#Expecting to stop concentrating automatically

[sparkly-butthole-on-ao3]

*record scratch*

*freeze frame*

Yup, that's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation...

[minikate--24-05]

how do I tell neurotypicals that I can see the traffic signs better when I’m driving an automatic car instead of a manual one without them thinking I’m crazy

[moonstruckme]

I had my car’s battery die the other day (still don’t know why) and I thought it would be cute if the same thing happened to reader… so like maybe she’d be on the phone with Remus and Sirius be like “my car died which sucks lol” and he’d leave work early just to help her jump start her car 😍

Sorry about your car battery babe! That used to happen to me all of the time. I wasn't quite sure who you wanted the love interest to be in this one, but since you mentioned both Remus and Sirius I went with poly wolfstar, hope that's alright <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 757 words

When Remus arrives home, you seem to be bickering at Sirius while he rifles through his trunk.

“I know he said they were in here somewhere.” 

“Your manager is going to be so upset with you,” you fret. “I could’ve caught the bus.” 

“Yes, but why would you when you have a perfectly good car and a perfectly capable boyfriend?” Sirius turns to toss one of his flippant grins at you, and he catches sight of Remus coming up behind him. “Hello.” He greets him with a kiss, pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t know you were walking home, love, I’d have picked you up.” 

“It’s fine,” says Remus. “I thought you were at work.” 

“He was.” You seem unable to choose between feeling cross with Sirius and guilty with yourself, but you’re definitely distressed. “He left work early, just because I texted you guys.” 

“You know,” Sirius drawls, “some people want a partner who would drop everything to come help them.” 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known you were going to leave work!”

Remus understands your upset. Sirius is perpetually on thin ice with his manager—who, in Remus’ completely unbiased opinion, is a tyrant who expects far too much sacrifice from his employees—and Remus would feel bad too if he further jeopardized Sirius’ job by accidentally calling him away from work early. But also, you’re going to be late for work if you can’t get your car started. 

“You need his car here to get a jump, dove,” Remus says. He can feel Sirius’ smugness like an aura about him, but Remus ignores it. 

You sigh, resigned but dispirited. “You didn’t have to come home, either. I was only complaining to complain.” 

Remus smiles and stretches out his arm. You fit yourself under it automatically. “I wanted to see if I could help,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head in greeting. “Don’t be upset, okay?” 

You’re easily mollified by a soft touch and a loving tone. “Okay,” you mumble. Remus kisses your head again in thanks. 

“Alright.” Sirius stops digging around in the trunk, spreading his hands helplessly. “Are we sure we ever had jumper cables?” 

“We do,” Remus says. He lets you go to join Sirius, showing him the compartment where the spare tire and other essentials are kept. 

“Oh, a secret extra trunk. Excellent. Now, does anyone know how to use these?”

Remus has always been a public transportation beneficiary and Sirius was raised posh, so the three of you end up cloistered around Sirius’ phone watching a video about how to jump start a car. 

“Seems easy enough,” says Sirius. “So, we start my car first, then?”

“We start neither car before all the cables are attached,” you say, while Remus gives his boyfriend a worried look. 

“It seems important that we do everything in order,” Remus agrees. “Considering we’re working with electricity and such.” 

None of your objections seem to put a dent in Sirius’ confidence, however. Though nothing you’re doing involves working with grease, he takes his work shirt off “to keep it from getting dirty” and ties his hair back. It’s all rather dramatic, Remus knows, but he can’t find it in himself to protest. Neither can you, apparently. 

“Okay, so that one goes on the positive one.” 

“Right.” You tear your eyes from your boyfriend’s tattooed abdomen, visibly forcing yourself to concentrate on the battery. “Uh…” 

“The one with the plus sign, doll.” 

Sirius’ eyes dance with mirth, but he delivers the instructions patiently until both cables are connected and Remus is turning the ignition in Sirius’ car. 

“Okay, now yours!” Sirius calls to you. 

Remus hears the croaking sounds of your car trying to start, but then the engine roars to life. 

“Beautiful!” 

Remus gets out of Sirius’ car to see you beaming at each other, your upset over his leaving work clearly forgotten. Sirius looks like he’s about to pat your car approvingly, so Remus catches his hand before he can burn himself. Sirius appears not to notice the interception, only squeezing his boyfriend’s hand excitedly. 

“I’ll pull out of your way so you can get out of here,” Sirius says, backing towards his car. 

“Wait!” Your door opens, and you come running out. “Just one thing first.” 

You take Sirius’ face in your hands, planting a heavy kiss on his lips. He looks half dazed when you pull away and come for Remus, your mouth warm and sweet on his. 

You break away with a giant grin on your face. “Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

[eternallyei]

smut, painter men x f!reader

Painter men that’s so obsessed with your curves that he unconsciously draws details of it in his paintings every time his hands start speaking his mind.

He knows the curves of your waist by heart, he doesn’t even give any thoughts about how to paint the canvas. It’s so precise in his mind, as if he had been painting you for ages. Clearly it’s automatic, like his hands were stuck in a loop to draw you.

You’re his muse, his biggest inspiration days and nights. He daydreams and dreams about your delicate figure roaming around his studio. His cheeks flushing pink whenever you finally walk in the room.

He spends hours looking at your figure, your mimics, the way you frown when you get too concentrated in your work or lecture. When you show him something to have his opinion, your little face eager to get any reactions from your boyfriend.

The way your chest rise and falls when you breathe, fast or slow, anything is just enough to attract his attention. Just you, you only, he’s only ever muse, his most precious and most beautiful piece of art. All for him to paint in all of its meanings and colors.

“nngh.. please”

He smiles, remote tightly held in his defined hands while he presses buttons, the vibration only going stronger on your wet pussy. Eyes focused on the canva in front of him, concentrated on the emotions he’s painting into it, colors echoing the sound of your moans for only his ears to hear.

“stop squirming around like that, Miss.. w’dun wanna ruin such a piece of art now, do we ?”

Easier said than done when all he does is leave you drenched in sweat and your own cum on the sofa. You can just squirm in mixed pleasure and discomfort by the way the cold breeze hits your opened legs only for him to paint.

“i-ahh can’t.. anymore please.. ahh fuuck!”

It hits you, you cum yet again under his lust-dazed eyes piercing through your pleading and teary ones. He scoffs, his ears burning red at the envy but he isn’t done with the painting yet. Your words falling on deaf ears as he pushes the volume up more.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you can barely air a sound, and when you finally catch your breath, the lewdest moan escapes your throat. You swear if anyone passed by they’d think he’s torturing you. Well they wouldn’t be wrong but you asked for this.

He’s eyeing you, devouring you in small glances, a faint smirk glued to his lips. Only your pleads keep him from losing his mind, snapping him out of his pant for a bit.

If only this pant wasn’t so tight in the first place, but he needs just a few more strokes with his paintbrush. He’s too distracted by the way your face contorts in pleasure every time you cum on this sex-toy. Do you fucking love it more than his cock ?

“just a little more, baby..”

He sighs, barely holding a moan by the thought of painting you with his own sweet color. Fuck. He draws few more details and he jumps up his chair, almost throwing his brush and palette.

Hands quick to pull down his pants, holding his aching cock while his eyes stare at you in lust. He walks over to you, scanning your face to your chest rising up and down in distress for air, until he catches sight of your opened legs.

His favorite dessert fully undressed, a pinkish vibrator holding itself inside to try and pleasure you like he does. Thrown to the side and quickly replaced by his length, sliding between the spots that couldn’t be reached by the toy.

His dick is rock hard, it only takes him a few strokes to already cum inside your walls, but he hopes you weren’t expecting him to stop there because he was only getting a taste of what he was craving for a while long now.

It’s only the beginning and he’s going to make sure you’re painted more than any of his paintings. Whiter than any of the empty ones. Just to make sure he went to the end of his masterpiece.

— MARIUS RAFAYEL (albedo) —

— AND ANY OF YOUR FAVS ♡

came through my mind, was picturing the obsessive painting and it sounded cute at first lol until it turned into sth dirty..

likes, rb and comments are appreciated, thank you lovelies ♡

@eternallyei. please do not copy/translate/use as your own.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Sweat

Declan O'Hara x f!reader

(little mention of Tag x Rupert)

~1k words, no real warnings - the 'c' word is used once.

While I wait for my man Jack Lowden to return from war (filming season 6 of Slow Horses), I thought I'd dip my little toe into a very short Declan O'Hara one-shot 😬

If you're reading The Escape Artist, fear not, the final TWO chapters are coming this week! Yes, of course I do have other prompts to get on with, but I was in spin class last night, and every time my instructor shouted, "Ride, ride, ride" all I saw was Declan 😅 The moustache would make a wonderful handle as well 🤭

Another bead of sweat drips from your forehead onto the towel.

“Ride, ride, ride, ride, don't stop ladies,” the instructor, an Adonis of a man, coaches you through the pumping music. Next to you, Taggie blows a stray curl out of her face.

“This is torture,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

She isn't wrong.

The newly installed ‘Bicycle Hub’ has raised eyebrows at the local leisure centre, with few expected to actually attend.

The Hub overlooks the squash courts, not that you'd know.

They were so filled with cigarette smoke you could hardly see a thing at all.

From the front row of bikes, you had a prime view looking down.

Usually older gentlemen with portly stomachs and red wine noses who were one play away from a heart attack.

“Oh look, it's daddy.” Taggie peers down. “And Rupert.”

Even through the glowing pink caused by the exercise class you can see her blush.

The two men look up and catch you watching them.

A real shame you couldn't lip read.

Not that they'd be saying anything about Tag, Rupert wouldn't dare in front of Declan.

You were fair game though.

Taggie waves but you don't dare break your rhythm on the bike for fear you'd fall right off.

“Concentrate, ladies,” Adonis warns. “Left, right, left, left, right, right. Stay with the beat, ride, ride, ride.”

You tear your eyes away from the squash court and look back at your bike, regretting it instantly.

“My legs are killing me,” you mutter, feeling your thighs burn.

You go back to looking at the squash game Declan and Rupert are playing, it looks more like they're trying to hit each other with the ball rather than play to the rules.

Each of them roaring with laughter whenever they make contact.

“I'm sure that's not how you're supposed to play,” Taggie grumbles.

“Could be worse, they could be just hitting each other with the racket,” you suggest.

Your breath comes in short gasps now, your stamina rapidly declining.

The rhythmic sounds of the squash ball combine with the squeak of running shoes, the beat of the music, and the hum of the fixed wheels of the bike.

A cacophony of sounds.

You find yourself watching their game more intently, it powers you through the changes in resistance on the bike.

You tilt your head to brush your earlobe against your shoulder and catch another drip of sweat.

As you do so, another works its way down the side of your neck and down into your cleavage.

“And down, catch your breath. Next, we're going to run,” Adonis tells the class.

You let your legs slow down a little and take the opportunity to run the towel over your face and take a long drink of water.

Your chest heaves.

As you put your water bottle back on the machine, you automatically look again at the squash court, this time catching Declan watching you.

You notice the quick lift of his eyebrow as he stares.

He licks his lips slowly, deliberately, and then smiles.

“OK ladies, stand up -”

“On the bike?”

“Yes, madame, it's time to run.”

“I don't understand, I'll fall off!” You think it's Valerie Jones who's protesting, but you've yet to look away from Declan.

Holding his gaze, you do as Adonis asks and you stand up, straightening your legs on the pedals.

Even from this distance you can tell where he's looking.

Your tight lycra crop top pulls your breasts together and his eyes are drawn like a magnet.

When you lean forward on the bike, he wipes his hand over his mouth.

The next track starts building in momentum and so do you, each rotation of the wheels making you bounce a little more vigorously.

Neither of you has looked away yet, goodness knows where Rupert has gone.

Taggie is mercifully distracted, a tight frown of concentration on her face.

There's a wicked glint in Declan's eye and you tilt your head to the side, a silent question.

Whatever he's about to do in response, he doesn't.

Rupert is back, distracting him, talking to him.

He looks away at last, but you can tell it's under duress.

“Thank you ladies, great class for today!” Adonis is off the bike and leading his own round of applause.

You roll your eyes at Taggie and grimace.

“He's single! So I've heard,” she tells you with a giggle.

“No thanks, his biceps are huge! He'd suffocate me!”

You leave the class very much in need of a shower and as you make your way down to the changing rooms, you pass the squash courts.

Taggie's looking out for Rupert, you can tell.

Desperate for a moment alone with him.

You spot him first, by the water fountain, and nudge her in his direction.

His face lights up at the sight of her.

"Looks like you ladies have been getting all hot and sweaty,” he grins slyly.

You leave them to talk, and open the glass door to the court.

Taggie and Rupert are in full view of most of the leisure centre so he only has his words to charm with.

Inside the court, Declan has been watching you through the glass.

“Water?” You offer, holding out your bottle.

“Prefer whiskey,” he grins.

“So do I.”

“I'd also prefer an exercise that'll leave us both breathless," he says quietly.

There's a line you're about to cross but neither of you seems to care.

“So do I.” You repeat equally quietly.

“Sure I can find a much more comfortable seat for you as well.”

The lilt of his accent runs over your body.

He looks through the door but Taggie and Rupert are out of sight, for once, he doesn't seem to care.

He takes a step towards you, as if he's about to whisper in your ear.

Instead, he drags his tongue from your throat to your earlobe.

“You taste delicious.”

Your power of speech is non-existent.

Your hands shake as the adrenaline from the class and from his proximity mingle together.

He kisses your temple, your hairline damp with sweat.

“I think it's time to put a stop to this little game, don't you?” he murmurs.

You can only nod as your body trembles and your cunt clenches.

And then you hear Rupert in the atrium outside.

Declan takes a measured step away from you as Taggie arrives, though neither of you can stop staring.

“Ugh, let's go, I feel disgusting,” she pulls a face. Rupert clearly thinks quite the opposite.

“Yes, let's. Enjoy your game, gentlemen.” You smile brightly.

“I certainly am,” Declan responds, the low rumble of his laughter following you from the court.

You can still feel the heat of his stare as you pile into the car to leave.

You can still feel the weight of his body on yours as you climb into bed that night.

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: Emily faces the consequences of keeping your relationship a secret.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapters: 2/?

Words: 1640

Catergories: Angst, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Violence

You wake up with a groan, vision blurry and limited to just one eye. You try to reach up to feel the one you can’t see out of, but the rattle of chains stops you. Pressing yourself upright against the wall, you look down to see your wrists restrained to a radiator, the cuffs biting into your skin. Squinting, you take in the small, bare room you’re in, trying to discern what you can through the meager light that spills through the smoke-stained curtains.

Searching your aching brain, you try to remember how you got into this situation. It comes to you in the flashes, your apartment, the bar, dancing. You remember Emily, the look on her face when she said the two of you were a mistake. Despite your current circumstances, you still feel the ache her words cause you. Pushing those thoughts aside, you yank on the cuffs as hard as you can, wincing as the metal cuts into your already raw wrists. The radiator doesn’t give in the slightest, and you take a deep breath, pushing the pain you feel all over your body to the side so that you can think of a way out of this.

You take your mind back again, recalling how you sat in the alley, how you thought the hand on you was Emily. You squeeze your eyes together in concentration and quickly hiss in regret as pain shoots through your face. The feeling puts the last pieces of last night together, bringing back the memory of being struck across the head. You swear in frustration, unable to remember the face of the person who took you.

As you struggle to recollect the fragments of your memory, you hear footsteps approaching, and the handle to the single door in the room turns. You tense in preparation, breath lodged in your chest as the door creaks open.

—

For the first time in her life, Emily arrives late to work. She had tossed and turned all night, replaying her conversation with you over and over again. Usually, she prides herself on her composure, but she can’t bring herself to care when she walks into the conference room with dark circles under her eyes. She’d hoped arriving late would mean she wouldn’t have to endure any awkward tension with you, that she could just dive straight into a case and focus on that. She wasn’t wrong in her assumption, but she had expected to be the last one to arrive, not you. Throwing her bag down on the table, she sits in her usual seat, looking up to find the whole team’s eyes on her.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Garcia stands at the board, a concerned look on her face and asks if you came in with her.

Emily tries not to visibly tense at the question, but she can’t hide the edge in her voice. “No, why would she?”

The team shares a knowing look with each other, and Emily prepares herself for deflection. Garcia isn’t concerned with treading the line, and doesn’t hold back her next question. “We saw her follow you out of the bar, but neither of you came back in. Didn’t you guys leave together?”

Emily tenses at the implication. “No, I went home alone.” The automatic defensiveness wears off then, and she realises why they’re so concerned. “What do you mean she didn’t come back in?”

“No one saw her after she went after you. We all thought you had both left. I didn’t even realise the two of you had gone until Alexa came up and asked if I’d seen her.”

Emily bristles at the mention of the women, remembering the two of you together. In her annoyance, she brushes off the concern that itches at her. “She’s probably just running late.”

Opening the case file, she focuses on the paper in front of her, ignoring the worried look Morgan gives her that she can see out of the corner of her eye. A few minutes pass in awkward silence before Hotch arrives and checks everyone’s present. Noticing your absence, he questions your whereabouts.

Morgan speaks up. “She hasn’t called you?”

“No.” Hotch answers, confusion in his voice. “Garcia, get her ETA please.”

“On it, sir.” With a quick nod she darts out of the room.

Emily watches the interaction silently, nerves building in her stomach. The feeling builds steadily until Garcia storms back into the room, where they quickly veer towards panic.

“I can’t get in contact with her,” Garcia explains frantically, “There’s no answer on either of her phones.”

Emily intercepts, “Did you trace them?”

Garcia stutters, embarrassed that they know how she frequently invades their privacy.

“Garcia.” Hotch says sternly.

“Yes, I traced both of them! The last coordinates were at the bar before they turned off.”

Emily’s heart sinks, the worry making her hungover head throb.

“Someone go check her apartment and see if she’s there.” Hotch instructs.

Emily automatically stands up, then suddenly becomes aware of how her eagerness looks. She opens her mouth to explain her haste, but is quickly stopped.

“For god's sake Emily!” Garcia yells in exasperation, “We already know that the two of you are together!”

Emily feels heat building her cheeks, her stammered rebuttal cut short by Garcia’s tirade.

“No! No more deflection. Now go find your girl!”

Letting out a defeated sigh, Emily nods and quickly makes her way around the table. She swallows her embarrassment as she’s stopped by Hotch at the door.

“Call us when you get there.” Hotch orders.

“Yes, sir.” She nods, the mortification at being called out in front of the team falls to the wayside. She needs to know that you’re okay.

—

Emily pulls up to your building, nerves buzzing. She glances up to your window, hoping she’ll see some movement, some sign that you’re there.

Swallowing her disappointment, she makes her way up to your apartment, apprehension building in her chest. Her hands tremble as she slides the spare key you gave her into the lock. The door clicks open, and she braces herself, taking a deep breath before stepping inside.

She’s hit with the scent of your perfume as she enters, and her heart seizes at the smell. Making her way through your apartment, she calls out your name and waits for a non-existent reply. When she makes it to your bedroom, she takes a bated breath before walking inside. Her heart sinks when she finds the room empty. Everything is exactly as the two of you had left it the night before. She freezes at the realisation, you hadn’t been back here. You never came home last night. Bracing herself on the doorframe, she takes in the scene, trying to find any clue that she's wrong. As her eyes wander, she spots the dress you had teased her with the other night before, thrown over the clothes rail exactly where she had left it. Emily closes her eyes and it’s like she’s back in that memory. She can almost feel the warmth of your body against hers, the sound of your laugh ringing through the air, your breath on her skin as you whisper in her ear. The memory is so vivid it hurts.

Opening her eyes, she shakes her head. She needs to think like a profiler, not your girlfriend. Her jaw clenches. You’re not her girlfriend. You never were. Even if she finds you, you would never want to be with her after what she said.

Emily pulls out her phone, fingers hovering over Garcia’s name. Taking a deep breath she steadies her voice and makes the call.

“Garcia, it’s me. She’s not here.” The silence on the line is thick and palpable.

She can almost feel Penelope’s concern reaching out from the other end. “What do you mean she’s not there?”

Emily bites her tongue. “I mean she’s not here. She never came home last night. Everything’s exactly as we left it.” She doesn’t bother to hide the truth of the two of you anymore. She’d happily shout it in the middle of the BAU if it meant having you safe.

Garcia’s tone automatically shifts to analyst mode. “Okay, okay. I’ll check the hospitals, maybe she had an accident.” The words are meant to sound hopeful, but Emily can tell how forced it is. Even Garcia didn’t believe them.

Emily nodded, even though no one was there to see it. “Yeah, okay. Call me back as soon as you get anything. I’m heading back now.” She ends the call and sinks onto the edge of the bed, running her hands over the familiar cover. The fear in her voice had been impossible to hide, and she knew that Garcia had heard it loud and clear.

—

You’re not sure who to expect when the door creaks open, but you’re not exactly surprised when the man who enters is the spitting image of a typical unsub. You brace yourself when he slowly approaches like he’s hunting his prey.

“Finally, you’re awake.” He grins, showing yellowed teeth.

You pull away as much as you can when he reaches towards you, which isn’t far given the cuffs. He runs a filthy hand over the side of your bruised and bloody face, chucking when you strain your neck back away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit.

He grabs your face, hard, and you hold back the pained noise that threatens to escape you when his grip tightens on your bruises. He laughs in your face, and you hold your breath at the foul smell.

“Lucky me,” he sneers, “I found myself a fighter.”

You meet his eyes, refusing to show him any fear. Your stomach turns as he strokes your face.

He leans in, repulsive breath against your ear. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

Next Chapter

ao3

[navillee]

Zayne's subtle sub behavior pt. III

Let's bring some specific scenarios, shall we? What if Zayne is a secret sucker for your scent?

Back to the first appointment you had with Zayne after long years no see, even though he called out his own bluntness towards you out after you had left the doctor's chambers, there's another detail that kept taunting him other than his own behavior: your perfume. You see, Zayne isn't the type that has the best sense of smell, not when his nose got so habituated with the permanent smell of hand sanitizer, saline solution, and literally organs. He didn't even use a cologne, not after he watched a nauseous patient throwing up at Greyson's white coat in his internal days, at least. However, when you open the door, the vicious aroma filled up the entire chamber, imbuing Zayne's brain into an obsessed state that led him to act, as he would say, outside his own expectations.

As he headed home that day, all he could think was you. How you're even more beautiful then he could remember, how he could listen to your heart beat through the stethoscope – the reason because he became what he is now – his stupid nervousness that made it difficult to break the ice – quite literally – and that even more stupid cologne of yours. He wasn't able to focus properly for the rest of the day, and some voice at the back of his mind told him that the feeling would get worse when he got home.

One hour after diligent obsession, he made up an entire list with perfumes that presented in the description, the same aroma he felt emanating out of your skin. But it was nothing but innocent curiosity, it shouldn't cross any silly behavior out of him beyond that, right?

Two days after, before getting to the hospital, he saw himself at a perfumary. The excuse was that he needed to buy a cologne to himself, but ops! Why is Zayne standing on the feminine section, asking for the employee about some really specific perfumes? "Is that for your girlfriend?" His ears blushed, looking around while trying to find your scent, between every sample brought by the seller. "Just an old friend." He answers when he finally finds the one that matches exactly with the aroma that had him crazy two days prior.

He ended up buying it together with a masculine one that matches yours perfectly. At least, it was what the seller said so.

When he gets home that same day, he finds himself staring at the perfume bottle, unsure of what to do with that. He sprayed a little in his wrists, closing his eyes automatically as he inhaled the aroma. A long and heavy sigh left his throat, his muscles tensing up as he finds himself in such a pathetic situation as this one. What was in his mind now? He was acting like an obsessed perv!

Even though the perfume was objectively the same, something was missing. Even better putting: someone's missing. The scent of the perfume was good, he isn't denying that. But it wasn't divine as it felt on you.

Maybe your skin components bring out the scent differently from how it does on his wrist. Or even can be the fact that what droves him crazy two days prior was more to do with the concentration of your natural body sweat mixed with a small concentration of cologne.

Oh, poor doctor Zayne, even though he felt that sharp feeling of frustration on his guts, that didn't stop him from spraying your perfume on his bedsheets, letting him be enveloped by the closest he could get from your scent now.

He felt so relaxed that it didn't take long for him to fall asleep. So serene, damped in dreams about being closer to your, smelling that tempting aroma straight from the font.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, he couldn't feel more pathetic as he noticed how hard he was. That happened before, of course, when he was a teenager/young adult dealing with hormones. It was something mechanic that could be solved by taking a cold shower. But this time is substantially different. The images of the dream he had with you still cristal clear on his mind, and it would be such a waste not take advantage of them to solve his throbbing problem.

His closes his eyes again, guiding his hands inside his sweatpants, letting out a suffered sigh as he touched the sensitive skin of his hard cock.

It started just on the tip, but the movements migrated to fast, desperate ones in no time.

His leg muscles spreading them apart from each other and making his toes curl on top of his back arching was a clear indicator that he had never done that. Not outise the mechanical approach, where Zayne just was solving a biological reaction caused by muscle relaxation. No, that time he has you in his mind. To drunk on his own thoughts, gritting his teeth as the needy moans and raspy grunts insisted to scape, proving to himself how piteous the whole thing was.

He called your name until the entire time like it was some sort of pray. Begging you to bring your sweat, to finally make his bedsheets smell perfectly, just as you did with his on his hospital room that day. To make it divine, something only you can do.

Divine like in his dream, where you both fucked in his office, where he was reduced to his knees to adore you, like the servant he always knew he is. Where you praised and degraded him like he secretly desired you to.

"Oh...p-please! Have mercy on m-me~" Was the last coo he vocalized before relapsing all his dirty lust in ropes of thick warm cum all over himself.

His frenzy passed by, and after he cleaned himself and changed the bedsheets, he got back to sleep, ashamed by his own actions, hoping you somehow could be merciful enough to forgive his sin, after all, you're his goddess and he was just being your loyal devoted, right?

[lokotrona11]

hot anger

Pairing : Peter Pevensie x Reader!

Summary: You think Peter is hot when he's angry, and you need him to fuck you

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, created nothing more!

Genre: obscenity.

Word count: 1k

AN : It's my first time writing this genre, I hope it's not a failure and I don't review it

The gif is not mine!

————

Peter was angry for days, angry with everyone.

He had no patience, he yelled at his brothers from time to time and his look could kill Caspian with ease, he had also argued with you but nothing that would ruin their relationship.

Sure, part of you was frustrated with him because of the way he had treated people, including you, but another part of you was turned on.

You bit your lip as Peter walked away from Caspian, his eyes burning with anger.

Your legs clenched as he rudely demanded that Susan shut up.

Something throbbed in your body when he told you not to bother him, that he was working.

You also felt bad, he made you feel guilty, feel needy when he was having a bad time, but you couldn't help it, your body reacts on its own.

Now you walk at a brisk pace through the castle, arriving at your shared bedroom.When you arrived you saw Peter lying in bed and your face lit up.

Peter had been coming to bed late for days, you tried to wait for him but you ended up falling into the arms of sleep, and then when you expected to see him in the morning he had already gotten up very early.

You walk to your nightstand, take off your rings, the corset and you let your hair down, you go to your closet and choose the nightwear, which was just a loose dress.

No one speaks, Peter looks at you in silence, and you only concentrate on changing.

Maybe he thinks you're angry with him, but that's not the case, quite the opposite.

You walk to the bed and lie down on your side of the mattress.

"How was today?" You ask looking at him.

"Not so bad," he said in a soft tone.

Your hand takes he's and your lips fall to her cheek. "You've been very busy, so much work is going to make you sick"

"It is my duty" You kiss her lips.

"Your job is governor, not to be a slave to your government"

Peter's hands grab your waist. "You're so pretty... but you also talk so much." I speak mockingly.

Maybe at another time you had already acted offended but not today, you only wanted him.

You place yourself on his lap, each leg on his side.

Peter laughed, reading your attitude. "you need something?"

"To you" You said, bumping his forehead.

The king's hands squeezing the flesh of your hips.

"I thought you were mad at me."

You deny automatically. "Actually, I've been wanting you all day."

"Then you can have me now."

You squeal when in one quick movement his hands leave you underneath him.

You feel his lips on your neck and a muffled moan comes from your lips, so desperate.

You feel Peter smile against your skin. "You like this, don't you?" Another moan is elicited when he bites down on your skin. "Talk to me or I'll have to stop."

"Yes, I love it." You almost scream, desperate for he not to stop. "I've needed you for days, pet," you cry.

"You got me " he murmurs.

He leaves your neck and takes off your dress.

"Ah!" You can almost come when you feel your boyfriend's tongue on your tit, while his hand fits perfectly into the other.

Let go of your boob for a second. "Days ago, love?"

You nod. "You're.. so sexy when he's angry" you try to speak.

"Yeah?" Move to the other nipple.

"Yes. I've wanted you to fuck me all day"

Peter lets go of your tits and goes down until he reaches your pussy.

"Do you want me to make you cum with my tongue?"

"No." You say firmly. "I want to suck you."

Peter's eyes show the dose of pleasure at your words, and without speaking he turns over in bed, leaving you on top of him.

You take off his shorts and t-shirt he wasn't wearing.

Peter's lips part, trying to speak but his words get stuck in his throat as he feels you suck on his cock.

You choke, your eyes water but you don't stop, you don't want to stop.

“Oh, love,” you hear him say.

You take his cock out of your mouth for a few seconds. "You don't know how long I've wanted this," you confess, returning to your work.

"Me too, love," he stammers.

Sucking his cock with desire, as if it were a pacifier until you feel it finish on your lips and his muscles rest, much of his accumulated stress seems to disappear with the liquid.

“God, how I needed this,” you hear him ramble and smile.

Peter needs a minute to compose himself and lays you down on the bed, without warning he puts his head between your legs, tearing off your panties.

"Peter!" You moan.

He doesn't respond, just squeezes the flesh of your thighs, burying himself even deeper into your pussy, if that was possible.

His tongue violently flicks against your clit and you scream.

"The whole castle is listening to you, dove," she speaks into your pussy, sending vibrations that make you dizzy.

Your cheeks blush. "It's so good"

He sucks on your clit and you feel his fingers at your entrance.

"I'm around"

He didn't respond, he just accelerated his fingers and his tongue was more violent.

You come almost crying, in overwhelming pleasure and Peter doesn't stop, your orgasm and his perfume, stronger than ever, make you dizzy.

The eyes close lazily.

“Hey, lady,” you hear her voice rasp from her and your body vibrates. "we not finished"

Without further ado, he kisses your lips and you feel his cock at your entrance.

When you enter, your moans are muffled on his lips.

“It feels so good,” you gasp, feeling the slow, deep movements of the great king.

His hips speed up as his lips leave you, rising higher over your body and he pounds into your body without hesitation, as sure as only the Magnificent King could.

Your eyes widen and you feel pressure on your belly, his cock moving in and out.

His hips aren't hesitant as he pounds into you, his hands are squeezing his body and you can play that he's just using you to take away his stress from everything he deals with, but you wouldn't want him any different.

His hand finds your clit and you feel a rollercoaster ride through your body.

“Peter… I’m going to cum” you squeal.

"Cum." Demanded and you released yourself, feeling spasms of pleasure and then feeling Peter cum inside you.

Peter falls to the side of your body and his arms wrap around you.

Your body relaxes from his touch and the only thing you can do before going to sleep is listen to the voice of your beloved blonde.

"I love you.."

[bellaxgiornata]

Neighbors [Chapter 2]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k

[Series Chapter List and Summary]

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: Chapter two is finally up! I know many of you have been asking for it, so hopefully you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mycobrakai1972 @stilllivindue2spite @luvr-bunnyy @pone21  @sleepysleepymom @urlocalgeek @buckysvinyl @ragamuffin285 @lollulroofl @hazallem @hellooooooooooooooo @kezibear

Chin resting in your hand, you sat at a corner table by one of the large windows in Common Grounds skimming over the documents on your laptop. A half finished latte was on the table beside you–the second one you’d had since you opened the shop about an hour ago now. 

The deadline for filing taxes was just around the corner and here you were still needing to get everything finalized and officially sent in before it was considered late. Since Jaime had dropped Lily off at preschool this morning and you didn’t need to pick her up until the afternoon, you figured now was the best time to finish the frustrating and tedious task that you’d been repeatedly putting off. It wasn't often that you had free moments where you weren’t watching Lily or dealing with something at the coffee shop, so this morning while you were free you figured you’d try to finish working on it–even if you’d rather have been back home sleeping in before eventually making your way into the shop.

With your focus fixed on your laptop, you weren't remotely paying attention to whoever had walked in through the front door of Common Grounds, even if your ears had vaguely registered Allison’s usual friendly greeting from behind the counter while you worked. The typical morning rush at the coffee shop had ended about fifteen minutes ago and you’d long since stopped paying attention to every occasional straggler that passed through the door. 

Left hand absently sliding along the table to grab your honey lavender latte, you reread one of the lines on your laptop’s screen, trying to make sense of all the frustrating tax language. Drawing the mug up to your lips for another drink, you tried to focus on the section you were currently reading, but your concentration was easily interrupted by a familiar, deep voice suddenly ordering by the register.

“Just a large coffee, black.”

Almost automatically your eyes slid over the top of your laptop, landing on the sight of none other than your new neighbor, Frank. His back was facing you as he pulled his card out of his wallet before sliding it through the card reader and paying for his drink. He was wearing his dark jacket again this morning and a pair of dark wash jeans. His expression looked fairly neutral this time from what you could see from the profile of his face–he wasn't smiling but he didn't look nearly as surly as when you’d first seen him yesterday, either. 

Behind the counter, Allison sent him another friendly smile before turning around and beginning to make his coffee. As he slipped his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, your eyes followed the movement of his hands, admittedly lingering on a particular part of him for a moment longer than necessary as his hands returned to his sides. 

I wonder if he works out , you caught yourself thinking.

The memory of Frank crouching down to talk to your niece last night flashed through your mind as your gaze gradually slid its way up his back and towards his face again. You remembered the unexpected warm and friendly smile that had taken you by surprise when he’d accepted the cookies from Lily as you sat there. The memory of it began stirring up those confusing feelings inside of you once more. He certainly hadn’t turned out to be what you’d expected, at least after that second interaction you’d now had with him. You found yourself wondering if Cora was right, maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Maybe you'd just caught him in a bad mood yesterday morning.

You saw him begin to turn and make his way towards the end of the counter where customers picked up their orders and your eyes immediately darted back down to your laptop. Ducking your head, you pretended you were intensely focused on your laptop screen, desperately hoping he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You’d already embarrassed yourself enough with him thanks to Lily pointing out that you’d called him the grumpy man from the coffee shop, you didn’t need him to catch you ogling him next. That would certainly make things even more embarrassing and uncomfortable at this point.

“Are you always here?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you froze in your chair. Hand curling tighter around the handle of your coffee mug, you felt your body tense at the sound of his voice clearly directed at you. Considering how uninterested he’d been in small talk just yesterday morning, you figured he’d grab his coffee in silence and leave. You hadn’t anticipated that he’d actually try to strike up a conversation with you, especially with him having a clear out because you obviously looked preoccupied at the table. He could’ve easily just grabbed his drink and left, ignoring you entirely.

Slowly your eyes shifted over towards Frank. He was leaning against the coffee shop counter, one of his elbows resting along it as his head cocked just a bit to the side, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied you. One corner of his mouth was curled up just a fraction in something almost like a smile as he waited for you to respond. Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore the frenzied beating of your heart at the sudden attention from him.

“Usually,” you answered. “Sort of comes with being the owner of the place.” 

Both of his dark brows rose marginally onto his forehead in something like surprise. You fought back the feeling of pride within you at his reaction. Though Frank quickly recovered, the look of surprise shifting into a smile that was almost as warm as the one you’d seen on his face last night when he was talking to Lily.

“Is that so?” he asked curiously. “You own this place?”

You shrugged lightly in response, your eyes catching sight of Allison’s head darting up from over his shoulder, staring at you from behind the counter. She was pouring the freshly brewed coffee for him into a to-go cup with a look of stunned disbelief on her face. 

“Nearest Starbucks is about twenty minutes from here,” you said, focusing back on Frank and trying to ignore Allison behind him as she began frantically mouthing things to you. “Besides grabbing a cup of coffee from one of the local fast food joints, there really aren’t many options around here. Figured the town could use a coffee shop, so I opened one.”

Frank nodded his head, his eyes still on you. They looked far more friendly than they had yesterday morning when he’d been sizing you up, that was for sure.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he replied. “Sorta the only place to go ‘round here for a good cup of coffee it seems.”

Unable to fight back a triumphant grin, it spread wide over your lips at his compliment. “Guess it just means you’re stuck with me while you’re here then,” you told him. When a brow curiously arched up onto his forehead at your comment, you quickly added on, “For coffee. Since there’s nowhere else to really grab a cup that doesn’t taste like burnt garbage in this town, I mean.”

Allison headed over to the counter with his cup of coffee in hand, setting it down onto the surface near where he was leaning. Her eyes were darting curiously back and forth between the pair of you now. 

Frank ducked his head, chuckling a little before he pushed off of the counter. “Guess your right,” he agreed. “Looks like we're both stuck with each other then.” 

He reached over, picking up his coffee from the counter while offering Allison a polite ‘thank you’ as he did. Her eyes grew wide when he’d turned back around to face you, her dumbstruck gaze focusing on his back. You had a feeling there were a plethora of questions already forming in her mind that you’d be hearing the moment he left. 

Frank nodded his head once towards you. “You have a good day now,” he said. “S’pose I’ll be seeing you again real soon, though.”

Something warm fluttered in your chest as he turned, making his way towards the coffee shop exit. As he walked, drawing his to-go cup up to his lips for a drink, your brain fumbled to form a coherent thought. You only briefly recovered just as he opened the door to the coffee shop.

“You too!” you called out.

He was out the door with a small grin on his mouth, turning and making his way down the sidewalk and away from your shop without a backwards glance. Your eyes followed the back of him as he went, your mind reeling at the emotional whiplash of interacting with him once more. He definitely wasn't what you'd initially expected and you had no idea what to make of that.

Allison’s fingers loudly snapping in front of your face broke you from your staring seconds later and you jumped in your chair. Eyes flying over towards her, you saw her standing beside your table.

“Spill,” she said immediately. “What the hell was that complete one-eighty about?”

“I–I don’t know,” you stammered, watching as Allison plopped into the chair across from you. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

“Well something must have happened,” she pressed, “because yesterday morning that man was all moody and rude, now today he's actually striking up small talk? Flirting with you?”

Cheeks heating, you focused back on your cup of coffee. You picked it up, bringing it up to your lips as you shook your head. “He wasn’t flirting, Ally,” you told her. “I think he was just being friendly.”

“Uh huh,” she said, waving the idea off with a dismissive hand. “So you must’ve run into him again since yesterday morning with the way he was talking to you. What happened? I want details.”

Drinking down some of your coffee, your eyes darted back down towards your laptop. You really needed to finish your taxes, but you had a feeling Allison wouldn't stop asking questions until you answered her. Figuring it'd just be easier to tell her about last night and move on, you released a soft sigh.

“You know that duplex next to mine that's been vacant for awhile?” you asked, lowering the mug to the table. “The one Cora has been struggling to fill?”

Allison nodded. “Yes, I remember,” she answered. “She said the other day she found a tenant when she’d come in for a coffee.”

You pointed a finger out the shop's window in the direction which Frank had walked off in. Though he'd since disappeared now, having turned a corner or gotten into his truck.

“That was him,” you told her. 

Allison’s eyes grew wide as she audibly gasped. “What?” she asked in surprise. “ That beautiful man is your neighbor?”

Laughing lightly, you nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s just him. Lily was with me when Cora was telling me about him moving in the other day, so she'd had this idea to bake him cookies to welcome him to the neighborhood.”

“She’s always such a sweet kid,” Allison mused aloud. 

“Mhmm,” you agreed. “Thing is, she wanted to make cookies like we did for Valentine’s Day. You remember those?”

Allison burst into a laugh, throwing a hand over her mouth as she quickly tried to stifle the noise. She didn’t succeed and you couldn't resist grinning and laughing a little yourself at the memory of your own shock at who'd opened the door to receive those cookies. 

“You mean to tell me,” Allison began, still trying to quell her laughter, “that you dropped off pretty heart cookies to that guy yesterday?”

“Yep,” you told her, still grinning. “They were pink and covered in sprinkles. Lily even insisted on using one of those Valentine’s Day plates for them. So of course I had to bring her over to deliver them with me because there was no way in hell I was going to do that alone.”

A snort of amusement left Allison before she bit her lip, shaking her head. You couldn't help laughing a little more yourself.

“You should have seen my face when it was him that opened the door,” you continued. “I was certain he was going to be an asshole. Throw the cookies on the ground or belittle Lily and I. But he was…surprisingly friendly. Even took a few minutes to talk to Lily and thank her for them. I practically had to drag her away before she could volunteer us to bake him cinnamon rolls next.”

Allison’s smile grew even wider, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Sounds like someone is doing a little matchmaking,” she teased, shooting you a wink.

You rolled your eyes, glancing back down at your laptop. “She's four, Ally,” you pointed out. “She was just being friendly. Besides, he's my neighbor.”

“Which makes it even easier for him to pop over for late night booty calls,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Your eyes flew up over the screen of your laptop, landing on Ally as they widened. She laughed at the look on your face, rising up from her chair as the door to the shop opened once again. 

“That's bordering on very inappropriate work talk,” you quickly scolded her. “And that's the end of this topic of conversation, I think.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, a knowing smile on her lips as she made her way back towards the register. “Sure it is, boss.”

The moment the panicked cries met your ears, your eyes flew open and consciousness quickly returned to you. Pushing yourself up in your bed, you frantically began throwing the sheets off of yourself when you heard Lily’s distressed voice calling out for you in between the loud sobs that were coming from down the hall. It didn’t take Penny long to climb out of her dog bed at the noise, bolting out of the room before you’d barely managed to stand upright.

“I’m coming, Lily!” you called out to her.

Fighting back the fog of sleep you’d just abruptly woken from, you made your way out of your bedroom and crossed the few steps down the hall towards the room you’d long since turned into Lily’s for the night’s Jaime worked at the bar. Stepping into the room, you spotted her sitting up in her bed and clutching her stuffed husky version of Penny to her chest. The nightlight across the room cast her in a soft, pink glow as the real Penny sat beside her bed, her head resting along the mattress.

“Hey,” you greeted her softly, making your way over towards the edge of the bed to sit. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

Lily nodded her head quickly as soft sobs continued to fall from her lips. You could see the damp tear streaks on her cheeks in the dim light, the sight twisting your heart in your chest. You hated ever seeing anything but a smile on her face. Opening your arms to her in offer of comfort, she immediately lunged forward across the bed and wrapped her small arms around you in a hug. You held her tight in return, rocking her gently against you.

“I’m sorry, coffee bean,” you whispered. “It was only a dream though. It wasn’t real and it can’t hurt you. And you've got Penny and I here with you.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she whispered back, her little voice cracking from where her face was buried against your shoulder. “Don’t make me sleep, Nini, please?”

You sighed, eyelids slowly lowering as you continued to hold her against you. It must’ve been a real bad dream if she was saying that tonight. Often you wondered what her bad dreams were about when she had them, though you’d never pushed for an answer. Though by now you knew there was only one guaranteed way to get the bad dream out of her mind so she’d go back to sleep tonight and not keep you both awake all night long. You found yourself grateful that it wasn’t winter anymore.

“Do you want to go sit outside for a minute?” you asked her. “Look at the stars and calm down?”

She nodded her head against your shoulder, sniffling slightly. One of your hands lightly patted her back.

“Alright, let’s go grab our coats and shoes,” you said. 

Reluctantly she released you, though one of her little hands quickly found yours while the other still gripped her stuffed husky. Both of you slid off of the bed and made your way out of the room and down the short hallway towards the stairs. Penny dutifully followed along after the pair of you.

There was a few minutes of silence as you and Lily slipped your shoes and coats on in the front entryway of the living room before you both made your way through the kitchen and over towards the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. As you unlocked the door, your gaze landed over on Penny who was now wagging her tail behind you, excited about the prospect of going outside. 

“Uh uh,” you told her, shaking your head. “You slipped your collar a couple of nights ago and I don’t feel like chasing after you around the whole neighborhood at two in the morning. So you’re staying inside.”

Penny grumbled back at you, swinging her head around in a circle in her husky equivalent of an eye roll. You figured she was probably upset at hearing the word ‘stay’ mixed into what you’d said. But you shook your head again at her, too tired to even want to think about her slipping her collar and sneaking her way out of the old and worn wooden fence that surrounded the yard right now. 

“All your own doing, girl,” you told her. “Don’t like it? Stop sneaking out of the yard and making me chase after you. Until then, you stay put.”

With another irritated and prolonged grumble, Penny slowly lowered herself down onto the kitchen floor. Lily giggled lightly at your stubborn dog as you focused back on the door, pulling it open and stepping outside with her hand once more holding onto yours. Though as you both stepped out onto the patio, you quickly noticed you weren’t alone in the backyard. 

On the small neighboring patio next to yours, you spotted Frank sitting in one of the patio chairs with his legs kicked out before him, his solemn gaze fixed up above on the night sky, one of his hands absently running across his mouth. But he quickly snapped out of his thoughts seconds later when he registered the sound of your back door having slid open. His head turned over his shoulder towards the pair of you where you’d stopped frozen in your tracks.

“Sorry,” you apologized quickly, uncertain of what else to say. “I didn’t see you out here, we didn’t mean to bother you.”

Frank’s eyes dropped down onto Lily beside you, her hand still holding tight to yours while the other clutched her stuffed husky to her chest. You noticed the way his gaze softened instantly when he’d focused on her, probably noticing her red puffy eyes from having just been crying. 

“‘S’alright,” he replied, his gaze sliding back up to you. “Not just my backyard.”

Drawing his feet in towards himself, he began to rise out of his chair. You winced, feeling bad for practically kicking him out of the space he’d been in first. But he’d barely risen to his feet before the sound of Lily’s voice stopped him.

“I had a bad dream,” she said softly. “Do you get bad dreams, Frank?”

Frank froze halfway out of his chair, a muscle twitching in his cheek as the moonlight above illuminated his face. Your brows knitted faintly together as you watched his entire body tense at her question. Gradually his attention fixed back onto your niece, his eyes a confusing mix of emotions that your tired brain couldn’t quite read.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I do.”

Something about the heavy tone in which he’d answered her had caught your attention. His words felt like a loaded answer, one with more meaning behind it that you found yourself curious about. What sort of bad dreams did he have? Were they the reason for the often gruff exterior he seemed to exude? Was it anything to do with why he was here by himself?

Though of course, you weren’t remotely about to ask him a single one of those questions.

Lily dropped your hand, her arms both holding the stuffed dog to her chest in a hug as she crossed the small distance over to Frank's patio. You frowned, shoulders sagging at her once more being the four year old she was who couldn't help inserting herself somewhere she shouldn't be.

“Lily, please don't–”

“What makes you feel better after a bad dream?” Lily asked Frank, cutting you off as if you hadn't even begun to reprimand her. “I go outside with Nini. The stars are pretty to look at.”

You shot Frank an apologetic smile before focusing back on your niece. Taking a step forward, you reached a hand out in an attempt to direct her back into your side of the yard. “Lily,” you began again, “you can't just go barging into his yard and asking him personal questions. That's not polite, coffee bean. Especially not at two in the morning.”

Frank glanced up at you, shaking his head lightly. “It's alright,” he assured you. “She’s not bothering me. The opposite, actually.” 

Taken aback by his response, once again considering the hour and your niece’s intrusive question, you were surprised to see Frank settle back down into his chair. There was a small smile on his face as he rested his fidgeting hands in his lap, his attention returning to your niece as Lily continued over onto his patio, climbing up onto the patio chair beside his as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Standing with the toes of your shoes in the grass just before his patio and at the edge of your yard, you weren’t even sure how to react at this point.

“I like to look at the stars sometimes, too,” he told Lily. “Sometimes they’re calming for me. Other times I might read a book.”

Lily smiled, her little legs not quite reaching the ground from where she sat in the chair absently petting her stuffed dog. “I like when Nini reads me books. She does good voices,” she told him.

Frank’s attention briefly shifted over to where you were standing, something still indecipherable written on his face. Despite the slight chill of the spring night, you felt something warm creep up your neck and flood your cheeks. Nervously you wrapped your arms over your chest, the weight of his gaze once more drawing forth some confusing feelings inside of you.

“Does she now?” Frank mused.

“Mhmm,” Lily replied, beginning to swing her legs back and forth. “I like when she reads the monkey book.”

Frank’s mouth twisted into a sad smile, his gaze dropping down towards his booted feet that had begun toeing the pavement beneath them. Your brows pulled together a bit, a crease forming between them as you noted the slight shift in his mood. He was quiet for a moment before you heard him speak again.

“Used to read One Batch, Two Batch to my daughter every night,” he murmured. “Was her favorite book. Sometimes that’s what she wanted me to read when she had bad dreams.”

“Nini reads that book to me all the time!” Lily exclaimed, excitedly sitting forward in her chair. “That’s where Penny got her name!”

“Is it now?” Frank asked, glancing up at her. 

Even from his profile you could tell the look on Frank’s face hinted at something more hidden behind what he’d said. His use of past tense hadn’t gone unnoticed even to your tired ears, either. You could practically feel a sadness exuding from him where he sat in the chair, chuckling softly as Lily bounced up and down in her seat telling him about how she’d helped you name your husky when you’d adopted her not too long ago. But as she continued to enthusiastically tell the story, you could tell that sadness never seemed to fade from his expression.

“Hey, Lil?” you said, cutting in when you found an opportunity. 

She paused in the middle of her storytelling, the pair of them focusing on you where you still stood at the edge of your yard. You knew if you didn’t stop her now, she’d probably sit there talking to Frank until the sun came up, and while it oddly looked as if he almost wouldn’t mind that, you definitely felt it was time to usher her back inside to bed before she’d be too awake to fall back asleep with how excited she'd already become.

“Maybe we should tell Frank goodnight and head back inside?” you suggested. “It’s late and I’m sure he needs to get to sleep at some point, too. Besides, I’m dropping you off at your dad’s in the morning and I think you’ll want to be rested to spend the day with him, right?”

The excitement quickly fell from Lily’s face and you fought the ache in your chest at the sight. It had been great seeing her happy after how you’d just found her in her room, but you really did need to get some sleep and so did she. If she continued on talking to Frank like this you knew she'd be wide awake talking for the next hour.

“How about I let you bring Penny’s bed into your room for the rest of the night, hmm?” you offered. “Let her sleep in there with you, too?”

The smile immediately returned to her face as she scooted off the patio chair. “Really?” she asked, hopping up and down on her feet. “She can stay with me tonight?”

You nodded, barely getting an affirmative out before Lily was darting past you back towards your sliding door and calling ‘goodnight’ out loudly to Frank as she went. She was back inside your place and darting presumably up to your room to get the dog bed with Penny bounding along behind her in no time. 

Frank’s soft chuckle drew your attention back towards him. Your arms were still hugging your chest as you sent him yet another apologetic smile.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you told him, gesturing your head towards the direction Lily had disappeared. “She’s not very shy, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Doesn’t quite understand when she's being rude instead of friendly.”

Frank’s hand ran across his mouth as he shook his head, a glimmer of something in his eyes as he looked up at you. Your stomach fluttered nervously at the realization of just how alone you currently were with him.

“Seems like a real good kid,” he told you. 

“Yeah,” you said, smiling fondly. “She is.” Clearing your throat, you took a step backwards, aware that you needed to get back inside. “Sorry for bothering you, though. I’ll uh, leave you to it.”

Turning around, you made your way back towards your side of the duplex. Once again you’d found that Frank had surprised you with how sweet he was with your niece, though learning he had a daughter certainly seemed to explain that away. You wondered if he and his wife had recently separated or divorced and that was why he was out here looking so melancholic.

Just as your hand grabbed onto the handle of your sliding door, pulling it open, you heard Frank’s voice from behind you. You paused there on the patio at the sound of it.

“You’re good with her,” he called out.

Biting back the smile on your face, you glanced back over your shoulder at him.

“Could say the same about you,” you called back.

He let out an amused huff, ducking his head almost bashfully at your compliment. That smile was further threatening to take over your face as you heard Lily loudly talking to Penny upstairs inside your duplex.

“Goodnight, Frank.”

He looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his head still partially ducked down. There was a ghost of a smile on his face as he nodded back at you once.

“G’night,” he replied.

Stepping back into your place, you found yourself smiling to yourself as you shut and locked the sliding door behind you. As you began to slip off your coat and shoes in the kitchen, you wondered if maybe having him as a neighbor wouldn’t be half as bad as you’d first thought.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

On request, I decided to continue the First Kiss headcanons.

But with a twist!

I'm starting an unnecessarily depraved series of oneshots based around kinks. It won't be necessary to read the previous entry, but if you want to, you can find it here.

And we're starting with Mihawk because no I'm not obsessed shut up.

🤤

ANYWAY.

I'm a bibliophile and I like doing alphabet-based things, so without further ado, I present you the first of the ABC's of Kinks. Be prepared for unapologetic smut featuring Mihawk, Shanks, Zoro, Sanji, Buggy, and possibly a few other characters.

D is for Dominance

ABC's of Kink

Part 2 of First Kiss: Mihawk

LA!Mihawk X Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1590

NSFW

The second Mihawk pushes you against the door of the hotel room and pins your hands over your head, you completely forget how to breathe. You definitely should have expected this—every other aspect of your relationship with him over the past month has been a power play, and he has made it perfectly clear who the dominant party is.

You swallow as he tosses his hat aside onto a table and leans in, his forehead touching yours and his hand curling around your jaw.

"Tell me, little one..." His thumb brushes across your lips, and a small whimper escapes them. "Who do you belong to?"

You can barely breathe with his sharp yellow eyes burning into yours, but you manage to force out one shaky word. "Y-you."

He lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head, tightening his grip on your chin a little.

"'You'...what?"

"S—sir," you add quickly. For all intents and purposes, you do belong to him. You're under contract with him for a year, and only a month of that has passed so far.

"Good." He loosens his grip around your jaw a little...but his grip around your wrists tightens. "Just making sure we're clear."

He lowers his mouth to yours in a possessive kiss, his tongue pushing between your lips as he deftly unbuttons your shirt. Spreading it open, his lips break away from yours, and he gives an appreciative hum as his eyes drift over your body. His fingertips brush across the thin black lace cup of your bra, drawing your nipple to a stiff point.

"Every inch of you..."

Loosening the ties of your shorts, and pushing his hand into them, his eyes flicker back to yours as he rubs you through your panties. Your head falls back against the door amid a small moan, already throbbing at his soft, indirect touch.

"Belongs to me. Isn't that right, dear?"

"Y—yes, sir—"

He stops moving his hand, pulling a desperate whimper from you. "Say it."

"I belong—belong to you—sir—"

With this, Mihawk shoves your shorts down your hips so they pool around your ankles. He doesn't waste any time with your panties, grasping the thin lace and tearing them away from your body with one powerful tug, leaving you gasping...and then moaning again as he tugs you closer by your hip and pushes his fingers between your wet folds.

"Very good," he says over your soft moans. "I think we're going to have a lot of fun together, my little bird."

Your hips arch automatically toward his touch, your clit throbbing as his fingertips rub against the sensitive bud in firm, concentric circles, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He shoves you further back against the door, his lips pressing against your neck as he draws in a slow breath to breathe you in. You cry out when he bites down lightly on the tender skin, your eyes clenching shut.

"Open them." Your eyes shoot back open at his command, just as he lays his forehead against yours again, so all you can see are his sharp yellow irises. "I want your eyes on mine when you come undone. Understood?"

You nod quickly in agreement, your eyes glued to his. His lips brush against yours briefly, and his little smirk sends a shiver through your entire body.

His fingertips slide down from your clit, and without any warning he pushes two of them inside you, pressing his lips to yours and muffling your deep moan, his tongue slipping into your mouth in a harsh, dominating kiss.

You're completely at his mercy, your walls clenching around his fingers as he finds your g-spot with ease, rubbing them against it while his palm grinds against your clit, driving your pleasure higher and higher with every passing second. You moan into his mouth while your tongues swirl together. Your thighs tremble and your knees quake, his hands the only thing keeping you collapsing on the spot as you near the edge of physical abandon faster than you ever have in your life.

His lips part from yours the moment your orgasm crashes over you, letting your cries of pleasure fill the inn room, your hips bucking forward onto his hand in the force of your pleasure. His fingers hook against your g-spot in sync with the contractions of your pussy, drawing out your climax for as long as possible.

His hands leave you suddenly, leaving you to collapse to your knees in front of him, still gasping and whimpering, trembling. You lean back against the door and gaze up at him, your mind foggy from the lingering euphoria as you watch him shrug away his long coat and toss it aside. Your eyes take in every inch of his toned torso, his broad shoulders and powerful arms, the scars marring his fair skin as you watch him loosen the buckle of his belt.

One of his hands wraps around your arm just below your shoulder, and he tugs you back to your feet before pushing his pants down his hips and pressing you against the door again. He trails his fingers down your arm, across your wrist, lacing them through yours and pulling your hand up to brush his lips over your knuckles.

"I don't recall saying I was through with you," he says lightly, releasing your hand. You're frozen stiff as his eyes gaze down into yours, his hands trailing down your waist. You can feel his shaft pressed against your stomach, but you don't dare look away from his eyes for a second.

His hands reach your thighs, and he lifts you up with ease, your feet leaving the floor—and, without any hesitation, he lowers you down, thrusting his hips forward to fill your tight, wet channel completely with his hard cock. You cry out, flinging your arms around his neck as he presses you back against the door, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth before crushing his lips against yours.

Mihawk carries you to the bed in the center of the room to lay you at the edge of the mattress, leaning over you and thrusting into you hard and deep, the inn suite filled with nothing but the wet sounds of your bodies meeting and your desperate moans. You cling to his neck with one arm, your other hand trailing across the hard plane of his chest, your thighs clenched around his powerful hips.

He is utterly unrelenting, clearly bent on completely breaking you—his lips trail down to your chest as he unhooks your bra and tosses it aside, his lips wrapping around one of your stiff nipples and teasing at the sensitive protrusion with his tongue, his eyes holding your gaze the entire time to watch you fall apart beneath him.

And fall apart you do—your head falling back into the plush bedsheets, unable to breathe for moaning, curling your fingers in his thick black hair as you roll your hips to meet his with every hard thrust. You hook your other arm beneath his, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder, clinging to him like your life depends on it, because right now, it legitimately feels like it does. Your heart racing, your breath coming in sharps gasps, you feel like you might just die in his arms at any moment.

You can feel his breathing quickening against your neck, his chest heaving, before he finally grips at your hip with enough force to bruise the tender skin and slams into you with a low, deep grunt, thobbing hard as his orgasm spills inside you, your thighs trembling around him as you topple over the edge with him. He grasps a handful of your hair and presses his lips to yours, drawing in a slow, deep breath through his nose.

Your hips roll against his in pace with the deep waves of pleasure coursing through you, moaning softly against his lips as your tongues swirl together. You simply lay there beneath him for some time, your eyes slipping shut as his lips trail lightly across your neck, his fingers combing through your hair and his other hand slowly rubbing up and down your waist.

He lifts his head and brushes his lips to yours. "Dial up room service and tell them to bring a bottle of wine. Cabernet. Their oldest vintage."

One more brief, slow kiss, and Mihawk pulls away from you. Your eyes are glued to him as he stands up, brushing a hand back through his jet black hair to get it out of his eyes.

"And stay there," he adds, his eyes passing slowly over your nude form on the king sized bed. "I'll be back for you in a moment."

You watch him cross the room, biting your lip and holding your breath. The moment he disappears into the bathroom, your head falls back as a slow, shaking sigh leaves your lips. He expects you to be coherent enough to call room service after that?

Fuck.

But you don't really have any choice, do you? You belong to him, after all. And you're not complaining.

You take a few seconds to finish catching your breath before shifting over on the bed, rolling onto your stomach and dialing at the transponder snail. You can hear water running in the bathroom as you're ordering the bottle of wine he asked for.

You hang up the call and wrap your arms around a pillow with a slow and contended sigh as you bury your face into it.

Definitely not complaining.

[kanri-domo]

Characters: Il Dottore, AMAB! Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Torture, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Drugs

A tale of three failed escapes.

I.

It's dark. Dottore has no idea where he is or how he even got here. The last thing he remebered was storming off after a useless meeting, annoyance clouding his mind, fully intent on returning to his precious experiment. Yet, somehow, he was now in a dark cell, with the only light coming from behind a locked door.

With each little movement, the chains that bind him down clank. There's a cuff around his ankle and collar around his neck, both heavy and securely locked with a sturdy padlock, with chains that lead to the bedframe, which is bolted to the ground unfortunately. The chains aren't long enough for Dottore to go anywhere close to the door either, frustratingly enough.

"You're awake!" The door creaks open, finally. In enters a person Dottore does not recognize yet feels vaguely familiar.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up for so long," you complain, "I think I used too much sedative, but I was worried you'd wake up while I was still getting everything ready! Thank the archons you've enhanced yourself as much as you have - I think the dosage would've killed a normal person."

This person, Dottore thinks incredulously, is fucking crazy. To attack a harbinger - Dottore himself no less - is one thing. It's expected to for them to have some enemies, but it's whole other thing for someone to drug and kidnap one.

You prattle on for even longer, slender fingers twirling around a set of keys. Dottore stopped paying attention, no longer interested. If you were stupid enough to flaunt off the keys to his chains, then it would only be prudent for him to waste as little time necessary to escape and give you a slow death for the trouble you've caused.

The moment you walk into his range, Dottore snaps. He might be a researcher and scientist at heart, but he was the second for a reason and it doesn't take much to overpower you.

Dottore knocks you out with a strong blow to the head. It's disgusting how weak you are, he grumbles to himself, kidnapped by a stupid weakling.

As he turns around to unlock the cuffs around his ankle and neck, he fails to notice you getting back up, brushing off the blow as if it were nothing. It's not until he's shrieking in pain from an electrical shock that breaks him out of his concentration, and to his horror, face-to-face with you.

"Sorry, darling," you purr, "I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy. But hey, since you're so excited to be here, why don't we get started with lesson one?"

Dottore's vision is darkening, but he watched angrily as you place your hands around his throat and squeeze. The last thing he sees before he passes out - whether it be from the electrical shock or the lack of air, Dottore doesn't know - is the crazy glint of excitement that he'd seen in himself many times before. Dread pools in his stomach and everything goes black.

II.

Dottore was tired. There's a bone-deep tiredness that's been persisting ever since you'd kidnapped him. How long has it been? A month? Two months? No natural light enters the cell that you keep him in and the only other indicator of time passing is you coming and going.

There are bruises all over him; you liken it to adding color to a canvas, each one blooming into blues, purples, and blacks. Everything hurts. There's dried semen on his thighs and chest, but it's easier to ignore compared to everything else.

Dottore automatically stiffened at the ominous creaking of the door opening. You step in, humming cheerfully. In your hands is a tray of disgusting, horrendous slop. Dottore looks away from you, unwilling to submit himself to your whims despite the gnawing hunger.

"Ah, this game again?" You ask, amusement coloring your voice. "When will you learn," you tut. You say more words, but he's not listening, too tired to care. You roll your eyes at him before placing the slop on the ground and leaving.

The door closes behind you, but it lacks the distinctive click of the lock. The sound of footsteps getting feinter and feinter indicates you leaving though.

Dottore stares. There's no way you'd forget to lock the door... Would you?

It's dumb, and maybe it's the pain and exhaustion that fuels this escape attempt. It's so painfully obvious that it's a trap, but Dottore is nothing if not desperate.

Tugging at the chains, the loosened links came free. Hesitantly, Dottore stalked towards the door, afraid to make too much noise, lest you come back to investigate.

Peeking out the door, he sees no one. Despite the fear and the gut instinct of something feeling wrong coursing through him, Dottore refused to retreat back into the cold embrace and safety of the cell behind him. There's another door a small distance ahead, an exit perhaps?

Dottore takes his first steps towards freedom, before breaking into a run, hurrying before you come back. He would escape, he would -

A sharp pain from his head stops him in his tracks - or rather, you slam him into the wall does. Dottore sees stars and before he knows it, he's on the ground, blood bleeding out and running down his face.

"I'm going to kill you," Dottore snarls weakly, dizziness and pain quickly overtaking his senses, "I'm going to cut you into pieces and burn you alive," he slurs.

You laugh. Dottore is already weak from the time he's spent with you, and the head injury doesn't help, so it doesn't take much for you to hold him down despite his struggling. You unzip your pants, and Dottore stills.

"This is your punishment, darling," you coo as he started hyperventilating beneath you. You're not kind, Dottore had found out early on, but usually your punishments were physical, not sexual. Sex only happened after you'd coerced him into it in exchange for something else. Never as a punishment.

Your dick is objectively big, but for some reason, it feels even bigger than usual when you penetrate him. You don't bother to stretch or lube him up, and Dottore feels the lack of preparation keenly. It's painful and slow, and the whimpers the escape him would've been embarrassing if the pain of his insides rearranging themselves to make way for you wasn't as painful as it was.

By the time you bottomed out, Dottore was only moments away from passing out, but a sharp slap across the face brought him back.

"Ah - ah," you taunt, "if you black out now, I'd have to punish you even more later."

Without warning, you pull out before proceeding to slam yourself back in. Dottore howled at the suddenness, and the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and pain began to mix together as you fucked him senseless. Soon, blood slickened your movement and your roughness smoothed into a steady pace. Your hands grip onto his thin waist, nails digging into thin flesh, undoubtedly leaving even more marks. You fuck him like a ragdoll, and Dottore was helpless to stop you.

The harsh pace is unforgiving, and by the time you've cum, Dottore was extremely close to blacking out again. You cum inside him, painting his insides white. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, Dottore whined, his own cock hard, yet lacking the necessary enough stimulation to get a release.

You laugh at him, looking down on him as if he were a dumb bitch in heat. You take pity on him - or at least Dottore assumes you do - and dig your fingers into his prostate. It takes several harsh jabs before he spills all over himself, and Dottore silently curses his masochistic tendencies. But, at the very least, you seem to have had your fill, he relaxes, letting exhaustion fill him.

"This isn't the end of your punishment, unfortunately for you," You taunt, "You belong to me, and only me, you know? It seems my silly pet still wants to escape, so I need to make sure I train you well. I need to make sure you know, and your body knows, that I'm the only person who will ever love you!"

The last thing he sees is the sadistic gleam in your eyes, a familiar look that Dottore no doubt had on his own face once upon a time.

He blacks out, body aching and terror griping his heart.

The next time Dottore wakes up, he’s back in the dark, cold cell. There's something - a vibrator - in him, and he's tied down to the bed. You've taken everything: his pride, his freedom, and his dignity. You've crushed it beneath your heel and the only thing Dottore could do was laugh at the irony until he cried.

The mad scientist sobbed and screamed into the unforgiving darkness, unable to move and unknowing of when you'd return.

III.

He's wet and shivering. Archons, why was he so stupid. To run away when you loved him when you took good care of him.

Dottore was hiding in an alleyway a couple blocks away from where you'd kept him captive, not that he knew where the hell he was. It's definitely still in Snezhnaya, if the amount of snow meant anything, but it was a big enough country that Dottore still had no idea where he was.

He could go back, but... The thought of your anger, however, was enough to hesitate. Besides, he still was loyal to the Tsaritsa, and still had a duty to the Fatui... didn't he?

Angry stomps interrupted his thoughts. No, dread pools in his guts, it seems, you had already found him before Dottore could make any decision at all.

You stare at his pathetic form, face blank of any emotion.

Dottore pathetically crawled towards you, body already numb from the cold. He could salvage this, he thought desperately, you loved him, after all. You'd forgive him... Right?

"M' sorry," he mewled pathetically, clinging onto your pants, "I didn't mean to," he adds. He practically kneeling in the snow, too weak to get up, as well as trying to act as submissive as possible. The collar around his neck feels heavy, despite being only made of leather. You'd placed it there, changing it from the heavy lead to a lighter leather, calling it a reward for good behavior.

But Dottore had misbehaved, and now, you're angry.

"It seems," you sigh, and the next words that come out of your mouth freeze Dottore even more than the cold did, "that I still haven't trained you well enough."

Dottore opened his mouth - to beg, to scream, he didn't know - but before he could, the sharp jab of needle made its way into his neck, and you injected a strong sedative into him. Dottore slumped down into the snow, misery filling his wretched heart and vision darkening.

.

.

He wakes up strapped to an examination table. The table beneath him is warm, but the air is as cold as ever, and Dottore shivers. His mouth is being forced open by a ring gag and his legs were forced apart by a spreader bar. There's something huge inside of him, it stretches out his hole to a burning degree.

"Finally awake, dear?"

Dottore tilted his head to look towards you. There’re no emotions on your face, and you're holding a bottle filled with a clear liquid.

He whines, a last-ditch attempt at placating you. It's useless, he knows, it's already too late for him. The room is cold, but the trembles that wrack his body stem from fear.

You ignore him, opting to instead pour the contents of the bottle down his throat. It doesn't take long for Dottore to figure out what exactly you'd given him.

The aphrodisiac that you give him is strong. Dottore couldn't help but jerk and fight against the restraints, the burning need for stimulation becoming overwhelming.

You laugh at him, and instead of relieving him, you turn on something beside you, and in turn, the thing that's inside of him - a dildo - starts moving in and out. At first, the pace is slow, slow enough that he couldn't help but whine for more, but within moments, speeds up into a harsh pace.

"I think that should be good for now," you hum. Dottore's moans and breathy screams permeated the air. Even the slightest of touches from you were quickly becoming too much.

It doesn't take long before the first spurts of cum spill out, but the machine is unbudging, and so are you.

"A- ahh!" The need for more and feeling of too much clash, Dottore cries, feeling overwhelmed. You're laughing at him he notes out of the corner of his eye. He’s squirming against the restraints even more now, desperate to escape.

It's too much, he thinks; I'm going to die.

The machine continues to fuck him. It's going to fuck him to death, Dottore can't help but think hysterically, he's going to die here, still trapped by your love.

With another rough thrust, Dottore cums again. And again. And again. And again.

You're still watching him as the drugs wear off, as his dick softens, yet the machine still continues to thrust into his loose hole, unable to even clench down. There's no way he could cum again, but the machine continues to wring orgasm after orgasm out of him, even if no liquid spills out.

It takes one last dry orgasm before you finally stop the machine mid-thrust. Your hands softly run across his body, each feather-light touch makes him twitch and jerk, body too sensitive. With swift hands, you remove the gag. Dottore quickly snapped down, wishing he was able to rub his sore jaw.

"Well," you ask, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

Dottore trembled under your harsh stare, breaths coming out uneven and short.

You frown. You reach out to pet him on his head this time, each pet soft and kind. "You know I love you, right? I'm only doing this for your sake," you tell him, "The Fatui are no good for you. You belong here, with me."

"Look at you, so wrecked and slutty. This is what you're born for, you're a perfect whore," you add, "So give up, Zandik, I'm the only one who'll love you no matter what, so be good for me, m'kay?"

Dottore Zandik sobbed, dam bursting open, tears spilling. You were right, weren't you? His parents hadn't loved him, the Fatui hadn't cared enough to find him.

Only you would love a monster like him.

"I love you," he hears you say, and it hurts to hear. There's a part of him that's screeching, angry that you've reduced him to such a pathetic, humiliating state.

The rest of him is quiet though. He's given up. You love him, so you're only doing this for his sake, his mind rationalizes.

"Love you," he mumbles between the sobs and tears, "I love you. I'm s- sorry for running, for being no good."

You smile gently down at him, but your eyes are cruel and cold. You're satisfied by his obedience.

Zandik cried and cried, the reality of his situation finally settling in. There was no escape from you; your love was drowning him and finally, Zandik let himself be drowned.

[cottonlemonade]

Hello,

May I please order a small cherry lemonade with extra ice for 'samu, please?

Archnemesis

word count: 1066 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: 3rd year rival!Osamu x chubby!Reader

genre: angst, fluff, pining

warnings: swearing, mentions of insecurities, hurtful comments about your weight (but it’s quick and not done by Osamu)

request: angsty, rival Osamu protects you

Osamu groaned when he saw the pitiful little bus pull up and people in black training suits jump out. Trying not to be too obvious he kept throwing glances over to the fast growing group assembling in front of the blond coach. When he spotted you amongst them, easily identified since you were fuller than everyone else, he felt excited but turned away and went back into the building.

Sure, he would be the first to admit that you initially caught his eye while you were blissfully munching on an onigiri and he may or may not have wanted to ask you out so badly that he choked on his water but that was besides the point. You were from Karasuno and therefore automatically the enemy.

Last year, when he first came across the crows it was hard to explain to his captain why he seemed to have beef with a member of the women‘s team of all people but Kita had graduated and wasn‘t their captain anymore, soooo… now he could be petty to his heart‘s content. He enjoyed your little rivalry, because although you may look cute enough to eat you could really dish it out.

While he waited in the lobby for his brother to come back from the bathroom, the Karasuno teams entered and walked stoically towards the changing rooms, ignoring the whispers of admiration and awe. Apparently you decided to become even prettier since the last time he saw you. So that’s how you were gonna play it, huh? Well, fuck you.

Wait, why did they all stop next to him? Why did they stare? You were grinning, so you probably just said something scathing, right? Osamu hadn’t paid attention. Okay, there was a 50/50 chance this would work. “Oh, we‘re gonna see about that.“, he said, attempting and … and failing to return the trash talk.

You looked at him in confusion and the team captains ushered you along.

To no surprise of absolutely anyone Inarizaki won their first rounds with ease and after a victory shower Osamu decided to break your concentration by watching your last match of the day quietly from the sidelines. Menacing. Lurking. You’d get the message. Much like with the little number 10 he enjoyed people‘s reaction to seeing you play for the first time. Initially, they would wonder if someone was grievously injured that they sent „that chubby girl“ onto the field, not knowing what was coming. A grimly satisfied smile played on his lips when he heard the surprised whispers from the crowd when you served four aces in a row. Of course his (completely baseless) archnemesis was strong, what did they expect?

Atsumu and Aran appeared next to him towards the end of the game, his brother holding out a bag of snacks to him, watching with genuine disinterest as the opposing team missed a fake spike.

The next ball seemed to last forever, your receives however stayed clean and precise. But then the roaring cheers changed to a murmur. During a particularly harrowing rally you had jumped over the barricade, just managing to lop the ball back onto the field but crashed into the wall after a harsh stumble, your foot having gotten caught in a chair. You somehow made it back onto the court, receiving the next spike with one hand, giving your setter the opportunity to play to your team‘s ace - but then you didn‘t get back up.

Osamu had grabbed his brother‘s sleeve, knuckles turning white when the medic made their way to you.

He saw you being asked a few questions and then your manager pulled you up, slowly leading you towards the exit.

“Figures that the fatty got injured. Can‘t stop a charging rhino.“

“I‘m just impressed she didn‘t take anyone else down with her.“

Osamu‘s head snapped around to see three guys snickering. His shoulders began to shake with anger. No one - no one - was allowed to talk about you like this. Aran followed his gaze, equally disgusted by the comments, and muttered, “Ugh. We‘re playin’ these jerks tomorrow.“

The older twin‘s eyes went blank - murderous. Good, Osamu thought, together they would make these bastards regret ever choosing this sport.

Osamu turned on his heel and jogged out into the corridor, looking around. He turned pale when he found you leaning against a wall, breathing hard, and a small trickle of blood coming from just beyond your hairline.

Your team‘s manager quickly said something, then ran off, probably to get some help.

As if in trance Osamu walked over to you and without a word knelt down with his back towards you.

“What are you doing?“, you asked in a small voice.

“Get on.“, he said tonelessly, and when you didn‘t move, added, “Come on, the floor is gettin‘ uncomfortable.“

Your answer was barely above a whisper. “No, it‘s fine. Honoka will be back in a second with the doctor. And… and I don‘t want you to get hurt, too.“

Osamu let out a huff, turning his head, “Are ya calling me weak?“

“No, I‘m calling me heavy.“, you mumbled.

“Stop it!“ He hadn‘t meant to shout, he looked to the ground, “Just… shut up and get on.“

Glad you understood that he wasn‘t going to stop pushing, he heard you hobble a step forward and carefully leaned on him.

“Put yer arms around my shoulders, go on.“, Osamu encouraged quietly, his voice much gentler now. You seemed to hesitate again. “Don‘t worry, y/n-san. You won‘t hurt me.“

He froze when he felt something wet seeping through the back of his shirt and realized that you were crying, “I… I can‘t lift my left arm.“ So that‘s why you only received the last ball one handed…

Thinking quickly he pressed out, “Alright, just hold on tight with yer right, then. I‘ll make sure ya won‘t fall.“

Bonus: The next day

Two sharp whistle blows signalled the end of the game and the crowd erupted into cheers. The Inarizaki orchestra began playing their well practised victory song and Osamu used his shoulder to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Wh-what-what happened?“, he heard a guy from the other team stammer.

The foxes had won in two sets, the score telling the story of complete and utter humiliation. The twins grinned.

With a shaking finger, the opposing libero pointed towards Osamu, “This guy is a beast.“

a/n: this was such a juicy prompt! Ugh! I’m sorry it got a bit away from me and I ended up adding fluff and mixed in some taking care of you, too. I hope you like it nonetheless, though 🫠

[part 2]

[sinsatmidnight]

30 Years Later

Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader

Words - 3101

Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex

So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!

(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)

It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.

A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.

“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.

“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”

The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”

Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.

Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.

Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.

You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.

You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.

With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.

Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’

As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.

Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“

Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”

You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.

You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.

You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.

"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.

"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.

"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.

"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.

With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.

It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.

As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.

Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.

With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."

You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.

Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"

You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.

"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"

"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.

She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.

It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.

"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.

You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.

This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.

"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.

"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.

Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.

Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.

You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.

Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.

You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.

The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.

[hamsterclaw]

Foolish

You keep going back to Namjoon, it's what you've always done. Then you meet Hoseok, who draws you away like he's not even trying.

Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader, Namjoon x F! reader

Word count: 7.7k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: Sex, fuckboy Namjoon

Everytime, you tell yourself it’s the last time you’ll come back to Kim Namjoon.

Everytime it’s just one last time.

His hand leaves a print on your hip, his lips leave a trail down your neck, across your breasts. He often comes on your skin, a trail of white. He marks you everywhere he sees fit.

He doesn’t give a shit who sees. 

You let him do what he wants.

Rinse, repeat.

Namjoon nudges you. ‘Hey, I have an early class.’

You don’t bother to respond, just get out of his bed, put your clothes back on.

You check you’ve got your phone, your keys, smooth your hair back down as you wait for the cab.

You let yourself out.

***

Your friend Jimin is funniest when he’s annoyed, like now.

You’re both working a shift at the grocery store.

He’s leaning on the stacked crates, supposed to be refilling the produce shelves but really just taking up room.

‘And so then he clicked his fingers and expected me to walk to him, like a dog.’

You have no idea if this is a sex story or a rude customer story. 

Knowing Jimin, it could be either.

You start arranging the apples onto the display shelves as you listen to Jimin’s hilariously petty reaction.

It was a sex story.

Jimin stacks packs of cherry tomatoes beside you, chattering away.

You mmm and aaah at the right times, but your mind is elsewhere.

You’re thinking back to how the last few times you’ve met up, Namjoon hasn’t bothered to ask you to text him when you got home after being at his.

He used to. 

There’s a thin thread of shame that tugs at you whenever you meet him now, and the pull’s getting stronger.

It wasn’t always like this. 

He’d pursued you, coming into the diner where you worked weekend after weekend for months, flirting with you over pancakes until he’d finally asked you out.

You went on a few dates, and a few more and then somehow you’d slipped into what you have now.

He texts you when he’s horny and you come over.

Sometimes you don’t even talk. 

You don’t know why you keep coming back, apart from that maybe you haven’t quite moved on from seeing him as the guy who was sweet to you over brunch. The one who dimpled and invited you to come hang at his place and took you to the park and got you ice-cream.

You wonder how he sees you now.

You snap back to attention when Jimin clears his throat pointedly.

‘You don’t have to listen to me, it’s fine,’ he says, bordering on dramatic, pout in his voice.

‘Sorry Jiminie,’ you say apologetically. ‘I was thinking about Namjoon.’

Jimin has no idea about how things are between you and Namjoon. There’s no way you’d ever let anyone really know how low your bar is set.

He finishes stacking the cherry tomatoes, moves on to the heads of broccoli. 

You’re still on apples.

You wheel the empty crates back to the stockroom, concentrating so hard on not letting the crates slip that you don’t see the guy by the automatic doors.

‘Whoa!’ he says, stepping out of the way quickly, laughing.

You’re mortified, already apologising as you come to a dead stop. The crates wobble dangerously and you reach out, letting out a little cry as your fingers get clipped in between.

You yank your hand away, and the guy hurries forward. He grabs your hand, a look of concern darkening his face.

‘Are you ok? That must have hurt so much!’

You’re taken aback by how genuinely concerned he seems to be.

‘I’m ok,’ you say, as he rubs your fingers gently.

‘I have some support plasters,’ he offers. 

‘I’m ok!’ you insist, waving him away gently.

He takes the trolley from you and stacks the crates in the corner. 

‘Sorry to startle you,’ he says warmly. ‘My name is Hoseok, I’m new.’

His smile is infectious. You tell him your name, and he exclaims over how pretty he thinks your name is, even though it’s a fairly common one, as far as names go.

You’re amused by his charmingly over the top reactions. 

Hoseok helps you load the greens onto your trolley, insists on pushing it with you to the fresh section of the store. 

‘Don’t you have your own work to do?’ you ask. 

He grins at you like he’s sharing a secret. ‘The broken oven got fixed so it’s taking me less time to bake the bread rolls,’ he confesses. 

He reaches up for the hairnet over his hair, pulls it off and stuffs it into his pocket. ‘Does this make my hair flat?’ 

You look up at his very soft and fluffy looking dark hair. ‘Your hair looks great,’ you tell him, honestly. 

‘Come by later on your break, I’ll save some rolls for you. I made some fillings last night to bring to work.’ 

His offer is so sincerely and sweetly made that you find yourself responding in kind. 

‘Sure, I’d love to,’ you say. 

He parks your trolley by the shelves, and gives Jimin a big smile in greeting. 

You’ve never met anyone who smiles this much. 

Jimin lifts a crate of cabbages and starts arranging. 

‘What’s his deal?’ you ask, after Hoseok waves jauntily at you and walks away. 

Jimin rolls his eyes. ‘He’s just a nice guy. People can be nice.’ 

‘No one’s that nice,’ you say, frowning. 

‘Hoseok is. I’ve known him since way back.’ 

‘He must have a dark side,’ you mutter. 

‘Yeah. He’s apparently an asshole in bed.’ 

You choke on air. 

Jimin laughs at your reaction. ‘I’ve never slept with him but apparently he’s mean in bed.’ 

‘Like mean, how?’ you ask, more interested than you’d like to admit to yourself. 

‘Why are you so interested?’ Jimin asks, slyly. 

‘You brought it up,’ you argue. 

Jimin laughs and refuses to say anything else and you pretend you’re not that interested anyway. 

***

You’re awakened by your phone vibrating under your pillow. 

You fish it out and stare at the number on the screen that’s evaded your caller ID. 

Eventually you swipe to answer. 

‘Hi,’ you say. 

‘Hey,’ says a vaguely familiar voice. ‘It’s Hoseok. Jimin gave me your number.’ 

Your eyes open all the way, and you sit up so quickly you drop your phone into your duvet. 

It takes you a moment to fish it out. 

‘Hey, sorry, I dropped my phone,’ you say, when you’ve got it back. 

‘I’m sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ he says. 

It’s weird, you barely know him but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

‘It’s fine, I should be up anyway,’ you reply. 

‘Ah, sorry, I didn’t know you’d still be asleep.’ 

You check the time. Eeep. 

‘What’s up, Hoseok?’ you ask. 

‘I was wondering - do you like music? There’s a festival in Olympic Park today and I have a spare ticket and I wondered if you’d like to come with me.’ 

You blink, surprised. 

‘I know it’s short notice,’ he says, when you don’t say anything for a bit. 

‘No, I’d like to go. I’m free and easy.’ 

You slap a hand to your forehead, wondering why you sound like such an idiot. 

‘I mean, I don’t have plans today.’ 

He sounds like he’s smiling again. ‘Ok. Meet you there?’ 

***

You look around for Hoseok when you get to the park, but he doesn’t keep you waiting. 

He approaches you, smiling and bright in a yellow and black parka, sunglasses shading his eyes. 

‘I brought snacks,’ he tells you cheerfully. ‘Thanks for agreeing to come with me.’ 

His manner is so relaxed and easy that you feel any awkwardness slip away. 

The sun’s warm on your bare shoulders, Hoseok’s a nice guy, and he’s got the prettiest smile you’ve seen in a while. 

You smile back at him. ‘I’m glad I came,’ you reply. 

He holds out his arm, and you link yours with his. 

It turns out Hoseok’s just as charming when he’s tipsy. 

You’ve been drinking beer with him in the sunshine all day. 

He blinks at you sleepily in the late evening sun as the last of the bands plays on the main stage. 

He’s stretched out on the grass, face tipped to the sky. His profile is beautiful, all sharp angles accentuated by the height of his cheekbones. 

‘You shouldn’t have let me finish off the beer,’ he tells you. 

‘Oh no, are you too drunk?’ you ask lazily, laying down next to him, watching the clouds swirl in the late summer sky. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he admits finally. ‘I was nervous and I drank too much.’ 

‘Nervous?’ This is news to you. 

‘You’re very pretty,’ he informs you. ‘In case you didn’t know.’ 

‘You’re pretty too,’ you tell him. 

He nods. ‘I know. But you’re prettier.’ 

This is the most ridiculous conversation you’ve had in a while, but somehow you don’t mind it.

You close your eyes briefly, and turn your head to see Hoseok looking at you intently. 

‘Why are you nervous?’ you ask. 

‘I want you to like me,’ he says, with an honesty that steals your breath. 

‘Because?’ 

‘Because I think I could like you a lot.’ 

‘How much?’ 

You’re leaning over him slightly, too close for your intentions to be anything but clear. 

Hoseok’s eyes drop to your lips. 

‘A hell of a lot,’ he says. 

In the end it’s Hoseok who initiates the kiss, one hand coming up to slip around the back of your neck. 

He’s gentle but firm, lips pressing against yours, tilting his head to kiss you deeper. 

You put your hand on his chest, and his own comes up to cover it. 

When you pull away he lets out a soft sound of protest. 

You’re smiling at each other like idiots, his hand still over yours on his chest. 

The sun’s dropped low enough to cast shadows over his face. 

‘I’ll take you home, ok?’ he says. 

He packs up the picnic he made that you’ve been picking at all afternoon, slips his jacket over your shoulders, and walks you out of the park. 

Darkness falls as you walk the few blocks home, adding a layer of distance between you, helping with your self-consciousness as, swaddled in his soft jacket, you realise just how attractive you find Hoseok. 

You stop at the entrance to your building, and Hoseok looks up. 

‘I had a nice time. See you next week?’ 

You’re slipping off his jacket, pressing it into his arms. ‘Thank you for asking me out,’ you tell him. 

There’s a moment because you haven’t fully ended your sentence, and he looks like he’s waiting for the next thing you were about to say. 

‘Do you want to come up?’ you ask. 

Hoseok’s eyes study your face. 

‘Honestly, I’d love to, but I shouldn’t.’ 

Like your goodbye, it seems open ended, like there’s more he would say if you waited long enough. 

Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your dress. 

‘I should go,’ you say. 

Hoseok nods. 

He waits until you’re up the steps, in the door, before he leaves. 

***

Namjoon’s got his mouth open, nibbling at your neck. God, he feels good, teeth grazing your skin, tongue licking. 

His hands are tucked in his pockets still, he hasn’t touched you even though you’re straddling his lap. 

You lean back a little, ask, ‘hey, like my new dress?’ 

You curse yourself for your moment of weakness but the words are already out. 

Namjoon raises a brow. ‘Thought you didn’t care what I thought.’ 

He’s referring to a fight you once had, when you were dating. 

‘Yeah,’ you say, regretting asking. 

You look at each other for a moment. 

‘I should go.’ 

‘You just got here,’ Namjoon says, mildly. He doesn’t make any move to stop you as you climb off his lap, hands tucked in his pockets still. 

‘I don’t think we should do this anymore,’ you say, forcing yourself to look him in the face. 

‘You mean, fuck,’ Namjoon asks. His voice has its usual husky tone, but there’s a coolness to it now. 

‘Yeah, fuck,’ you say. 

Namjoon shrugs. ‘Sure. If that’s really what you want.’ 

He stands, and you’ve spent so much time horizontal with him lately you’d forgotten how tall he is. 

He reaches down to take your hand. 

‘You want me to tell you that you’re pretty?’ he asks. 

‘No,’ you answer, but you don’t pull your hand away. 

‘Look how hard I am,’ he tells you. He presses your hand over his erection. 

‘That’s just biology,’ you say. 

Namjoon scoffs. ‘It’s my biological response to having you grinding in my lap.’ 

He strokes up your arm. ‘Can I convince you to stay?’ 

‘Why would I stay?’ you ask, but you still haven’t moved. 

Namjoon tugs the strap of your bra, leans down to mouth at your collarbones. His big hand curls around your back to steady you as he kisses your neck. 

‘I don’t know, baby, do you want the happy ending or do you just want me to make you happy tonight?’ 

He sucks at your skin, and you get the familiar rush of pleasure pain you get when he marks you. 

‘We’re not going out, are we?’ 

His hand slides down your ass, cupping you, pulling you taut against his groin. 

‘I’m not your boyfriend.’ 

He’s walking you back into his bedroom, onto his bed. He pushes you back against the covers, hand behind your head to cushion you even though it’s soft. 

‘We’re not getting married.’ 

His words are brutal in their honesty, and still you don’t push him away. 

He tugs your panties down impatiently, rumbling his approval when he feels how wet you are. 

‘But I make you like this,’ he says, fingers slipping inside you, thumb circling your clit. 

‘Namjoon,’ you say, a warning. 

He gives you a look so heated you lose your train of thought. 

He hasn’t, though. 

He grabs your thigh, pulls you down to the edge of the bed so he can keep leaning over you. 

‘What, am I wrong?’ he taunts. 

His fingers are stroking, scissoring inside you. He’s still gripping your thigh with his free hand. 

He squeezes your thigh. 

‘Am I wrong? Didn’t I get you wet like this?’ he asks. He scoffs. ‘Of course I did. Just like you got me this hard.’ 

He slides a hand over himself, grinding into his palm. 

‘Just fuck me, Namjoon,’ you say. The pleasure’s building, making you tighten around his fingers. 

‘I’ll fuck you,’ he promises. ‘Just as long as we’re clear that there’s no feelings involved.’ 

He stops touching himself, wraps his hand around your neck, tight. 

You moan, and he laughs. 

‘You’re so easy to please, baby,’ he says, mocking. ‘If I fuck you now you’ll come, won’t you?’ 

‘I hate you,’ you spit out. 

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t even think you’re convincing yourself.’ 

He yanks his jeans down, and he’s in you in one movement. 

He groans as he bottoms out inside you, slams his hand down on the bed beside your head. 

‘So fucking tight,’ he utters. ‘Who got you like this?’ 

He’s not waiting for an answer, rocking into you, balls slapping your ass with every firm thrust. 

It’s just as well, you don’t think you could answer him anyway.

Namjoon fucks you good, it’s what he always does. 

***

You’re cleaning up a spillage in the detergent aisle when Hoseok walks past. 

‘Hey,’ he says, looking pleased to see you. ‘How are you?’ 

‘I’m good,’ you say, returning his smile. 

He’s in a standard issue blue polo shirt emblazoned with the store logo today, unlike the baggy fleeces you’re used to seeing him in. 

You try not to stare at his exposed arms.

‘What are you doing after work today?’ he asks.

He takes the mop from you and wrings it into the bucket, then picks it up. 

‘I’ll take this,’ he says, his tone brooking no argument. ‘It’s heavy.’

‘I don’t have plans,’ you say.

Hoseok beams. ‘I’m going to support my friend at this club night. Want to join me?’

‘What does your friend do?’ you ask, walking with him to the cleaning supplies closet.

‘He raps,’ Hoseok tells you. He grins. ‘I rap sometimes too.’

You see it. He’s got a rasp to his voice sometimes, an easy cadence to his words. 

Somehow the idea of him as a rapper makes sense.

‘So, you want to come with?’ he asks.

‘I’d like to,’ you tell him.

He looks so pleased about it that it makes you feel brighter too.

‘Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at 8, ok?’

He saunters off with a cheerful wave.

You realise you’re looking forward to it.

***

There’s not a lot of space between you and Hoseok at this tiny club, he’s been leaning over you for most of the night.

Somehow your arm’s found its way around his waist, and you find you like having him this close.

Hoseok’s lips brush your cheek gently, and your heart pounds. This close, his eyelashes are long, his eyes beautiful, the line of his jaw irresistible. He looks so good. 

You turn your head, chase his lips. He gives in with a willingness that makes your confidence soar. Like he’s wanted you this whole night and now he doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

His lips are soft, but the way he kisses you is firm, chest towards yours, hand curled around the top of your hip bone. He kisses you like he knows better than you what you’ll like, and he’s got every intention of following through. 

You haven’t got any interest in the next act, but as soon as you hear the voice, your eyes open. 

Hoseok murmurs a little, pulls you closer into his chest. 

You look up at the stage, and there, so close you can see the tic in his jaw as he takes in you and Hoseok, so intimately intertwined, is Namjoon. 

***

‘This is my friend Namjoon,’ Hoseok says, after the set’s over. 

Namjoon uses the towel around his neck to wipe his face, but he’s still out of breath, slick with sweat. 

He tilts his head at you, dimples like it’s the first time you’ve met. Says nothing. 

‘We’ve met,’ you say. 

You’re a little away from the stage, far enough that you can hear each other over the next act. 

‘Yeah, we’ve met,’ Namjoon confirms. 

Hoseok regards you both with interest. He’s a nice guy, but he’s no fool. 

You say, ‘That was a great set, Namjoon.’

‘Yeah?’ asks Namjoon. He pops the cork on a bottle of Dom, pours it out. Watches as you drink, a smirk on his lips.

You’re watching Hoseok.

‘How do you and Hobi know each other?’ Namjoon asks. He lays back, knees spread, thigh nudging yours. 

‘We work together,’ you reply. You turn to Hoseok, but the smile freezes on your lips when you see his expression, the way he’s looking at Namjoon.

You want to touch him but the tense set of his shoulders gives you pause.

Meanwhile, Namjoon looks more relaxed than ever.

‘Hey, it’s getting late, I should probably get going,’ you say.

Hoseok looks at you for a long moment. ‘Yeah, I’ll take you home.’

The car ride’s the quietest Hoseok’s ever been with you.

By the time he pulls up outside your apartment you’re tight with tension despite the champagne.

‘Thanks Hoseok,’ you say, mustering a smile.

He can barely look at you, and for some reason that makes you feel like crying.

You unbuckle your belt, push the door open. You’re almost all the way up the steps when you hear the car door behind you.

You turn to see Hoseok hurrying up the steps.

He steps a couple feet in front of you.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Shit that was weird, wasn’t it?’

He gives you a half-smile, touches your arm.

‘Yeah,’ you agree. You smile back at him uncertainly.

‘I’ll see you at work Monday?’

This time his smile’s more like the cheerful friendly Hoseok you’ve come to know.

He waves at you as he walks back to his car, waits until you’re inside before he drives away.

***

You’re messing around with Jimin by the fresh flowers, emptying out the buckets, when Hoseok walks by.

‘Hey!’ you say cheerfully, waving a hand.

Hoseok smiles but keeps walking, heading round to the back.

You hurry to catch up. 

‘Hoseok,’ you say, walking alongside him. ‘Jimin and I and some of the other guys are getting drinks after work, would you like to come?’

Hoseok hangs his jacket on the hook, puts on his apron. 

‘I’m busy. Maybe another time, ok?’

He’s walking off without waiting for your answer. 

You’re so taken aback by his brusqueness, a sharp contrast to the warm, kind Hoseok you’ve come to know that it takes you a moment to regroup.

When you get back to the flowers, Jimin’s finished filling the buckets.

‘You ok?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you reply, forcing a smile. ‘I went to ask Hoseok to join us for drinks, but he’s busy.’

Jimin’s studying your expression.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Tell you what, we’ll grab food beforehand, ok? My treat.’

You smile at him, a real smile this time. ‘It’s your turn anyway to get dinner,’ you point out.

Jimin puts an arm around your shoulders, squeezes. 

‘I’ll buy you whatever you want,’ he promises.

***

You’re three shots in, merry and listening to Jimin tell you about his weekend when Namjoon and Hoseok walk into the bar.

‘Shit,’ you hiss, slumping down next to Jimin.

Jimin throws you a sympathetic look as one of your colleagues, Dahyun calls Hoseok over.

You look down at your hands as Hoseok greets everyone at the table.

Thankfully you’re tucked in a seat against the wall.

You glance up, see the way both Namjoon and Hoseok are looking at you, and go back to looking at your hands.

As soon as they go to get drinks you tap Jimin on the shoulder. 

‘I’m gonna go, ok?’ 

‘Let me take you home,’ Jimin says. 

You wave aside his protests and make your way to the door.

You’re waiting for your taxi, shivering a bit in the cool night air, when you hear a familiar voice. 

‘Going so soon?’ asks Hoseok. He’s standing a little away from you, hands tucked in his pockets.

‘Yeah, I’m tired.’ You give him a small smile and turn back to the road, willing your taxi to arrive.

‘I’ll wait with you,’ Hoseok says.

‘I’m fine, it’ll be here any minute,’ you say.

Hoseok steps closer. ‘Can I talk to you?’

You close your eyes. ‘Sure,’ you say. ‘About what?’

There’s a flash of headlamps as your taxi pulls up. 

Hoseok opens the door for you, lets you in and gets in after you. 

You’re too surprised to say anything.

Hoseok turns to you. ‘I don’t have to go to your place, I can get out as soon as we arrive at yours ok?’

He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I just want to talk to you for a bit.’

‘Sure,’ you say. 

There’s a silence.

‘Namjoon’s my friend,’ Hoseok starts.

You’re wondering what he’s leading up to.

‘I needed to talk to him,’ Hoseok says.

You look out the car window, at the buildings flashing by.

‘I —‘

He stops again. ‘I like you,’ he says, simply. ‘But Namjoon’s my friend, and I just needed to know if he’d be ok with us dating.’

You feel hollow. ‘What did Namjoon say about us?’ you ask.

‘He said that you don’t have that kind of relationship,’ Hoseok replies.

You laugh bitterly.

‘If you wanted to know about me and Namjoon, you could have just asked me,’ you say.

He’s quiet.

Finally, he says, ‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’

The taxi pulls up outside your building. 

You’re more hurt than you thought you’d be. Hot tears burn the backs of your eyes.

‘It’s fine, Hoseok.’

You can’t look at him. 

You get out of the taxi. ‘I’ll see you at work, ok?’

Hoseok says, ‘wait’, but you’re already walking up the steps, letting yourself in.

You make it up to your apartment, and close the door behind you before you let the tears fall.

***

You’re sitting at the back of the room at the team-building day, half-asleep because it took you ages to get here on the train, to the ass end of nowhere. 

Jimin’s sleeping quietly beside you, ball cap pulled low over his face. You’ve promised to wake him if he started sleep-talking. 

Hoseok’s near the front of the room, not that you’d been looking out for him. You haven’t really spoken since that night at the bar. 

Namjoon’s texted you a few times but you haven’t answered. 

You can do better than a boy who just wants to fuck and a boy who can’t be bothered to talk to you like a goddamn decent human being.

You nudge Jimin awake when it’s time for the activity - a scavenger hunt in the woods where you’ll be paired off. 

To your dismay, you don’t get to pick your teammate. 

It’s fine, as long as you don’t get –

You swallow down the swear word that fills your mouth when you realise your teammate is Hoseok. 

Of course it is. 

Hoseok looks as thrilled about it as you do. 

He grabs the sack you’ve been given, and you pick up your clipboard and pen. 

‘Shall we head towards the lake?’ you ask, clipped. 

‘Sure,’ he says, neutral. 

You’re looking down the list. ‘Too bad it doesn’t ask for an asshole,’ you say, looking at him darkly. ‘Because you’re right here.’ 

Hoseok looks at you, straight faced. ‘Are you gonna be like this the whole time?’ 

‘Why don’t you call Namjoon and ask him, seeing as he knows so much about me?’ 

Hoseok tilts his head. ‘I said I was sorry about that,’ he tells you. 

You sigh. ‘Forget it. The first item is a black rock.’ 

‘There’ll be loads by the lake,’ Hoseok says. 

He sets off without waiting for you. 

You’re loath to follow him but at least if you get this over with as soon as possible you can go back and take the next train out of this place. 

Scowling, you follow in his tracks. 

***

‘You look hot when you’re angry,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘That little frown line between your brows really suits you.’ 

You give him a dead-eyed stare. ‘Yeah, and you looked hot before you turned out to be a misogynistic asshole.’ 

‘Jokes on you,’ Hoseok mutters. ‘I always was one.’ 

The giggle escapes you before you can hold it back. 

‘No wonder you’re friends with Namjoon,’ you scoff, turning away. 

‘We have a lot in common,’ Hoseok allows. He side-eyes you. ‘We like the same type of women.’ 

‘Women that are too hot for you?’ you ask, straightfaced. 

‘Yeah.’ 

You stumble on a rock, and Hoseok curls his hand under your arm to steady you. 

‘There you go again, thinking I need you when I don’t,’ you snipe, jerking your arm away. 

‘Yeah, next time I’ll just let you fall on your face,’ Hoseok agrees. 

He sighs. ‘Honestly? Your bitchiness is giving me a hard-on.’ 

Your gaze flies to his crotch. 

Hoseok lets you look. ‘I’m strapped in, but I’ll let you look at it properly later if you want.’ 

‘No thanks,’ you snap. 

He shrugs. ‘I’m not gonna force myself on you.’ 

Then, as you’re looking at his face, he smirks, popping a dimple at the corner of his mouth. ‘I won’t fuck you until you’re begging for it.’ 

You raise a brow, nonchalant. ‘Guess we’re never fucking then.’ 

‘That’s my loss,’ he says. 

He veers off to the right, behind a tree. 

‘Got it,’ he says, emerging after a moment, triumphantly holding up an acorn. 

You tick it off the list silently. 

‘I don’t want to be an asshole misogynist again, but the path’s slippery here, be careful,’ he says, as you approach a steep sloping hill. 

‘Thanks,’ you reply. 

The path narrows, and he says, ‘Let me go up ahead, ok? Just in case.’ 

‘I’m fine with you dying first,’ you agree. 

He looks back at you, smiles. ‘I would have asked you out sooner if I’d known you were like this.’ 

‘Intolerant of assholes?’ you suggest. 

He laughs. ‘Mean.’ 

You’re indignant. ‘I’m not mean!’ 

‘No, I like it,’ he says. ‘Like I said, you’re giving me a boner.’ 

‘I heard you were mean too,’ you say. 

He scoffs. ‘Only in bed.’ 

He smiles at you. ‘Wanna find out?’ 

You shove him, and he just laughs. ‘Come on, let me help you up the slope.’ 

He offers you his hand, and when you reach out for it, he pulls it away. 

You look up at him, outraged, and he laughs again. 

‘No, really this time,’ he says, putting out his hand again. 

You push past him, and your foot slips. 

‘Shit!’

Hoseok, quick as a cat, grabs you to steady you. 

‘You ok?’ he asks quietly, holding your arm. 

‘I’m fine,’ you mutter. ‘We have one item left, then we can head back.’ 

‘The elderberries?’ Hoseok asks. ‘I found those ages ago.’ 

You stare up at him. ‘You didn’t —’

‘Yeah, I wanted more time with you. Alone in the woods.’ 

You’d be more mad if he didn’t look so absurdly hot when he’s grinning at you like he is now. 

‘Fuck, Hoseok.’ 

‘My friends call me Hobi,’ he says. 

‘We’re not friends,’ you snap. 

He almost looks hurt. ‘Aren’t we? Don’t you like hanging out with me?’ 

You’re about to say you don’t when you realise it would be a lie. 

He holds out his arm. ‘Come on, it’s getting dark. We should head back.’ 

***

You’re one of the last teams to get back, and as you walk up you realise from Jimin’s reaction that you’re still holding Hoseok’s arm. 

‘Can I give you a ride back? I drove,’ Hoseok offers. 

‘I came with Jimin on the train,’ you say. 

‘You can both fit in my car,’ Hoseok says, easy. 

You wake up to Jimin saying goodbye to Hoseok, and sit up guiltily. 

Hoseok turns back to you. 

‘Are you ok? You looked tired so we didn’t want to wake you.’ 

‘I’m fine. Let me come round the front.’ 

You slide into the front passenger seat, and Hoseok pulls away from Jimin’s apartment.

‘You hungry?’ he asks, as he drives.

You sit up and realise that you are, a bit.

‘Depends, are we gonna eat together?’

Hoseok looks over at you, laughs. ‘We can sit separately if you want.’

You end up at some 24 hour noodle bar near where he lives.

Hoseok slurps his noodles, throws glances at you across the tiny table, until you set down your chopsticks.

‘What?’

‘I’m just regretting fucking things up so badly with you,’ he says.

You open your mouth, ready with a reply, and close it again.

‘Namjoon asked me out,’ you tell him. ‘He came round to where I worked, and then one day asked if I wanted to meet him, and I did. We went on dates, and I don’t remember when it all changed but then one day I realised we were just sleeping together.’

You look up at him. 

‘He’s never lied or said he wants more,’ you say. ‘You know, there was this one night I was walking back from his place and some dude snatched my phone.’

You look out the front window at the street. 

‘I was right outside his building, but it was only after I got home, all shaken up that I realised I hadn’t even thought about ringing his bell, asking to come back up and calm down.’ 

You laugh, short. ‘I guess I didn’t want to find out how little he really cares about me outside of bed.’

You don’t want to see Hoseok’s face right now. 

Is he disgusted at how pathetic you are?

You look at your hands. 

‘I should go.’

Hoseok’s standing. He hasn’t said a word since your confession.

He stops with his hand on the passenger door of his car. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

You risk a glance at his face only to find he’s looking at you. There’s an openness to his expression, a mixture of concern and kindness and something else you can’t read.

He opens the door, shuts it after you once you’ve climbed in.

The drive back to yours is short, and you’re grateful that he seems to not want to try to talk.

He pulls up outside your steps, kills the engine.

‘Let me walk you to the door,’ he says.

You’re surprised. ‘It’s literally ten steps.’

He walks up with you, stops at the entrance. 

‘Namjoon and I are similar in a lot of ways,’ he tells you, putting a hand on your arm, ‘but not in everything. I wouldn’t want you to think I’d treat you the same as he’s done.’

You look up at him and the memory of him that day at the festival softens your gaze. 

‘I know you’re not the same,’ you say.

‘Good,’ Hoseok says. He lets go of your arm. 

He waits until you’re inside before he drives away.

***

You and Jimin stare, bemused, at the beautifully stocked display trays of fresh fruit and vegetables.

You haven’t even started your shift, but it looks like all your work’s been done for you.

You turn to Jimin. ‘Did you?’

‘Nope,’ Jimin denies.

‘Then who?’

Hoseok walks by, accompanied by a man you don’t know with a lip piercing and a fluffy looking wolf cut covering his face.

‘Hey, Jungkook and I arranged the fruit this morning. Do you guys want to go round the back? We made rolls and coffee.’

Nonplussed, you and Jimin follow Hoseok and Jungkook to the break room.

Hoseok pours you a mug of coffee, passes you a roll. 

‘How are you doing?’ he asks, settling into the seat next to yours, leaning back.

His thigh brushes yours as he stretches out, and he moves it carefully away.

‘I’m good,’ you say. ‘You?’

‘I couldn’t sleep well thinking about what you said,’ Hoseok says.

You’re discomfited. ‘It’s fine, Hoseok, I didn’t tell you for any particular reason.’

‘I know. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry and I can do better.’

You’re quiet. ‘Why do you care?’

‘I like you,’ he says, with an honesty that takes your breath away. ‘Even when you’re mean to me.’

He smiles at your expression. ‘Especially when you’re mean to me,’ he amends.

You can’t help but laugh. 

***

Hoseok’s gathering shopping trolleys in the car park when you walk out. 

‘Hey,’ he says, pushing a long line of trolleys towards you. ‘Want to go watch a movie?’

You tilt your head, considering, and then decide to make the leap.

‘Hey. My mom dropped off a lot of food at mine yesterday. There’s enough for both of us if you’re interested.’

Hoseok beams at you. ‘Yes!’ he says, with such enthusiasm you’re smiling.

‘I just need to get my jacket,’ he explains. ‘Wait for me here?’

You’re waiting for Hoseok by the trolleys when a familiar voice says your name.

It’s Namjoon.

He’s decked out in blue, and white, tall enough to block out the late afternoon sun, handsome enough to make you stand up straight.

‘Hey,’ he says. 

‘Hey.’

‘I haven’t heard from you lately,’ he says. He cocks his head, dimples at you. ‘You good?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’

‘I’m ready,’ Hoseok says cheerfully, coming out the side of the store.

He stops when he sees you and Namjoon.

There’s an infinitesimal pause before he says, ‘Hey, Namjoon.’

Namjoon says, easy, ‘hey Hobi.’

‘We’re going to have dinner,’ you say. 

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok says. ‘See you later, Namjoon.’

Hoseok puts a gentle hand under your arm. ‘Ready?’

You think you are.

***

Hoseok’s eating a cream puff. 

There’s a dollop of cream on his top lip, and you put your hand on his arm to keep him still as you lean forward and lick it off.

Hoseok’s reflexes are quick.

He turns his head instantly to kiss you full on the lips.

Oh my. Is this what you’ve been missing?

His lips are sweet, and warm, and he’s responsive, following your lead as you deepen the kiss.

His tongue flicks at your lower lip, and then slides into your mouth.

His warm hand covers yours as you break apart.

‘Let’s go sit,’ you invite, gesturing to your couch.

Hoseok’s laying a trail of kisses along the line of your neck, tongue coming out to flick at your skin. His hand’s gently squeezing your covered thigh.

His chest is pressed against yours, and something about the solid warmth of him is making your head spin. 

You’re squirming, impatient already even though he’s made no move to do anything but kiss you.

Hoseok sighs out a breath as he pulls away. He rests the side of his head against the back of your couch, lips curving in a smile. 

‘I could do this all night,’ he tells you.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

***

Hoseok’s shirtless, lying on his back on your bedspread. His flat abs twitch as you run your tongue along them.

You reach the button on his jeans, tug at it with your teeth.

Hoseok’s hand comes up to grasp your hair. 

‘You really want this?’ he asks. 

‘We can just snuggle for a bit if you want,’ he suggests, voice low and warm.

He pulls you up alongside him, curls an arm around you, keeps his face close to yours.

He says, ‘I’ve wanted to be with you like this since that time at the festival.’

He reaches out, traces a finger over the upper curve of your breasts, exposed in your bra. 

‘Fuck, you’re a menace,’ Hoseok mutters, but he doesn’t sound mad about it.

He traces circles on your arm lazily, lets you slide your hand over his bare chest. His flat nipples pebble under your touch.

‘You know what I think?’ he says, finally. 

You raise your eyes to his. 

‘I think you need to be told what to do,’ Hoseok says, thoughtfully. ‘You’re too pretty, I bet that’s what all the boys you’ve slept with tell you.’ 

Your brow furrows. 

Hoseok nudges you down so you’re flat on the bed, hooks a thigh over your legs to slide you fully underneath him. 

He braces himself with a forearm beside your head, rolls his hips slowly against yours, makes you tremble with want.

Hoseok says, a challenge in his eyes, ‘Bet you wouldn’t know what to do with my cock if I let you have it.’

You look at him, your irritation clouded by lust, by the way he’s still slowly grinding himself against you. 

He laughs at you. 

The bastard has the audacity to laugh at you. 

‘Look at you, your lips like that, your eyes like that. Bet all you have to do is smile and you have guys creaming their pants.’ 

He leans closer, presses his lips to your ear, murmurs, ‘huh.’

You’re already so wet and needy you can barely keep up, but you muster up a retort, defiance in your tone.

‘I’m not some sort of pillow princess,’ you tell him, annoyed.

Hoseok laughs, voice so low and raspy now you can barely make out the words. 

‘I think you are,’ he replies. He rolls his hips again, and you try to stifle a moan but you can’t. 

‘It’s ok,’ he tells you, hand under your ass, pulling your hips up to his. ‘I like it.’

The chain around his neck’s dangling into the dip of his clavicles. You tuck your fingers into it, pull a little as you kiss him again, open mouthed. 

Hoseok licks into your mouth like he loves the taste of you, sloppy, wet. As you run your hand down over his bare chest he groans. 

He sits forward, tucks his fingers under the strap of your bra. ‘Can I take this off?’ he asks. 

When you nod he unhooks your bra, tugs it off you.

He admires your bare breasts for so long your hands are already coming up to cover yourself when he says, stern, ‘Don’t.’

‘Hoseok —-‘

‘I’m staring,’ he explains patiently, ‘because I’ve been thinking about you like this for so long I can’t believe we’re finally here, like this.’

He kisses you off centre, at the corner of your mouth, flicking his tongue at the seam of your lips. 

‘I’m staring because you’re such a pretty girl.’

He lowers his head, sticks out his tongue, laves the peak of your breast, pulling a whimper out of you. 

‘Go on,’ he says, watching your face, lips against your breast. ‘Let me hear how much you like it.’ 

His thigh slips between yours, and you roll your hips against it, seeking friction for your aching clit, the emptiness between your legs. 

Hoseok’s mouth is warm, and wet, and he grasps your hip, tight, as he suckles at your breasts.

Your first orgasm takes you by surprise, a burst of warm pleasure from your throbbing clit, your cunt pulsing around nothing as you cry out and buck your hips against his.

‘Easy, baby,’ Hoseok says, letting you ride out the waves of your pleasure, hand warm on your skin as he steadies you.

You lift your face to his, and he’s only too happy to give you his mouth. You’re still breathless from your orgasm, and when he slips a firm hand under your panties, you moan so loudly his ears ring.

Hoseok groans at the feel of you, warm and soft and slicking up his fingers. 

‘Are you sensitive? Can I?’

You reach down and curl your fingers around him, and Hoseok can’t stop himself from grinding into your hand.

‘One sec,’ he grunts. He tears open a condom, passes it to you.

‘Go on, do some work, princess.’

You’re sitting up on legs that still feel like jelly.

Instead of rolling the condom onto his length, you take him in your mouth, suck at his head, and Hoseok swears and pulls you off him.

‘Damn you need to warn me if you’re gonna do that, I nearly came,’ he pants.

He kisses you again. ‘Behave yourself or you won’t get fucked.’

You pinch the tip, roll the condom onto him, and Hoseok pulls you on top of him.

He pinches the softness of your inner thigh, making you jump.

‘Line me up,’ he says. 

You squeeze him as you position yourself, and Hoseok groans. ‘Fuck, you’re such a brat.’

He closes his eyes, huffs out a long breath as you take him in.

He’s deep, like this, snug. He grasps your hips, helps you move on his cock.

His head arches back into the pillow underneath it, neck bared to you as you ride him.

‘Use me, baby,’ he urges, bucking his hips up into you to fuck you a little deeper, grunting when you cry out.

He feels so good your oversensitivity gives way to building need. 

‘Come on,’ Hoseok says. He cards his fingers through your hair, tugs you down so he can devour your mouth. He’s vocal in his enjoyment of you, groaning into your mouth, grasping your ass so tight he’s going to leave marks.

‘Look,’ he says, hoarse, helping you lift up off him so you can see your arousal glistening on his skin, on the insides of your thighs.

He swears. ‘Turn over.’

He pulls out, and you turn over, onto all fours. You tremble with want as he slides his cock against your slit, nudging you apart.

He’s back inside you in one smooth movement, curled over your back, hand on your tits, the other hand snaking down the front of your pelvis to rub your clit.

‘I’m gonna come,’ he tells you. His voice is raspy now, taut. ‘And I think I’m going to fucking love coming into this cunt.’ 

‘I think you’re gonna get so fucking tight I won’t be able to move.’

He strokes his fingers over your clit, and you cry out. He flicks his other thumb over your peaked nipple. 

‘Shit, you’re so fucking soft, princess,’ he groans. ‘So fucking soft.’

You moan his name as his words push you over the edge.

‘That’s it, there you go, princess,’ he says. He drives himself into your pulsing cunt, deep, slow, and then he’s holding you tight, pulled up so your back is pressed to his chest. You can feel him twitching as he fills the condom.

Your arms buckle, and you drop onto the bed, taking him with you.

He rolls off. ‘Fuck, are you ok? Did I squash you?’

You’re still breathless but you manage a smile. ‘No, you killed me.’

Hoseok laughs. ‘Knew you were a princess.’

He sits up, staggers a little, and he disappears in the direction of your kitchen, coming back with a glass of water.

‘Drink up.’

As you drink he goes to the bathroom, returning shirtless but with his briefs back on.

‘All yours,’ he says. He passes you his t-shirt and your panties.

By the time you make it back he’s tidied up the clothes you shed, and is perched on the end of your bed. 

He looks up at you. 

‘I can go,’ he says, tentative. 

You come closer, and automatically, he curls an arm around your waist, pressing his face into your front.

‘Why don’t you stay?’ 

Hoseok’s smile is bright, happy, pleased. ‘I’d like to.’

You hit the lights, and he holds up the covers for you to slide in, wraps his arm around you as soon as you’re in the bed.

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand. 

‘Need to get that?’ he asks as you lift it to check.

He watches you swipe away the text from Namjoon, but all he says is, ‘What kind of coffee do you like? I’ll pick us up some in the morning.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ he promises. ‘I’ll get you whatever you want.’

©hamsterclaw 2023

[brucewaynehater101]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #25

Surgery, stitches, being monitored, "it's for your own good"

Tw: surgery, lack of consent (for surgery), fighting, blood, suicidal ideation

Mostly canon accurate :)

Brief synopsis: Tim wakes up post splectonomy

Dull pain throbbing near the lower left of his ribs is the first sensation to trickle in. The cold, rough texture of concrete on his back is the next.

With this, he's able to understand three clues: He’s injured, he's on painkillers, and he doesn't know who helped him.

While the bandages wrapped around his torso and the medication indicates his savior doesn't wish him death, it doesn't indicate what they do want with him. They could be a friendly (which is its own cup of fuckery and headaches), or they could be keeping him alive for some nefarious purpose.

He concentrates on what he can hear with his eyes slid shut. Multiple people breathing. Over ten. The sound of water sloshing against a hard surface.

For a moment, Tim continues to just lie there. He should be dead. The sword did too much damage for him to have survived it.

For a moment, he’s disappointed he survived.

Thoughts of Bruce, his mentor, his dad, center him back into reality. Tim may have proven the man is alive, but his work isn't done. No one else believes this. Tim is the only one with the evidence otherwise. Even if he sends it to them, there's no guarantee they'll take it seriously. Tim has to spearhead the rescue or it won't get done.

A soft sigh escapes his lips at his predicament. There's so much to be done before he can rest. He can lament his life then.

Peeling his eyes open, he sees a person dressed head to toe in black. Their eyes, the only portion not covered, widen.

Ninja.

Tim glances to the side only to see wispy green smoke.

Lazarus Pit. Oh gods.

He shouldn't have survived. He should have died. He was going to die. He must have died. There's a Pit. He's been resurrected. Fuck. He's been dipped. Fuck!

He springs to sit up and ignores the stabbing ache in his side. A foot collides with the face of the ninja previously peering over him as he uses his hands to propel him to his feet.

His body automatically counters and attacks as his mind spirals and spirals.

The League put his dead body into a Pit. What the fuck is he going to do?

As he chokes one of Ra's men out, his other arm steals the man's sword. His eyes frantically dart between the threats.

Think… Think! What is he going to do?

More people fall to his antics, but they don't try to lash out. They merely defend Tim's attacks. The teen's brows furrow at this.

Is he already going insane? His body is on fire and they aren't fighting back. He must be losing it.

As Tim brings the sword up to swing like a baseball bat, a shout rings out.

“Stop!”

Tim, despite the fear and panic thrumming in time to the pain in his chest, freezes. A man with what appears to be a white mask strides closer to the teen.

“For your own sake, you must stop!”

With a snarl, Tim continues to maintain a defensive posture. “You bring me back from the dead and just expect me to-”

With an exasperated sigh, the man cuts the teen off. “We did not resurrect you. You did not go into the Pits for healing. You have ripped open the stitches from your surgery.”

Tim relaxes from his tense stance as his eyes drift down to the white bandages that now have red soaking into them.

“Oh.”

The man nods along as if Tim's a kindergartener finally figuring out he needs to raise his hand in class.

As they go over what led to Tim's emergency treatment and what happened to Pru, exhaustion starts to settle further onto his shoulders. He's weary and in pain, but he focuses on the debriefing.

The major points? Tam is being threatened and Tim has no choice but to lead the League. Just another task piling in before Tim can be done.

Red Robin does what he must. He hunts spiders and plans. Every move is monitored and Tim can feel Ra's breathing down his neck. Assassins line the halls, the training grounds, and the missions he sends them on. He’s surrounded by enemies and doesn't have an inch of privacy.

Yet, he still manages to worm his way into the League's computer systems. When it comes down to it, he viciously destroys his own cage.

It's freeing. It's petty.

He has mere minutes before detonation.

For a moment, just one, his feet slow down. He can't help but ponder if he truly needs to escape the base. He could just stay here, feign some inexplicable obstacle, and let the time run out. He could be done.

Yet, as his eyes dart from Pru to Tam, he knows he can't. Pru could save the other woman, but there's still no one left to save Bruce.

Tim needs to keep going. He can't stop now.

Soon, though. It's only a matter of time. Soon, there will be enough reason and enough of an excuse that the teen can finally let go.

All he has to do is save Bruce.

[greenrow]

Working on a project together

Lance thinks he's so sneaky (he's not)

this is an adaptation from @herodzn other klance comic

you can also find it on ao3 here

They were in Keith’s collage room. It was a cozy little space, walls filled with posters with his favourite movies and bands. Keith had his laptop open on his lap, typing away for the project they had to deliver for professor Coran’s class. His back was being supported by two fluffy pillows, making him sink into them a bit.

Lance, who was previously scanning the book for any type of information that might be helpful for their project, glance up taking in Keith’s concentrated face. He could see Keith’s eyes scanning his screen, his left eyebrow scrunching the slightest. His bangs were falling into his eyes, escaping from the half up-do he had made some 20 minutes ago. Lance took a mental note of how Keith’s hair had grown since their first year. He thought back to that time. How it seemed as if they couldn’t stand each other, just like water and oil. Fire and ice, red and blue. He bit back the little giggle threatening of escaping his throat. First year him would be so confused if he knew that, right now, Lance was sitting in Keith’s bed, barely a foot away from him, using Keith’s own pillow to support his back.

Tilting his head, Lance lets his eyes rest on Keith’s figure just a moment longer. He could feel how his cheeks grew warmer. Maybe it was the temperature in the room, the comforting light pink walls making it cosier somehow, or, maybe, it was all because of Keith. Him in his ugly blue sweater (although ugly wasn’t the first word popping in Lance’s mind while looking at the boy), his trademarked black pants and his messy hair. Lance wanted to rip his hair out from just what Keith made him feel. Nonetheless, Lance keeps his eyes trained on him and his smile grows softer.

Keith’s voice rang in the previous silent room, slicing it.

“Hey, Lance? Do you know if we-”, he cuts himself off, lifting his head from his computer screen, finally.

“Uh?”, he says out loud, tilting his head to the side slightly. He wasn’t expecting Lance’s eyes to be on him already. And, most of all, he was not expecting to see that look in Lance’s eyes. Soft adoration.

Keith knew all to well about that look. Shiro would not stop teasing him about it when they had their weekly hang out sessions. He would always comment how Keith’s eyes would soften comically fast while looking at Lance. How Keith looks at him like he hung the very stars he’s so passionate about. Keith would always deny it, but he knew it. Knew Shiro’s observation was right. How Keith’s eyes would automatically look for Lance in a crowded room, how he would seek his companionship in their group, how he made sure to present professor Coran all the reasons for why they should be allowed to work together in this project. He knew what he felt for Lance went beyond what normal friends feel like. He loved Shiro like a brother would, he loved Pidge and Hunk as friends. Hell, he even loved Allura as a friend, now, as well. But, Lance… Lance was different. He had always been different. Made him feel different. He wanted to have a different relationship with Lance, something beyond being just friends. Something more. But for now he would stay put. For now, just having Lance feel comfortable around him was enough.

Keith observed how Lance’s expression changed to one of shock. He looked flustered. He looked away for a second, at the wall to his left, taking in the posters littered on his wall. He quickly looked back to the book in his hands.

“Oh.. Sorry, I spaced out…”

Lance’s voice came soft, almost shy like. Keith couldn’t help the smile creeping way to his face. They locked eyes once more when Lance, almost defiantly, glanced up. They held eye contact for what felt like an eternity (it was a few seconds at best). Looking down to their respective literatures, they kept on working on their project. A silent question dangling over their heads. They would answer it some other time.

For now, they would freeze this time.

For now, they would finish their assignment.