#I got to call poison control for the first time

[arianaderalte]

A farmer (accidentally) poisoned me today.

Archaeology!

*jazz hands*

[oceantornadoo]

sex pollen f!reader with ex-husband john price

it was your last mission with him. the ink on the divorce papers had dried, been filed away and fully set. his things out of your shared house, shipped off to an apartment address you tried not to memorize. unfortunately, the mission required both of your unique skillsets, and although kate promised she'd try to separate the two of you, the mission came first. it always did.

"clear." you finished exploring the abandoned lab for hostiles, now focusing on finding the hard drive you'd been sent for. "should be on bottom drawer of-" "i know, john." it was completely inappropriate to address him like that, ignorant of any call sign, but he'd put on his nagging tone and really, you couldn't be bothered. that's what you told yourself later on, why you missed the blinking red sensor as you tugged the hard drive out of its hiding spot - too preoccupied with your ex-husband, the whole reason you didn't want to be on a mission with him. it was only when you heard the click, unnoticeable to the untrained ear, you realized you'd gone wrong.

"shi-" you were cut off with a blast of yellow powder to the face, the force of it knocking you to the ground. you fumbled for your comms, hands unsteady in the face of your lack of attention. "im hit, some sort of powder. bioweapon? in the control room." john was there in seconds, craddling your head like you were something precious and not a representation of his failed marriage. "'s it hurt, love? c'mere, let's get you up." he pulled you into a sitting position, wiping the powder off your eyes with gloved hands. miraculously, you felt fine, more embarrassed than anything. the powder clogged your airways but you didn't feel any damage, no signs of poison. "she's fine, bit woozy. can y' check wha' it was, watcher? sendin' a picture of the cannister over." he helped you stand, hands checking you over with too much familiarity. you almost flinched at it before remembering he was helping you. his touch was warm and unyielding, like it used to be. it sent an unusual tingle down your spine, which you smartly ignored.

"let's get ya t' the safehouse. need a shower, sweetheart." he was being overly nice as he escorted you there, nothing like the cold captain you were used to. his voice dripped like honey down your throat and an unfamiliar rush of something ran through your body. his presence was all-consuming and you needed to get away. you entered the nearby house - a one bedroom modern cabin, surprisingly nice - and immediately headed towards the bathroom, locking yourself inside. you quickly stripped down out of your gear, washing the powder off your face and clearing your vision. you took a look at yourself in the mirror: face flushed, pupils wide, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. unbelievably, the sight sent a spark to your core. you looked downwards, noting the wet spot on your underwear. it happened sometime in between john's hands checking you over and his gruff voice in your ear. two fingers dipped down between your folds, and you withdrew them to see gleaming wetness, the type you only got when you were ovulating.

shaking it off, you decided to take a shower. the water was thankfully warm as you stepped into it, letting the remaining powder and grime of the mission wash off you. you turned to face the water stream and sighed as it hit your tits almost perfectly. despite the heat, your nipples were hard and achy, the water stimulating them more and more. you weren't usually this sensitive, most times needing a while to get this horny. as if guided by a mysterious force, you detached the showerhead and ran it along your body. it was warm and comforting and hot, temporarily relieving you of your bodily ache. you brought it down towards your aching cunt, other hand grabbing your breast harshly. your core tightened quickly, your brain sending an image of john's concerned hands on your waist, the gentleness of his touch. it was the quickest orgasm of your life - two minutes and you were whining into your fist. of course, the ears of john price missed nothing.

john swore he didn't mean to. he'd been trying to obey these walls you put up, this divorce you made him agree to, your coldness on missions. anything to keep you in his life somehow, to show that he could be good. but really, moaning in the bathroom attached to the bedroom he was currently pacing in? remembering the way your pupils blow wide when you come, the frazzled expression you give on the come down. it was starting to fuck with his head, especially as he heard the shower turn off. suddenly, john remembered all you had were your pollen-dusted clothes and there wasn't anything in the safehouse, all moth-bitten and dusty fabric. without thinking, john took off his tac vest and the shirt underneath it. he approached the door with caution, knocking hesitantly. "love? got you a shirt if y' need it?"

the bathroom door opened with a blast of hot air, the steam beading on your forehead and dripping down your extremely naked body. one he hadn't seen in months since you started keeping yourself from him. "sweetheart." you shook your head wordlessly. "it hurts, john." it came out in a whine as you walked closer to him, eyes scanning his naked torso. "what hurts, baby?" you almost whimpered at his tone, the yearning behind him. in a move that was uncharacteristic of your usual dynamic, you backed him into the bed, letting his knees hit the mattress until he was sitting, a wide-open lap for you. "everything. 'm so sensitive." you practically moaned the last part as you stepped up to straddle him, naked cunt settling directly on the rough fabric of his cargos. you were seeping wetness, could feel it staining his pants as you held john's confused gaze.

"'s the drug, sweetheart. y' don't really want this." you shook your head again. he wasn't getting it, this deep-rooted need for him in your bones. john's hands, shaking by the looks of it, came to rest on your waist, which simply wouldn't do. quickly, you snatched a calloused paw and dragged it down to your slick, moving his fingers through your folds for him. he let out a content growl, pressing his palm against your clit harshly. your body was on fire, flames licking everywhere. just so sensitive, every touch amplified tenfold. he was all you could think, smell, see: strong, capable, wanting. your hips bucked against his palm, moving with ease through your wetness. "been wanting you for ages, john. 's not the drug."

sometimes, john wished he was a better man. this was not one of those times. a better man would take you off his lap and lock himself in another room. instead, john followed the rhythm of your hips, letting you grind your puffy clit against his weathered palm. your pants were loud, unbidden, and he could feel your orgasm approaching, the fastest it had ever come. "gonna come so fast, wife?" you nodded, closing your hands as you rode him faster, sounds of your slick growing louder. "not your wife, john." suddenly, just as you felt the start of your orgasm, he took his palm away, fiery eyes lit with contention. "only my wife gets to come." you frowned at that. "you won't help me?" he didn't answer, instead tugging down his stained cargos and pulling out his cock. you bit your lip at the sight - it had been so long since you'd seen it. girthy and veined, perfect to fill the aching inside of you. john gave it a few pumps with the hand that had been getting you off, your residue wetness the perfect lube for him. "say it and i'll let you sit on my lap."

that's when you noticed, conveniently, that he still had his wedding ring on. it had been gliding through your folds but you'd been too fucked out to notice. your orgasm was still fluttering in your stomach, sustained by the sight of him fucking his fist. "c'mere, wife. say it." john's brows were furrowed, eyes a dark blue you'd only seen in the times after kitchen arguments and messy fights. something about the rawness of his expression hit your heart where it ached. a lonely gap only he could fill. "fine." you stalked over from where you'd been standing. he moved further back on the bed, shucking off his pants so he could move his hips better. "fuck me, husband." straddling him again, this time with your hands on his shoulder, you sheathed yourself on his cock in one swift movement, sliding down easily. your clit was so sensitive, inner walls begging for friction, that the moment you gave him an experimental grind, you came, harder than you ever had in your life.

"cunny so needy, huh baby?" john took to your hips, fucking you on his lap as rode out your orgasm. you nodded, pushing closer until your hardened nipples scrapped his chest hair, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. "john, they hurt." one hand left you to cup your breast, his fingers squeezing and pulling. any other time and the movement would have left you pushing him off, but you could only moan loudly, pleading for him to continue. he knew the perfect angle, knew to move somewhere between a grind back and forth while fucking you up and down, perfectly hitting your clit every time. a coil grew in your stomach, emboldened by the manly scent of his musk, the grunts pouring out of his mouth. "john, john. need to come." he tweaked your nipple harder, like he was experimenting with how far he could go, how much pain the drug would cover. "beg me, wife."

the world spun as he flipped you on your back, gathering your wrists in a strong grip as his other hand made his way to your neck, squeezing softly. his thrusts were more controlled now, his weight pushing you into the mattress, like you couldn't ever leave. "go'on. you know what to say." his possessiveness bled through his words, his grip bruising and definitely marking you. you couldn't seem to care, too wrapped up in the way he immediately took charge of your needs. "please, husband. john. need to come." his grin was disarming, charming beard counteracting his feral smirk. the hand left your jaw to squeeze your nipples, then moved to your clit, puffy and needy. he rubbed it once, twice, three times, whispering "then come, sweetheart," as the coil in your belly finally snapped. he came undone at the feeling, your walls clenching to hold his cock in as he pumped more cum into you.

you'd missed exfil, actually. two days, forty-eight hours, of nonstop fucking the drug out of you. bent over the arm of the singular couch in the living room. bruises on your ass when you got bratty about his recovery time. hickies on your neck, tits, thighs. pretty sure you'd left the cabin devoid of water when john used the detachable shower head for an hour until your poor cunny was raw and overstimulated. then he put you on your knees and well, that was the only break you needed.

in between mandatory naps, you felt the drug wear off. that confidence draining slightly, your slick dying down. you turned to john, naked and knocked out next to you, and ran your hands through his beard until he woke. blue eyes fluttering, trying to figure out if you wanted another round. "let's go home, john." the sultry tone was gone from your voice but somehow, you looked at him with just the same amount of affection. "alrigh' sweetheart, let's go home."

--

MORE JOHN PRICE

sex pollen solves all marital problems! sorry this took so long, i was too sad to write smut.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part Two - The aftermath

So many of you came out of the woodwork for this story and I couldn't be more grateful for all the kind words of encouragement! I'm truly flattered by the amount of love this received for being something that randomly popped in my head on a whim ❤️

I'm glad I was able to get this part out so quickly. It might be a tick before part three, but I've already got some of it worked out. I'll still try to keep chipping away at it while I work on my other series~

Trigger warnings: swearing, angst, depression

“I saw them the other day.”

“...saw who?”

“My scent matches.”

There’s a pregnant pause as your therapist of four years takes the information in, caught off guard by the abruptness of the statement but also the further implications behind the words.

Dr. Miranda has been your life raft and confidant ever since you’d first gone to your family with the appalling reality of your newfound situation. An omega like yourself; she specializes in the treatment and rehabilitation of women who've endured abuse at the hands of their packmates and the dredges of society. Highly recommended by the United Designation Resource Center for psychological trauma.

It had taken you over a week following the incident to gather the strength to confront your fathers on the thorny subject - too ashamed of admittance and too anxious of their response. And even then it was done over the phone in the most uncomfortable video call of your life, the dour atmosphere so at odds with that blessedly clear mid-afternoon sky, its temperate climate and soft summer breeze carrying along an enchanting melody of carefree innocence.

Inside, it was raining.

The wretched bond was a gravity well, sucking you down into a chasmic abyss and siphoning your once bountiful vibrancy. Responsibilities fell by the wayside, locked away in your self-imposed prison as if the globe would simply stop moving if you only ignored its rotations. Not until both your fathers made the three hour flight up north did you muster the courage to finally remove the makeshift barricade guarding your front door, talking through the deceptively difficult act with them on the other end of the phone as the two alphas supported you during the twenty five minutes it took to overcome the all-consuming panic and usher them inside.

They stayed with you for the better part of the month, taking over where depression had failed you in your efforts to function alone. Your parents allowed you space to look after yourself, clearing away the physical filth of your living quarters and, in doing so, sweeping away the cobwebs of your teetering sanity. They scrubbed at putrid greasy plates while you scoured tainted flesh under a scalding hot stream, the dead skin cells contaminated by his poisonous touch spiraling down the drain along with your tears.

The harsh truth of the matter is that there is no escape from your own body. You come screaming into this world given one to do with as you will, to mold and shape based on lived experiences with no regard for the decisions and circumstances made outside your control. There is no space to slip between the weaved threads of time, no hands to turn counter clockwise when you make a mistake. Just a grim acceptance that the life you once aspired to was forevermore out of reach.

There was only so much to be done given your situation. As much aid as your family offered, they were as helpless of bystanders as the soul in your meat suit. Chores were completed, accumulated bills paid, a hearty meal piled high on your plate combating the recent gauntness of your face. You were cherished and fussed over like the wee babe found scattered amongst family photos in your childhood home, cradled in their arms when the horrid presence came calling, dragging a hot poker through your insides and causing mental anguish at all hours of the night. 

The more time they spent around you, the more apparent it was that you could no longer stay there. The closer the proximity to your bonded alpha the more power he held to disrupt your life. 

That's how you landed in Dr. Miranda’s lap. Before you'd even set foot on the tarmac arrangements had been made for a new life in a new city on the other side of the country - spiriting you away on a mission to regain your independence, the distance easing the damage he could do even as the strained bond churned.

Initially dreading having to confess the horrors you’d endured to some random unknown, she’d worked diligently to soothe your broken nerves in both demeanor and environment. A kind omega in her early forties, the subtle crows feet and laugh lines only accentuated her cheerful personality, disarming in her ability to draw out your insecurities and work with you through the trauma in a way that didn’t feel intruding. 

Dr. Miranda was a veritable well of understanding, always encouraging of whatever pace you set, careful of the fragile boundaries constructed to guard your heart from further damage. 

She operated as part of a larger business that provided therapeutic services and catered to all designations alike. You’d been thrilled to find there was a separate entrance away from the cacophony of the common room, bypassing the headache of having to wait amongst strangers and leading directly to her office in the back right corner of the building. 

The space itself was considerably cozy, low lit warmth all plush and homely. The spacious couch against the back wall invited you to stretch out comfortably, decorative pillows available in a colorful assortment of textures - catering to a discerning omega’s personal preferences. A small diffuser wafting light refreshing mists operated as both a handy descenting spray and an emotional pick me up. Every accommodation purposeful, given special care for your emotional easement and wellbeing.

You appreciated the effort she put into making her office feel more like a living room than a sterile setting. It was easier for you to converse when it felt like you were speaking with a friend.

Bit by bit, Dr. Miranda coaxed you from the sheltered recesses in which you’d burrowed; not just a guiding hand through the concrete dust and collapsed rubble, but a mentor recovering your confidence, reminding you of the path you once walked independently and peeling back the suffocating layers that kept you from standing on your own two feet.

In hindsight, you probably could’ve broken the news of your scent match a bit less abrasively - probably should’ve led with it too. 

The pair of you had been engrossed in a topic that was moreso a follow up from your last session rather than anything of actual import. Your brain had been functioning on autopilot the past twenty odd minutes, making sounds vaguely human enough to get by without requiring proper attention. Honestly, most of her words had been drowned out by the incessant buzzing in your ear that had been slowly growing in volume, throat clenching and knuckles flexing, more aware of the sweat dripping down the back of your nape than anything she had to proffer.

Eventually the dam just broke. The words slipped out like grease, lubricated in a film of oil too slick to be contained and begging to be addressed.

There’s a struggle on her face to try and maintain some level of professionalism after the sudden revelation. Knitted eyebrows spiked before smoothing back down, jaw almost dropping until she remembered herself and switched it from an ‘o’ to a relaxed flat line. She mirrored your own position on the couch from her velvet wingback chair, sitting cross legged with an air of casualness. Her only remaining tell was her hands fidgeting in her lap as if her fingers itched to shake you down like a coconut tree or pry your brain open like a valuable specimen. 

Knowing the scarcity of scent bonding, this may have very well been the first time she’s come across this scenario - whether in her personal life or from her spot opposite you in her seat.

“How are you feeling about the encounter?” A loaded question if ever there was one, giving you plenty of breathing room to start the conversation however you needed and giving her a chance to compartmentalize. 

You tried to focus on the initial emotions, remembering that first brush of sweet alpha pheromones on your olfactory senses. The rush of endorphins as your inner omega staked her claim with that first gulp of built up citrus infused drool.

“I didn’t know I could feel like that...” There was a breathy quality to your tone as you visibly brightened, gazing at the plush rug in the center of the room without actually viewing it, a glow to your smile that was soft in your reminiscence. “They don’t prepare you for that first whiff at the Academy. It’s almost like…”

How could you explain in the span of a few sentences what the most ardent poets struggled with over the course of a lifetime? 

“It’s like when someone grows up not being able to breathe properly and they don’t even realize it’s a problem. To them it’s normal to be in a constant state of dyspnea because that’s all they’ve ever known. No one else might be complaining about it, but no one’s asked them about it either. They just assume that's how your lungs are supposed to function and carry on none the wiser.”

Dr. Miranda nodded along, ever patient as you attempted to spew out your thoughts in an at least semi-coherent structure.

“But then, one day, they’re walking behind a guy who’s fumbling with his attempt to shove a small object back in his pocket and watches as it falls to the sidewalk. They pick it up off the ground like a good citizen; strike up a conversation. Ask him about the strange contraption the guy calls an inhaler - learns there's another way to breathe. And so they go home and tell their mom what’s been going on with them and she takes them to see the doctor who gets them one of their own. And when that first dose of medicated mist gets sucked into their lungs…”

The image of a wide eyed innocent gasping in a world full of untold possibilities as if reborn from the ashes of their previous life, no longer chained down by the invisible restrictions tethering them to the globe, eyes glistening full of wonderment at how something so small can be something so cosmically life altering.

With each new breath, they soar.

You’re pulled out of your musings and back to reality as your own lungs expand, something weightless shimmering in your gaze, glassy eyed and perfectly at ease. “Now I know why they call it living.”

The words are floated around the space with a sort of reverence akin to hearing a favored childhood fairy tale read aloud at their mother’s knee. Something wistful and longing and filled with effervescent hope.

“Sounds heavenly...” Her own voice was just as breathy, living vicariously through the moment she herself hasn't experienced. Curling her legs up under herself, Dr. Miranda encouraged, “tell me more.”

“There were two of them,” you went on, smile turning playful and newly invigorated. “The first one was just this big bulk of an alpha. I mean, seriously, he was properly huge!” Animated arms opened wide for emphasis, your grin reaching almost the same diameter. “Built like a fucking linebacker or something. I can only imagine what he must do for a living. Kinda gives off scary vibes, but like… in a non sketchy way? He dresses a bit like a drug dealer, but feels more like a gym teacher. Maybe that’s just me being biased ‘cause he smells like a cupcake, I dunno.”

The energy you gave off was infectious. Dr. Miranda couldn’t help but join in with amused laughter, endeared to the way you were lighting up the room. It wasn’t often she got to see you like this, glimpsing the lighthearted woman you were before the accident. It was a welcome sight after so much negativity. “And the other?”

“Fuuuuck me, Doc.” You groaned good naturedly, head falling back to rest against the spine of the couch as your limbs went limp. “Swear to god he was the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. Gorgeous smile. Like, I’ve always been a casual fan of coconut, but after that encounter…” You shuddered. “I just wanna roll around in an entire box of fucking samoas.”

“And do these tasty specimens have names?”

Just like that, you wilted.

The temperature shifted rapidly, a violent change that dragged out of your whimsy and back into a world where life didn’t discriminate between those deserving of heaven and those who broke their way in to taint the ghosts at peace. 

She picked up on it immediately, back straightening as if you weren’t the only one in the room with a chill suddenly dripping down their spine. 

Your admission came from a voice far more fragile than she’d heard in a very long time. “...I never got to ask.”

Recounting the excruciating memory was like shoving needles underneath your nailbeds, bringing up the other person in the room keeping you from wanton bliss, describing the torture you’d endured witnessing them existing with their own omega unaware of the damage she’d inadvertently done. You relayed their moment of recognition and sympathy. The confusion on the poor omega’s face.

How you turned tail and fled like a coward from the scene.

“I panicked,” came the strained confession, stumbled out in a frantic rush that spoke volumes of your frazzled mental state. “I-I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t just waltz up to them all willy nilly and throw a wrench in whatever the hell kinda life they’d already built. I mean, she was right there! How was I supposed to fawn over the men who should’ve been mine to keep when they were never mine to begin with?!”

You flinched away from the unwanted flashback of silvery bite marks, the pale white indents plastered on her skin displayed proudly beneath the collar of her coat like an olympic medal. So at odds with the ones mirrored on your own flesh, hidden now under a thick cotton turtleneck that you fought the urge to scratch.

Dr. Miranda listened closely, keen eyes analyzing the familiar body language and monitoring your growing levels of distress. She watched as you picked apart a loose hanging thread with jittery deftness until inevitably too much unwound and fluffy white stuffing poked out between the seams of the pillow clutched like a life jacket to your chest.

“I can only imagine the hurt you must’ve felt in that moment…”

Where once your voice had been full of life, now there was only a grave emptiness. Color had been sucked from your aura the same way it had been from the room. There was no hiding from your devastation in the tiny office, the frayed threads of the cashmere pillow a reflection revealing the true turmoil roiling beneath the skin. It rotted from the inside out, exposing the vulnerable squishy interior and keeping you reliving the same brutal lacerations again and again and again.

“...I hadn’t even considered it a possibility, you know…?” 

Hadn’t allowed yourself the concept of hope. 

“And suddenly it was right there - the answer to all my problems. For a brief moment, I was shown a glimpse of a better life. A future… one where I didn't wake up with earth shattering headaches and relentless nausea and I’d actually have energy to do more than just be a useless fucking couch potato and there could be laughter and healing and–” 

You weren’t sure at which point in your stream of consciousness you’d started crying, nor when you fitfully clawed into the padded fabric, shredding the delicate material as it twisted and stretched in your trembling hands.

“I wish I never ran into them at the store... I wish I could’ve kept living in stupid fucking ignorance. At least then they could’ve just stayed made up characters in my head. Anything would’ve been better than this–” you spat angrily, chucking the mangled remains of the pillow on the ground and gritting your teeth through the onslaught of tears. “Having them ripped away from me like some sick fucking joke! Like the universe hasn’t already crushed my hopes and dreams and laughed in my face for wanting a normal fucking life!? Well guess what, gods? You win! Okay?! You fucking win! Take my heart! I don't want it anymore!”

Consoling arms encapsulated your quivering form, the comforting florals of Dr. Miranda’s airy omega scent projecting like a protective blanket and overpowering the tart bitterness of your once sweetened pear turned ashen in your mouth. 

The floodgates opened. They couldn't be stopped.

“I’m just so fucking sick of this!” Your screams of devastation become muffled against the softness of her pink knitted sweater, harsh blubbering sobs broken up by heaving gasps as you mourn the life you’ll never have. “I hate him... I hate him! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I just want my fucking life back!”

There are no words that can fix the lesions of the heart. There’s no comfort of a better tomorrow that she can wax poetic whilst drying your tears. Sometimes grief cannot be mended - only managed. And sometimes that means accepting the bad days with the learned knowledge that not all anger is made of evil. 

Holding you close, lulling you into a guarded safety with a placating purr, she grants you reprieve from the mask that you wear.

Not much more was discussed in the aftermath. The remaining time was dedicated to helping you stabilize from the emotional trauma, bringing you down carefully to avoid dropping into a catatonic state. She’d witnessed it with you before - at the start of your visits. When the grief was still too near and your triggers splayed out like a million mouse traps all primed to go off. Avoiding them was all but impossible in those early days. Three hours of your life were forever lost to time, the only proof of its occurrence the foggy aftermath filled memory of cold dampened skin and sweat soaked weighted blankets clutched tight in a dark room, uncontrollable trembles wracking your form and a bone deep exhaustion as if you’d just ran ten miles.

Dr. Miranda never once left your side.

Trudging your way back to your vehicle, the air inside the car was only mildly warmer than its outer counterpart, sinking into the rigid cloth seats and listening to the laboured clicks of the old engine grappling to turn over in the bitter cold. Snowflakes gathered on your coat began to melt as it finally gave way, puttering to life and filling the space with dense heated air.

You huffed out a loaded sigh, absentmindedly scratching at the already abused skin as you felt his presence poking experimentally across the bond. As if you didn’t have enough on your plate without him adding his delightful input, sniffing around your emotions like a trained bloodhound attuned to your melancholic brooding.

He was a spiteful thing; had been since he first opened his eyes the next morning from his drug induced stupor and found the pretty thing he’d coveted had just up and vanished. You never knew when he’d invade the sanctity of your mind. The flicker of amusement from his end was the telltale proof this was all just a sick game. 

The bonds didn’t allow any actual communication. There were no words passed back and forth, no sudden powers of telepathy. Just intense sensations - emotions conveyed as though tangible and speaking ideas down an invisible phone line. 

The whole point of a mating bite in the first place was to bring a further cohesion to the packs. As an omega, you were the fixed point in space around which all other members orbited. A mediator of sorts; it was your job to smooth the serrated edges of an alpha’s instincts, regulating their emotional needs and nurturing them to achieve a sense of balance - and vice versa. 

An omega’s naturally empathetic nature meant you were frequently prone to becoming easily overstimulated. It was an alpha’s duty to soothe your frazzled nerves. 

He liked to abuse his privileges. 

Sometimes he went days without pestering, others his tiresome machinations seemed unending. The longest reprieve had been just shy of three weeks, lured into a false sense of optimism that just maybe he’d overdosed and freed you from his haunting clutches. His return was a hot knife stabbing into your skull, grinding and drilling like a makeshift lobotomy for the clinically insane.

You were grateful for the miles between now softening the blows. Once he’d begun to feel the strain on the flight to your current city whittling away at the strength of your bond, he’d lashed out in unbridled fury. You’d spent the first leg of the trip huddled on your knees in the airplane stall, his mental punishment sawing into your ribs and expelling the simple breakfast you’d eaten an hour prior. 

Sobs of anguish turned to tears of relief as time went on and his reach stretched thin across the continent. 

The bond withdrawals came afterwards. His presence still lurked in the tether that binds you, but no more than a casual thought in the back of your mind, the quiet voice that whispers on the edge of a canyon daring you to ‘jump’.

The bond withdrawals were now the worst of your worries. It was hard to function on a day to day basis when the same distance granting you a second chance caused you to become physically - sometimes violently - ill. Instances like that, Zofran was your best friend.

Buckling your seatbelt, you waged an internal battle over whether or not to do the responsible thing of making a second attempt at grocery shopping (despite your best efforts over the past two days, you hadn’t yet figured out how to miraculously will food to materialize in your barren pantry). Statistically speaking you were most likely safe from another encounter… unless they’d pulled a you and hadn’t left with their wares either. 

But if you didn’t have the luxury before to keep putting it off then you certainly hadn’t acquired it now.

Math was on your side as you emerged with a full cart of goods and a lack of new therapy material. You’d still been the most skittish paranoid thing ever, scurrying quickly through the aisles like the CIA was out to get you, scanning your periphery and emerging quickly from the self checkout lanes to hurry towards your car. But just because you’d been successful in your venture doesn’t mean you weren’t followed along by fuzzy raised brows and curious - if not judgemental - looks. 

It was an odd notion - being terrified of the one thing that should’ve made you feel secure. It was all you could do to distract yourself from the frustrating realization that this was a game you’d be playing for the foreseeable future unless you shelled out the extra cash to bypass doing the chore yourself.

That would have to be a worry for another time. Right now, all you desired was to curl up in your tiny studio apartment with a home cooked microwaved meal and lose yourself in the diversion that was the food network channel.

But first: caffeine.

You ignored the nagging ghost of responsibility tugging at your ear as you pulled into a parking spot alongside the main road, stepping out of the warm confines of your car and hurrying inside the nestled hole in the wall you frequented a few times a week for a caffeinated boost. 

Large crowds still bothered you even with the reassurance he wasn't there, as if he could somehow physically slink out of the bond formed between you and hide amongst the chittering rabble waiting for an opportune moment of weakness to strike. Thankfully you’d arrived after the mid afternoon rush - although there were still a few stragglers with the same mindset as you eager to escape the frosty air with something warm on an otherwise picturesque snowy winter’s day.

The chiming bell above the door hailed your arrival, festive drink flavors assaulting your nose and instantly watering your mouth. Smoky chestnut praline, rich peppermint mocha, enticing caramel brulee. Cranberry laden pastries, chewy gingerbread cookies; all folded together in a Christmasy mix laced with the pleasant aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. 

Your mind zeroed in on exactly what it wanted, pinpointing the most succulent fragrance amongst the bountiful bouquet, cutting through the sea of heavy pheromones belonging to the other patrons and hitting something raw inside your weary soul. 

The veritable nectar of the gods. 

A rich shot of bold espresso. Sweetly caramelized with smooth, creamy, chocolatey undertones. It zapped your spine with a jolt of adrenaline, awakening your senses while simultaneously soothing them. The first relaxing sip of a perfectly hot beverage. The golden liquid flowed down the back of your throat and alleviated the tangled knots still keeping you on edge, settling like a sturdy hand on your shoulder and allowing you the chance to breathe easy.

Something about the blend had your inner omega preening, ears perked up and startling a small purr from your chest that had you blinking down at your torso in surprised confusion. You’d barely stepped foot inside the cafe and suddenly the craving had expanded tenfold, something ravenous and feral urging your steps towards the counter that you had to fight to withstand.

Shrugging off the intense hunger as a simple lack of shoving something slightly more substantial in your mouth before leaving this morning, you adjusted the strap of your purse more securely on your shoulder and raised your eyes level to the awaiting interior.

Right into the most alluring shade of brilliant azure - sparkling like sapphires and already fixated on you.

<< ✿ Previous ✿ << ✽ >> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[shelbgrey]

I NEED some of those smutty/fluffy head cannons for that beautiful sexy hot cake of a man named Jackson, Plz Pookie!!!

Poison(Jackson Avery)

Paring: Jackson Avery x Sloan!Reader

Summary: ever since the hospital merge Jackson and y/n Sloan didn't get along and would often bit each heads off dispite the growing tension. Then one day they both snap in a unexpected way

Warrings: SMUT! Enemies to lovers Smut, unprotected sex, sorta hate sex.

A/n: I'll do you one better, Pookie, I'll give a whole damn story.

MasterList ML2

Jackson wasn't expecting to see her in the on-call room, but today wasn't his day. Deep down he didn't mean to scowl when he saw her, but after losing his patient, Mark and his mother being on his ass he just wasn't in the mood. He wasn't even in the mood to make a sind comment when he see saw her. He just rolled his eyes and sinp out a comment “Great, just what I needed!”

Jackson and y/n have been working together for a while now and they could never stand each other. Everyone could see that, but everyone(aside from Jackson and y/n) could see the sexual tension that grew stronger every day.

She looked up from the chart she was studying and roll her eyes and got up from the bed. Her day hadn't been the greatest either and she had a long day. She wasn't on the mood to deal with him. “don't worry I was just leaving” she frowned and grab her lab coat that was crumbled up on a chair.

He looked almost amused as he watches the fire grown in the eyes he secretly loved. “Seriously, why do you always have to be so difficult?” He walks towards her, his body language aggressive, but still controlled by his emotions.

She took a deep breath and walked around him. “Seriously, Avery I'm not in the mood”

“I can see that. What's got you all riled up?” His voice drips with sarcasm as he steps infront of her, blocking the exit of the on-call room.

“Don't patronize me, we all know you hate me... Just as much as I hate you” that wasn't true, she didn't hate him. But she wasn't about to get used or her heart broke by him.

He stops, looking down at her, anger and jealousy clear in his eyes. “Fine, let's play it your way. If you hate me so much, maybe we should just get it over with” He steps closer.

She immediately back up until my back hits the wall of the on-call room, her heart is pounding. “g-get what o-over with?” I stuttered.

He smirks, taking another step closer. “I think you know...” his beautiful eyes stared into her soul as stepped closer, leaving nothing more than an inch between them. “You always know how to push my buttons.” He leans both palms against the wall, trapping her between him and the hard surface.

Her breath hitches as she stared at him with doe eyes. “the feeling is mutual Avery” she said, trying to stand my ground. Jackson smirked, capturing her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “which part?”

Jackson chuckles the dryly and grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. “oh, I do know... since we're both feeling it, we might as well do something about it.”

She suprised herself when she did't fight him, she stood still and watch him as her heart pounded against her chest “Avery...what are you doing?”

“His face is inches from hers as he leans in, his breath hot on herskin. “I'm taking what's mine.” he said roughly then he crashes his lips against hers in a possessive, demanding kiss.

Her breath hitched and her eyes widened at the unexpected contact. She pull away, staring into his beautiful eyes with determination. “you don't own me, I'm not yours to take”

He grabs her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. “Oh, but you are, and I plan to prove it.” He kisses her again, harder this time, his anger and jealousy fueling the intensity. Her lips smashed against his, it was fueled with all her frustration. The first moan of this whole situation fell passed her lips as she felt his tounge brush against her lips demanding entrance. Feeling brave she doesn't, closing her lips denying it entrance.

He groans against her lips, his hands traveled down her waist to her ass, gripping it hard. She gasped at his roughness, giving him the opportunity to slip his tounge passed her lips. Their tounges fought for dominance, but she let Jackson win. As he deepens the kiss. His anger and jealousy start to mix with desire.

Y/n gripped his scrub top in her fist and and pushed him towrds the bed in the on-call room with force. Jackson stumbles back slightly, hitting the bed. His heart is racing as he looks at her. “You really want this?” He asks, his voice rough from the kissing.

“Shut up” she said roughly and stratled his lap, slamming her lips to his for a rough kiss.

Taken completely by surprise, Jackson groans into the kiss. His hands roam down her sides to her ass, pulling her body flush against his. “You're going to regret this when we're done” Jackson murmurs against her lips.

“Probably” she whispered then nipped as his jaw as she pushed him flat on his back on the bed.

“Fuck” He groans, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands slided his large hands under your lab coat, gripping her hips. Y/n quickly tugged her lab coat off and drop on the floor, his breath hitched as he watched her grind her hips against his.

“Fuck, Jackson” she moaned his first name for the first as she grind her hips a little hared. She let a moan slip past her lips when his growing erection pressed against her core.

Jackson groans, arching into her. His hands roam down your his, cupping her ass through her scrubs. “Fuck, I want you” he growls, biting his lip.

Jackson sat up, keeping her trapped in his lap as his lips trail kisses down her jaw and neck. His hands move to the hem of her scrub top, tugging it over her head. “I've dreamed about this for so long.” He whispers, grabbing her hips to control her movements against him.

“M-me too” she accidentally admitted.

His fingers brush against her bra, tracing circles against her clothed nipple with his thumb. “Then stop fighting me” He growls, capturing her lips once more in a hungry kiss.

“What's the fun in that?” she asked breathlessly as her fingers play with his short hair.

He chuckles against her skin, the sound vibrating deliciously. His hands slide underneath her scrub bottoms, caressing her ass. “You're going to be the death of me, you know that?” He teases, his lips trailing down her callorbone to the top of her breasts.

She bit her bottom lips so didn't give him the satisfaction off hearing her moan. She huffed, tugging at his scrub top, wanting it off. Feeling the tug on his scrub top, Jackson smirks against the skin of her breasts before pulling back slightly. “Impatient, aren't we?” He teases, helping to remove his scrub top, revealing his toned torso.

She gulped when she saw his chest, her eyes traveled down his toned torso and bit her lip again, stopping a moan as her hands instinctively traveled down his chest.

“slower,” he sighs, loving her delicate touch. His lips trail kisses up your neck, stopping at your ear. “Take your time.” He whispers, his hips pressing against her's again.

Her finger traveled down his chest slowly till she found the drawl strings of his scrub pants. He groans, arching into her touch. He moans as he watches her hands undo the strings and slide the pants down, freeing his cock. “You're so fucking sexy,” he whispers.

“you're driving me crazy,” he growls, his hands trailing down her sides, pushing her pants along with her underwear off. He discarded them then slides off the bed, pulling his boxers off. He climbs back on top of her, his erection pressing against her slick core. “Tell me to stop”

She shook my head no as pulled him down for a kiss. “Good girl” He whisperes, kissing her deeply. His hips start to rock against her, making he moan. He slowly pushing into her tight heat. He kisses down her jaw and a crossed her collarbone, sucking lightly as he continues to thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes, his eyes locked on hers. His thrusts become faster, harder, as he loses control. “You're mine,” he growls, biting her bottom lip.

She wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him closer against her. “s-so good” she moaned an incomplete sentence, too distracted by the way he feels against her.

“I'm going to make you scream my name” he warns, his eyes burning with lust. He picks up the pace, driving deeper into her wet heat. His body shudders with the effort to hold back as he feels her clenching around him.

“Harder, Jackson... Please” she moaned desperately.

“Fuck” he hisses, slamming into her over and over again. His mouth finds her neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he loses control. He groans her name as he feels his impending release, his hips bucking wildly.

“jackson!” she screamed against his shoulder as she bucked he hips up, trying to meet his thrusts. He cries out as well, his entire body tenses, shooting his seed deep inside. He holds himself over her, panting. “Holy shit.” He groans out, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

A loud moan leaves her lips as his climax ignited hers. She held onto his shoulders, cumming all over his cock “J-Jackson” she panted as held on to him.

Jackson kisses her softly, his heart still racing. Slowly, he pulls out of her, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on his member. “God damn it,” he mutters, clearly frustrated with himself.

She look at him with a confused when she saw his expression. He runs a hand over his short hair, trying to calm himself down. He climed off the bed and slipped his boxers on. “I'm sorry. That was... I shouldn't have-” He trails off, not really sure how to finish that sentence.

Her heart crumbled. “I knew it” she mumbled, shaking her head. She had let her guard down and it was like he's already trying to hurt her. Did he hate her that much? This this all just a joke to him?

He saw the pain in her eyes. “No, baby,” he says, pulling her into a tight hug. His heart aches at the thought of hurting her. He knows he's messed up before, but he never meant to make her feel this way. He holds her close, breathing in her sweet scent.

She pushed him away gently. “don't call me that” she mumbled and quickly put her scrubs back on.

His heart sinks when he felt her push him away. He wasn't handling this well. He watches her put her scrubs back on silently, trying to maintain some semblance of distance between the two of them. “Look,” he starts, taking a deep breath.

“No! you got what you wanted” she started as tears pricked her eyes. “you can go back to hating me... I'm glad you got your frustration out” she gritted her teeth as the sarcastic comment fell out.

Jackson's eyes widen at her response, shocked by the harshness in her tone. He didn't expect her to react this way. “I... I didn't mean it like that,” he says, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. “I'm just...”

She shook her head as a single tear fell down her cheek. “J-just stop... Please” she whispered, shaking her head. She refused to look at him.

The sight of her tears only serves to further torment Jackson. He hates knowing he's the cause of her pain. But he also can't seem to control his jealousy. “Fine,” he snapped, having too much pride to tell he how he truly felt.

“I'm gonna go” she croaked out and grabed her lab coat, leaving.

As she walk away broken hearted, Jackson watches her, feeling a mixture of anger, frustration, and guilt. He knows he needs to deal with his jealousy before it destroys everything, but right now, it's consuming him. “God dammit,”

She quickly wipe away her tears and walk down the hospital hallway, trying to keep it together. Jackson remains where y/n left him, his fists clenched at his sides. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. This isn't like him – he's usually the one offering support, not causing pain.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Mark continued to talk, but Jackson wasn't processing any of it. He felt too terrible about how things ended with y/n, even worse he didn't know how to tell his best friend who just happened to be y/n big brother. Mark stopped and looked at him. “Avery, are you even listening?”

Jackson quickly looked up. “hm? Oh yeah... Burn unit right?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, he couldn't help but chuckled. “your way off... What's eatin' you?”

Jackson knew he'd be dead where he stands if he told mark the truth. “nothing”

Mark put his hand on Jackson's chest, stopping him in the middle hallway. “your distracted... What's going on with you?”

Jackson pushed his hand away and looked way, shaking his head. Mark caught sight of a red mark on his neck. Mark chuckled, grabbing Jackson's chin and turned his head to the side to see the hickey on his neck. “so you got laid and it ended badly, so what”

Jackson gulped and moved away from Mark. He felt terrible about y/n and what made things worse Mark ment alot to him. He pushed Mark away, but Mark wasn't done teasing. Mark grabed the collar of Jackson's Lab coat and pulled him back, his smile dropped when he saw the name on Jackson's lab coat wasn't his, but his little sister's. Jackson and y/n must have gotten their lab coats mixed up.

The color in Jackson's face drain as Mark let go of him. “you slept with y/n?” Mark said, his voice dropping. “my little sister”

“Mark I'm so-” Jackson was cut off by mark grabbing him by the collar of his scrubs and slamming him against the wall. Jackson was shaking and his heart pounded with regret. Mark raised his fist and Jackson flinched, but nothing happened.

“Mark, what the hell?” Derek asked, separating Mark from Jackson before he could get punched.

Mark ripped himself out of Derek's grasp. “the basterd screwed y/n”

Jackson was once again shoved against wall. This time he had Derek's arm against his throat. Y/n was just as much as Derek's sister as she was Mark's. “you what” Derek said through his teeth.

Jackson's regret tunred into rage, he shoved Derek off of him. “you don't think I regret hurting her?! She won't even talk to me now!”

“well fix it Avery! Before I knock your teeth out” Mark growled.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Jackson finally got away from both Mark and Derek, he wanted to find y/n and explain everything and mend what he broke. He couldn't find her anywhere and knew knew she wouldn't awnser his pages. He was about to lose hope, but as he tunred the corner he ran right into her.

He stares at her for a moment before his expression softens. He sees the tears that she's trying so hard to hold back, and his heart aches for her but he can understand she was so angry. He slowly moves in front of her, putting his hand on her arm. “Please... can I talk to you for a minute?” He whispers, not wanting anyone to hear what he's going to say.

I have nothing to say... “she said softly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“y/n, please.” He gently brings her into one of the supply closets, locking the door behind him. He gently pushes her backwards, pauhing her back against the wall. Jackson leans his forehead against her's, holding her face in his hands. “y/n, I know I've hurt you, more than once. I know you probably don't want to hear what I have to say... but I need to say this.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as he pressed his forehead against her's “jackson...”

“I regret everything I've ever done to hurt you, the way I've treated you... I-I'm just...” he takes a deep breath. “I love you, I really, really do. I don't know how many times I've tried to tell myself that I'm not the man for you, I always believed you'd be better off without me, but god damn it” He leans down to gently holds her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, lifting her face up so their eyes met. “when I see your beautiful face I get so... lost.”

The tears wouldn't stop, her heart pounded against her chest from his confession. Y/n looked into his eyes and saw nothing but the truth. She couldn't hold it back any longer, no matter how badly he hurt her “I... I love you too” she said softly.

“You do?” He asked, his eyes searching her's for any sign of sarcasm. After a beat of silence he leans back down and presses his lips against her's, kissing her softly. Y/n kissed him back, holding his face in her hands. This kiss was a lot more gentler and more loving than the first. It was a sign that the odds were in their favor.

“Yes... I forgive you” she said softly, giving him and loving smile.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Help me! I'm hypnotized...

The loser roommate I got stuck with did something to my brain. I didn't think it was possible, but that pathetic fag somehow put me in a trance. I don't remember how: with a pendant or spiral; but it doesn't matter! What matters is that at any second he can say a trigger word, and I end up like this: smiling and flexing like a fucking idiot 'till he releases me.

Sure, I look like I'm alright, but I've been stuck in this pose for two hours. My biceps ache and my shoulders are on fire. Add to that a leg cramp that I cant walk off and you'll realize how awful this torture is.

I'd just been trying to finish an essay (his essay to be exact.) I might be on the football team, but this lazy geek is forcing me to do his homework for him! And even though he ordered me to do that, against my will, he calls me up and says my fucking trigger word! It's fucking ridiculous! I used to go out and party with my teammates on nights like this, but now I'm stuck being this dweeb's mannequin-on-command.

I just know he's going to boss me around when he finally gets here. He'll probably make me cook him dinner again. I'd spit in it if I could -hell, I'd probably poison it if I could- but I know I'll be stuck in my own body again. I hate it when he tells me to smile and serve him like a waiter. God, its humiliating...

He makes me workout during my free time, which I have a lot of now that I can't speak to any of my old buddies. I gotta say that my body's never looked better. I guess their is one upside to being under his control: whenever he tells me to train harder, I have to do it.

The gym is the one area of my life where I can at least pretend that I'm not someone's trained monkey. Still, the fact that I can't even shower without his permission is a pretty harsh reminder. Whenever I get back from a workout, my legs march straight to the table where I sit, flex, and smile while I wait for him to tell me what to do. It doesn't matter how tired or hot I am. Sometimes, he doesn't even let me shower. He just tells me to mop the sweat up with my shirt and then put it back on.

I think the nerd has a thing for sweaty jocks or something. The thought of this creep making me do all this to get his little dick hard pisses me off more than anything...

I applied for a job today. It wasn't because I wanted to. My roommate decided that he wants more spending money, so he turned to me and said that I was going to earn it for him. So it wasn't enough for me to be his personal chef, maid, and eye candy! I have to be his fucking ATM now too?!

The tie wasn't my idea either. He told me to go buy some fancy clothes to make sure I impressed my "future employer." He's such a dweeb, and now he's making me dress like a loser too.

Obviously I nailed the interview. It wasn't hard when he programmed me to say things like "I've always wanted to deliver pizzas," or "I want to be the best employee you've ever had!" He made me sound like such a kiss-ass for a stupid minimum-wage job. Even the guy interviewing me thought I was being a bit excessive! I got hired on the spot, and I'm already scheduled every night this week, because my roommate specifically made me ask for as many hours as possible.

Now that I'm done with probably the most humiliating thing I've ever done, I'm stuck flexing with a tie on 'till that asshole gets home...

I got my first paycheck after a long couple of weeks doing his classwork during the day and delivering pizzas at night. My roommate texted and told me to wait by the front door with my paycheck. Apparently, he's going out tonight with some of his loser friends and wants the cash now. I can't believe I'm about to hand it over to him.

"Hey, handsome," he calls, shutting his car door.

"I'm glad your home, sir. How was your day?"

I do not give a shit about his day! He ordered me to say that whenever he gets back. He's also programmed me to get up and hug him like I'm a fucking queer in love!

"Better now," he purrs, squeezing my butt cheek while we hug, "You should come with me and my friends tonight."

The last thing I want to do is be around him and his pansy-assed friends. "Yes, sir," I smile.

"We're going to a gay bar, and I think you would be an excellent wingman."

My stomach drops at the sound of a gay bar. I don't want to be anywhere near that place, and I really don't want the guy with total control over me parading me around that place like I'm his fucking slut! Where is this going? He wouldn't make me do anything gay, right? The terrifying truth is he could. He could order me to act like a stripper there, or...or worse. Fuck! I don't think there's anything he couldn't make me do. He could order me on my knees right now, and I'd do it with this stupid smile still plastered across my face. He could make me blow his tiny cock, and I'd be helpless to do anything other than enthusiastically suck! I don't want to go to that gay bar. I have to escape.

"Yes, sir," I hear my voice gleefully ring out.

[xfgpng]

— : [nsfw] rough sex, recreational drug use, they’re both high

— : kink :: aphrodisiacs

the lady had given the pair a glass of the very red and very rare wine. it had seemed innocent at first but y/n slowly started to feel the effects as they made their way back to the inn. it was far more intense than the first time it hit her. just one small sip had this much power? it made her shudder.

jinshi was no better himself, his cheeks flushed and his eyes already starting to glaze over. she would’ve been concerned if she wasn’t more worried about getting her robes off and sitting in a cold tub filled with ice.

“that sneaky old hag” jinshi grunts, “she said it wouldn’t be this bad”

“of course she said that!” she snaps, she’s not mad, not really but she hadn’t expected it to take effect so fast. she prided herself on being an expert at dealing with different poisons and drugs.

she can’t even remember all that the older lady had said. she had brewed the tea for 10 minutes and the smell was intoxicating on its own but the effects of drinking it was almost instant.

one minute they were fine, normal even and the next they were sweating, cheeks feeling flushed as their robes clung uncomfortably to their skin.

“relax darling, we’re here to take care of each other” he chuckles, despite the flush on his cheeks getting worse. she knows he’s having a harder time than she is but she’s not in the mood to call him out on it.

stepping into the cold tub is soothing to her hot skin but it doesn’t nothing to help her burning desire. she can’t help the small pants that leave her slightly breathless.

“jinshi” she gasps and he nods in understanding, stepping into the tub behind her.

“i’ve got you my love” he gently lifts her onto his lap. he’s rock hard and it’s almost painful now but the moment she sinks down, he can’t help the loud moan. their inn is private enough but he knows their hosts had seen their state when they arrived.

he can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed about it. he focuses on how good she feels around him, fluttering and clenching uncontrollably.

“fuck” he tosses his head back, his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs.

she moans, slowing lifting her hips and down. the cold water around them does wonders for both them in terms of cooling down but very little for their lust.

she’s never experienced anything so intense in her life, she feels almost desperate for him. she can’t help moving faster and she moans louder when he thrusts up to meet each of her movements.

it’s so good, so much more hotter than it usually is but she’s not too keen on trying to drug again after this. it was almost too overwhelming.

“so good” he pants against her ear, “you make me feel so good”

he kisses her neck, his grip around her body tightening as he thrusts up faster. neither of them seem to care about the water sloshing around onto the floor. that’s the least of their worries.

“more jinshi, please” she begs and he happily obliges. he bends her over the tub, holding onto her hips as he pistons his hips in and out. it’s hard and fast and so uncoordinated but he can’t help it, can’t control how desperately he needs this.

they collapse forward, the tub creaking dangerously as he cums inside her. it’s so much hotter now and it’s a lot, messing out and dripping down her thighs.

“jinshi” she whimpers.

they had another hour of this before the side effects of the drug would subside. he could feel himself twitching inside her, still hard even after cumming so much.

“shhh i know darling” he coos, kissing her shoulder, “i’ve got you, let me make you feel better”

[princessbrunette]

kitty!reader had been curbing the craving for a tantrum all day.

jj had been tolerant — bless his soul. the attitude you’d been holding onto was lethal, huffing and puffing at any chance with the most poisonous tongue all because he’d woken you up from a nap for seemingly no other reason that ‘let’s go hang with the pogues today!’

you didn’t want to hang with the pogues. you wanted to take a nap and continue drooling on your boyfriends arm.

his patience only lasts so long, and before you know it he’s trying to have it out with you — get to the root of the issue so he could solve whatever problem it was that had you like this. as the conversation unfolds, he starts to realise that you’d caused all this commotion purely because you were tired.

“like — if i acted the way you’re actin’ right now everytime i was tired, babe — john b would’a smacked the shit out’a me by now. okay? i need you to like get it together or something. damn.” he rants, whipping off his hat as he steps into your bedroom to run a hand through matted blonde hair.

you feel that familiar irritation bubble up in your chest at his response. “you’re being so mean, jayj. you literally hate me.” you have nothing left in the tank but meaningless jabs and it was clear — your boyfriend rolling his eyes with a smirk. “don’t tell me to get it together.”

“first of all shut up. second of all yeah, i could have been nicer but you did call me an asshole for suggesting you take a nap. an asshole.” he’s quick to reiterate.

“i already explained why i can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

“and it makes no sense. but whatever.” he shrugs. unable to control yourself anymore, you all but growl — shoving and smacking at his chest a couple of times before backing off. “oh that’s what you wanna do, mama? alright.” he laughs. laughs at you — and you only get more mad.

you stand on your tiptoes to really get in his face, eyes thinning with a deadly glare (or what you thought was deadly, he thought you looked like a pissed off kitten.) “fuck. you.” it’s practically a challenge, and when you turn away to storm off — you go absolutely nowhere, jj’s thick arm wrapping around your neck and dragging you back to press his body to yours.

“if you insist, sourpuss. your words, not mine.” he starts to ruck up your skirt, kicking your legs open. you mewl, still angry and whiny and even fight him a little bit but he only grips you tighter, lowering his body and bringing his lips to your ear.

“i dunno what’s got into you kittycat but you’re pissin’ me off. if you ain’t gonna drop that attitude im gonna have to force it out of you. that seem fair?” he threatens as his fingers stroke over the material of your panties making your knees buckle just a little. “think that answers my question. this all you needed?” jj snickers meanly.

approximately seven minutes later and he’s still holding you just like that, but you’re barely able to hold yourself up. with the speed at which his fingers are fucking you, there are loud squelching sounds filling the room alongside your own whines. you’d practically melted into his body, teary eyes squeezed shut as he brutally fucks an orgasm out of you.

“shit, bae — all that talkin’ before and now you can’t say a word. s’what you get when you let papa j take all that stress away, huh?”

[badkitty3000]

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

 “Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.   

[schoenpepper]

This Love is Skin Tight

Intro: Vil's love has arms and teeth, it latches onto you and never lets go.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, he's kinda nuts ngl, just like i like my men, death idk, yandere, curses and poisons and stuff, like one German word and a couple French but it's from google translate, swear words

A/N: Got overexcited and rushed through my first request. I hope you like it anon whose emoji I can't understand (worm? intestine? noodle? isaw anon what).

Masterlist

The dominoes fall one by one, and it starts with a potionology exam.

One you fail, mind you, but Vil can't think of a more perfect entry point to your life. He's the Pomefiore housewarden after all; he got his position by virtue of his potionology (and poison brewing 💜) skills, so you would obviously come to him for help. He would scold you for failing in the first place, but he would reluctantly agree to tutor you. Alone. Behind locked doors. Well after curfew. He's so generous, really, should you be too scared to traverse campus in the middle of the night on your lonesome, he would even be willing to lend you a room in the dorm (but if it just so happens that the empty rooms are dusty, he's afraid he won't be able to use magic to clean them, and instead, he'll have to lend you his bed). The perfect plan leading to his perfect romance.

"So I got Riddle senpai to teach me!"

What?

His head turns so fast towards your table in the cafeteria that he's sure his neck almost snaps, but he's too preoccupied with your words to care. You chose to have that hot-tempered redhead tutor you rather than him? He's clearly the best option. Sure, Rosehearts is smart, but book smart wouldn't give you the knowledge and ability that his hands-on teaching would give you. You've made a terrible decision; ergo, he must rectify it.

He makes his way over to you in confident strides, making sure to flash you his best side when he calls out to you. "Süßkartoffel, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation from my table. If you're struggling so much at potionology, I could gracefully lend you my time to teach you, even amidst my very busy schedule."

You'll say yes, of course. He's already offered himself to you; what more do you want? He inspects the expression on your face and thinks of how much lovelier it would look once he gained control over your skincare routine.

"Oh, no, thank you, Vil senpai." You reply.

Frowns bring wrinkles, anger brings wrinkles.

Vil has to repeat the sentence over and over again in his mind for him not to break then and there. Maybe you'll agree to his offer if he accidentally drops two cursed sugar cubes into Rosehearts' lemon tea? He can't find it in himself to verbalize the threat when you smile at him so innocently, your eyes sparkling as you spoke. "I wouldn't want to take up your time, I know you barely have enough time for yourself." He fails to reply before the bell rings, and you pat his shoulder twice before skipping away with your merry band of idiots.

He did not spend at least thirty minutes in his room after classes just burying his face into the part of the blazer you'd touched. That would be disgraceful.

The second domino tips over when you visit the Film Research club. He preens like a peacock at your arrival, making sure his beret is snug on his champagne locks and his camel trenchcoat is absolutely flawless—not a speck of dirt on it. He acts undeterred by your presence, crossing one leg over the other as he sits on the folding chair. Lilac eyes glance your way before going back to the set, and he gestures at the staff manning the clapperboard. Vil pretends that he's all too focused on the actors, though he keeps you in his peripheral. Thus, he's halfway to insanity when he notices you're giggling with Ortho by the curtains instead of fawning over his gorgeous figure. How dare you?

You're so annoying.

Why aren't you tripping over yourself for him the way that you should? This is ridiculous!

His hold on the megaphone slips, and the sound of it crashing to the floor stops the actors on the scene. "Apologies." Vil looks at them haughtily. "Your acting was so boring and uninspired that my hand fell asleep."

Ha, see if he doesn't curse that robot child to never be around five feet of you again.

The students scurry back to their original places and restart the scene. Now you're finally looking at him. He straightens his posture to an impeccable standard under your admiring gaze, and even now, he still can't find a way to concentrate on his club activities. No, he wants to drag you over to sit on his lap in the director's chair and have you play with the clapperboard in that adorable fidgety manner you do whenever you're anxious. The scene finishes with audible sighs of relief from the actors.

"Y/N. Come here."

You walk over to him. "Yes, senpai?"

"Did you learn anything from their performance or did you just come here to chatter with Ortho?" Vil's tone comes out perhaps a little more poisonous than he would have liked, but you don't seem to mind it as you chuckle sheepishly. "Sorry, I wasn't watching too closely." You don't sound sorry at all.

"Then don't waste your time here if you're just going to be unproductive." Before he could offer you a chance at being his (permanent) assistant director, you bow at a perfect 45-degree angle. "I'm so sorry, senpai. I'll leave, then. I'm very sorry to disturb you." You walk away faster than he can stop you, and it makes him wonder if perhaps he should just hex your shoes to stay in place every time he's saying something that you so love to conveniently cut off. Would it kill you to let him finish his sentences? The corner of his lip twitches. He takes another deep breath.

He's a little too close to just locking you away in a basement forever.

The last domino falls and shatters his resolve to be a normal person and court you like a normal person would (read: meticulously create a series of coincidences that will have you seeing him in a new light and making you fall for him).

On such a beautiful, brilliant sunny day, he finds storm clouds drawing above his head at the sight he catches in the botanical garden. Leona Kingscholar, of all people, seems so comfortable laying his head down on your lap as you sit against a tree with a book in your hands. At Vil's fuming, Rook drops down next to him (where the fuck did he come from) and gleefully asks a question, plucking the string of his bow. "Permission to hunt the roi des lions, mon roi?" For once, he's glad that his best friend is a freak. The word leaves his lips before he can even think about it.

"Granted."

Whoosh, an arrow flies through the air and pins a corner of Leona's vest to the ground when he makes a move to dodge. "Ah, you were awake!" Rook shouts as he runs over to the beastman with a wide smile. "This should make the hunt more fun."

Leona clicks his tongue and sits up before bolting right across the field.

"Get away, you fucking nutjob!"

"Non, non, this is a permitted hunt!"

Vil watches with a subtle smile playing on the curve of his lips. When he finally turns to you, he finds a numb expression on your pretty face. "My, süßkartoffel, I didn't think that you and that lion were so close." You shrug and close your book. "I was walking when he pulled me down and claimed me as his pillow, so I just went with it."

Sorry, you just went with it?

His smile feels a little too heavy to keep up.

You just went with it? Are you serious? Are you real? What if I knocked you out right now and chained you to my bed? Will you still go along with it, then? What about if I dose your food with love potions?

"I see. Y/N, walk with me." Vil commands, snapping his fingers. You oblige and follow him all the way back to the Pomefiore dormitory in a deadly silent stroll. He opens the door to his room for you and locks it, murmuring a quick curse on the doorknob before turning to face you. "I would like to preface this by saying that this is not the way I wished to confess to you."

"No problem. What would you like to confess?" You have the nerve to beam at him in this situation. Do you even know what he's saying?!

You sit down on the edge of his bed, looking up at him so innocently. So naive and guileless.

He thinks he'd like to ruin you.

He wants to break you down into pieces and rebuild you in a way where you would want him in this monstrous form, all envy and sharp claws unsheathed. He wants to piece you back together with his name in every shard of your being. He wants to engrave you into himself, and by doing so, never be apart ever again. The only thing he does is kneel at your feet.

"Please tell me why you're like this." Vil whispers softly, leaning his head on your knee.

"I'm not sure I follow..."

"I love you." There's relief when he finally gets the words out of his mouth. He should have stopped there. Instead, the rest of his misshapen adoration comes spilling from his lips, confessions of unholy yearning leaving him like a prayer. "Truly, I love you so much that I despise you. I love you like the world loves the sun; I wish to burn in flames to witness your splendor. I love you like the tides love the moon; my heart threatens to engulf shores in watery death should you choose to look away from me. I love you like no one else has ever loved before; they are all embers in comparison to this fiery hearth I've tended for you." He feels your fingers gently running through his hair.

"Senpai..."

"Do you not find me ugly like this? Despicable? A monster comparable to eldritch horrors?" Vil frowns, his eyes teary. He is not a man who weeps, but what he is is an actor of great renown. "My love for you is too intense; it threatens to kill everyone you care for in an attempt to keep you for myself. My love is too eternal; it wishes to isolate you from those dregs of society you call friends; it wishes to devour you in your entirety. My love for you whispers to me with bloodlust, and only your flesh will satisfy it." He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles gently.

"Okay."

"Er, pardon?"

You shrug, patting his head. "If you like me that much, let's be together. So, like, do we kiss now or...?"

Vil stares up at you wide-eyed.

"Kiss?"

"Isn't that what couples do?"

"Pardon? Are we," He blinks. "Are we a couple?"

"I thought you liked me? I like you too. So we're a couple now, right?" You lean down and kiss his lips. You're inexperienced, for sure, only awkwardly fitting your mouths together. Vil thinks he might be insane with the way he chases after your lips, regardless.

[aurorawritestoescape]

ADDICTED || Max Phillips x f!reader || 3k

Summary: Max gives you everything you need but can you stop when the pleasure gets addictive?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, angst, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, biting, blood drinking (not graphic), f/m oral, mind control (dub-con, then very enthusiastic), slapping, unprotected piv, heartbreak, themes of addiction, obsession. Reader has hair. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no physical description.

A/n: this is for @iamasaddie ‘s Kinky May challenge with a prompt daddy kink for Max Phillips. Thank you for hosting it, Aly😘 Thank you @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and holding my trembling hand♥️ it’s my first time writing Max and I’m very nervous. Hope you all will enjoy it!💖

dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You can’t get enough of him.

His fingers gripping your hair, his strong hips between your slicked up thighs, the burn his teeth leave behind, the pleasure his soft lips give you.

Yet most of all you can’t get enough of his voice.

It’s like the sweetest poison that seeps into your welcoming ear, tying you closer to him with every uttered sound. Making you addicted. Obsessed.

“You’re mine. All of you. Every drop, baby.”

“Yes, daddy,” you always agree with him. These are the rules of the game. You do what he says, he doesn’t leave you.

He gives you what you need. Purpose.

“You’re daddy’s hole. Nothing more. I’m here to fill you and feed on you. You don’t need anything else. Just daddy fucking his cum into you, load after load. While your blood satiates me. Drop after drop.”

“Yes, daddy…please, give it to me… want it…take it.”

You get so high on his voice telling you what to do, it’s euphoric. You’re always in a half trance. At work your mind is occupied by him; whenever you spend time with your family or friends, your thoughts are elsewhere. You don’t need them anymore. You are lost in him. In your mind you’re in bed, pressed by his heavy body. Limbs intervened, your sweaty skin flush against his as he’s claiming your body and soul.

It used to be easy. The first time you met at a club where Max tried to pick you up and succeeded. He was handsome, charming as hell, talkative, funny in an assholish way. Absolutely not your type, but you didn’t mind having fun. You two fucked in the bathroom and when he bit your neck and licked off the blood, you thought he was just kinky. The alcohol in your blood didn’t let you think straight. He made you come on his cock and you gave him your phone number.

Max came without a call, just appeared on your doorstep one night, and you let him in. You were cringing at your desire for some corporate suit, but he’d given it to you so good that night and you had never passed on a great fuck.

“I like you”, he said directly, lying on your sofa. He came right after work and told you that he was tired, at the same time exuding energy. You were staring at him, amused by his confidence. Max had an air about him like he owned the place and everything in it, including you.

“There’s something special about you,” he continued, pouting his lips in thought, “I don’t even need to command you. You’re so hungry. You do what I want all by yourself, baby.”

“Command me?”, you scuffed and snapped back, offended by his words, “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, baby”. Max was hot but a man would never be the boss of you, you thought.

He bucked his hips, getting more comfortable on your sofa, and shot you a smug smile that made you want to slap him. Before fucking him.

“Get on the sofa. All fours,” He told you, nodding at the spot next to him. His voice was the same, deep and gruff but somehow different. As if he grabbed your will and caged it in his big hand. Made it his will instead. And to your astonishment your body followed the order.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, sitting up, as your hands and knees were already planted firmly on the surface.

He got up and made you stand still while his hands were exploring your naked body — kneaded your breasts, twitched your nipples, glided over your back, slipped between your folds and swirled your throbbing clit. Your head was absolutely empty, your mind already occupied by only him.

“Beautiful,” he praised you, spreading your ass cheeks and admiring the view, “daddy’s gonna have so much fun with you.”

You bit your lip when he called himself that and then whimpered when he latched onto your pussy. He tasted your desire for him as his hot tongue slid between your folds and traced your crying hole. A whine escaped your parted lips when his mouth stopped caressing your cunt and he stood in front of you.

With widened eyes you watched him perch on the armrest of the sofa, spreading his thighs wide.

“You know what’s my favorite thing to do?” He asked, smirking at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you were just blinking at him while a myriad of emotions were swirling inside your chest.

“Oh, you can’t answer, right. Baby though she’s in charge, huh?” Max chuckled and then leaned closer to you face, bringing his lips to your ear and whispered,

“Let’s see who’s in charge,” and added, “Come for daddy.”

You felt burning in your stomach, your core tightened, pussy started clamping around nothing, and you cried out as a hard orgasm began shaking your whole body, making your limbs tremble. He was palming himself, watching your face twist in pleasure, loud moans leaving your lips as the waves of ecstasy were lapping at your heated body. It was hard to stand still and his previous command was the only thing that kept you from collapsing on the sofa.

“Relax,” he told you and you plopped on the surface panting heavily, while aftershocks were still going through your body.

He stood up and you felt his thumb brush your cheekbone.

“Do you believe me now, sweetheart?” He asked with a head tilt, as his bulge was looming over your head.

You looked up at his smug face, smiled a little and replied,

“Yes, daddy. Please, do it again”.

Now when he’s in your bedroom, time stops. Life stops. As soon as he sits on the edge of your bed, you kneel between his thighs, your big eyes full of deep admiration, a short sheer nightie barely covering anything. He often buys you new lingerie. He enjoys spoiling you. Also blood is hard to wash off.

If he wants you to suck his cock, all he needs to do is nod at his crotch. But tonight he wants all of you.

“C’mere,” he tells you, patting his thigh with his big hand. In a second you’re sat on his lap, your naked pussy soaking his black suit pants.

“Nearly snapped someone’s neck at work today, incompetent idiot,” He grumbles in a low voice and asks, “How was your day, baby?”

You’re pouting your lips. Who cares? Fuck life. This is what you need. This is what makes you happy, ecstatic, euphoric.

“-was ok,” you mumble, as your stomach churns with impatience. Your gaze is set downcast while you’re fumbling with his crimson tie. He nuzzles your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent. A shudder goes through him from the way you smell and you slightly roll your hips, rubbing your needy pussy against his thigh.

“So impatient, baby. Do you remember how Daddy punished you for your impatience?” his cold palm wraps around your throat and tilts your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, where his favorite vein is fluttering like a little bird under his hungry gaze.

You won’t ever forget that punishment. You have been kneeling at the foot of your bed, watching him languidly play with his cock and balls. Your mouth was watering whenever a drop of precum slid down the curve of his fat tip. He has been edging you and himself for what felt like hours until he gave you the permission to suck his cock and you came just from having him in your mouth.

“Yes, I’m sorry, daddy. I’ll wait.”

“Good girl,” he says before his lips start sucking on your delicate skin, right over the artery. He licks the patch of skin there as his hand slithers under the neckline of your nightie and squeezes your breast.

“I’m gonna take a sip and you’re gonna be a good girl and play with Daddy’s cock, ‘k?

“Yes, please”.

You tilt your head even more, offering your blood to him as your left hand slides between your bodies. You find his belt buckle and undo it, stopping yourself from rushing. You don’t want daddy’s punishment tonight. You crave his reward.

You open his pants and moan as he breaks your skin with his fangs.

You got so used to the feeling, you don’t even notice the pain. The pain is like a threshold that you step over to get to the pleasure. A small price you pay each time for the immense ecstasy he’s going to give you.

As he starts gently sucking, you take out his cock which is already hard as steel and caress its velvety skin with your fingers. It twitches in your hand and Max growls.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

You hastily spit in your palm and return your hand to his twitching length. You wrap your hand around it and begin pumping with a rhythm you know he loves.

You flutter your eyes shut, getting lost in the feeling, ready, so ready to give and get more.

You feel his precum on your hand, and without looking, you spread it over his soft skin.

Max’s lips smacking against your neck, his growling that sends pleasant vibrations through you, his tongue, gathering the blood off your skin, mixes with the squelching sounds of your hand, dancing over his cock. It’s throbbing, pulsating in your little hand and you press your body closer to his torso, wishing to feel his length against your belly.

“Daddy, may I have it, please?”

He groans and his lips leave your neck as he commands without using his powers, “lie down.”

You can’t follow the order quicker. You need him more than air. Your empty pussy is weeping to be filled, used, stretched by his manhood. Your whole being craves to serve his needs and after satiating his hunger for some time, your cunt is ready to be fed.

Your thighs fly apart and you look up at him with pleading eyes. Max is not cruel but he’s also quick to punish you if you piss him off.

His cock bobs when he gets between your thighs and a drop of precum lands on your mound. You already whine at the sensation.

“So obedient, you really want it tonight, huh?”

“I always want it… but yes, daddy, please,” you add hastily, batting your lashes at him.

“What do you want?”

As soon as he uses this voice, the atmosphere in the room changes. He was your ‘daddy’, now he’s your god. He asks and you reply without a moment of hesitation,

“I want not to feel anything but your cock deep in my cunt, not to think. Be so cockdrunk I can’t keep my eyes open.”

He smirks but there’s a trace of bitterness in his expression.

“I see.”

He sighs and grabs your thighs with his massive hands. He spreads your legs even wider, and when your pussy blooms for him he harshly spits on your throbbing clit, making you jerk and moan. The next second he lifts your hips up and pierces you with his cock. He’s either in a good mood which you doubt by his roughness or craves a release. With your ass lifted off the bed, you gasp suddenly feeling full as your walls are spreading for him. But you need more and he knows it.

“Do you feel me deep inside, baby?”

“Yeah, you’re so big, daddy.”

“Wanna feel more? “

“Yes, daddy, please. I’m begging you, I want nothing more.”

“ ‘k, baby. You’ve been such a good girl.”

Without a warning his voice changes and he starts ordering you.

“Listen to me, hear only my voice.”

The city noises from the outside are immediately gone. You hear nothing, not even ticking of a clock in your bedroom. Only his voice is in your ears as if he’s speaking right inside your mind.

“You feel nothing. Just. My. Cock. Deep inside your cunt. In your mind. In your veins. Everywhere.”

Your eyes roll back as you’re made to concentrate on his manhood in your trembling body.

“Your pussy is hugging me so well. Make her weep around my cock. Can never get enough of your juices soaking me, baby. You always feel so good. And you deserve to feel good too.”

“Yes, daddy, I do.”

You’re floating in a warm river, his voice, his being are enveloping you. Nothing exists anymore, just him and you are left. Then he rolls his hips and it gets almost unbearably overwhelming. His cock slowly slides in and out of your sopping pussy with ease and your brain, your core, your every cell light up brightly as you already feel yourself at the precipice.

He’s fucking you gently, then gets rougher and marks you with his teeth, drinking your blood. His cock is throbbing between your walls, his hands are sliding over your breasts, twitching your nipples and playing with your clit. His face flashes in front of your eyes and you’re kissing. That’s when you feel the explosion of pure, untainted ecstasy.

“Come harder”, he commands, and you know you’re crying at how amazing you feel. It’s all happening ‘there’, somewhere deep inside you, the place so wonderful you wish you’d never leave.

At the back of your mind you know that you���re getting obsessed. Sometimes you think there’s more of him in you than you. He’s behind your eyes constantly, his handsome face with a lopsided smile flashes there over and over. You could draw it by heart now. Day after day his teeth sink deeper into your neck, his cock pierces you harder and you welcome the pain. The high is so much better after a little bit of pain.

Max is careful with you. He knows his strength and knows the effect he has on you. He’s attentive. He sees your glazed over eyes, parted lips, your breathing almost stops. You’re not here with him, you’re nowhere. You start noticing fear in his eyes when it takes longer and longer to get you out of ‘there’.

Trickles of blood are seeping from two tiny holes in your neck. Your thighs thrown widely apart, his cum is glistening at your entrance as he watches you, sitting naked between your legs. His chin and mouth are red and he’s licking his lips, not wasting a drop of you.

“Baby, look at me.” Your eyes are staring up and to the left. You’re looking at something but don’t see anything.

“Look at me!”

He orders then calls for you, nothing, again and again, you don’t respond. He slaps your cheek, not hard, just to get you back but you refuse to return to him. In your mind you’re still coming on his cock, over and over, dripping, moaning, relishing the feeling of his cum filling you up to the brim. Why would you ever go back?

Suddenly it stings. He’s slapped you really hard and your cheek is burning.

“Daddy?” You murmur, gradually coming back to reality, blinking rapidly with tears in your eyes. He’s hovering over you, his hands gripping your shoulders, his black eyes under the furrowed brows look worried and sad. Then angry.

“I couldn’t get you back! Fucking hell! You were gone for a fucking hour. It’s never been that bad.”

“It wasn’t bad. ‘s good,” You mumble while your hand flies to rub your heated cheek. Your brain is still barely functioning and your whole body is tingling after such an amazing orgasm.

“I won’t do it anymore.” He throws at you, getting off you and sitting at the edge of the bed. “Fuck this!”

Your heart freezes, gripped by the fear, and you hastily sit up. You almost fall off the bed, drunk on the amount of endorphins in your blood and then slowly crawl to him.

“Daddy, don’t say it. I’ll get back alright.”

“Yeah, what if you don’t.”

‘It’s worth it,’ you think but don’t say it. Instead you lie to him. “I’m sure I’ll always get back. It just feels so good there.”

He’s shaking his head and your stomach churns with terror.

“You told me you’d killed people for fuck’s sake! Why do you care so much about me?!” You shout and he turns to you. His pained expression makes your chest hurt. Your heart is fluttering at how handsome he is, how much you love him but love quickly morphs into hate when he threatens to take away the best thing you’ve ever experienced. You beg again and again but he’s unyielding. Finally he gets tired of your whining and leaves.

Max visits you a couple of times after that. He fucks you but refuses to command you. He makes you come on his cock or tongue and every time you cry, beg and shout, demanding to tell you to stop feeling anything except him inside you. You unravel for him again and again but it’s just not enough. Not when you’ve been there, felt that much ecstasy.

“What if I turn you?” He offers at one point.

“Will you be able to tell me what to do?”

“No.”

“Then no”.

“But we can be together forever.”

“No, daddy, please, one more time.”

He curses and leaves and then he stops coming entirely. You text, call but he doesn’t respond. Your efforts to find him are fruitless. He’s never told you the details of his life. Or you just haven’t been listening. It’s like he has disappeared into thin air, like he was just a dream.

You cry and cry, not being able to sleep, eat, feel anything else except the void in your soul and life. Max has been filling it so well and now it’s sucking you in. Without that euphoria, without him controlling you, without your ‘daddy’, you have nothing. You wish for nothing else. Mindless hookups, rebound sex, numerous strangers in your bed— nothing can give you that satisfaction.

Max left and took your life with him.

Thank you for reading!♥️ Please, comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! It motivates me a lot!!🌸

Masterlist

Main tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag

Max tag @guelyury

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[disaster-writer]

Poison (Epilogue)

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto x Beta!Reader

Summary: You loved love, but it wasn’t made for you… but maybe a certain Alpha could change your mind

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This is it! Poison has come to an end (but I do have a fun request about these two that you’ll be seeing soon) Thank you for all the kind comments about this series

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Beach day.

After four and a half months of long, grueling practices, many victories and losses, and plenty of media fuck ups, the team was finally getting a beach day to celebrate the end of this years season. Though they didn’t walk off with the highest victory of winning the championship, they still got pretty damn close which was enough reason to all come out today.

By the time Bokuto had arrived the rest of the team was already there, some lounging in the sun while others were already in the water… and a couple others already setting up a net to play beach volleyball.

”Oi,” Atsumu barked from his chair, lowering his sunglasses as Bokuto walked up to the group, “Where’s the manager? Thought ya convinced her to come out for once.”

”She’s here!” Bokuto chirped, dropping the bag he carried into the sand, “A sponsor just called so she’s on the phone right now.”

Meian tsked, laying on the beach towel beside Atsumu’s chair. “She’s still working even on a day off?”

”Yeah,” Bokuto seemed to deflate, “They bother her all the time,” he whined, starting to dig out the beach towels from the bags.

”I take it she’s still doing damage control then?” Meian added.

He nodded, unfurling a beach towel, laying it a little ways from Atsumu’s set up, “It looks like she’s gonna be working during the off season to get the sponsors that dropped us to pick us back up.”

”Maybe if ya kept yer big mouth shut during the press conference yer girlfriend wouldn’t have to keep bustin’ her ass.”

”I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk about her,” he whined again, pulling out a second beach towel before laying it beside his own.

”You’re allowed to talk about her, she’s still our manager—“

”Yer just not allowed to talk about yer relationship the way ya did.”

”And not for nothing but she did tell you multiple times to keep it quiet.” Meian added.

”I didn’t think it—“

”Bokuto! You’re here!” A very smiley Hinata suddenly cheered, clapping him on the back with a wet hand, the rest of him dripping with ocean water as well, with Sakusa standing behind him. “Did Miss Manager decide not to come?” He asked looking around, “I was looking forward to seeing her looking casual for the first time.”

Atsumu snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she shows up in one of those tracksuits she’s always wearin’. Ya’ve been together for like three months and she’s still the exact same uptight Beta.”

”She’ll be here soon!” Bokuto told Hinata, before turning to Atsumu, “And she’s not uptight! I already told you Beta-chan is super sweet and cute— we have a lot of fun together.”

”Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. I mean she still calls you Bokuto-san for crying out loud!”

”Only at work—!”

”Kota-kun!” A girlish shout came from behind him.

Bokuto had turned just in time to catch you as you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist as you started laying kisses all over his face.

”Puppy!” Bokuto laughed, letting you cling to him like a Koala.

”Puppy?” Atsumu gagged, as all the players either watched in horror or complete shock, the one’s setting up the net even stopping to watch as well.

”Yeah!” You leaned back, until you could see an upside down Atsumu, being braced by Bokuto’s hands, “Isn’t he so cute!”

“Cute’s not exactly the word I was thinkin’” he said with an eye twitch.

”Why puppy?” Meian asked with a grimace.

”Because she always greets me like this!” Bokuto laughed.

”Really? I thought that’s how you usually greet her?” Hinata asked confused.

You sat back up in his arms, “I got the sponsor back!”

Bokuto’s eyes lit up, “I knew you could! Good job puppy!” He exclaimed, now kissing your cheeks.

”This is weird,” Sakusa deadpanned, watching the couple coo shamelessly at each other.

”I take it back, I think I liked how things were before,” Atsumu added.

“I think they’re cute!” Hinata said.

You jumped down from Bokuto’s arms, “You all should loosen up, I don’t know what you’re getting all uptight about. It’s our day off!” you said, starting to dig through the beach bag.

”HAH!” Atsumu yelled, scandalized, jumping up from his seat, “Yer callin’ us uptight!? Little miss professional thinks I’m uptight!?”

“Yup!” You chirped. You looked up at him, “Oh and Ami said if you ever spam call her again she’s blocking you.”

Atsumu flushed, “Well why didn’t she call back!?”

”You shouldn’t have yelled at her sister at that match~” you lilted teasingly.

”I said I was sorry! I even apologized to her for yelling at you—“

”I told you to leave the Omega alone,” Sakusa said, “She’s not into idiots.”

”And you’re still not off the hook for giving him my sisters number Kota,” you said, pulling out the sunblock finally.

”I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed!”

”Yeah and now my sister has hundreds of messages from this dumbass,” you said, undoing the tie of your frilly white cover up.

”Whoa— what are you doing!” Hinata suddenly yelped turning red as you slipped your cover up off and took your hair clip out.

You raised an eyebrow at the orange haired male, ignoring the gapes on your coworkers faces, “What?” You asked confused, seeing as the rest of the team meandered over. “You don’t like my bathing suit? I thought it was cute— Kota helped me pick it out.”

”It is cute!” Bokuto exclaimed, taking the sunblock you handed him to help spray you down.

Sakusa huffed, apparently yours and Bokuto’s idea of cute was a sexy white string bikini.

”There’s been a goddess among us this entire time,” Inunaki murmured under his breath.

”Um,” Barnes suddenly cleared his throat, wearing a blush, “The nets set up if anyone wants to play.”

* * * *

You sighed, stretching out in the sun as the guys all played their beach volleyball.

You had watched Bokuto for most of the day with a silly little grin on your face but now you were debating taking a nap in the sun while they were invested in their game.

That was until your phone started ringing.

Ami was FaceTiming you.

You sighed, picking up the phone. Both your sisters appearing on your screen.

”(Y/N)!”

”Hi, Onee-chan.” 

The two said at the same time.

“How’s your beach day?” Ami asked.

”Good! The guys are all playing volleyball,” you said, flipping the camera to show them.

”Don’t they play volleyball everyday already?” Your little sister, Hana, deadpanned.

”Leave them alone, they like it!” You flipped the camera again.

”Mom and Dad are asking when you and Bokuto are leaving,” Ami said.

”Oh right. Our plan is to pack Saturday night and meet at the station Sunday at 7am for a 7:35 train. So we’ll probably arrive around 9. Who’s picking us up?”

”The twins, said they want to grill Bokuto during the car ride home,” your little sister snorted.

You rolled your eyes, “Dumb Alphas. They’ll probably be best friends with him by the time we get home.”

“I’m so excited for you to see what we did with the room,” Ami squealed, “We turned your section into a gaming area!”

Your jaw dropped, sitting up as you squeezed your phone “You bitches got rid of my bed!?”

”Well you weren’t using it,” your little sister said.

”Yeah but Kota-kun and I are visiting! Where are we gonna sleep!?”

”As if the two of you would’ve been able to fit in that bed anyway.”

”You’re staying in the guest room,” Ami said.

You fell back onto the beach towel, “A guest in my own home,” you cried dramatically.

”Sooo…” Ami started.

”Oh no,” you muttered, “I don’t like that tone.”

”Off season’s coming up.”

Your stomach dropped, suddenly knowing where this is going, “Yeah, and?” You played stupid.

”Bokuto’s rut is gonna start,” Hana said plainly.

”You told her!” You hissed.

”Well yeah! He’s an Alpha and you’re a Beta, of course it came up! We were gossiping and were curious to know what you were gonna do.”

You rolled your eyes, “So that’s why you called.”

”Nuh uh— we just really wanted to talk to our sister!”

”I’m not buying it.”

”Then spill,” your little sister said, “What’s the rut plan.”

You chewed on your lip, glancing at all the guys still invested in their game, before quickly turning your back to them and hunching over your phone and lowering your voice, “We haven’t made one yet, we’re—“

”What do you mean you haven’t!” Ami exclaimed.

”If you let me finish I’ll tell you. We’re seeing a heat and rut specialist. The team goes off their suppressants at the end of the month, our appointment is tomorrow.”

”Oooo interesting,” Ami chirped, “So you’re planning on spending his rut with him then?”

”I don’t really know yet, that’s why we wanted to talk to a specialist,” you said, dragging your hand in the sand, “I did some research and there’s something called a pseudo-heat, where they pump you full of Omega hormones, it’s obviously not the same but it said it could help so I might ask about that, but we’re keeping our options open so he might be on his own anyway.”

”Have you two had sex yet?”

”Hana!”

”Well have you?”

You glanced back at the guys before lowering your voice again, “No, I mean we’ve done stuff but not like sex sex.”

”Then you should probably get that out of the way then.”

A blush heated up your face along with the probable sunburn, “It’s not that easy.”

”Why?” Hana asked, “The penis goes in—“

”I know how sex works,” you hissed, “It’s just that he’s… well, he’s—“

”Alpha dick,” Ami said knowingly with a nod. “Well good luck! Hope he doesn’t tear ya into two! Hi Kiyoomi!”

You jumped nearly five feet in the air, turning around to find Sakusa standing over you with an unamused expression, “Hi Ami. You left your hair brush at my apartment again.”

”Oh damn, I knew I left something,” she groaned.

”I can bring it with me,” you said.

Sakusa nodded, “I’ll drop it off sometime this week then.”

”Oh shit, that’s the time!?” She suddenly exclaimed, “Sorry sis, sorry Omi, we gotta go, we’re seeing a movie.”

”Okay, bye assholes,” you waved, hanging up.

You looked up at Sakusa, “You two seem to be getting comfortable.”

”We are, but I’ll admit she’s a handful,” he answered making you laugh.

”Sounds about right. When are you gonna break the news to Atsumu?”

He looked over his shoulder at a screaming Atsumu who just had his setter dump saved.

”Next time she’s here, we’re gonna tell him together.”

”Probably should have told him after you asked her out.”

”Probably.” Sakusa looked back down at you, “Never took you one for pda by the way.”

”I’m not at work,” you shrugged, “And I have a cute boyfriend, let me live.”

”I’m starting to think neither you or Bokuto know the definition of ‘cute’—“

“Speaking of cute boyfriend,” you giggled, watching as Bokuto took off in a dash towards you. You had already braced for impact as he tackled you back down onto the beach towel.

Sakusa rolled his eyes, taking that as his cue to leave.

”Hi puppy,” Bokuto grinned down at you, planting his lips against your own.

”Blegh,” you spluttered, “You taste like sunblock.”

”Well you do too,” he said, dipping his head back down for another kiss.

”Get a room!” You heard Atsumu yell at you two.

”Ami and Hana called,” you told him, combing your fingers through his hair.

”About us visiting?” He asked, laying his head on your chest.

You quickly learned early on into this relationship that Bokuto was like one of those big dogs that thought they were small, so you were often being crushed under his weight.

”Yeah, my brothers are gonna pick us up from the train station.”

”I can’t wait to meet them. And the rest of your family too.”

”Don’t get too excited. They’re pretty traditional and my parents never really took the time to learn how different Betas are so there’s probably gonna be some stuff come up that we’ll need to explain.” 

He was lifting his head again, looking at you with the cutest confused face, “Like what?”

”Like… why you haven’t marked me yet.”

”But that’s not my fault!”

You raised a brow, “Oh so it’s mine?”

His eyes widened as he quickly became panicked, “That’s not what I meant—!”

“Relax, Kota, I’m just teasing.”

He buried his face in your neck, “You’re so mean to me.”

You giggled at the feeling of him prodding your scent gland. “She thinks all those stories of Betas bleeding out after being marked by Alphas are all myths because my great grandfather was able to mark my great grandmother.”

”Then I hope she can understand why that’s a myth I’m not willing to take my chances on.”

”Yeah we’ll see. She can be a bit kooky. But I was thinking of asking the specialist tomorrow if there’s any alternatives or if there’s a way to do it safely since I know you’ve really been wanting to mark me.”

”You’d do that for me?”

”Of course. I’d do anything for you Kota-kun—“

He cut you off with a kiss. You giggled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You broke the kiss only after hearing Atsumu yelling for Bokuto to come back, making him whine.

”I get to steal you away all night and all day tomorrow so you should go play,” you said, giving his lips another peck.

”You should join us,” he grinned. “No one but me Atsumu and Hinata even know you can play.”

”I dunno,” you mumbled, “I’ve been playing on a community team of Omegas. You’re all Alphas and pro athletes.”

”Please,” he whined, “You’re really good.”

You hummed, “Will you buy me ice cream if I do?”

Bokuto lit up, “Yeah! I’ll buy you all the ice cream you want.”

You pretended to think about it for a while longer, “Hmm, I guess I can’t say no to ice cream.”

Bokuto cheered, standing up and pulling you with him before tossing you over his shoulder and bringing you to the others.

”She’s gonna play!” Bokuto exclaimed, placing you on your feet.

The others lit up, mostly from confusion.

”You wanna play?” Meian asked surprised.

”Yeah why not?” You shrugged, “‘S for fun right?”

”Yeah but these knuckleheaded Alphas never take it easy when it comes to volleyball.”

”That’s alright. It’s my day off so it’s fine if I make a fool of myself.”

Tomas laughed, “That’s one way of looking at it I guess.”

”Do you have a position you wanna play?” Meian asked.

“I’ll play libero,” you nodded, walking to the other side of the net, opposite from Inunaki.

One side was now you, Bokuto, Atsumu, Tomas, and Joffe while the other side was Meian, Hinata, Inunaki, and Barnes with Sakusa coming back in to join now making five on each side.

The game started with Sakusa’s serve, with one of the longest rallies you had ever been apart of. Already showing how different their games were to your little community games.

You managed to save the ball a couple times, each time making the other’s cheer until one specific ball was hit over by Hinata, aiming to your right where no one else stood.

It was too far to lunge for it so you swept your leg, managing to get your ankle under it before it touched the sand, having it bounce off and sending it directly to Atsumu with practiced precision.

He set it directly to Bokuto who hit the ball, scoring the point before everyone turned to you in surprise.

“What?” You asked, looking at all their faces.

”You play,” Meian said, matter of factly, a grin growing on his face.

You shrugged, “Not seriously, but I used to be one of the top ten libero’s in Japan back in high school.”

Atsumu’s jaw dropped, “So ya can be cool! Why aren’t ya like this at work!?”

You shrugged, “It’s easier to keep my professional and personal life separate.”

Most of them glanced at Bokuto at that statement.

”Yeah, you did a bang up job of that,” Meian laughed, before turning back to the game, “Okay, our serve!”

You glanced around at everyone with a fond smile before grinning, getting back into position.

Maybe you’d start making it a priority to hang out with your team more.

————————————————————————

Completed

My taglist is still open if you’d like to be tagged in future works with these characters

Taglist (open): @staygoldsquatchling02 @tillyt04 @niiiya @silverhairsimp @leonphi @lunamochii

[oddballwriter]

The Sweetest Thing

Summary: Your hobby of baking causes an issue for the boys. Not because of anything with you, it's a matter of control with themselves.

Warnings: Nothing really.

Author’s Snip: I bake as a hobby and while making brownies earlier I thought this up.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 816

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (you can join the taglist, just ask)

It was a problem. Not for you. You were just acting out your hobby of baking and there was nothing wrong with that at all. The problem was with the boys and the fact that they couldn’t resist eating whatever you baked. Whether it be brownies, cookies, cupcakes, bonbons, pies, anything.

You wouldn’t call yourself a top baker, but the boys always sang your praises and wanted the first taste every time. But you seem to always have something freshly baked and fresh out the oven.

Steven was the least likely to tell you no when you offered him a piece of what you’ve made, always having the subconscious intuition to start baking so that when it was all ready it could be pair with his tea. And it would be nice to have something with his tea. And you always go through the trouble of using a vegan recipe.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t.” Steven says to himself as you offer him a few cookies you just finished, “I can’t be eating so much sugar all the time.” he warns himself. “Just one won’t hurt.” Steven excuses.

But one turns into two, and then an extra third that he didn't realize he was eating until he was just about done with it.

"So much for 'just one'." Steven scolds himself.

"At least I know that they were good," you remark.

"Thank you for letting me try them though, love. They were delicious. But next time I'll just grab one and leave the rest of the container alone." Steven says.

It's worse when Marc just got done working out. Gained some muscle, shed a good amount of calories. But then he walks in and the flat smells like a damn bakery. Out of all of the days and times that you could have baked, you chose the day that Marc goes to the gym and the time he comes home. And you're there smiling at him.

"What's for dessert this time?" Marc asks as he walks over to you and kisses you on the cheek. "You giggle, "Cinnamon rolls, I found an easy-to-follow recipe a few days ago and wanted to give it a try." you explain.

Marc sighs, "Why do you always have to make something to make me regain all the calories I just lost?" he questions. "You don't have to eat them today if you don't want to." you say, "Plus, they aren't done yet. They need to be done baking and I need to make the frosting." you add.

"You can have one once they're complete and cooled down." you offer him. "That's the issue. If you're the one who made them then I'll get up eating more than one." Marc explains.

"Sometimes having a little bit of a little snack pouch is okay as long as you're healthy." you half-joke.

Jake hardly does anything about it though. He couldn't care less if he gained a pound or two if it meant getting to enjoy your baking. Matter of fact he's right there when you bake. Arms wrapped around your body while you measure and mix, but he hardly really helps in your opinion.

"Are you just going to hold me the whole time or are you going to do something?" you question playfully. "I help by licking the spoons and bowls." Jake replies.

You huff in amusement before picking up the teaspoon that you used a second ago, "Then do me a favor and 'clean' this for me." you request as you hand it to him. Jake takes it and gives it one lick before trying to spit in an immediate reaction. "What the hell was that?" Jake exclaims. "I used that for the vanilla extract." you say simply.

"That was mean." Jake says with a fake pout. "You saw me use it a second ago, I don't know how you fell for that." you laugh.

"I just like watching you work, I don't pay attention to what exactly you're putting in. You could poison it right in front of me and I probably won't catch it at first." Jake says before he slightly changes the subject.

"Speaking of watching you bake. I would love to help you open up a little bakery and have a little section where I can watch you make everything." Jake mentions as he holds you closer and kisses your neck. "I don't think I'm that much of a baker that I could have a business." you comment.

"I'd disagree. I think once someone gets a taste of what you make then they'd be flocking for a single piece." Jake says.

"Jake I use recipes I find online and then write down if I like them." you mention.

"Well then maybe it's time that you experiment with making your own." Jake fires back, "I can taste test for you while you try to nail it." he suggests.

[glader13]

Chasing Memories of You pt. 3

Miguel x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

“Lyla,” his voice slurred, “Play file zero.”

Lyla came to life, her frown deep as she saw Miguel surrounded by bottles. His eyes were hazy and drunken as he held a picture frame of you. Lyla wanted to say something but she knew that any word would spark an argument, with Miguel thinking that Lyla is trying to make him forget you. She pulled up file zero, which is multiple files of you and Miguel getting to know each other. They’re scattered, but each file shows a deeper connection between you two.

The first file begins to play and Miguel instantly recognizes your New York, seeing you fly in your black suit, the spider symbol in gold flashing in the sun. Your mentee, Gwen, was flying next to you in a red and black suit. It was here when he met you, answering the call of an anomaly in your universe. He viewed another one, instantly knowing which memory this was. You stormed into the medical area, to where Miguel was resting, insisting that he was acting reckless trying to save you, that he wasn’t thinking about his daughter, who needed him to be around. The argument was cut short when he pulled you into him, kissing you for the first time, breathing that he also needed you around.

Goosebumps then, but nothing now. He watched these files so many times, that all that they had created was a hole, numbing him. Taunting him of a reality that he’ll never have. As he drunkenly scrolled through the files, he came across one labeled as surprise. Even in his hazy mindset, he knew that he had never seen this before. He opened the file seeing more videos of you. He clicked on the first one, holding his breath as he saw you appear in front of him. He sat up, his mind gaining the clarity that it desperately searched for.

“Miggy, wait,” you mumble, pushing his mouth away, “I think I’m going to puke.”

He instantly got up, before walking you to the bathroom, asking you what you ate earlier. You told him the same as usual, but for the past few weeks, you’ve been avoiding greasy food, and eating more salads and bowl-type foods. Anything that you ate could set off your nausea, but at the same time, you wanted to eat everything.

“This has been happening a lot back to back recently,” Miguel said from the other side of the door, “It’s probably something that you’re eating.”

“Maybe the food in 2099 is made so poorly that if you aren’t used to it, it makes you sick,” you joked.

“Like your poisoned food is any better,” he said which caused you both to snicker.

You finally came out of the bathroom, telling him that you still felt the same. He kissed your forehead, asking if you wanted to sit on his balcony. You snuggled further into his hoodie as the two of you looked over Nueva York, the sounds of the city were peacefully quiet, as if a hush went through, and the neon hues washed you in warmth. You snuggled closer to Miguel, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you further into his side. He softly kissed the side of your face, before trailing down to your neck. You could feel the worry fall off him and onto you. In between the kisses, you felt him stare as if he could see what was ailing you. He’s on eggshells, the funeral was just only months ago, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight. He frets over you about anything, trying to control every aspect to mitigate any possible consequences.

“I think you should see a doctor,” he says softly, “I want you to be healthy.”

“I am,” you kissed him, “But what if it’s not anything serious?”

“Then what would it be?” His question was fragile, threatening to break under a possible reality. You stayed quiet, not wanting to voice that possibility, especially when he was still trying to heal.

“Nothing, I’m fine Miggy,” you smiled, “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

He should’ve known then, he should have picked up on the signs: the nausea, the pickiness of your appetite, the slight plumpness of your body. If he had known, if he wasn’t blinded by grief, he could have protected you, the both of you. He would have put you on fewer missions, and made you do more lab work, hell he would have taken your watch away so you wouldn’t be hurt by an anomaly. He saw another file, his hand moving faster than his mind, as he clicked the file. Watching memories of you compares to a dark paradise, filling him with poison that he knows stops him from healing.

“Lyla,” she appeared next to you in Miguel’s bathroom, “where’s Miguel?”

“At HQ,” she said, “Want me to get him?”

Your eyes widened as you quickly said no, your hand clutching around something that Lyla couldn’t make out. She appeared closer to your hand to see, but you moved whatever it was to your chest. You let the toilet cover down, sitting on it, hunched over, quiet. You tapped your foot on the ground, your mind a mess while your mouth was unemployed. You wanted to throw the damn thing away, the reality threatening to make your lunch come up. Two months, the funeral was two months ago and you’re … You shook your head, ignoring Lyla’s words about your heart rate. You softly rocked back and forth, before getting up and pacing around his bathroom. One hand still clutching the small, but very significant change of your life, as you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t catch your reflection in the mirror, not feeling brave enough to do so. You tasted the salt from your tears, as you slid to the floor, what if he hates you, resents you for a mutual, intimate action? What if he makes you get rid of it, makes you choose? What will happen then?

“How accurate are your tests?” You shakily breathed.

“What tests?” And with her question, you reveal the pregnancy test. Her quiet was deafening, sinking you further before she answered that it was accurate, the most it’s ever been. But to ease your worry, she did a bioscan of you, confirming that you are pregnant.

“Well,” she began slowly, “Congratulations, but how did this happen?” You shot her a look, which caused her to sigh, “I know how, but when?”

“It was when,” you began to search through your memories, peeling back the layers of your brain, to the moment when the two of you were alone, “I don’t know Lyla, I don’t know what to do, the one person that I need, I can’t tell.”

You cleaned your eyes, thinking of what to say to Miguel, imagining how he would react. Would you have to leave him, be alone with your child? Your mind could only imagine Miguel’s face twisted in disappointment, or even anger. He’s going to hate me, was the only thing that you could think despite your heart trying to tell you otherwise. You felt as if you were in a headlock, not knowing if you should go or trust Miguel.

“You are going to have to,” Lyla said, “You’re going to start showing.”

“I… I know, but Lyla, you can't tell him,�� you cleaned your eyes, “Please.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

You finally felt some comfort in the silence before you spoke again, “Do you think I should surprise him, with dinner, or a party?”

“Party,” Lyla smiled, “And we can get a confetti gun filled with pink or blue confetti.”

You nodded, cautiously smiling, your mind filling with the possibilities of a new future. Finally, everything felt like it’ll be okay. A new beginning for you both.

Miguel turned it off, unable to look at your face, unable to bear looking at the hesitation on your face about telling him about your pregnancy. It’s unbearable with you being gone. He took another swig of his bottle, feeling another memory from his mind appear, rolling slowly like thunder approaching a city. He was able to figure the rest out, how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy, a surprise party. But that day will be forever stained with your blood, the loss of his second family. That day, that memory, always bubbles up, it can never be defeated by the alcohol, by how many villains he beats into a pulp, by each thought of seeking another just so his bed won’t be empty. It’s always there, chained to him. He can never seem to forget.

He stood at the door to your apartment, taking a shaky breath. He’s going here to think. To think of how to tell your family that you’re dead, that he failed to protect you. He leans his head against the door, trying to collect his breathing as more tears fall from broken eyes. He didn’t bother to clean his eyes or nose, which made everything hurt all the more. He was startled by pink and blue confetti, and voices yelling “congratulations”! Miguel took a step, looking around as he felt the urge to vomit. In silence, he took note of the various baby decorations, pink and blue streamers hanging from the ceiling and on the wall. The table had small sandwiches and chips with the dessert being small pink and blue cupcakes. He saw lettering decorating the wall, condadulations, Miggy!

The smiling faces were choking him, closing in on him. He felt his breathing become shallow and shorter as if he was exhaling every time he inhaled. He leaned against the door, struggling to look at faces, especially your parents, he couldn’t tell them that he failed his promise.

“Where’s my daughter?” your mother laughed, she was holding a cake, “She was supposed to come with you.”

Miguel began to take large breaths, as he couldn’t stop his tears, the inky hands of grief pulling him down. He sunk to the floor, holding himself feeling a sick realization that this was how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy. At a party, not in his arms, dying. He painfully tore his eyes away from the ground looking at your mother, and he was drowning again, this is how you would’ve looked, aging with beautiful and graceful features. She knelt in front of him, telling him to breathe, as he was barely aware of her cleaning his eyes with a napkin. He pushes her hand away, he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment, not after ruining her life forever, “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I … I failed her. I’m sorry,” he repeats, holding your mother.

“Miguel,” your mother’s voice is still kind, though there was a worried edge in it, “Miguel, breathe okay. Whatever argument you two got in will work itself out, it’s just her pregnancy.”

Oh, he wishes it was an argument. That means that he’ll be able to have you back in a matter of moments, he’ll argue with you about anything if that means he’ll be able to hold you again. She said to relax again, telling him to breathe, and he finally gave in to the despair, “She’s dead. She … died in my arms. There was an attack … I couldn’t save her in time.”

Your mother’s face paled, all the light, all the life, drained from her face. Her body slouched, the only sound was the plastic plate hitting the floor. Miguel couldn’t say anything, but how could he? Who would want to be comforted by their child’s murderer? Your father filled the silence, stepping past his wife and pulling Miguel up by his shoulder. Your father’s face was the opposite, lit with a fury that can only be caused by grief. Miguel forced his eyes to stay on his face, as your father demanded what happened. As he demanded to know why he let you die. Your father repeated the same questions, each time getting closer and closer to Miguel. Miguel felt as if he was set on fire, feeling nothing but hopelessness. Nothing else mattered, all was obsolete. Your father repeated the same question, but to Miguel, it sounded distant, as if someone was yelling at him behind thick walls. Even if he heard the question, he couldn't care less, your father isn’t the only one who’s grieving. The world was spinning, yet shattering around Miguel, he was lost in a haze. The last kiss that you gave him, your lifeless body, crushed him. Two people died when you permanently closed your eyes, you and the man who he thought he could be. He was right there, on the edges of his fingertips. Ready to be everything that you wanted, that you needed. But your death makes being dead alluring. You made death look like mercy, a dark paradise.

Miguel’s focus on you was shattered when your father’s fist connected with his face. The shock caused him to fall over, his hand covered in red from his nose. Your father shook off your mother as he stepped over Miguel. “You should have stayed away from her,” your father sneered, “Then she would still be here. You should have taken her place. She should be here in front of us, not you.”

“You don’t think that I agree with you,” was all Miguel said.

Miguel and Gwen stayed outside the medical room as your parents grieved over you privately. He couldn’t do anything, he wanted this day to be over, he wanted to go back in time and correct this mistake. He wanted to be the hero that you always thought he was. But you were the hero, always saving him, and he hates you for it. If you didn’t save him, then you would be here, and that’s all that would matter to Miguel. When his memory fails him, will your love abide? Looking at you, he knows that he’ll love you for a long time. If his mind fails to remember, his body and his heart will remember.

“Is everything going to be okay?” Gwen asks him, her eyes begging for a sliver of hope, “Are we going to be okay?”

Miguel blinks away some more tears before he looks at her, and he breaks. She seems so small, holding herself against the wall. Her small, huddled frame reminded him of Gabi when she was upset. He would kneel in front of her, clean her eyes, and tell her that everything was okay. He found himself doing the same thing, slipping so easily into father mode. It wasn’t hard for him, as your mentee, Miguel and you were her second set of parents. Going to school events and even covering as her guardians so her parents won’t know about her slipping grades or missed classes.

“Hey,” he said, cleaning her eyes, “We’re going to be fine. We’re going to get through this together,” he hugged her, “I promise.”

Just as he did with Gabi, to make her less upset, he would lie. He kissed the top of her head, repeating another lie of comfort as he focused on your dead body. He wanted to say I don’t know if we’ll be okay, at least he knows that he’ll never be. Without you, the darkness eats him, he’s not himself, and he won’t be ever again. He’ll love you for a long time, he’ll miss you for a long time. A wound that he’ll never heal from.

And now, he’s forced to watch videos, these memories of you that he’s slowly tainting with the desperation of guilt. He can’t let go, and he won’t let go. He knows that you would want him to, but he won’t. He’s in a daze, and he needs you, but you’re so far away. Across a sea that he can’t cross … unless. In his room, the soft beeping of his watch caught his attention, he stared at it feeling something be planted. Thinking of all that it could do, thinking that it was how he met you. He thought of HQ, of all the Spiders there, how they all traveled by that watch. Would it be possible … if there are Spiders from different Earths, then … He got up, opening a portal to HQ. He can end this, end this feeling of being alone. He’ll have a chance to go home. To be closer to love.

He realized that he was only someone with you. That only you loved him naturally, and he needs you, he has always needed you. This time, he won’t leave you alone, you’re his sun and stars, the air that he breathes. He’ll never leave you alone again. On his screen, he ran multiple tests, screening each Earth for your DNA, and bio-scans, essentially screening for you. He was in a headlock, trapped by you. He thought that he was better than this, but grief, no desperation was stronger. Desperation to protect, to bring back something that has been lost. Miguel finally felt something break, no, not break, he felt something resolve, grow stronger.

He will have you in his arms again, he can start again. He will start again.

The screen started beeping, indicating a match. He zoomed in on that Earth, moving past the people, his eyes quickly moving over the faces of strangers. He did another scan, this time to pinpoint where you were, which was a TV studio. Miguel felt his heart in his lungs, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to see you in real time. He opened your location, and his breath was gone. He was gone, he fell to his knees, silent tears on his face, it felt like ages since he last looked upon your face. You were beauty beyond words, a force in the room. You were a goddess, dressed fittingly in white. He closed his eyes as he listened to you talk during your interview. He felt it all ending, his senseless grief, the hole in his heart was closing the more that he listened, swaying to your words as he was drunk.

He felt as if he was in church, on his knees in reverence and you were who he was praying to. When you would look into the camera, he felt your eyes, he felt your soul, and it was warm, feeling like home. He reached out, aiming to touch your face, only for his hand to go through the projection, your image briefly flickering. A bitter reminder of reality. At least he won’t be chasing memories of you anymore, closer to love, he found you again. And, in time, he’ll do more than monitor you as if you were a machine. He’ll join you, he won’t leave you alone anymore. That sea that separated the two of you disappeared.

“I’m coming home, my love,” he whispered to the projection, he whispered to you.

A/N: Writer’s block has me in a mf chokehold, I fear. Also, do people still read Miguel O’Hara fics???

[iamzer0]

𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙡 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧����

𝘈/𝘕: 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘓𝘰𝘬𝘪, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦

𝙏𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙠

Y’all met through an internship, y’all worked together on a plethora of projects.

You were working on a project at home, it was a mini engine that if worked would power a multitude of things.

But one thing lead to another and next thing you know it explodes. Your parents/guardians got the blunt of it, they died in the hospital.

You were taken in by none other than Tony fricken Stark, every persons dream right…?

It would be nice and all if you weren’t currently grieving the loss of your parents. He tried to help, but it only made things worse.

You felt almost trapped mostly because you kinda were, you weren’t aloud to do anything. You couldn’t go in the kitchen, couldn’t go in the lab, couldn’t use any tech that wasn’t highly monitored, couldn’t even leave.

In Tony’s defense, he was doing this to protect you but I came off more like kidnapping rather than protective parenting.

He was scared to lose you, after the near death experience he became much more possessive, scared that if he turned his back you would be gone.

You became depressed, staying in your bed, rotting. You were grieving and Tony certainly wasn’t helping.

"𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩? 𝙞 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚" 𝘛𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 "𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩...𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮.."

𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧

You were a kid of a fellow colleague, unfortunately for you your parents loved their work more than you.

They tested all kinds of serums and medicines on you, you gained some uncontrollable abilities. Your parents died due to radiation poisoning from something in their lab.

Naturally you were sent to live with your godfather, Bruce Banner.

He realized your abilities early on, as every thing in his penthouse was currently on the roof.

He helped you learn to control your abilities and emotions, while simultaneously bonding.

He was a nice guy, he gave you a good life. But unfortunately he wouldn’t let you leave like at all.

He say its for your protection but you call bullshit.

"𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨." 𝘉𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 "𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

You weren’t scared of the hulk, you knew he would never hurt you. The hulk liked you so he tried to gentle towards you every time he came out.

But even the hulk won’t let you leave.

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙍𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨

You were kidnapped by hydra when you were a child, they wanted to test a new serum on you.

Fortunately for you the avengers busted down the base before they could do anything to you. It was a simple mission get in bust down the base and get out.

But guess who they stumbled upon, little old you(you are like 12-14yrs). Of course they took you back with them.

Steve felt almost drawn to you, you reminded him of himself before the super serum.

He basically took you under his wing, but it became less training more spending time together. But as he took on a more parental role in your life his traditional way of thinking started to shine through.

First off he didn’t let you use anything internet related no phone, no tablet, etc. He also had some real traditional views on family, in his mind children were meant to stay home while the adult worked.

It was incredibly boring considering he took away the radio after he found you taking it apart in an attempt to use the wires inside to escape.

"𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧" 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 "𝙞 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜... 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚..𝙮𝙤𝙪" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘴.

𝘽𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨

You were kidnapped by hydra when you were just 4 because of your powers, healing.

When Bucky was the winter soldier he was pretty prominent figure in your life. Every time he was injured, they made him come to you.

He couldn’t understand his feelings, but he liked your presence a lot it was like a shining light he never knew he needed. He would go as far to injure himself just to be near you.

When the soldier went back to being Bucky he almost immediately went to go get you.

The rest of the team couldn’t understand why he was so attached to this random traumatized teenager but not much they could do.

Bucky was incredibly paranoid so much so that y’all slept in the same room sometimes the same bed because he was scared that if he let you out his sight something bad would happen.

When the soldier would come out he would sorta just come up to you and hug/hold you it was strange but it stopped the soldier from being violent.

It kinda felt like a hostage situation, the air was always tense and you felt forever on edge. He scared you and his paranoia certainly did not help your fears.

"𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝘽𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 "𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙃𝙮𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪" 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 "𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 2 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚!" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮.

𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙛𝙛

You were a kid she found abandoned in some old hydra base. She went through it looking for some abandoned documents.

But instead found you hunched in a corner, scared. She tried to coax you out but you swiped at her anytime she came close.

She ended up having to knock you out, she took you back to the tower.

It was a rough adjustment, especially considering you didn’t speak much English.

You bonded with Natasha, she gave you a sense of safety. The closer y’all got the more protective she became.

Something in her sorta changed the day you started calling her mom. She didn’t bother correcting you, it felt right to be called ‘mom’.

She felt this undying urge to protect you. It got to a point to where she would barely let anyone even interact with you.

She was essentially isolating you, though you couldn’t understand it you could almost feel her protection turn more malicious rather than loving.

"𝙢-𝙢𝙤𝙢 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 "𝙤, 𝙢𝙤𝙮 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙠𝙖 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣"

𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙧

Your parents managed to piss off a sorcerer, the sorcerer did not take kindly to your parents disrespect. He went after the one thing they loved more than themselves, you.

He sent you away, quite literally. Next thing you know you are falling out of the sky, take a wild guess who you fell into.

None other than The prince of Asgard himself, Thor.

He took you in, you liked it at first. I mean you lived like royalty, stomach always full, a giant room, servants there 24/7.

Everything was amazing, until you became homesick. You missed your home, your friends, your family.

He loved you, a lot. He couldn’t bare to see you sad, but he also didn’t want you to leave. You were his beacon of hope, his Midgard child.

That’s why when he discovered a way to bring you back, he chose not to. But he couldn’t keep the truth from you forever.

His own brother told you about your “fathers” secret. From that day on you hated Thor.

You hated his protective nature, the way he wouldn’t let you leave at all without him.

"𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙣, 𝙈𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚" 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. "....." 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘴.

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚

You were the child of a sorcerer, that happened to be close with Dr.strange. You were around 10-12 when your parent tragically died, took to many pills.

Stephan took you in, in your time of grief you clung to him like he was your life line. You followed him around, not caring where he went you just didn’t want to be alone.

Stephan found it annoying at first but grew to love your clinging, it was oddly comforting.

He grew to see you as this innocent little kid that needed to be sheltered. You didn’t care if you were outside or inside but you just didn’t want to be alone.

Things changed when you started to heal from your parents death, you were much less clingy and would rather do your own thing rather than follow Stephan around like a lost puppy.

Though he wouldn’t admit it this was upsetting to him, he quite enjoyed your presence.

Even with you getting over your parents death, things kinda remained the same. Stephan still saw you as this innocent child that needs to be sheltered from the harsh world.

You hated it it was almost infantilizing, you tried leaving multiple times but there was no point no matter where you went Stephan could just simply teleport you back.

"𝙄𝙈 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝙆𝙄𝘿, 𝙄 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙏𝘼𝙆𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔𝙎𝙇𝙀𝙁!!" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 "𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙙𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚" 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

𝙇𝙤𝙠𝙞

Loki was out doing a task for the grandmaster then he found himself in trouble, he was about to flee but then you dropped in, literally.

You dropped onto his attacker, attacking him with a makeshift knife. The rest of the group fled while you robbed the attacker. Loki stood there partially in shock the other part being amazement.

You gave him a simple nod before turning to leave, but Loki quickly stopped you by putting a hand on your shoulder.

That was the day your life changed.

Loki had a lot more in common with you than he cared to admit, you were something else, something special.

Basically you had a rags to riches type story because after Loki took you in your life did a complete 180. You could see he definitely cared about you, but if he truly loved you why were you so….. isolated?

It was a good life but you never saw anyone, ever. Loki was always there but you grew tired of only seeing him. You wanted more.

You were tired of the same old boring place, so you tried to venture out, bad move.

He almost immediately found you, after that he decided he couldn’t trust you. So he chained you to your bedpost.

It was a boring life when Loki wasn’t there you only had books to keep you company, and you had grown tired of reading long ago.

You started expressing your frustration and anger, in the form of yelling. He always made some bullshit reason up on why it was better if you stayed by him.

"𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚? 𝙒𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙞𝙣" 𝘓𝘰𝘬𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙡

Unlike everyone else you were his actual kid, product of a hookup before Vanessa. But he still loved you when he found out you existed.

You came to live with him, mostly because your mom couldn’t “handle you anymore” so she shipped you off to your dads.

Y’all bonded surprisingly quick, y’all were basically best friends within the first hour of living there.

He of course had somethings he really didn’t want you to see, one was his face. He had some deep rooted fear he could never admit to that if you saw what was under the mask you would leave.

Of course that wasn’t true, you honestly didn’t care what he looked like. That made him even more attached to you.

He is incredibly lenient, about everything.

He becomes must for possessive as time passes on and it’s incredibly noticeable. Naturally you want to leave for a little bit so you do, there’s no locks on the door so it’s not hard to just leave.

It’s not that he doesn’t care if you leave it’s that he knows he can get you back easily if you do leave.

But there comes a point in time where enough is enough and that point happened when you had escaped for the 4th time this week and it’s Tuesday.

Drastic times call for drastic measures, like chaining you to the wall.

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚" 𝘸𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 "𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦.

A/N: I’m backkkkkkk, I low key really missed writing. Anyway I’m trying something new, let me know if y’all like it. I will be posting Hxh content but I wanna branch out a lil.

Anyway love you alll so so much bye bye(*^◯^*)

[unforgettwble-sumii]

BLACK DAHLIA'S ️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

(Wednesday x Fem!reader oneshot)

> "Look! I made these for you, I hope you like them!" | Yoko teasing the fuck out of Wednesday by calling you lovey dovey names | A bit of jealous Wednesday.

🌒 You and Wednesday have been dating for a month, she knows everything about you. At least that's what she thinks. There's one thing about you that even Wednesday doesn't know.

🌒 she goes and looks for you in your dorm, only to be greeted by one of your best friend that she considers as an enemy.

"Y/N?" Wednesday called out, entering your dorm room after knocking. She looked over to your bed and saw that you weren't there, but took the time to admire your side of the dorm.

You had a bunch of plants decorated around the room, on walls, the ceiling and even on your desk and nightstand. You absolutely loved collecting them, however she never knew where you got most of them.

"Hey, Wednesday" Yoko replied. She was sitting on her bed, phone in hand, probably on a call with Divina.

Wednesday glanced to where the vampire was, nodded in acknowledgement and then spoke.

"Do you know where Y/N is, Yoko?" She asked, her brows furrowed a little, showing that she was concerned to where her dear 'friend' was.

"Ohohohooo" Yoko chuckled fixing her posture and position so she was sitting closer to the foot of her bed and had one leg over the other.

She had this weird shit eating grin on her face, Wednesday hated it. "Hold on Divina, I'm having a convo with Wednesday. I'll tell you the details later." she says ending the call and turning off her phone.

"Concerned for sweet Y/N? Looks like Wednesday Addams is capable of falling inlove after all." She says with a playful smirk. Wednesday shot her a glare, she had to hold herself together in order not to lunge at the Vampire.

Since Yoko happened to be a close friend of yours, Wednesday didn't wanna see the horror on your face once you see the vampire dead of garlic poisoning.

However, Yoko had no idea that you two, Wednesday and you, were dating since you and Wednesday kept your relationship lowkey.

"First of all, no. You will not tell Divina about our conversation. Second, I just wanted to know where Y/N was because I needed to investigate with her in the forest. Stop trying to make up pathetic lies." She spatted out, Venom lacing in her voice.

"heh, chill out goth girl. Oh and the cutie pie's in the forest" Yoko said, relaxing into her bed knowing that Wednesday was trying to hold her shit together.

Cutie pie? Oh no no no no. She did not just call you that. If it weren't for Wednesday being aware that you and Yoko were close friends, she wouldn't have a problem decapitating the vampire.

Wednesday realized that if she kept talking to Yoko the more that she would tease the crap out of her and the more she would have a hard time controlling her anger.

"Don't ever call her that again. I'll be going now. Don't forget to sleep with one eye open." She says with the usual deadpanned expression.

Wednesday then exited the dorm, on her way to look for you. Not forgetting to slam the door shut, startling the vampire quite a bit, but not loud enough for the vampires shit eating grin to fade.

It was a pathetically great day outside, as how Wednesday would describe it, the sun was shining and it had no signs of it raining

You were in the forest growing different classes and types of flowers, a little hobby of yours. Lucky for you, your ability happened to correlate to your hobby.

"hmmm...what should I make next?" You were sitting with your legs crossed on the grass, thinking of which flower to grow next.

A sudden idea appeared on your head. You started to grow the chosen flower, you hummed a little lullaby as it was growing.

You were too distracted by the flowers forming that you didn't realize that Wednesday called your name.

"...Y/N..?" Wednesday called out. She saw you sitting on the grass but she couldn't see what you were doing since your back was facing her.

She heard you hum the lullaby, she recognized it. It was the lullaby you would hum at the most random times, so she really didn't think much of it, other than you must really like the song.

As Wednesday walked closer, you unexpectedly turned around, causing Wednesday to get startled quite a bit. "Hi Wen!" You say standing up, hiding the flowers behind your back.

"I have been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing here?" Wednesday asked with a hint of concern. "Oh I was just growing these. Look! I made these for you, I hope you like them!" You excitedly said, showing her the black dahlias that you had grown yourself.

Wednesday stayed quiet for a moment, then gently took the flowers from your hand. "You grew these? I have to admit, that's quite... impressive." She said looking back at you.

"Well, lucky for me I didn't have to wait that long in order for it to grow" you say with a cheeky smile. Wednesdays lips curled up a little but her expression quickly returned to the usual deadpanned look.

"I used my abilities to grow these, actually." You say scratching the back of your neck. Wednesdays eyebrows furrowed, showing that she was confused.

"Abilities? You didn't tell me you had abilities?" She replied. "Oh, really? I thought you knew about them" you said with a surprised look.

"Well, to be honest, not a lot of people here know about my abilities. Only a few of the students, like Yoko and Enid, And most of the teachers know." You replied, feeling sorry for not telling your girlfriend sooner.

Wednesday honestly didn't know how to react. She felt quite defeated at the fact that Yoko knew about your ability before she could find out about it. Though, she knows that it's understandable since you and Yoko have been friends for years.

"Thank you." Wednesday replied, Your gaze softened and your lips curled up into a sweet smile, causing Wednesday to feel butterflies- no, spiders in her stomach.

Wednesday leaned closer to you. She then mumbled something while you were looking into her eyes lovingly.

"..I love you, my sweet little dahlia."

a/n:

Hello my dolls, I deeply apologize for the absence. School has been hectic and I almost forgot about the oneshots I wanted to make. ✿

I believe an anon requested something like this, however their request was quite different from this oneshot. Believe it or not, I only noticed that they requested it while I was in the middle of writing this oneshot.

I figured that since I was almost done with writing this, I was just going to post this then, make their request, instead of deleting this. ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶🎀꒱ა

I am actually planning to write their request, so please stay tuned if you wanna read it („• ֊ •„)

I also had no idea what I was doing while writing this, so please forgive me if nothing makes sense.

That's all, thankyou sm for reading. I luv u all!!! xoxo ♡ - unforgettwble-sumii

©unforgettwble-sumii's work. Pls do not repost, steal modify, or translate.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 19

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: welcome to the draaamaaaa! non-consensual drugging (not reader), the vaguest hint of medical trauma, brief mention of chapter 2's assault scene

wc: 2.3k

Chapter Selection

Thirty minutes after Alfred came to pick Damian up, a mandatory city wide lockdown was called into effect. The news mentioned Mr. Freeze and some botched experiment with Poison Ivy's pheromones. I immediately tried to call Jason; he had been planning to come over around dinner, but the lines were busy. It seemed everyone was trying to contact their loved ones.

I texted Damian, asking him to let me know when he was home, and pulled out a roll of duct tape to start sealing up the cracks in my doors and windows. I set out my emergency candles and flashlights. Then I filled pots, pans, and the bathtub with clean water, just in case. And finally, I began cooking a couple steaks I had that needed to be made sooner rather than later, just in case the gas went out before I got another chance. You never knew what a villain-fueled lockdown would bring, so it was best to plan to lose all of your utilities. I vaguely regretted not getting that camping stove when it had been on sale, but I also really didn't love the idea of storing propane in my apartment. 

Once my steaks were done, I checked my phone again. Damian was home safe, and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to remain safely indoors. But there was still nothing from Jason. I frowned, trying not to panic. He was probably just having trouble getting through, just like I had.

Me: Hey baby, lockdown's pretty scary, huh? Hope you're safe! ❤️

5:40pm

I settled in to watch the news, hoping the Bats would get things under control soon enough. The only footage available was from the traffic cameras, but the picture they painted wasn't particularly pretty. It seemed every vigilante was out for this one. I watched in a sort of terrified trance, remembering how tiny Robin was at the gala. But there he was, fighting Mr. Freeze. … He was strong, and a skilled fighter. But God, it just wasn't fair…

Me: Jace? You safe?

6:30pm

Eventually, the fight was over, and the reporter started talking about the plan to get the pheromones neutralized. We were instructed to stay in our homes for the time being while Gotham scientists worked out a solution. I sighed softly, honestly a bit glad for the excuse to not go in to work the next day. The boss had been getting a bit testy with me over not being available anytime, any day anymore, and I didn't want to deal with it.

Me: Hey baby, lockdown's pretty scary, huh? Hope you're safe! ❤️

5:40pm

Me: Jace? You safe?

6:30pm

Me: … Jason? If you're getting these, I'm getting really freaked out. Please tell me you're ok.

8:45pm

I frowned, texting Steph, Tim, and Dick next; ‘I can't get ahold of Jason. Have you seen him today?’ The minutes ticked by, an hour passed and no response came from anyone. I was curled up on the couch, trying desperately not to panic, when a sharp tap tap tap on my porch door startled me out of my panic spiral.

I carefully made my way over to the door, nudging open a spot in the blinds so I could peek out. There, on my porch, was Nightwing. He had some kind of breathing apparatus hooked up to his suit, and what looked like a cyberpunk face mask in his hand. When he saw me looking at him he waved excitedly, holding up the mask.

I frowned a bit; “... Um … hello?”

“Hello, citizen! … Your assistance is needed! I have a mask for you, go ahead and pop the door open for me?”

“... No?!”

“... Please?” He frowned a bit, holding out the mask more insistently.

“... What could you possibly want from me??”

He chuckled a bit awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet. “... I really don't want to shout through your door for this …”

“Well that's just too damn bad. You can shout, or you can go.”

“... I assume you were watching the news this evening?” I nodded. “Well, one of my … co-workers' breathing filters got damaged, and he's inhaled some of the pheromone blend.”

I frowned deeply. “... I'm sorry? … Will he be ok?”

“We think we can make an antidote, but we need to get him to the Batcave to get a sample of his blood, and he's a bit … overly agitated for that. He won't get in the Batmobile. We have reason to believe you'd be able to help with that.”

I scoffed at that; “how, on god's green earth, am I meant to do that??”

“... I can't answer that. But I think you're the only person who would calm him down right now.”

“... Uh-huh. … Which one of you is it?”

“Red Hood.”

“... Why would I be able to calm Red Hood???”

“... I … can't answer that either. … Please come anyway. … Call it doing your civic duty?”

“Pft! That's not gonna work on me.”

“... How about helping a big, scared kid who doesn't know what's going on right now? He just knows his body is being ripped out of his control again, and he can't stop it, and everything seems like a threat.”

I froze, blinking a bit. Fuck, that sounded bad. “... How are we getting there?”

Nightwing perked up at that. “I've got my bike! Come on, let's-”

“Hold your horses, bird-boy! Let me get changed.” I sighed, shuffling into my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of jeans, my riding jacket, and grabbed my helmet, silently thanking Jason for giving them to me - and begging the universe that he be ok, wherever he was. Before leaving my room, I grabbed the red flannel Red Hood had given me all those months ago. Might as well return it, since I was going to see him again.

I ripped the tape off the door and knocked, getting Nightwing's attention. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and he passed me the mask. I slipped it on quickly; “Thanks. … I'm not going down this way, so I'll meet you in front of the building?”

Nightwing nodded, jumping off my porch, and I went back inside, sealing the door back up before I ran out the front door. I pulled my helmet and gloves on and hopped on the back of Nightwing's bike, sighing softly. “... Can't believe I'm doing this…”

“I can't believe you made me wait for you to change your clothes…”

“When my boyfriend finds out I got on a vigilante’s bike, he's probably going to have an aneurysm. If he found out I did it without proper protective layers on, he'd probably try to kill you. I’m trying to help you here.”

Nightwing chuckled a bit and we took off, flying down the road like a bat out of hell. I couldn't imagine how I was meant to fix this, or even what we would find when we got there, but I had to try. I couldn't imagine the Red Hood being scared of anything, but the way Nightwing spoke about him made him sound so fragile. ‘his body is being ripped out of his control again’??? Again??? What had this guy been through? And how was I supposed to help??

We arrived much faster than I would have expected, and I slid off the bike, looking around. Nightwing took my helmet for me, pointing to the alley. The Batmobile was pulled to the side, and Batman himself stood like a gargoyle by the driver's side. Spoiler was hunched over by a dumpster, murmuring softly. She looked up as I approached, sighing softly. “Thank God. You're up!”

Her voice sounded familiar, even through the breathing mask, but I didn't have time to dwell. I wanted to get home soon; with my luck Jason would finally text me back while I was out here doing this. I stepped closer until I could see him; the Red Hood, on his knees behind the dumpster, clutching at his chest and hissing softly, like an injured cat.

“Um … Mr. Hood?” I crouched, trying not to startle him.

He jumped anyway, looking up at me. His red helmet didn't show any emotion, but as far as I could tell he was focused on me. “... Hi, Mr. Hood. I don't know if you remember, you saved me from a would-be-rapist last March?”

I slowly held the shirt out, but he didn't move. “... I brought your shirt back.”

He continued to stare at me, so I slowly inched closer. When I was finally close enough to touch him he flinched, hiding his helmeted face in his hands. “N- no … no, go … go away … H- how'd you get here? … The lockdown …”

“... I … I can't really do that, Hood. … Nightwing brought me.”

He growled, a broken, choked sound, distorted by his voice modulator. “... You're supposed to be home … supposed to be safe …”

I nodded slowly. “... Yeah, yeah I am. So … do you think you can come out of the alley with me? … There's a lot of people really worried about you out here. They just wanna get you somewhere safe so they can take care of you.”

He shook his head quickly, choking out; “no! No needles! No needles!”

I nodded slowly, gently shushing him. “Ok, no needles. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. … Let's start with a few deep breaths, yeah? Can we do that?”

He slowly tilted his head toward me, and I moved my hands slowly up from my stomach to my throat as I breathed in, then back down again as I breathed out. I did this several times before he started to follow along, slowly letting his breathing sync up with mine. “There we go, well done. Do you think you can stand?”

He nodded once, slowly rising to stand against the wall. I slowly approached, offering him the shirt again. Gingerly, he reached out to take it, being oddly careful not to let our fingers touch. His gloves were torn open, revealing bloodied knuckles. “Can we go to the car? Looks like you've got some cuts, I bet they have a first aid kit over there.”

He flinched, shaking his head a bit. “They'll heal.”

“... They'd heal best if we cleaned them first. Can we just get some water on them, rinse the dirt out?” I slowly lifted my hands, palms up, offering them to him; “please? … I won't let them do anything you aren't ready for, I promise.”

His body seemed to move on instinct; as our hands touched he froze, whining sharply. “... Fuck … no, … d- don't want to do this … m'sposed to protect you …”

I gently squeezed his hands. “You have protected me. You protected the whole city. You did your job, Hood, and you did it well. Now let me help you. Please?”

He shuddered and collapsed against me, suddenly wrapping his arms around my waist like I was a life raft in the ocean. I grunted softly, stumbling a bit, but managed not to fall over. It briefly crossed my mind just how pissed Jason was going to be when I told him about this; if vigilantes showing up near my work made him grumpy, what was he going to do about one clinging to me like this? But I pushed the thought away, determined to get Red Hood into the Batmobile so they could take him to get treated.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, awkwardly patting his back. “... I've got you. You're gonna be ok. Let's get to the car, ok?”

He let me guide him to the Batmobile, clinging to me the whole way there. I could feel Batman staring us down as I slowly coaxed the giant man into the back seat. He let me rinse his scraped up knuckles with a bottle of water, but wouldn't accept anything else. Before I could leave, he pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling my neck and whining softly. “Ah! … U- uh, Mr. Hood, I do have a boyfriend now…”

He groaned softly, holding me tight and whispering. I only caught the occasional word, the voice modulator garbled the rest; “need ……. So pretty ……. Soft …… mine …. Love …. Fuck, just wanna …….. neeeeed~ ….”

Spoiler wrinkled her nose a bit, shrugging. “... It'll be easiest to get him treated if we just … let him be. …. Think you can sit like that for … 20 minutes?”

I sighed softly. “... I guess?”

I rubbed his shoulder gently, letting him continue to mumble and nuzzle against me. Jason would be pissed, but at least Red Hood wasn't being particularly handsy. He was actually keeping his hands very carefully on my calves or waist, never venturing between the knees and the waistband of my jeans, weirdly respectful for someone drugged out of their mind on Poison Ivy's pheromones, whether those pheromones were corrupted or not. Batman and Spoiler got in the front seats, and we sped away. I saw Nightwing riding behind us as we raced out of the city.

“... Should I be keeping my eyes closed or something?”

Spoiler turned back to face us and laughed a bit. “... Maybe? I guess. And you can take that mask off now. By the time we open the doors we'll be far enough away from the affected area.”

I nodded, sliding the breathing mask off and closing my eyes. Red Hood stroked my back, purring softly. I sighed, patting his shoulder more. I tried not to think too hard about how I was going to explain this to Jason. I'd think of something; something that would keep him from confronting the Red Hood when this was all over.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men