffee table, shaking the long-cold kernels about noisily, cracking the swell of silence which fills the room behind the clipped volume of your voices, and you shhh him aggressively, pointing towards the shadowy hallway, JT’s room. 

“He can hang with us.” He rolls his eyes, working at you like a little kid, as though getting under your skin is going to impress you, somehow– and you suppose that’s always been the nature of your relationship: play fighting, pulling pigtails. It just feels charged, now. You snatch the bowl from Tyson’s hand, watch his smirk drop, satisfied.

“Now JT’s invited on our date?” You gasp, feigning offence, glancing back at him as you cross the open plan to the kitchen to empty the stale popcorn. 

“No– no.” Tyson sputters. And, for a second, he sounds like he might add something, but you finish rinsing and drying the bowl and he hasn’t continued. Something about it turns your stomach.

“Come, get in. ‘S cold.” Tyson tells you, lifting the layered patchwork of blankets that engulf his lower half, beckoning you in.

Your eyes narrow at him, face contorting sarcastically, and you watch as his brows raise, eyes roll.

“Don’t be weird about some blankets. It’s pretty obvious why you were on tinder at eleven p.m.”

Your throat goes dry, because he’s right, and god, it’s embarrassing that he’s called it out, but it doesn’t change how you’re still a little hot all over, and that wakesurfing pic spins in the back of your head, even looking at him, now, wearing a plush hoodie and waist-deep in fluffy bedding.

“Hey, chill. You were on tinder, too.” You compose yourself quickly, flicking an accusatory point of your finger in his direction with raised brows, hoping, by some grace, the weird, sheeted lighting means he doesn’t catch the glow of your cheeks, hoping he doesn’t quite know your timbre well enough to recognise the waver.

Tyson lifts his hands in mock surrender, warping his voice sarcastically to chide “Oh, you caught me,” before he flips the duvet off to let you have it, leaning to fish over the heavy wool knit you’d given JT as a housewarming gift years ago.

“’S like JT’s never heard of central heating before.” You mutter, if for nothing but to fill the quiet as you take up place beside him on the couch, tucking yourself comfortably beneath the still-warm duvet which bunches up thickly between the pair of you.

“He doesn’t earn enough to use it, unfortunately.” Tyson sighs, nods solemnly before his eyes cant towards you, glinting a little as he staves off a smile, “‘M sure those tiny shorts don’t help your case, though.”

You barely let the thought settle before you’re throwing a pillow at his head and he’s catching it, apologising with red cheeks and “I knew that’d getcha. Y’r shorts are fine.”.

“They’re just fine?” 

And you don’t know what you’re doing, not letting what he’s said settle before you cut back: there’s still a nagging warmth in you, and your mouth runs with it, testing. You roll the inside of your cheek between your teeth.

“I can’t think too much about ‘em in JT’s house, honestly.” 

He looks shy while saying it, and your whole body goes cold and tingly-numb watching him, hearing what he’s said, the way his cheeks are ruddy and his chin tucked like hiding, a little. Your dumb almost-smile fills the gap while you process, shift your seat unconsciously, heat curling between your legs, and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Fuck off.” You settle on laughing like he’s joking, even though he’s straight-faced.

An unoffended hum clears it, whatever that moment was, and Tyson continues.

“Y’know, I was losing hope. I swiped right on you weeks ago, like last movie night. Whenever it was that you and Mikko, like, whatever.”

His words wrap around you, the weight of them, feeling like he’s holding the flyaway at the end of a spool of thread, about to unravel. Tyson shuffles his phone between his hands absentmindedly, not looking at you. 

“What d’you…” 

But you know what he means. 

“I didn’t go home, y’know with Mikko, or anything, Tys. We carpooled.” 

“Yeah, JT told me. Still, you left with him, his hand was on your back, I was kinda jealous, whatever, whatever.” Tyson says, sweetly self-deprecating and assuring in the ways he always is, and his words feel like a swarm of butterflies in your chest (and, right now, you don’t even begin to unpack the mention of JT.).

“Point is, it was a long shot swiping right. Didn’t think you’d ever hit me back. ‘M glad it’s paying off.”

Tyson looks at you, mouth pinched into this little smile he does, and you hadn’t realised but you know it up and down, know the satisfaction behind it. For all the facetious digs, you feel the change, here, things being laid out flush on the table, between you both.

“Paying off? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I swiped right by accident.”

“You’re my mortal enemy.” His smile blooms. 

“So, why’d you swipe right?”

You don’t miss a beat.

“For sure the wakeboarding pic.” You furrow your brow like pssh, like you’re telling him obviously. Your eyes try to find the version of him from that photo, here, now, within the billow of layers. All you discover is his hand, hard and cut with veins, which clutches the blanket on his lap: it waves heat through your lower abdomen all the same as that photo did. 

He chews on his lip, brow hard, then you watch him light up, a-ha—  remembering the photo.

“Fuck yeah. I knew it’d work.” He says. “‘S that why you’re squirming like that?”

Sitting there, the duvet weighs a tonne on your bare thighs, and there’s no air in your lungs, you’re hot all over, and inside, too. 

“I’m not, squirming, Tys.” You try, squirming, cris-crossing your legs and shifting a little. 

“You are so! It’s kinda sweet.”  He looks overjoyed. You want to sink into the rowdy sea of blankets.

“Sweet?” You nearly laugh, fingers curling into your blanket, knuckles white. “Please don’t mock me.”

You feel dumb, pleading, and if your legs weren’t frozen, tight-muscled, you’d probably be packing into an Uber, by now.

“I’m not mocking you. Bein’ dead serious.” Tyson, easy smile still cool and calm, sticks a hand out, extends his pinky to promise. Level with him, you take it, exhale when he doesn’t let go: he has this weird little way of soothing, soft dark eyes puppy-wide, brows upturned.

“Let me know if I’ve read this situation wrong.” His voice is smaller than it’s ever been, than you’ve ever heard. Hands entwined, dropped to the couch now, your pinkies are pinched red, latticed together, both tight as each other. 

“You haven’t.”

The edge of his hand presses against yours. 

“Are you wet?” 

You nod, and his breath falls in a strained sigh. 

His fingers drift up to take your hand, properly, tug you closer, maybe, but your tongue lashes before you overthink it, and it stops him, freezes you both.

“Can I suck you off?”

It’s all you want, the weight of him in your mouth, and there’s no room for shyness anymore, not after his question. Tyson’s head tips back into the couch, grip plying away from the blankets, fingers flexing, his one hand squeezing yours. A little part of you thinks about those fingers, too, wants to wrap your lips around them.

“Fuck.” He nearly whimpers.

“Yeah?” You’re doe-eyed, curious. More than a little excited.

“Yeah– yes, please.” You see him swallow, nodding vacantly.

So you push the blankets away (which is okay, the air could nearly sizzle against your skin, you think, everything’s suddenly warm, everywhere), and move to kneel between his legs, and it takes all you have to keep from giggling shyly when he hands you a throw pillow, says “For your knees, y’know,” nervously. A shimmery warmth rises in your chest at the gesture.

He helps your eager hands tug his sweatpants down around his midthigh, cock bobbing free, hard and heavy, proud between his legs. Your lax mouth nearly waters at the sight– likewise, he blinks hard, watching the way your eyes widen, tongue wets your plush lips. His exhale shudders, and tension claws at his abs as you lean in on your elbows.

That tension dissolves as your hot tongue meets the head, laps tentatively at his sticky precum, and quickly, you melt into it all, spitting on the tip and lazily pulling the slick down his thick shaft with fingers that don’t quite ring around the girth of him. You tug back up to the flared crown, revelling in his tiny reactions: the slump back of his head, clipped breath, struggling to stay quiet when you hit somewhere sensitive.

He watches, enthralled, as you take him into your mouth, pretty eyes fluttering shut with every bob of your head, taking him a little deeper into the back of your mouth on every pass until he’s butting the back of your throat and you’re choking him down, clenching around him. He wishes it didn’t turn him on so fucking much, seeing the tears well up as you pull off him, a mess of sticky spit and precum lacy between his cock and your chin, your smiley mouth.

“Taste so good, Tys.” You hum, kissing gently against the velvet underside, all tongue and loose suckling at him, practically making out with his cock, the bliss of it nearly blurring his vision. 

The compliment goes straight to his dick, and Tyson slowly rings your hair tight around his fist, murmurs “Okay?” and when you nod, he squeezes, tugging at your scalp deliciously.

“Fuck my face?” You ask, oh-so-innocent, gasping when he bucks his cock towards your mouth unconsciously, smearing your mess against your cheek.

“Tongue out.”

There’s a steady sternness to his tone that pits your stomach, that you don’t have time to unpack before Tyson guides your head, slowly, at first, bringing you up and down on his cock, tongue lolling, getting you both messy, drooly. Your forearms rest on his inner thighs, lax now he’s controlling the movement, picking up pace as he gages your reactions.

Bets are off when he catches one of your hands float down between your legs, though, and if he wasn’t fighting for his life to stave off his own peak (or, if he wasn’t on JT’s poor couch, fuck) he’d call you out on it, let this escalate to something with a harsher energy, something you’re both keening for, but can’t quite have, here. 

You gag as he sinks into your throat, wet and frothy and clenching around him, jaw going blissfully numb as tears bloom, spill to sear your cheeks. Your hand ruts tentatively at your core, aimless swathes of your fingertips over your clit that only just quell the ache, but not the desperation. 

The weight of him is all-consuming, salty-sweet on your tongue, and it’s not long before he’s backing off, struggling to keep his mouth shut while you whimper and moan, gag around him, your fingers toying with your clit gently: he can see it, your arm moving, the tight rotation of your torso, kinda, and if he thinks about it, he knows he won’t last.

Tentatively, Tyson lets your head lift, hand still heavy at the crown of your skull but pressureless, and, mindlessly, your hand finds his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

“Tys.” It takes him a second to come to centre, open his eyes. You feel him throb in your hand, and try again: “Tyson.”

“Yeah. Yeah?” He blinks, once, twice, clearing his clouded head.

“Tell me this is mine.”

You whine “Tys,”, faux-pouting when he takes a second, his breath ragged, and you blink up at him, tugging hard around the head of his cock, encouraging a fresh drool of precum, making him whine. 

All at once, Tyson huffs, rolls his eyes and leans quick to grab you around the ribs and pull you up, make you crawl onto the couch with him, plucking a gaspy little laugh from you at the sudden roughness of it. 

“You’re such a little slut.” He chuckles, shakes his head, drawing a hand up to twist your hair around his fist once more— holding you level with his gaze, and your jaw gapes around a shocked smile, a fresh lick of your juices soaking your panties, your shorts, by now. You gulp, suddenly aware of the filth of it all, the cool air freezing against the mess on your face, between your legs. Something about it gives you a rush of confidence.

“Yeah, but so are you. Tell me your cock’s all mine, Tys. That this isn’t a one-time thing.”

The facetious, mean demeanour he wears melts for half a second as he processes, pulls you in to kiss you hard, open. His face goes hot, head blurred at the taste of himself heady on your tongue, the harsh, minty cut of your toothpaste still lingering.

And, with his tongue in your mouth, Tyson shoves his free hand down the front of your shorts, then yanks you back by the hair at just the right time, leaving you, tongue a little out, fighting for air, hitching a gasp as his fingers find your cunt, dripping.

“Only if this belongs to me, too.”

With one hand in your hair and the other pressed to your pussy, Tyson’s face is more serious than you’ve ever seen it. Your chest burns in the best way.

“All yours, baby.” You smile, meaning it.

Juxtaposing the roughness with which he’d yanked you onto the couch, Tyson’s hands move to guide your hips, tugging you over his lap. He reaches up, stroking your hair from your face, all the shyness he’d had earlier back in the smile he glows with, now. 

“I’ll ask you on a real date when my dick’s soft again.”

You laugh softly, hand pushing up under his hoodie, helping him tug it off: you’re indulgent in the way your hand brushes his abs, and if he notices, he says nothing.

“Better get to work then, huh?”

It takes all Tyson has not to land a sharp little slap to your ass at that, but he’s vaguely still aware of JT down the hall, and Tyson’ll be damned if he lets this be interrupted, now. It takes little more than a nudge to bunch the soft material of your shorts up to the side, and you’re so wet it’s everywhere, soaked through and it’s starting to slick up your inner thighs, a little, Tyson could nearly finish on the spot when he realises, but his fingers dig into the flesh at the junction between your ass and thigh, and he’s a little distracted. 

Your one hand steadies his cock, the other pressing on his shoulder. And you let the head catch your hole and draw yourself down, so slow it feels torturous, like it’s crushing his entire chest, and when he finally bottoms out, opens his eyes to find your teasing little smile, your hips unmoving, and, with the realisation that you’re fucking with him, he uses the squeeze he has on your ass to flip the pair of you, huffing “Fuck this.” as you yelp. Your back’s arched over the mound of blankets and pillows, tilting your hips up for him, practically presenting yourself, suddenly lewd in a way it hadn’t been moments ago, even when he was inside you. You feel your cheeks burn. 

“Don’t have time to play.” Tyson mutters.

You nearly laugh, smile so big that his frustration could nearly dissipate at the sight. Nearly. Then, you talk again.

“You really wanna ask me on that date, don’t you, Tys?”

The blunt head catches your cunt again, nudges forward, sits shallow. You gulp around the little sigh that nearly slips, blink hard, hide the beckoning pleasure, as though he won’t notice the telltale throb around the tip of his cock.

His curls sweep over his face, so you can’t see it but he rolls his eyes, his lower lip slipping, pinched red and angry, wet from where it’s been drawn between his teeth.

“Not if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ brat.”

Your hips tick, stomach turning first at his words, then at the sticky swirl, the upward drag of his cock against your clit. And your body thrums, hands shaky and numb where they nestle in your rucked up shirt, but the little vein of rebellion, of pushing still runs hot in your head.

“Mm. Bad news, then.” You manage.

“D’you ever shut up?” Tyson sighs, finally pushing in, fast and deep and filling you up and you swear you feel it in your stomach, the pressure: your hand claws mindlessly for your lower belly, feeling the way your muscles move to accommodate it, the tight fit of him. Your mouth is open, brows knit, but no sound finds its way out, too taken by the sudden pleasure. Tys barely rocks back at all before he’s trying to push deeper, satisfied at how your jaw stretches around something unintelligible, a wrecked little moan.

And he’d chirp you for it, how he’s found how to shut you up, but you’re so hot and tight, it’s all he can think about, finally sunken within you, your plush walls slick and squeezing him, so he bites down on his lip, lets his head tip back and fucks into you.

You’re lost in it, instantly, numb to everything but the tingling along your nerve endings that swirls into this depth of heat at your core, and the fire prodded, stoked by Tyson’s hard, quick thrusts, nearly bruising your insides, sending you wordless, breathless.

Once a moment has passed, he’s found a stride that has you whimpering in lieu of the moans you’d both prefer. 

(There’s something crushingly hot about this, though: the shaky breaths, the facial expressions: the flushed skin and dropped-jaw, pinched brow silent cries, there’s a desperation in it, one leaning into how you couldn’t wait, had to do this here, now. There’s no other option but to take one another apart.)

He leans forward, into you with his pelvis, a new pressure, new pace: his hips rutting against your spread thighs, fingers pulling the crooked bunch of your shorts and panties up and away, watching your folds split around the girth of him. The look in his eye is loving, almost, wearing a blushy smile as he pulls out, pushes back in, his cock coated, glistening obscenely, making these lewd noises, squishy and wet, and Tyson’s fuckin’ mesmerised. 

He reaches down on a thrust, strokes the flat of his thumb over your clit, making your thighs jolt, tremble in his hands, and you’re suddenly chasing, your legs kicking and head falling back as the feeling curls from your cunt up into your abdomen.

Tyson huffs to save a groan and asks “Close?”, as if he couldn’t tell, like your hips aren’t rocking circles under his body, your cunt clamping down on his cock, needy. 

So you nod, a little frantic, eager. You press the back of your hand to your lips, focussing on calming yourself as much as muffling yourself, as your face scrunches, the stretch of his cock inside you ribboning pleasure up, everywhere, white-hot as it glimmers along your muscles. Tyson holds the sarcasm, this time, opting to let his fingertips find your hard, slick little bud once more, circling until he feels your body tighten up, then he’s backing off, changing the pace, grinning when your chest heaves a dry sob before he starts again, buries himself to the hilt to keeping you open on his cock and thumbing at your clit.

And you want to tell him that it’s not funny, that you really wanna come, but you don’t trust yourself to say it quietly, right now, not when it’s fucking building, again, and you think you might actually cry if your back arches and he pulls away once more.

But, he knows, sees the sweat gleam your brow, the absent roll-back of your eyes, the way your fists hook, white-knuckling blankets: your throaty little whimpers turn to what he thinks could be please, please. He knows.

He doesn’t pull away, this time, and the crash of your orgasm rolls through and he’s barely thrusting anymore, instead pulling your ass up to where he rests on his haunches, shoving himself all the way inside your spasming pussy, forcing you to cream on his cock, to gush around him. 

At the too-loud crawl of his name from your fried throat, one of Tyson’s hands clamps hard over your mouth, but he smiles, enthralled, watching you lose yourself in it. You’re moving perfectly mindlessly against him, your pelvis rocking out the rippling pleasure as his fingers lighten on your clit, now slow and gentle, barely-there, but the most delicate of strokes, now, make your cunt squeeze, your whole body tauten, tremble. 

You’re so lost in it, so gone, you think you’d barely notice the sudden uptick of Tyson’s hips, cresting his peak, too, the flood of heat inside you, if not for the airless grunt, his head tipped back and abs locking up, hand pushed through his sweat-slicked curls, wild and everywhere. 

You’re glad you notice, though, as aftershocks shake you: you remember, only just, to appreciate this (even half as much as your body does: you feel your fucking heartbeat in your cunt, your muscles all warm and liquid along your limbs.). 

Tyson hums, moans, maybe, and moves his hands for your sides, holding fast, stilling you both in place ‘till your breathing finds some semblance of evenness. 

“I never wanna pull out.” Tyson’s head falls as he murmurs it, equal parts petulance and pleasure, now, he’s revelling. You find yourself nodding, agreeing. 

“You’re still fuckin’ hard, Tys.” You say, feeling it, the overstimulated throb of him— or maybe it’s you. Either way, he’s still stiff and buried to the hilt in your drooling cunt, filling you entirely. The subtlety of the pulse encompasses you, squeezes your stomach, then your pussy, around him. Tyson slumps, a little, “Huh-ha.” corralling from his mouth before anything coherent can construct itself.

“Gimme a sec.” He manages. You lift on your elbows, a little, look up at him starry-eyed, smiling. Your lips part, goldfishing, kinda, as he pulls out, slowly, spinning your head.

“I’m never getting that date, at this rate.” You chide, your knees pulling up toward your chest, and you’re blushing at how hard it is to stop your hands from reaching for him, pulling him back in: the emptiness between your hips borderline fucks with your head, how bad you miss him.

But then he’s canting the pad of his thumb over your messy slit, frictionless, playing with the torrent of his cum swirled through yours, and his mouth is opening at the sight of your used little hole pushing his cum out, and he can’t think of anything to cut back at you with other than a broken “Fuck.”.

You’re in his lap, practically, hips propped up on his knees, sticky and leaking filthily all over his bunched up sweats as his cock throbs against the cleft of your ass, and he’s softening slowly, but god, you make it tough without even trying. You’re doe-eyed and still flushed, breathing hard and Tyson can hardly take it. He swallows, blushing deep, trying to string together a series of words which will make sense, ‘cause god, he needs more of you. Can’t let this be a one-time thing. 

“My dick’s the softest it’s gonna be, baby. Come to breakfast with me, tomorrow?”

And for all you might’ve expected him to ask, now, it still fills you with butterflies, the cluelessness laced with hope which dances across his bright face. Then, you’re nodding unmistakably and ripping him down to you by his arm: a messy kiss, overjoyed, only choked out by the hard thrust of two fingers into your sensitive cunt. 

The slow rub of his fingertips at your g-spot, hard in time with the roll of his mouth against yours, feels like equal parts pleasure and promise now: this isn’t a one time thing. He pushes your hair from your face and nips at your lip and mumbles your name into your neck while he makes you come on his fingers, and you know he’s all yours.

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Missed You This Much

AN: So apparently I am a porn director now. This literally has no plot whatsoever and if my grandma were still alive I’d certainly get an earful for it buuuuuuut I thought you guys might enjoy.

Word count: 4.6k (go off)

Warnings: ALL the warnings, this is literal filth like I’m talking about unprotected sex, choking, size kink kinda, sex toys and overstimulation in a way that takes doing the dirty literal (not even gonna mention the language at this point) - obviously nsfw below the cut

- Have fun ya filthy animals (and wrap it before you tap it!) -

His hand on your back was slowly but surely becoming unbearable.

You wanted to curse the idiot that had the absolutely genius idea of having a team event the night of the boys’ return from a long trip in a way that would make every single sailor on this planet blush worse than anything your Orgasm blush from NARS could ever achieve. And you loved that blush to death.

But instead of taking your beautiful and amazing boyfriend straight to bed like you had wanted to since the day he’d left – which was 10 long days ago by the way – you had to put on a full face and bear mingling with the executives all night. More than one time you’d thought of somewhat inconspicuous ways to sneak off with your boyfriend so you could have your way with him but to your dismay nothing had worked out.

From the looks of it Mikko wasn’t doing any better. More than one time his hand had rested a bit lower on your back than what could possibly be considered acceptable in public. The back of your dress, or rather the lack thereof, had allowed him to feel you up in a way that had gotten you from 0 to 100 real quick.

Usually you weren’t one to get riled up quite like that by the simple action of his palm right above your ass but something had been in the air tonight. Perhaps it was because you hadn’t gotten to trail your hands over his glorious naked skin in way too long but something about the way his hand spanned the entire width of your lower back had you mentally panting at the mere memory of the way it had felt.

It didn’t exactly help that Mikko had stepped into the location looking like an absolute snack. All 6’4” of him were wrapped in your favorite suit and the smile that had lit up his face as soon as he had spotted you with some of the other wives and girlfriends had lit the room in a way that no chandelier could.

He’d worn the tie you’d tied for him before the trip because he still refused to do it himself even though you’d long taught him and it brought a smile to your lips that rivaled his own. Because you were in a public place there wasn’t a heated make out session to welcome him back but the way he had hugged you close after a short but sweet kiss with your face nestled against his chest in a way that wouldn’t ruin the look you had carefully curated for the night was no less affectionate.

The next hours had been nothing short of torture, you could see it on everyone’s faces. While the guys (and girls for that matter) usually didn’t mind the mingling and networking that was the norm for such events it was more than obvious that tonight no one was in the mood for it. Everyone just wanted to celebrate the successful road trip that had just come to an end, preferably in a bedroom if one were to ask you.

By the time it was finally acceptable to make an exit Mikko had practically dragged you towards the car, barely taking his time to ask where you’d even parked it. He had to slow down eventually though because you were no match to his incredibly long stride in your heels.

You’d gotten lots of smug looks on your way out – Josty, Burky and JT even going as far as to cat call the two of you in front of everyone – but you knew that it was only out of envy. Gabe had only barely managed to not say anything and that was only because Mel and him were antsy to get out of there themselves.

Sitting in the passenger seat gave you the freedom to let your thoughts wander to what was about to come, making you shudder in anticipation. Mikko noticed, of course, and his right hand immediately inched up from its usual place on your mid-thigh to the very top. You were convinced that if your dress would allow it you’d already have him where you needed him the most but unfortunately you’d only thought of the way it made your body look and not how practical it would be.

His white-knuckled tight grip on the steering wheel revealed that he himself was already further along in the timeline of the night in his mind and in the dim lighting from the interior and the passing city lights you could definitely see that he was already beginning to strain against his pants. For a minute you contemplated asking him to pull over and to just have his way with you right here in the car, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, but you wanted to savor this night and not rush it.

Besides, no matter how big Mikko’s car was, there was just no way to actually do it in here comfortably, backseat included.

So you waited, rather less than more patient, and endured what would arguably be the most charged minutes of your life so far.

The second Mikko pulled into the designated parking spot of your shared apartment the both of you couldn’t make it to your door fast enough. In a mad dash you practically ran to the elevator and since it basically was the middle of the night neither of you gave a shit that there might actually be someone else in this building that could set a foot in the elevator. Thankfully no one did but the two of you still put on quite a show.

Mikko had you pressed against a wall, one leg pushed in between yours and hands gripping your face tightly as he practically devoured you right there in the tiny metal box. You were moaning already, so needy and touch-starved from the past few days and the racked up anticipation from the past few hours. Your hands had already managed to loosen his tie and to push his jacket off his shoulders by the time the little bell announced that you had reached your floor.

It was times like this that made you incredibly thankful for modern technology because instead of fumbling around with a key, something that would have definitely taken an amount of tries in the double digits between the two of you in your current state, you only had to hold up your key card to the scanner before the door opened and you were finally home.

Mikko had left his bags in the car, something you were grateful for right now because it allowed you to continue where you left off earlier without a hassle but you would definitely regret as soon as you had to wash his sweaty gym clothes after the delay. He didn’t even let you get a step into your apartment before pushing you up against the back of your front door while somehow kicking off his shoes at the same time.

“I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea”, he practically growled against your skin as he dropped his head to suck along your neck while simultaneously sneaking one hand around your body to find the zipper of your dress.

“Oh yeah? Ho much exactly?”, you teased back but the light tone you had intended to use was lost because of the way his lips made you whimper. He grabbed your right hand with his free one and shoved it down towards his crotch where the outline of him now fully erect was threatening to rip the seam of his pants.

“This much. Feel how hard you make me babe.”

And feel you did.

He groaned as you made contact, slowly running your nails over the fabric the way you knew drove him absolutely wild. Unfortunately you couldn’t keep doing that forever, otherwise you’d get nowhere tonight because you needed both hands to unbutton his shirt. He had located your zipper by now as well and was hurriedly pushing it down, only stepping back far enough to access it before crowding you back against the wood as he pulled the fabric down.

You stepped out of your dress, careful for it to not get caught up in your heels and immediately Mikko took the chance to explore every inch of newly exposed skin with his hands. You couldn’t let him have all the fun though because you had finally – finally – unbuttoned his shirt all the way. The city lights streaming in through the window made any additional lighting unnecessary as you took in the beautiful body of your boyfriend.

The Sistine Chapel had nothing on him and his body belonged right up there with ‘The Starry Night’ and ‘The Kiss’, every inch of creamy skin just as beautiful as anything a master of the arts could possibly create. You could get lost in his broad shoulders, and you often did, but seeing him tonight after so much time apart was truly something special.

“If you don’t do anything but stare at me real fast I’m going to spank you woman”, his voice was low and his tone revealed that he was only somewhat serious but nevertheless you took a step closer until your bodies touched again. Even with heels on he was still so much taller than you so you had to stand on your very tippy toes and pull him down towards you at the same time so you could whisper in his ear:

“We both know that I wouldn’t object to that, it wouldn’t be the first time after all.”

His groan was music to your ears and you squealed as he swiftly picked you up like you weighed nothing and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. You were closer to eye level like this and Mikko’s mouth immediately found yours as he held you close, his strong arms never once making you doubt his ability to manhandle you without incident. He would rather thro himself on the floor to cushion your fall than drop you.

Only a close to unhealthy amount of practice in this particular aspect of foreplay made your journey to the bedroom safe. The first few times had definitely resulted in a few bumps and bruises but neither you had cared at the time, too distracted with everything else going on.

What no one might suspect was the fact that your usually uncoordinated and constantly-stumbling boyfriend was anything but in all things bedroom. He had a kind of control over his body that most men could only dream of and to say you were excited to get to experience it again first-hand tonight was probably the understatement of the century.

With an air of expertise that made you think he was paid to do this instead of chasing a puck across ice he flicked on the one lamp you liked to turn on during sex because of the warm glow it created without even breaking the kiss. He was still wearing his pants and on the way here they had created some delicious friction but now he was sitting down on the edge of the bed with you still perched on his lap.

His hands had taken a hold of your ass and he was helping you to slowly grind against him, the both of you so far gone already by now.

“Did you think of me while I was gone?” While his question might sound sweet to the unknowing ear, you knew what he was playing at.

“Yes Mik, multiple times. I really tried but nothing feels as good as when you’re with me.” He knew this already because he’d gotten his fair share of pictures but you were more than happy to provide an answer.

“Oh yeah? Did you touch yourself thinking about the time we did it in the kitchen right before I left?” Even if it weren’t for his hands slowly outlining your lacy bra and barely grazing your nipples you couldn’t prevent the moan that escaped your lips at his words.

You had – in fact – thought about the way he’d taken you on the kitchen counter that faithful morning and the images that now flooded your thoughts again had you literally dripping. Mikko could feel it too, the way you were drenching his pants and underwear right now and while it was annoying that you had to take yet another suit to the dry cleaners to get rid of the stain his strangled moan was everything.

Then it was a frantic dash to rid him of his clothes as soon as possible as you both got up and you pulled down his slacks and boxers in one swoop, discarding both in some corner already forgotten.

You literally sighed at the sight of him now in his full naked glory before you, every inch of his muscular build exposed. It didn’t matter how many times you’d touched, sucked or felt his dick already, there was still always this moment of ‘oh my god’ whenever he dropped his pants. It made sense actually, Mikko was a huge guy so it shouldn’t really be a surprise that his dick was proportionate to his body but to see it in real life was something else entirely. To see it bouncing against his abdomen had your thoughts running a mile a minute and now you were more than impatient to feel full again.

It was as if he felt your anticipation but wanted to be a little shit about it because he now took his time in undressing you, dropping your bra straps at a pace that would have made a snail proud. It was sensual, of course, but you really needed him to hurry up right this second. You didn’t even know where he had suddenly found all of this self-control but you cursed whichever brain cells of his that were responsible for your misery.

An ice-age later he had finally rid you of the scrappy piece of fabric, eagerly exploring your boobs as if he hadn’t seen them over a hundred times already. He pushed you back onto the bed so you were spread out before him but when he moved to take your panties off at the same pace you finally drew the line.

“Mikko please, I just really really need you inside me. Like right now.”

He must have seen the desperation in your eyes because he finally let up, pulling your panties down at an acceptable speed and moving to hover over you. You thought you’d finally get your long-time wish but then he pulled back.

“Actually, can we try something?”, he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Babe we can try anything you want right now as long as it means that I’ve got your dick inside of me within the next ten seconds.”

You almost thought he’d waste some of his precious given time with making a dirty joke like you knew he wanted to but instead he just moved towards your nightstand. Since you’d ditched condoms in favor of birth control a while ago and you were so dripping wet that you could probably cure the Californian drought so there really was no need for lube right now you knew there was nothing of value in those drawers, or so you thought. The same gleam was still in Mikko’s eyes when he turned back around to face you and you instantly recognized the item in his hand.

“I’ve thought about incorporating this ever since you sent me that one picture at the beginning of the trip. Needless to say I’ve had a couple of rough days behind me.”

Excitement bubbled up inside you and now the look in your eyes matched his. Mikko wasn’t one of those guys that got intimidated by sex toys and he’d even tried some of yours on you but you’d never actually used one during sex.

“I think I came up with a way how to best do this”, he mumbled as he stepped closer to you and you motioned for him to go ahead so he could show you the ropes. To your surprise he settled against the headboard of your bed, legs spread out in front of him. So far you weren’t really sure what his plan was exactly. He motioned for you to come closer and you obliged but as you moved to straddle his lap like you often did he stopped you.

“No babe, the other way.” His hands gently guided your hips and helped you straddle his thighs with your back facing his chest and your knees on either side of him. You moved to stroke him while the other hand dropped to fondle his balls but he quickly caught your wrists in his hands, effectively ceasing all movement. “Don’t please, I already won’t be able to last as long as I want to.”

With one swift movement Mikko lifted your hips off his thighs and moved you so you could align yourself and then he was finally inside you. Sinking down on him was already a feat in itself but with the change of position you could feel him reaching places that made your mind go blank. The both of you simultaneously groaned once he finally bottomed out and you took a couple of seconds to adjust to him filling you up like this.

Once his grip on your hips grew even tighter you knew you had to move or else your boyfriend would lose every ounce of self-control that was still left at this point. He gently guided you along as you slowly rotated your hips, the both of you moaning already. He took his time covering your neck and shoulders in kisses and every few seconds you could feel his teeth grazing your skin when he had to stop himself from just pounding up into you while you were still finding your groove.

“Look up babe, I want you to watch yourself”, he murmured in your ear and you slowly raised your head to meet his eyes in the mirror that was strategically placed across your bedroom. It had done you many good deeds already but tonight it was on a whole other level. This position was becoming one of your fast favorites already but to be able to watch Mikko lose himself in you was what would make this night so very memorable.

You watched his right hand pat around on the comforter before finding what he had been looking for, the silver vibe. The anticipation made you clench around him and he groaned and you wondered what it would be like once you both finally got to experience the real deal but thankfully you didn’t have to wait much longer until you’d find out.

Mikko kept the slow grinding pace that allowed him to go so incredibly deep as he switched on the vibe, it’s soft vibrations filling the room with a different kind of noise. He slowly raised it to your chest, first teasing one and then the other nipple with it while you couldn’t help the moans tumbling out of your mouth. Once he deemed the amount of attention your breasts had gotten enough for now he tapped the vibe against your lips. “Suck”, was his only command and obediently you opened your lips to wet the toy.

You tracked his movements in the mirror as he slowly dropped his hand towards where you needed it. The moment the vibe connected to your clit was honestly life changing. You immediately arched your back, trying to get more of that amazing feeling between your legs.

Mikkos left hand immediately shot up and wrapped itself around your neck, his long fingers engulfing it almost completely and effectively holding you still as he moved the vibe away.

“Oh God, Mikko more, please give me more”, you practically sobbed, begging him to continue.

“Shhh babe”, he soothed you before scooting the both of you away from the headboard a little. Then he leaned back again, his hand on your throat giving you no choice but to follow him so you were both now leaned back at an angle. With wild eyes you watched him move the vibe closer again and he obliged, placing the vibe back onto your clit while never once faltering in the agonizing but amazing pace at which he was grinding into you.

The change in angle had him grinding against your g spot and now your orgasm was coming at you with lightning speed. Mikko could tell so like the good boyfriend he was he kept doing the exact same thing while you tried to mentally prepare for the absolute tsunami that was about to crash over you.

With one last thrust from him the wave finally crested and your mind literally went blank as you thrashed in his lap, only his hand stopping you from entering a whole other dimension. It felt as if the high would never end and with the vibe still buzzing against your most sensitive part and Mikko keeping up his pace you had only barely come down when your second orgasm hit, detonating like a bomb yet again.

Mikko was moaning loudly below you, trying his best not to blow his load as your walls spasmed around him for the second time and almost failing but somehow pulling through. You had drenched his entire lap and he could feel the slow trickle of your juices down the sides of his thighs, not that he minded.

After two close orgasms like this you needed a second to regroup so you weakly pushed his hand with the vibrator away, the sensation too much now. All energy had left your body and you were a ragdoll in his lap, panting like you’d just crossed the finish line at a marathon.

“Holy fuck Y/N, that was… just wow. Do you want me to take over?”, he asked, knowing full well that you weren’t able to stay on top like this right now. You couldn’t even form any coherent sentences right now if you tried so you only nodded, allowing him to lift you off of him and set you on the mattress so only your ass was in the air.

“You look so good like this, I think about you every second when I’m gone. You’re always on my mind.”

You reached back and Mikko knew exactly what you needed, lacing your hands with his own and dropping them next to you before carefully entering you again. The first few times he’d been worried to continue after you were in your blissful post-orgasm state but you’d explained him many times that you liked being at his complete mercy like this, for him to basically use you in whichever way he wanted to.

So when he bottomed out in you once again you only led out a blissful sigh, happy to have him so close to you. He moved slow but calculated, hitting deep every time before pulling out all the way only to enter him once again. He kept this pace for a while, giving you enough time to pull yourself together a little after the mind-blowing ordeal you had just been through.

“You think you got one more in you?”, he asked, voice definitely strained from keeping this antagonizing pace for so long.

“Let’s find out.” He let go of one hand to reach for the vibe again, setting it on a lower setting than it had been before so you could ease back into it.

“Can you hold it yourself babe?” He dropped it into your hand then, moving to settle both of his hands on your hips. You shifted a little until you found a comfortable position where you could reach down and let out a content groan as soon as you felt the vibrations again. You’d thought that you would be too spent for this by now but to your surprise you were actually holding up pretty well, an orgasm just below the horizon.

Mikko slammed into you then, pulling out a little before bottoming out again on the next thrust, both of your moans far louder than the little vibrator in your hand. You arched your back as he kept up his almost brutal pace, his hands tightening with every thrust and you were sure he’d leave bruises yet again but you certainly didn’t mind with the amount of pleasure he was currently giving you.

It didn’t take long until the combination of his powerful thrusts and the vibrations on your clit had you teetering towards the edge yet again.

“Mikko I’m so close”, you panted, slightly worried that he wouldn’t hear you over the sound of everything happening right now.

“No. Not yet. Hold it back and wait for me, I want to feel you pulse around me.”

His demand was clear and yet you let out a frustrated whine because your orgasm was right there and you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could stop it from approaching.

The stutter in his thrusts gave you hope because it meant that he wasn’t far behind you either so you turned your head so you could watch him in the mirror. His bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth and his brows were slightly knit as he chased his orgasm in desperation, every muscle in his body flexed tightly.

“Fuck baby cum for me now”, he rasped out and you finally let yourself fall over the edge, loud moans tumbling out of your mouth as he thrust inside you one, two, three more times before burying himself inside you and throwing his head back in pleasure with a guttural groan. His jaw went slack as he stilled inside you, filling you up with his cum and only heightening the sensations of your own orgasm. It was as if someone had exchanged your blood for gasoline, heat racing through your entire body and leaving everything heightened and trembling.

Your legs gave out from under you and Mikko followed you down onto the mattress but careful not to crush you with his weight. For a few moments you just lay there, the both of you basking in what had just happened. You let out a content hum as he reached up to brush your hair out of your face, his soft touch in such stark contrast to his bruising grip only seconds ago.

But that was the thing about your boyfriend, he might go crazy in the bedroom sometimes – which you obviously loved – but he was still the gentle giant you had fallen in love with all those months ago. And you’d endure all the height difference jokes in the world if it meant that he would stay with you forever.

Your sweet and mushy thoughts were slowly but surely interrupted by a buzz and both Mikko and you turned towards the source of the noise, him still deep inside you but slowly softening. He picked up the small vibe that you must have carelessly discarded at some point during your orgasm and switched it off. Carefully he pulled out of you and you already missed the feeling but took his outstretched hand to help you stand nevertheless.

Mikko raised the now turned off toy towards his face before saying:

“You have been a trusty friend and we’ll definitely use you again but first this beautiful young lady and I have to shower. I hope that’s okay for you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he was actually having a conversation with a sex toy because it was so typical of him. And you wouldn’t have him, or this, any other way.

 AN Part 2: I 10/10 recommend trying all of the above ;)

[just--another--daydreamer]

Joint training

Denki Kaminari x male reader w/ a water quirk

»Fandom: My hero academia  »Requested (by anon): uhuhuh 👉👈🥺 maybe write something with denki and a male reader with a water quirk since like lightning is strong against jt or whatever- »Warnings: mentions of violence and fighting »Author's Note: this is kinda short and I’m not sure if that’s exactly what you wanted oof

Suggestions are open :)

You can find a link to my Masterlist in my bio

A/N: I made the reader a class 1-B student because it worked well with the plot

Denki first noticed you during the UA sports festival’s battle tournament, where he had to fight you

The fight did not last long, though. While you tried taking Denki down with the best you had, attacking him with a fairly big amount of water from what you thought to be a safe distance, he simply discharged some electricity which was conducted directly to you by your water

It was a devastating defeat, leaving you frustrated and with crippling self-doubt about your abilities, even though your classmates’ and home room teacher’s comments and feedback were mostly positive

The next time you saw Denki was during a joint training of classes 1-A and 1-B

The students had to form pairs of two, consisting of one student from each class, who then had to fight together against the other pairs

While choosing the teams, chaos ensued. Some of the students (especially from your class) only reluctantly looked for a partner because of the rivalry between the classes. Others wanted the especially strong ones to team up with them, and then there were others like you, who awkwardly stood there, not sure what to do with themselves

But to your surprise, Denki immediately approached you

“Hey, you’re the guy with the water quirk, aren’t you?” He smiled brightly. “Y/N, right?”

You simply nodded

“I’m Denki. We fought against each other at the sports festival. Do you wanna team up?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree without hesitation – now that you thought about it, teaming up with him might be a great advantage during a fight. The two of you went to a rather quiet place to come up with a tactic

Though, that was mostly you talking about how and why your quirks were compatible as well as how you could utilize it against your opponents in the smartest way possible

At the end of your explanation, Denki looked at you with a smirk. “I have no idea what you just told me, but when we use out quirks together, it’s gonna blow them away, right?”

You sighed. “Yes, that’s basically it.”

Despite your partner not completely grasping what was going on, the two of you did pretty well. You managed to take down opponents individually as well as together, saving your energy that way

You were at an advantage against the teams whose quirks were not compatible, and against those that did not really want to work together

“Wow, you’re amazing!” You heard Denki yell after you had taken down one of his classmates. “Thank you!” His words stuck with you. They gave you a boost of confidence you had not felt in a while. It felt a little like he had just struck you with a lightning, but in a positive way, one that felt good and made your heart beat a little faster. You smiled shortly before diving back into the battle

“Hey, I know that I should focus on the task at hand, but-” Denki took a break from talking to electrocute someone “- we should totally go out some time, what do you think?”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” The situation at hand did not leave you much time to think about what had just happened. The only thing you knew was that, whether or not you would end up winning or losing, you had something to look forward to

Even though your team lost in the end (Denki and you tried taking down Monoma and Bakugo with an electric tsunami which fried Denki’s brain and dried you out, making both of you unable to fight) you were able to appreciate this lesson more than you usually did – after all, you had a date to look forward to

[wolfcrunch]

I'm generally ok with this arc so far but I admit the fights are getting a bit repetitive (not helped by the fact that the current arc in the anime, the JT arc, is kinda repetitive too) so I do understand why ppl would get impatient. Hopefully Lady Nagant will drop some kind of reveal that will shock the readers (and Deku if she says it out loud). I am LOVING the frequent appearance of the OFA vestiges though!!!

hm, i wouldn't really call these current fights too repetitive though? izuku is fighting villains but, the way he goes about both muscular and lady nagant is different. he can go more head-on with muscular, he's already fought him before and very much knows his style, not to mention it was due to shindou's quirk finally taking affect that izuku could end things in one punch.

with lady nagant however, he's dealing with an entirely different problem. lady nagant is not bloodthirsty and looking to kill him, and she doesn't have a quirk that would enable her to fight in close quarters. izuku's made to be a bit more strategic about how he uses his arsenal - his quirks - to try and gain the upper hand. she's a former hero who was directly under the hpsc, much like hawks, meaning shes obviously extremely capable and why hawks warned izuku at all. and even then, she's managed to hit him twice now and he cant depend on danger sense the closer he gets to her. the fight also isnt over yet, since i doubt horikoshi will write her off as a one-time character.

but i too am loving the ofa vestiges showing up... en is so short, and 3rd looks so tall. i hope we get a name for him and 2nd soon..

[evisconti]

I just learnt that ciccio means fat and I'm fucking deceased. The woman who's fish died in encanto's name is also dead fish woman (I forgot it but yk) LIKE WHY THEY GOTTA FUCK EM UP LIKE THAT.

YEP... pezmuerte is her name.... fun fact ciccio is actually an affectionate nickname for a fat person in italian, kinda like how we'd call someone chubby, or fattie in a teasing manner, i believe ( thats the vibe ive gotten from my research anyway ),, kind of makes me wonder if it's not just his name but like, a nickname he was given. that everyone just goes with ( i doubt that's the case and jt was just the funny name the directors came up with but i can dream )

and what else is interesting is that guido's name is actually a derogatory term/slang term for working class men/italian-americans!! it's also regarded as a slur in some cases but it's not that serious. i can only assume it was either a coincidence, or another small jab at guido being ercole's poor awful little lackey. ykwim. all three of their names are interesting... ercole's name meaning hercules while he's kind of the opposite of hercules, also his surname being the same as an italian noble family which seems to have had a case of a family member being eaten by a sea monster!