#Nothing against his weird shirt holes but I do think his shoes are gonna get him killed if he touches snow ever in his life

[minart-was-taken]

More redesigns yippee

[silverdelirium]

SWEET TOOTH | J.P

SUMMARY ➠ ice cream man!james fucks you in his ice cream truck

WARNINGS ➠ fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, praise kink, humiliation (?), pet names, bit of a breeding kink, not proofread

WORD COUNT ➠ 2.0k

A/N ➠ the long awaited ice cream man james smut ;) oh and this is for @hellounicorn <33

———

you were in that stage between dreams and reality when you heard it.

the small tune that you memorized since you started living in this neighbourhood— he always passed by in summer; and god, were you craving something cold and tasty to munch on when it was a thousand degrees outside.

you hummed in content as you lifted yourself from your bed, stretching your lips and rummaging through your closet in an attempt to find a comfortable and decent attire to meet james; as weird as it sounded, you wanted to impress the ice cream man and it was safe to say that you had developed a small crush— james had always been so nice to you, going as far as giving you free popsicles in exchange for a brief conversation.

the tip of your nerves went on fire as you stepped outside; spotting him buckling his belt. he was wearing a tight fit white shirt that had you drooling and shuddering.

——

“there you go, kiddo” chuckled james after delivering a chocolate ice cream to the last kid of the big crowd that had formed earlier.

he sighed in disappointment when he realized that you still hadn’t come out yet— he had purposely parked the van a few feet from your house, just so you could maybe pop by and have a nice chat with him.

truth is that james missed you. he hadn’t seen you since last summer and it had already been a shitty weather day, he knew you would be the only one to lift his mood up with that bright smile of yours.

james went back to the driver’s seat and as he finished buckling himself up he heard a small scream of his name upfront.

holy fuck— thought james.

you were wearing a small cute sundress that accentuated your figure in the best way possible, and when he let his eyes travel down to your chest, he caught a glimpse of your peebled nipples. leading him to get into the conclusion that you might only be wearing panties underneath that dress. his cock ached at the thought.

he stepped on the pedal lightly and drove closer to you, until the truck was right in line with your home.

“hi there, sweetheart!” he greeted, unbuckling his seatbelt and going into the back— where he was met with your face through the open window.

“hello james” you giggled “long time, no see, huh?”

“damn right you are, honey— i was starting to wonder if you moved out, what took you so long?” he spoke in a querying tone.

the tip of your ears and nose grew hot as you remembered struggling to find something cute for him. “oh— uhm, i was just— looking for my shoes you know?” you awkwardly chuckled, staring down at the five dollar bill in your hand as if it was the most interesting thing in the planet.

he gave you a bit of an amused look before shaking his head “whatever you say, pretty girl” your tummy fluttered as the nickname dripped from his lips like sweet honey.

“what would you like today, hm?”

“oh just— something sweet and creamy, like an ice cream popsicle” you shrugged, not noticing the effect your words had on james.

“i know something of yours that is sweet and creamy” he murmured under his breath. “what was that?” “oh, no nothing” he gave you a tight lipped smile, his cheeks dusting pink.

“right well uhm, the ice cream”

“oh shoot yeah— what uh” he paused to clear his throat “what flavor where you thinking of, petal?” and his sweet flirty persona was back on, as if the thought of having a face full of your pussy wasn’t replaying on his head over and over again.

“i don’t know” you groaned, almost embarrassed at your sudden indecisiveness.

“you can come in you know? take a look at the flavors and see which one catches your attention more” he offered, sparing you a small smile.

“won’t you get in trouble for that?” you cocked your head to the side. “i don’t mind” he shrugged, the corners of his lips still quirked up as he opened up the back door for you; already holding both of his hands out to help you climb in.

what a gentleman, you thought.

“there we go, honey. take your time.” spoke james as he patted your waist twice, sending a buzz of excitement all throughout your body that almost made you shudder on the spot.

the variety of flavours seemed so appetizing you started wishing you would’ve brought your whole wallet to buy all of them at once, but a peach flavoured ice cream would do.

as you went to give james the money he only chuckled and said “you know i wouldn’t charge a pretty little thing like you, your presence is enough” before handing you the sweet and throwing you a wink as he rested his back on the frame of the window.

the way his muscles flexed as he crossed them over his chest had you questioning whether you should’ve asked for his cock instead of a fucking popsicle—

and god… that damn shirt had your core clenching around air as your mind wandered about him fucking you in every position possible, he just looked so elegantly inviting.

“you done staring, sweetheart?”

shit. you didn’t even realize.

“oh my god, i am so sorry, i should probably leave” you nervously laughed, heading towards the back doors, only to have a large hand around your abdomen stop you.

holy fuck. james potter’s body was pressed against yours and you almost let out a moan as his breath fanned over the side of your petrified face.

“you can’t just leave me all alone in here, sweetie” his hand traveled lower down your mid drift. by now, your stupid peach flavored popsicle was long gone somewhere on the floor, melting. almost as much as you were against james’ hefty chest.

you swallowed thickly, blinking a few times to collect yourself as you turned your head to the side, it was hot breath against hot breath now; if only one of you made the first move—

“oh fuck this” he growled, disconnecting his palm from your pelvis and instead linking it with your jaw to have more access against your lightly chapped lips.

the lip-lock was vulgar and enticing since the start, both of you feeling the luscious sparks that it sent to your sex.

“i’ve been way too fucking patient” you heard him mumble as he took your lower lip in between his teeth, coaxing a whine as you felt your core drip with arousal. “bet you think about me when that pretty cunt is begging for relief, huh?”

“yes jamie, i do. i fucking do” you heaved, impassionedly grinding your bum against his bulging crotch. “i’m gonna fuck you nice and long today, baby. until all you can do is beg for more”

his words went straight to your sopping cunt as he waddled you forward, his mouth still on yours, to the window.

his lips detached from yours. “there we go baby, stay nice and loud for me, yeah? want the whole fucking neighbourhood to know who’s stuffing you full.”

your fingers gripped the edge of the window tightly as james nipped at your neck, his left hand bunching up your dress while the right one’s simultaneously prodded at your swollen button. “you came all bare for me, honey? bet you wanted me to fuck you good once and for all” he groaned, not giving you a warning as he slipped two fingers at once, leaving you a gasping mess as your knuckles turned white from holding on to the frame of the aperture you were leaned on.

“james!” you cried out quietly, rocking your hips back onto his fingers as the ones from his free hand made a path to your throat, lightly squeezing the sides.

his digits made wonders to your contracting insides, juices already making a sticky mess on your thighs as he curled them upwards, caressing your g-spot in a mouth-watering manner; the pad of his thumb made way to your clit, soothing it in tight figure eights as your legs shook, pulling small wails after wails from you.

feeling the thrill of the enticing orgasm building up, you brought one of your hands back to tangle itself on the male’s dark curls, only to have him tut at you as he removed his drenched fingers.

“wha— no! please!” you shamelessly begged, not giving a shit about anything else besides the ache on your heat.

james did nothing besides giving you a wicked grin as he let go of your neck, now focusing on lowering down his trousers— which quickly had you shutting up as you stared in fascination.

he was definitely the biggest you have had so far. a nice length with a thickness that would make a barbarous stretch feel so fucking delirious.

“i’m not sure if i can fit in that tiny hole of yours, precious. maybe i should just leave you like this” he fake pouted, a hint of amusement lacing his features as your bottom lip trembled at the thought of not having him inside you in the next fifteen seconds or so. “no! it’ll fit! make it fit” you mewled, rubbing your pooling cunt against his grith.

“so impatient” he chuckled, stabilizing your hips with his hands before forcing himself into you in one single unforgiving push, making you let out a small scream as your eyes shut tight.

james gave you a few moments for you to get comfortable before you rocked your hips backwards into his as a sign of consent. his hand travelled upwards to grope at your breasts as he thrusted deeply.

“my god, you feel like absolute heaven” he grunted, and even though you couldn’t hear him, the strain in his voice gave away that he was probably with his head thrown back, abs clenching and biceps flexed as his chest heaved, a sight for sore eyes truly.

your mouth stayed agape as his tip kissed your g-spot. your vision clouded with small black stars that had you genuinely question whether they were really painted in your house or not.

james started with a brutal speed since the start, the smacking of your skin against his was filthy and loud, you could only hope mr. benson wouldn’t go for a walk today.

the van rocked and lightly squeaked with every thrust of james’ and you tried your best to contain every loud moan and cry that might alarm the whole block. james had other plans though. “say my name baby, don’t hold back, i want to have your pretty moans fucking memorized”

you complied, throwing your last fucks out of the window and chanting his name like a prayer as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, his strong arms moving to hold you up by the bending of your elbows, causing your spine to arch in a perfect C as james continuously grunted in your ear.

“you’re gonna be absolutely cockdrunk after i’m done with you, honey” he groaned, speeding up the push of his hips and biting down on your shoulder as he brought you both closer to the edge.

“james! i’m gonna cum so hard, don’t stop please, don’t fucking stop” you sobbed, moaning uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach unravelled without any form of forewarning.

“there we go, cream my cock so nicely baby” whispered james, still fucking your quivering pussy through the orgasm with an aggressive pace. “oh fuck, this tight cunt is gonna milk me dry, yeah?”

you could only answer him with a whimper as your legs almost gave out on you if it wasn’t for him holding you up, a few more sloppy thrusts and he was spraying your fluttering walls with his cum, whines escaping his lips.

a breathy moan passed through your mouth as he pulled out, his load slowly flowing out of your puffy folds.

“you look so hot when you’re stuffed full of my cum, sweetheart.” rasped james, peppering your cheeks with soft kisses.

———

i’m tagging the people who clicked “all” in my taglist, dm me if you wish to be removed.

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[dancingazaleas]

jean kirstein | primrose

i love him so much

y’all can’t see it but i am crying

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEAUTIFUL HIMBO

note: this is unedited

warnings/notes: artist!jean, college au!, gardener!reader, cursing, jean’s in love, nsfw, smut, praise, fingering, soft sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, flower language.

jean wouldn’t say he was popular by any means.

everyone knew of him, but it’s not like they actively tried to befriend him or get to know him. he only really talked to the people in his friend group, and even then it was quite spread out. meaning, there were friend groups inside the friend group. jean doesn’t necessarily understand, but he’ll take what he can get.

jean mostly stayed alone on campus, none of his friends were artists. sasha was in a florist course—or something, jean never hears her speak about it—marco was majoring in nursing along with psychology, and connie was... well... connie? jean knew that connie had classes, but he didn’t even know what they were along with his major.

this meant that jean had no friends in his art classes. he wasn’t upset about it though, he always preferred to keep in his bubble. it only really got annoying whenever the professors would give them group projects.

jean’s sighing while he checks his phone, a text message from sasha that says she’s at the campus’s greenhouse finishing up an assignment. jean and sasha usually hang out until three together, waiting for connie and marco to get out of their own classes.

he grunts as he sets off to the greenhouse, not looking forward to the humidity that awaits him outside of the building. the professor made them work in the sprinkling rain?

jean pulls out an umbrella whenever he gets outside. shivering at the almost dramatic temperature drop whenever he steps outside. he trudges through the soggy grass, ignoring the squelching of his shoes and the water.

“where are you,” he asks whenever he steps inside of the greenhouse, closing his umbrella and inhaling the different smells.

the greenhouse is empty besides one person, sitting on their knees as they fill a hole with soil gently.

“huh? did you need something,” you ask as you pull your gaze away from the plant, eyebrows furrowed.

jean feels his face flush, “oh! i’m sorry... my friend said she was here but you’re the only one who’s here.”

you blink and stare, which makes jean sweat. you light up with realization, “you’re talking about sasha right? if so, she’s here still, just needed to use the bathroom in the next building over.”

he utters a thanks while you get back to your work, awkwardly loitering by the door as a way to wait for his friend.

“wh-what’s your name,” he stutters to you, cringing at how his voice echoes against the glass of the building.

“i’m (name) (last name). you?”

“j..jean kirstein. nice to meet you,” he nods with a gulp.

“not to be offensive, and even if i say that, it might be, but you don’t exactly look like a horticultural major. what are you majoring in,” you’ve not looked up from the plant you’re caring for.

“i’m an art major,” he spits out.

you pause your movements and look up to the window for a moment, relaxed smile on your face.

“funny,” you shrug and go back to your task, “i don’t think i’ve ever painted before.”

he relaxes his tense shoulders, shock written all over his pretty face, “you’ve never painted?!”

“nope.”

“what about when you were a kid?”

“no, my parents didn’t approve of messes along with anything that wasn’t proven to meet their standards,” your bottom lip juts out from concentration.

“i see,” he hums, but he really doesn’t. his mother’s always been so supportive of him and whatever he’s chose to do with his life, and still he treated her horribly when he was younger.

“what’s this project even about,” he asks, walking closer to observe your craft.

“sasha and i have to try and grow strawberries on their own... it may not seem too difficult, but strawberries are an absolute pain to maintain care for,” you sigh with disappointment, “but i’m not working on that for right now, i’m just planting for now.”

“what are you planting?” jean’s sure that you’re becoming annoyed with him and all of the questions he’s asking.

you smile a bit, “lilac.”

jean can’t see exactly how that makes you happy or flustered, but considering you’re the expert and he isn’t, he’s not gonna ask. he goes to open his mouth once more, but the greenhouse door creaking open interrupts him.

“sorry jean! there was this long line in the girl’s bathroom,” sasha blurts as she shuffles into the room and shakes the rain off of her shoes.

“it’s fine, don’t worry,” he holds up a hand snd shakes his head.

“oh! (name), you’re still here,” she asks whenever she steps closer.

“yea, just felt like gardening,” you place the pot down gently and look up to her from your place on the floor.

“what’re you plantin’?”

“lilac,” jean answers for her and is once again struck by confusion whenever sasha’s cheeks light up as a smile stretches across her face.

he looks back to you to find you glaring at sasha with a secret knowledge.

“what? what’s so weird about it,” he asks, looking between you two.

“nothing nothing, jeanie boy! c’mon, i want a burger,” she giggles as she waves her hand up and down, turning around to go out of the door.

“didn’t niccolo feed you earlier,” he scoffs, following behind.

“yeah! he made me lobster. anyways, bye (name)!” she grins as she opens the door after taking jean’s umbrella.

jean fusses over her lack of care as he snatches his umbrella back from her and puts it over the both of them. briefly, his mind wonders back to you.

————

next time jean sees you, you’re looking quite frustrated and upset as you shovel dirt into a an empty pot. sasha is, once again, going to the bathroom in the building over.

“are you alright,” he’s hesitant.

you jump up, not even noticing him once he’d walked in. you relax while you sigh, eyebrows bunching up in frustration.

“i’m okay,” it seems you’re telling yourself this more than you tell jean, “my parents are just being upsetting.”

jean gets a text from sasha, telling him that she’s going to go to the bathroom in the main building since the line was too long. he doesn’t care for some reason, instead taking a seat beside you on the ground.

“wanna talk about it,” he asks, his body warm next to your’s.

you sigh for the umpteenth time, “we’ve only met once and i’d feel as if i would be dumping this onto you.”

“i don’t mind. if you don’t want to speak about it, i won’t force you,” he shrugs.

“well,” you start with reluctance, “my family’s always been judgmental of how i should be allowed to spend my time. not only that, but careers, interests, and friends.”

“and i assume they’ve said something about your major,” he assumes, slightly sad as you nod.

“bingo. they don’t think it’s sophisticated enough for me, but i’m not too sophisticated myself. i’m barely an adult, i’ve just turned 19. why they won’t let me be a kid is beyond me,” you gently lay the seed into the soil of the pot.

“i’ve never had this issue, so i can’t say that i completely understand or that what i say will help. however, good parents shouldn’t treat their child like that. you’re your own person, they shouldn’t be trying to limit you and your experiences. it’s not fair to you,” he says, “you’re parents are ignorant.”

you stifle a laugh, “thank you, jean. i appreciate it, genuinely.”

his cheeks flush as he nods, telling you that it was just something a friend would do for another.

“what’s your instagram,” you ask, swiftly pulling your phone from your pocket and pulling up the app.

he tells you nervously, three dings emitting from his phone in his pocket. one follow, one like, and one message.

jean finds himself texting you at nine pm.

————

jean finds himself giddy a few months later. he’s talked to you nonstop ever since he’s gotten your instagram, easily falling for you as he learns more about you.

he’s teaching you how to paint today. or, not really teach, but just helping you get started.

he sits on his couch while he waits, opting to watch some k-drama that connie recommend to him. he tells you that you can just walk in since the door’s unlocked, but jean has a feeling you would’ve just walked in anyways.

he hugs you excitedly whenever you walk in, leading you over to one of the easel and canvases he’s set up for you. he looks at your outfit.

“you’re wearing that?” he asks, not really thinking before he speaks.

“yea...? gotta problem with it,” you’re immediately defensive, and it has jean bouncing back with realization.

“oh my god, i meant you’re wearing that to paint? you’re outfit looks good on you! it’s cute! n-not to say that you’re cute or anything! er—i don’t mean that you’re not cute!” jean flushes, “i am... going to stop talking..”

you giggle at him, “it’s okay jean, i know what you mean.”

“o-okay,” he relaxes, “do you need to borrow any clothes? i don’t want your shirt to get dirtied.”

“just a shirt, your pants wouldn’t fit me,” you ask while you untuck your loose white button up from your jeans.

he scurries off to find you a shirt, slapping himself on the forehead in embarrassment. he grabs you a light grey shirt with paint splotches scattered on it, which he’s once painted a mural in.

he turns his back to you whenever he gives you the shirt, instead focusing on the collection of painting supplies he’s set out on his work tray. he’s chosen acrylics for you, claiming that they’re the easiest to do if you’re a beginner. you have a feeling that he’s lying, especially since he’s an art major.

“are we painting anything specific,” you ask and sit down on the stool provided for you.

“actually, i was thinking of letting you choose. maybe some flowers or plants since they help you relax,” he contemplates aloud, hand pressed to his chin.

“let’s paint a sunflower,” you say reluctantly, “they should be easy enough to paint.”

he nods, starting put small spurts of paint onto his pallet. you mimic his actions, carefully stroking the canvas with your paintbrush.

“relax your shoulders,” he suggests, noticing just how stiff you are, “if you’re too stiff then the painting will be too. this is about relaxing.”

“i just don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“hey, like bob ross always says; there are no mistakes, just happy accidents,” jean gives a lazy smile as he continues to paint.

you laugh at him, finally relaxing your body and brushing the brush across the canvas. you both chat absentmindedly as you paint, finding comfort in one another’s voice and movements. you’re both playing 20 questions, if you can call a conversation that.

“the most embarrassing thing... probably walking in on my friends having sex,” he briefly remembers his friend, bertholdt, on top of reiner, “it’s how they came out to me.”

you cackle, “oh my god!! they must’ve been mortified!!”

“they were, i felt so bad for walking in on them. now, it’s a funny joke since they’re both out to everyone,” he snickers, “now, where’s your favorite place on earth that you’ve been to?”

“a amusement park over in marley. snuck off with my first ever boyfriend there,” you stroke your brush once more, “or maybe the swimming pool in my parents house. anywhere that i can feel weightless.”

he hums in acknowledgment, “mine’s out in the forest probably. i like it quiet.”

“quiet is always nice. so, jean, have you ever had a girlfriend,” you laugh at jean’s face scrunch up from a childish question.

“yeah, i’ve had one. it went really well at first but it turns out that she likes girls. it hurt at first, cause i loved her, but i got over it. i’ve got no hard feelings against her, she can’t help liking girls. her and i are just really close friends now,” he has a fond smile on his face as he thinks of mikasa.

“i’m glad the two of you are still friends, and i’m sure that she appreciates your kindness to her,” you reciprocate a smile.

“me too. anyways, since you want to dive into my love life, let’s dive into your’s. have you ever been in love?”

you face heats up while you pause your movements, “y-yeah. not until recently though.”

jean’s eyes widen as his own cheeks flush a bright red, and for once he prays.

he prays that it’s him you’re in love with.

————

a month later and you still have the painting of a sunflower that jean did. it makes you embarrassed every time you look at it, even though jean didn’t know the meaning behind the flower.

you sit on the floor of the greenhouse, ignoring how the rain thumps gently on the glass roof. jean’s sitting beside you, leaning all of his weight on your body, which makes you laugh.

“you never told me what you’re planting,” he points out while adding more of his weight onto you.

you laugh while you shove him off of you, “i can’t with you on me like that.”

“well, now i’m not on you so,” he grins cockily, and you want to smack it off of him.

“okay, okay! i’m planting a primrose,” you say while you gently plant a seed into the soil.

“what’s the occasion?”

“what do you mean,” you raise a questioning eyebrow.

“my dad always got my mom those flowers on valentine’s day or for their anniversary. now, my mom puts them on his grave. it means ‘i can’t live without you’ or symbolizes young love,” he explains, “who’re they for?”

embarrassment hits you like truck. you were planting these for jean. whenever they were blooming, you were going to give them to him. thank god you didn’t.

you laugh nervously, “no one! i just felt like planting them! they’re pretty flowers.”

“whatever you say,” jean shrugs, heart tingling with pain.

whenever the flowers had bloomed, you stood at jean’s doorstep with the pot in your hands. your cheeks were hot as you stared at your feet, hoping to god that jean felt the same way towards you.

when jean opens his door, he doesn’t expect to see you holding the potted plant. you’d told him that it wasn’t for anyone and it wasn’t for him, so why’d you have it. did you want him to take care of it or something?

“for you,” you stumble over your words a bit while you thrust the pot against his chest.

it’s his turn to be embarrassed, these are for him! the flower is so pretty, full bloom and showing itself off towards the sun. jean hurries to place the pot on his living room coffee table, then he pounces.

his arms wrap around you and hold you close, his face is emitting a heat when he pulls away to look at you.

“me too,” you look at him confused, “i love you too.”

you feel like crying, for some reason this means the absolute world to you. you wrap your arms around his neck, not able to hold back the tears forming in your eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner,” he laughs while squeezing you tight.

“i did,” your laughter is muffled until he pulls away.

“when?”

“since we met. granted, i didn’t expect to meet you that day. lilac means the start of a new love. and then i told you again when you painted the sunflower again. sunflowers mean pure love,” you wipe away tears as jean pulls you inside his house by your hand.

“i’m such an idiot,” he smacks a palm to his forehead, “that’s what you and sasha were laughing about when we met, wasn’t it?”

“yea,” you watch him lead you to his bedroom, somewhere that you’ve been to on many occasions.

he crawls into bed beside you, pulling you closer to him—if it were even possible. he’s littering your face with soft kisses that tickle your skin and make you giggle.

“what are you doing?!”

“i’ve been wanting to do this since i’ve met you, give me a break,” he mumbles against your skin, lips finally making contact with your’s.

the kiss is sweet like candy, and you almost can’t take it. you deepen the kiss without hesitation, surprising jean, who obviously reciprocates. you whimper against jean’s mouth whenever you grant him access to explore your own.

he pulls away, a shy look in his eyes that tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“yes, jean. as long as you’re gentle,” you put a hand on top his cheek, stroking it gently.

he smiles before asking his next question shyly, “could we... do a different position? one that isn’t missionary.”

“jean, i’ve only had sex a few times. all were in missionary and were hookups. as long as it’s with you, i don’t mind what we do,” you reassure, scooting closer to him.

he’s surprised that his face doesn’t burst into flames, at this point.

“okay... could you... turn around,” your face twists into confusion, “you’ll find out.”

it sounds ominous, but since it’s jean, you don’t mind. you turn your back to him, shivering whenever his lips kiss at the nape of your neck. his chest presses against your back and he slips one of his arms under the arm against the bed.

his lips bite on your neck while his hands sliver their way up to your boobs. you sit up for a moment, pulling the loose shirt you were wearing off of your body. you shimmy your pants off while you’re at it, easily flopping back into jean’s arms.

god, he’s so close to fainting just from seeing you without clothes. especially when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra.

his hands grope at your chest, rolling your nipples through his nimble fingers. you whimper shyly, hand coming up to grab at his own.

“cute,” he smiles whenever you look over your shoulder, the same hand drifting from your tit to the waistline of your panties.

his hand reaches inside your hand plain underwear as you willingly spread your legs open, something you’re secretly embarrassed about, but you decide to ignore it anyways. with hesitance, his fingertip comes in contact with your clit. you flinch at the contact and let out a gasp, once again squeezing at his hand.

“spread your legs wider for me, love,” he murmurs in your ear, nudging his wrist against your thigh.

you oblige silently, hooking your foot around the back of jean’s knee.

“good girl,” he smiles, two fingers gently pressing against your clit after he’s wet them with his spit.

you moan out whenever jean starts rubbing lazy circles into your clit and his other hand gropes at your tit. your hips buck forward on instinct, which has you biting your lip from embarrassment.

“can you try to keep your hips still for me,” he kisses at your earlobe, stubble scratching against your neck.

you nod to him, even if you both know that you won’t uphold that promise.

whenever his fingers move up a speed, so does the volume of your moans.

“jean,” you whimper, “i’m gonna cum.”

“it’s okay, you’ve been so good for me, my pretty girl. go ahead and cum,” he smiles against your skin, once again speeding up his tempo.

your nails are biting into his wrist as your hips start to buck almost uncontrollably. your head is thrown back while you open your mouth in a silent scream and your eyes roll back. jean slows his pace, helping you ride out your orgasm.

his smile stretches wider when he holds his fingers up to the light, admiring how the digits glistened in against the early morning sun peeking through the curtains. he also manages to take off your panties.

he puts the two fingers in your mouth once he’s done admiring them, cooing praises in your ear. a string of salvia is connect to his fingertips whenever he pulls them out of your mouth, making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles and reaches his warm hand back down to your wet cunt.

you gasp at the coldness of your spit coming into contact with your heated entrance. his fingers enter you slowly and cautiously and it takes your breath away.

“you’re so tight,” still smiling, “when’s the last time you’ve gotten laid, pretty girl?”

“f-fuck... maybe like... six months ago,” you pant like a dog in heat.

“it’s good thing you’ve got me now, huh? gonna take care of you now.”

you’re squeezing your pretty eyes closed while you adjust to the feeling of two fingers inside of you. jean feels himself memorizes the look on your face in his brain whenever he gives a shallow thrust with his fingers. you wiggle your hips a bit, whining out for jean to give you more.

he does exactly that.

he starts to finger you slowly, eventually speeding up the speed as you get more and more used to the feeling. his fingers curl against your sweet spot that has you bucking your hips once again.

“there! there,” you buck again when he continues to brush over it.

angling his fingers just right, he starts to thrust and curl his fingers inside of you at the perfect speed.

“fuck! fuck! fuck!” you gasp whenever your toes start to curl.

“are you gonna cum again? it’s okay. go ahead and cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he reassures while pecking at your neck lazily.

you come once again after a few seconds pass, legs shaking when jean doesn’t slow down his speed.

“can’t...! i can’t cum again,” you whimper while arching your back against jeans torso.

“i know you can,” he whispers, “gotta prepare you for my cock, remember?”

his filthy words make you mewl as you feel yourself already approaching another orgasm quickly. you scream whenever you orgasm again, hips jerking back and forth wildly as his other hand starts rubbing on your puffy little clit.

you’re crying from the intensity. you’re sure that if you’d be able to take all of this if you had fucked anyone these past six months.

instead of slowing down, jean actually speeds up his movements again. you know that you’re mascara might be smearing, you can’t remember if it’s waterproof, tear proof—what the fuck ever.

your legs convulse when jean manages to work you up to another mind blowing orgasm. but this time, you squirt all over jean’s hand and the insides of your plump thighs.

“there we go,” he praises, “that’s what i needed.”

he’s finally slowing his fingers down, and you wonder if they’re aching at the moment.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you babble as your nails scratch at his wrist.

“such a sweet girl, thanking me when i haven’t even trained you.”

your chest is heaving up and down while jean pulls his cock out of his pants, a moment’s rest.

you gulp whenever you see his dick. you didn’t believe sasha’s jokes whenever she said jean not only had a horse face but also a horse cock. how she knew, you didn’t ask, but either way she was right. you’d have to apologize to sasha for not heeding her warnings after this.

“don’t be scared, love. i’ll take care of you,” he comforts you while pulling your leg up a bit.

his fingers squeeze at the soft flesh that’s the back of your thigh, instructing you on how to insert himself in your tight little pussy.

after guiding jean’s cock in you, you sob out from just how much he fills you up already. you don’t take a pause, too eager to feel jean inside of you.

noticing this, jean hooks his arm around your thigh and grabs your hand. the angle has his hitting spots that he hadn’t before, pussy fluttering around his cock in effect.

“be patient,” he demands in a soft tone, his hand guiding your own, “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“don’t care, need you so bad,” you sniffle and wiggle your hips once more, ignoring the slight burn.

sighing, jean carefully thrusts the rest of his cock inside of you. you sob out in both pleasure and pain, hand now going back to scratching at his wrist.

“i told you, sweet girl,” you look at him from over your shoulder, “you gotta listen to me.”

“‘m sorry,” you whimper while jean kisses away a tear.

“t’s okay, now just wait until your comfortable,” he advises, unhooking his arm from your thigh and holding it with his hand.

it takes a minute or two, but jean is nothing but attentive during this. thumb stroking your thigh, lips kissing your neck and cheek, whispering quietly in your ear that you’re doing so well.

when you’re ready, he thrusts into you softly. he doesn’t want to hurt you, even when his dick hurts from not cumming. after seeing you’re alright with it, he thrusts more vigorously. with your skin slapping against one another’s tenderly and tits bouncing jean is groaning in your ear.

the hand not holding your thigh holds onto your boob, pinching your nipple and then rolling it in between his fingers again. the kisses he’s pressing against your shoulder feels so hot and sweet against your sweaty skin.

your whines and moans are so cute, begging for jean to cum at the same time you do and for him to come inside.

“you want my cum in you,” he pants, “anything you want since you’ve asked so nicely.”

he speeds his hips up just a bit, guttural groans coming from his throat as your pussy grips him like a vise.

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you’re mewling almost makes jean black out.

“i’m right behind you, go ahead, love,” his eyebrows bunch together as he nears his orgasm.

after two more thrusts, the both of you are coming. jean’s groans are surprisingly starting to turn into soft moans, which is something you’ll try to get out of him another time.

after you both come down from your high, jean’s pulling his softening dick out of you. he lays on his backside, pulling your weak body on top of his chest with ease.

“love you,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“primrose love,” you smile goofily at him.

“primrose love.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

care less, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, implied taehyung x reader

summary: There are countless partings in this world. People come in and out of your life, impacts large and small. But there is one where you could care less. You really could. And that’s Min Yoongi, your high school ex-boyfriend, the one who took something from you and promptly disappeared, only to come back with a furious declaration, on the night you’re supposed to teach Kim Taehyung how to eat pussy.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; mentions of slut shaming; reader is pansexual; rough angsty smut (fem reader, slight dom/sub themes, m-receiving oral, overstimulation, hair-pulling, cowgirl); regrets everywhere; non-idol!AU; exes-to-lovers; pianist, softsub!Yoongi

inspired by “I get mad when I see you, and even madder when I don't”, wet-haired Yoongi in Run BTS! 131, ONEWE’s song ‘소행성 (Parting)’, and you’re probably wondering how these things go together. 

–

"How do you eat a girl out?"

"I... what?"

"How," Kim Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable with his impossibly deep voice. "Do you eat a girl out?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Taehyung raised his eyebrows. "Because you've hooked up with tons of girls. You must have eaten out at least one of them." You blinked at him as he continued. "I figure you have a unique perspective because you're a girl whose probably been eaten out and whose eaten out other girls."

You put down your spicy chicken. "Is this why you offered to buy me lunch?"

Taehyung's giant brown eyes shifted around uncomfortably. "Look," he said in a hushed tone. "I took this girl on a nice date and then it got to the spicy bit–"

"Leading her on, yes, yes, continue."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you but ignored your comment, barreling on. "And she asked me to eat her out, but I didn't know what I was doing."

"An absolute tragedy for sex god Kim Taehyung," you mocked. He growled and threw one of his chicken bones in your direction as you laughed. 

"Oi, this is serious!"

You kept cracking up, taking a bite of spicy crispy meat. "Yes, seriously funny." He kept glaring at you, so you relented a little. "She didn't ask for the dick like everyone else?"

Taehyung pouted. "Well, she did, after I spent twenty minutes doing what she called, basically nothing," he scowled. 

You shrugged. "Then you redeemed yourself, so what's the problem?"

Taehyung crouched over the table, stabbing your plastic tray. "The problem is, she's gonna tell other girls I can't eat pussy."

"Nah, she won't," you chewed, relishing the spiciness of the chicken. "She'll be too busy daydreaming about your giant dick."

Taehyung frowned, obviously not believing you. You casually are another piece of chicken, watching him contemplating. He was wearing cream slacks and a beige sweater, casually handsome with his dark brown hair, long enough to curl around his eyebrows. His fried chicken was already demolished into bones. He always got his not spicy. 

You never understood that. 

"Why didn't you ask me to eat you out?"

You shrugged. "We were only hooking up. I wanted to sit on your dick like everyone else."

"Teach me."

Your fingers were turning bright red with the crispy breading on the meat. You could feel the tingle of the spice on your puffy lips and throat, a measured fire burning. You didn’t bother to reach for your drink. Better to lull in the fire for a bit.

"Taehyung, it's just practice."

"Then let me practice on you."

You sucked out a bit of chicken from your teeth as you gave him a disbelieving look. "Thought your policy was to never fuck twice?"

He shrugged. "Not technically a fuck? Besides, you're the Sex Teacher," he added with a snicker.

You rolled your eyes. "Ugh, don't call me that. Some dudes started calling me that just because I took some guy's virginity."

"You've probably taken several virginities with your track record."

"Speak for yourself."

"Do you or do you not know how to eat a girl out?" Taehyung asked, brown eyes boring into you.

You picked up the toothpick the restaurant had provided you and stuck it between your teeth. Brushed the crumbs off your flannel dress and picked up your tray, standing up. 

"'Course I do."

-

Thus, you were now in your apartment with Kim Taehyung, several days later, wondering why you agreed to this nonsense. 

"Do I just whip off your pants or what?"

You rolled your eyes, keeping a firm grip on your gray sweatpants. He had arrived in a long black coat and brown turtleneck, black billowy slacks. Kicked his shoes off and presented you with said question.

"What do I get out of this?" you grumbled, turning around and heading into your apartment, shivering a little because of your loose white t-shirt that you had cut in half ages ago, turning it into a crop top. It had a stain at the bottom, so what better way to fix it than chop it off? Still, you should have opened the front door with your hoodie on, but it would warm up soon with the door now closed. 

"What do you what? Money?"

"I'm not a prostitute, Taehyung," you muttered. "Even if you think I am."

"I don't," Taehyung said coolly. "But money happens to buy things, so maybe you want some to buy something for yourself."

You pursed your lips, grabbing your mint thermos of warm water. It was a bit weird, but you preferred warm water over most drinks, except soda. But you couldn't be binging on soda all day, unfortunately, so you tried not to buy it and stuck with the water. Kept you from getting diabetes. Damn you, weak human body!

"Nice nips."

You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip. You weren't wearing a bra. Your hard nipples were poking through the t-shirt thanks to the cold.

"Are they distracting your fragile mind?"

Taehyung smiled, dark curls around his teasing brown eyes. "No, I'm simply appreciating them. A lot."

You looked down. Taehyung opened his coat. You sucked in the side of your lip, seeing his bulge. Maybe he was too chill with you now. Ever since you two realized your sex partners overlapped, a strange friendship developed. You’d talk about it casually with him, as if you two were discussing Pokémon trading cards instead of one-night stands. He would advise you against so-and-so and you would warn him about who-the-fuck-ever. Of course, you two only figured that out after you sat on his dick, but, hey, it was a nice dick. Lived up to the hype.

Unlike Taehyung, you didn't really have any weird rules when it came to hooking up. You went with the flow, and if you were feeling it, then you did it. Didn't really matter who it was, what gender, if they wanted to be upside down on a park bench as you sucked their balls and they jacked off into their own face (happened once, was kind of interesting to be honest). Taehyung, however, had some kind of conquest thing going on, numbers and all that, and needed everyone to know he was good at it. Insanely good. Mind-blowingly good. 

Taehyung closed his coat, tilting his head. "Whatchu want then? Not another fuck. Something else."

Your doorbell rang. 

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you muttered, slamming your thermos down and marching to the door. "What is this, a fucking zoo, I swear–"

You wrenched the door open. 

"Fuck you."

Slightly slurred, husky, deep. 

Okay, well, yeah, sure, after I teach Taehyung how to–

The black head of hair raised and your thought disintegrated into pure shock.

"I get mad when I see you," the man growled. "And even madder when I don't."

He was holding a half-full bottle of soju.

"I... what?" was your incredibly weak reply, because you were staring at the hunched form of Min Yoongi. Black hair longer than the last time you saw him, styled over a clean undercut, wearing a torn-up black bomber jacket and a green t-shirt, acid-wash jeans with giant holes, revealing his pink, slightly bruised knees. He was breathing hard, glaring at you. 

Accusing you. 

Suddenly the years without him felt like an eternity.

"Hyung?!"

Oh right. Taehyung existed. 

But you couldn't react, couldn't breathe, starstruck, awestruck, dumbstruck at seeing Min Yoongi at your doorstep. Yoongi cocked at eyebrow, looking past you, and Taehyung's body was suddenly pressed against your back, reminding you, yes, he was real, actually there, why was he there again? What was life?

"Hyung, holy shit! I haven't seen you in ages, since..." Taehyung's voice suddenly died, baritone vanishing into nothing. 

"Why the fuck is he here?" Yoongi grunted.

"I... was going to ask her to–"

"He was leaving," you interrupted, shoving Taehyung from behind you to in front of you. "Taking his coat and leaving."

"What?" Taehyung sputtered, brown eyes wide, confused, blinking rapidly. "Hyung, why do you have a bottle of soju–"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, very loudly. 

"Forget this."

He turned, but Taehyung grabbed his arm. 

Not you.

Taehyung stopped Yoongi. 

The world was so cold. Your arm outstretched but touching nothing, because Taehyung was faster, Taehyung was closer, and you were so very far away from Min Yoongi. Yoongi turned his head slowly, venom in his gaze. 

"Hyung."

Yoongi's eyes locked with yours, making you breathless. 

"I don't understand," Taehyung said quietly. "What's going on? I thought you didn't care about her."

Those cat-like eyes narrowed, expression cold and emotionless. "Is that what you told them?"

It was airless and then the world burst into flames.

"You didn't tell me until the last day," you hissed, curling your hands into fists, voice rising. "You told all your friends, but you didn't tell me until the last day, not until the very last second before you flew to fucking Europe to go to university for that fucking music program!"

Taehyung's eyes widened. "Y-You said she didn't care..."

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi," you snarled, every muscle in your arms tensing, remembering all the moments, the gentleness that turned to coldness, the last night and what he took from you, turning into years and years of not caring about anything, fucking everything in sight, anyone who said yes, trying to forget his kiss and his memory before he got on a fucking plane and flew time zones away, never trying to contact you after. 

"Fuck you for thinking you can be angry at me for any reason at all, fuck you for thinking I did anything, fucking anything, to deserve that shit, taking my fucking virginity and leaving me!"

"I didn't take your virginity," Yoongi spat back, spinning around, hair bristling. "You lost it to that–"

"Maybe you should have fucking asked me instead of believing stupid fucking rumors!"

The human body was useless, but also driven by emotion, and you didn't even feel cold anymore, years of anger piled up, rumors that you were a whore, so you became that whore, owning it, doing it all, because why did it fucking matter when everyone already thought that? Sex Teacher they called you and your first teacher was standing in front of you, completely clueless. 

Fucking idiot.

Yoongi glared at you. You glared back. 

Taehyung stood there, gawking.

Yoongi's eyes dropped. He shoved the half-empty bottle of soju into Taehyung's arms and pushed Taehyung aside, Taehyung flailing to prevent dropping the glass bottle, and closed the distance between you and him, and now you could see, older, more tired, still handsome, still the same dreamer from years ago who traced your fingers and placed them on the keys, slowly helping you play the notes even though you didn’t know jack shit, and you enthralled with his smile, his laugh, his dream of becoming a world-renowned pianist.

Yoongi grabbed your face and kissed you. 

The first was the scent of alcohol, a subtle sweetness on his lips, but alcohol nonetheless. The second was the softness, the faint flush of his cheeks paired with his lips on yours, dainty despite the strength in grip on your cheeks. The third. 

Heat.

The years-old iceberg of 'I-don't-give-a-shit' melting faster than the polar ice caps, sheets and sheets of ice crashing into the sea of emotions, youth and stubbornness combined, melted in his kiss, you grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him in your apartment, Taehyung calling after you both.

"Um, guys? Hello?"

"Go drinking Taehyung," Yoongi growled and slammed the door. 

-

Taehyung held the half-bottle of soju.

What now?

What about his reputation?

He frowned. 

Maybe he should call up Park Jimin. 

Taehyung took a sip of the soju as he walked away. He made a disgusted face. Ugh. Why did hyung like such strong shit? The flavor was unique and rich, but his throat felt like a layer of skin was being sloughed off.

One would only drink something like this if they were depressed. 

Oh.

-

"Your reputation precedes you."

"Fuck off."

"You became quite a woman."

"And you're still an insensitive shit."

You yanked his jacket off and dumped it on the floor, fists back in his green shirt, biting his lip, kissing him hard, him gasping in your mouth, his hands on your breasts, kneading them through the t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your hard nipples, sparks of pleasure crackling through you. 

"I was trying to protect you," Yoongi snarled, just as angry as you, both frustrated at time lost, both knowing it was for the best, both realizing that his misunderstanding and your reaction was just shitty communication of stubborn youth and time past that couldn't reset.

But still. 

Anger doesn't care about reason. 

"Protect me, my ass," you scowled, dragging him into your kitchen, pinning him against the counter. "What do you think I am, emotional fragility queen?"

"You wouldn't have cared?" he shot back, gripping your shirt and flinging it up, sucking in a breath as he revealed your tits. 

"Obviously! Why would I spend years being a slut to forget about your stupid hands?" you scowled, grabbing his wrists, planting said hands on your breasts, shuddering at the cold touch, chilled by night air, not exactly the same hands as back then, but better, rougher, strength of a man and not a high school boy, thumb and index finger rolling your hard nipples. Once again, fistfuls of his shirt, shaking him aggressively through heavy breaths. "You and your stupid mouth."

Kissing him, not the same, but better, stronger, more intense, stained with alcohol and regrets, devouring your tongue hungrily, intertwining.

"It would have ended the same," Yoongi murmured, the hurt creeping in his grating voice. 

It would have. 

And that was the shittest bit.

Knowing that even if he told you earlier that it would hurt no less, knowing that you would have gone and fucked other people anyway, because even if you tried to make it long distance, it wouldn't have worked. Some people could do it, but not young you and young Yoongi, too immature to know the meaning of wait.

"Still gives you no right to believe the words of others instead of asking me outright," you muttered, bending him backwards on the counter with your weight and he was letting you do it, hands still glued to your tits. "Why would believe that shit?"

"Because it was easier to leave you that way," Yoongi admitted, shame flitting in his dark eyes. 

"Fucking shit, you're an idiot."

You already knew that. Guessed, after years of agonizing over it. Easier to be angry than understanding. Easier to feel pain than to acknowledge it. What could you do? Tell him not to go to Europe? Not when his parents, his family, his friends, his neighbors, fuck, the whole damn school was ecstatic and congratulatory for him, everyone except you, not because you didn’t want Yoongi to follow his dreams, but because you wanted him to stay.

With you.

Selfishly.

And so, it was so much easier to be mad, so much easier for the two of you to fight until he tumbled on top of you, kissing you, tearing off your clothes as you tore off his and the first time hurt, it hurt but not as much as you thought, maybe because there was so much adrenaline from the anger and because he was so careful and loving about it.

He really was.

And there was pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain you felt the next day and the day after, and the next month, years, numbing everything, agreeing to really stupid propositions like the thing with Taehyung, all because you knew and he knew, but you both chose to be mad over being reasonable.

You hauled Yoongi up onto your kitchen counter, him kicking the side of the cabinets to lift himself up, not speaking. One look in his eyes and you saw yourself reflected in them, so close to tears that you kept your mouth shut and he kept his shut, preferring the anger to the sadness.

Because deep down, you were so, so happy to see Yoongi again.

It didn’t discount any of the wrongs though.

You fumbled with the button of his jeans and his hands came to help, unzipping, fingertips tracing over yours, more agile than before, swifter than an amateur. You raised your head, locking your gaze with his.

Yoongi was panting, cheeks flushed, guilt consuming his features.

It stung.

You yanked his pants down unceremoniously, not caring right now about stupid young you and stupid young Yoongi, gripping his underwear and dragging them down, his hard cock springing up, bigger than you remembered, thicker, red tip twitching, still wanting it just as bad, not looking at his face and closing your mouth in on it, gripping his hips and pulling him closer for better leverage. His scent and moan encompassed you, your eyes shutting as your tongue circled around his hot length, swallowing it up, oh so good, so good, better than anyone else’s because it was the one you tried to forget, entranced by the way Yoongi’s cock slid down your throat and filled your mouth, hearing his ecstasy from your touch, gasps of pleasure as you began to bob your head up and down, tongue going from the bottom of the head, down the quivering veins, all the way to the base, nudging his balls with the tip of your tongue, a skill you learned from many, many blowjobs.

You opened your eyes and you knew your guilt was in them. Yoongi could see it with every mouthful of his cock disappearing into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated, empathizing.

“Yeah, so what if we’ve fucked other people?” he grunted, rolling his hips into your face and making you growl in your chest. “I could care less.”

Yeah, you could, and me too.

Faster and tighter, suffocating him with your mouth, hands flat on the counter, blowing him at the same spot you were eating a fucking salad two hours ago before Taehyung’s arrival and contemplating tongue techniques, back when your iceberg of uncaring was still intact but now it was part of the ocean of emotions once more, watching Yoongi unravel, rubbing his fists into the granite, crying out and arching his back, black hair fanning out with every harsh swallow and throat clench around the head, leaking pre-cum into your throat and throbbing into the roof of your mouth.

“F-Fuck me…”

He hissed out your name and snapped his chin to his chest, thrusting into your mouth, exploding, salty thickness coating your tongue and down your tight throat, you gulping it down with a choked gasp, his taste a part of you now after all this time, an edge of bitterness that you welcomed, who knew what the fuck he was eating before this, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, you had Yoongi’s cock in your mouth and every second was worth it.

Your tongue coated the head, collecting the dribbling cum and you swallowed that too, glaring at him. Lowering down once more, swallowing him to the base once again, him sucking in a pained breath at the sensitivity because your throat was unforgiving, constricting him as forcefully as you could, tongue sliding up, teasing right under the head, the thin skin that make Yoongi squirm and hiss under you, spreading the slit with the tip of your tongue. Yoongi slapped his palms onto the counter, clenching his jaw to avoid screaming.

But he didn’t stop you.

He simply watched you with pained eyes, letting you do whatever you wanted, thrashing under your merciless mouth, rutting the sensitive head against the roof of your mouth roughly, his body thrashing to try to get away, but still Yoongi said nothing, thin moans escaping his closed lips, even twisting his hips back and rocking them into your face to let you abuse him more, manhandling him to your heart’s content. You kept going, long agonizing minutes, strongly sucking the head, shoving it all the way to the back of your throat, teasing it with your tongue, swirling around and around, pressure, roughness, tightness, aggravating the sensitive skin until you saw Yoongi on the verge of tears.

He still didn’t stop you.

You retreated, your lips now only around the head, tongue ghosting over the pulsating, inflamed tip, drenching it with saliva.

“You deserved that,” you muttered.

“I deserve a lot of things,” Yoongi grunted, finally relaxing his shoulders and laying flat against the counter, panting hard, cheeks still flushed, staring at the ceiling.

Neither of you were saying sorry.

You gave him one last painful suck and he swore under his breath, but didn’t say anything else, biting his lip hard as you popped your mouth off his cock. For a few moments, there was nothing but oppressive, irate panting. Yoongi’s dick was still hard and sticking straight up, he himself spread out on your kitchen counter like a fucking buffet, still wearing his shirt and half-wearing his jeans. You were shirtless, tits out, gray sweatpants slung low on your hips.

“When are you going back?”

Yoongi was still staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t know.”

“Liar.”

Dark eyes flickered down.

“If you asked me five minutes ago, the answer would have been in two weeks.”

Your eyes narrowed, boring into his. “How many blowjobs have you gotten overseas, huh? One hundred? Five hundred?” Frustration, grief, vehemence, all rolled into one, turning your voice into ice, sheets of frozen water churning and reforming, snapping together one by one with each word, your hands coming up and digging your nails into his thighs, racking them down, bright red scratches in your wake. “How many people have you fucked? Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Yoongi?”

He gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut, fingers curling onto fists at the pain.

“I really thought you didn’t care,” was his distressed hiss.

You stopped; nails sunk into his pale skin, creating dark crescents with how hard you were pressing.

“I thought you would hate me forever.”

Your hands left his thighs, glaring scarlet lines of your pain on his skin now.

“And I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.”

His fingers uncoiled, one by one. Long, deft digits, practiced, trained, beautiful, crescents of pink from his own nails in his palm. Eyes opening, lash by lash, lifting, dark, pained, regretful, drifting down to you and his exposed, still-hard cock, just there, ignored, surrounded by scratch marks.

“I was mad that you didn’t try to contact me,” Yoongi mumbled. “And madder at myself for not trying to contact you.”

Ice cracking, melting off, crashing back down into the vast ocean of emotion.

You reached into your pocket.

Your name, tumbling from his lips, his eyes shifting to you.

“In between countless partings, the one I always remembered was you.”

You climbed onto the counter, sweatpants and underwear on the floor. Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock, so stunned that he couldn’t stop staring at you, knees, thighs, crotch – clean, you were always clean-shaven, but he didn’t know that, a habit you developed without him and now you felt weird with hair down there – and so he could see everything, wet lips glistening. Up to your waist, a pattern of small moles above your bellybutton that high-school Yoongi had danced his fingers over.

Saying, “My Milky Way, my galaxy.”

This was after you called him an insensitive bastard and he accused you of losing your virginity to some athletic jock kid, as if high-school you would ever have a chance with someone like that.

Up your tits, your collarbones, your face.

Determined.

Yoongi jumped, realizing you had wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped it a few times before rolling down the condom, angling your pussy above the purple-red head. He made eye contact with you.

“I can’t go back if you do this,” he whispered.

“Boo-fucking-hoo, shut your trap.”

You sank down and he clamped his jaw shut, veins on his neck popping out in strain as Yoongi tried not to cry, your previous ministrations amplifying the sudden hot, wet pleasure that overwhelmed him, you sighing in bliss as he filled you, nicer than before, better because you knew what to do now, relaxing your muscles before pulsing around him, his eyelids fluttering, whines in his throat, palms flat on the granite, such beautiful hands that you reached down and put them on your thighs, wanting him to touch you.

Dark brown eyes shaking, pupils dilated, fingernails digging into your skin.

“Isn’t that what you do? Use your hands all day?” you taunted.

He gripped your thighs tight, apology flashing across his features.

“You better not cum before I do,” you snapped, rocking your hips a little.

Yoongi sucked in a breath. “I’ll try.”

You leaned forward, one hand on the counter, the other closing in on his black hair. Twisting the black locks in your fingers, gripping so hard your knuckles were white, but you weren’t pulling on his hair, only holding it, but your eyes told him everything.

“You fucking owe me.”

Him staring into your blazing eyes.

“I owe you for the rest of my life.”

You rolled your hips into his crotch, hard, smacking your ass down on his balls and he whimpered, jerking his head to the side and pulling his own hair, whimper turning into a wounded gasp.

“Shut the fuck up. We both know you deserved that scholarship, you talented asshole.”

You began your pace, bruising and intense from the start, unforgiving, but you had already forgiven him, years ago, by yourself with no one else to know, now your hand in his hair with Yoongi writhing under you, causing his own pain flaring across his scalp because your grip was so tight, his hands on your thighs, his length sliding out and then shoved back in. You could feel him getting harder, swelling more, the sensation unbearable so he kept igniting the pain to prevent himself from orgasm. You made sure to let the maximum amount of your skin to hit him – clit on his crotch, pussy enveloped around his cock, the tip hitting your deepest, most pleasurable spot, ass smacking against his balls – so that even you moaned, shivers of ecstasy layering on top of each other, climbing notes of a song from long ago.

Now continuing.

From that night at your parents’ house that bedroom of painful and lovely memories, his hands on your wrists, telling you that he could go slow until you felt better, how could he not know? Yoongi just assumed it was because you weren’t aroused since you were so angry at him, and you never accused him of having any experience before you, and to be honest you didn’t give a shit; if that was society’s fault or your feelings for him, you didn’t know. It all seemed so foolish back then, stupid, why were you so attached to a high-school boy when there were thousands of other men and women out there, and you tried, you fucked them, but in the end.

In the end, it wasn’t the roars of pleasure or multiple orgasms or big dicks or sweet pussy that made you feel the same as you felt when you looked down at Yoongi, eyes rolling back, biting his lip so hard the skin was white, black hair bunched around your fingers, his fucking green t-shirt still on but you could tell every muscle was tensed and he was barely breathing, anything to prevent himself from orgasm, knuckles white on your thighs, clutching them so hard they would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

Yoongi was a genius. He could play the piano like no one else.

Someone could be technically better, someone could be more experienced, someone could be more nuanced, but no one felt music like Yoongi felt music, no one loved piano like how Yoongi loved piano.

He deserved every cent, every experience, every year he spent overseas.

He seemed to feel your gaze on him and his eyes found yours, black pupils nearly overtaking the irises, sweating so bad that his t-shirt was soaking down the front.

“Hold on,” you breathed. “Hold on for me, Yoongi.”

He whined pathetically.

Did he love you as much as he loved piano or was it the soju talking?

Who are you kidding?

Yoongi would never love you as much as the piano.

You set your jaw and leaned down a little more, bending his cock the tiniest bit, more leverage to go harder, rougher, rolling your spine down, smack! Onto his crotch, Yoongi’s mouth flying open and crying out your name in shock, your knees screaming on the harsh granite but you didn’t care, fucking Yoongi for all you were worth, using every muscle and every technique you knew to apply as much pressure as you could, choking his dick. Yoongi’s hands jolted off your thighs, hitting your open thermos on the counter, both of your forgetting it was there this whole time, the double-walled, stainless steel, mint thermos.

It toppled and spewed warm water all over your thighs, your joined crotches, part of his shirt, probably leaking down his ass and onto the counter.

You yelped at the sudden unexpected wet warmth. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, wild moan escaping his lips and your pussy spasmed, orgasm plummeting into you, a sudden avalanche that made your eyes roll back and a guttural groan vibrate your chest, both hands inadvertently clasping and yanking on Yoongi’s hair, and he lost it, whining your name as he came, hard cock lurching and convulsing against your walls, shooting his load into the condom, his cries extending to wanton, pained moans. It took everything in you to at least loosen your fingers, spreading them on his scalp and holding his head as gently as you could, whole body shuddering, even your jaw, not able to say his name properly because your teeth were clattering uncomfortably against each other.

You closed your eyes.

Listening to Yoongi’s strained breathing. Hearing pain, sadness, his raspy voice from long ago, words in the seconds before you feel asleep in his arms from being worn out from anger and losing your virginity. All this time, wanting to believe it was silence, wanting to believe he said nothing, letting yourself believe in your lie to fuel your rage.

“I am sorry.”

You opened your eyes, lowering your chin. Yoongi’s dark orbs, glassy and spent, trying to focus on your face. His hand came up, still wet with the spilled water, and you realized you had pitched forward a little from the force of your orgasm.

His fingers danced on the small mole pattern above your bellybutton.

“My Milky Way. My galaxy,” he whispered softly.

Lovingly.

Guilt all over his face.

“I have to go back. I have performances, opportunities.”

You leaned down. “Stop lying, Yoongi.” Eyes locked with his and a smile. “You want to go back. Because you are an ambitious, talented asshole.”

You knew you were right. You could see it in his eyes, the quickness as he looked away, not wanting to face you. You slumped down, knees giving out, Yoongi’s cock half-buried in you, slowly softening, but it didn’t matter. You put your full weight on him, fitting your chin on his shoulder, not quite looking at his face, nose far too close to your fucking kitchen counter. Yoongi grunted uncomfortably, but didn’t tell you to get off. There was water everywhere and the mint thermos was on the tile floor and somehow neither of you had noticed. It must have made a very loud sound.

“I hate my job anyway. Might as well run away to a different continent for some stupid boy.”

“I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m not asking.”

He chuckled.

“You really have changed.”

“Sucks for you.”

You felt his arms wrap around your waist.

“Guess so.”

-

“Why was Taehyung here anyway?”

“I was supposed to show him how to eat pussy.”

Yoongi blinked at you, holding a damp rag. Both of you were kneeling on the floor, naked, attempting to sop up the mess. “How?”

“He was going to practice on me.”

“I can give a live demonstration instead,” Yoongi growled, an edge possessive.

“Yeah, no, I think my night is booked. Emergency appointment.”

You picked up your kitchen towels and wrung them out in your sink, looking down at him, raising your eyebrow. Yoongi’s hair was messy and curled, wet from sweat and water. He gazed up at you. You saw him shiver. You kept your expression neutral despite your heartbeat racing.

“Have some catching up to do.”

--

masterpost

[creepytoes88]

Let me spoil you, baby

Y/n’s Pov

Dating Vinnie wasn't what I expected I never was a big social media person but everyone and their uncle has tiktok. Chances are if you have tiktok you have seen Vinnie so needless to say I had a major crush on him. After seeing all the seemingly “Perfect” girls he hung around with. I never thought I had a chance, ya know besides the fact that I was a nobody. However living in LA is never boring and it never disappoints I saw Vinnie's cute ass on melrose, I'm not what you would call a “skinny” girl I have relatively small breast and a pleasantly plump butt as my mother would say. I'm not ashamed of my less then flat stomach either I don't need anyones approveal to be happy with myself. However back when I first met Vinnie that was a different story I was too shy to come up to him and say hello so I just admired him from where I was standing before walking away right passed him and his friends.

I walked into the nearest store and began to look at clothes picking out a pair of nice mom jeans and a vintage Cheech and Chong shirt. I heard the bell attached to the top of the door jingle as I walk to the jewelry part of the store I began to look at the earnings and necklaces. “How’s your day been so far beautiful?” I look up towards the voice ready to tell them to fuck off but I look up to see Vinnie Fucking Hacker. I quickly recover and Smile pulling myself together “I've had a great day! how has your day been?” I smile at him “it was alright but like 10 minutes ago I think I saw the most beautiful woman in my life walk into this store so I had to pray and hope that she didn't leave.” I widen my eyes looking around seeing no one “Did she leave?” Vinnie let out a laugh “No I'm actually talking to her, if you have time I would love to grab coffee or lunch with you, right now, on me of course!”

I drop my mouth a little before looking around for the cameras “um I would love too... My names Y/n by the way, I won't lie to you I know who you are Vinnie.” I say with a sad tone half expecting him to cancel “good now I don't have to explain why people are taking pictures of me” he says as he holds out his hand “are you ready to check out or are you still shopping?” he says with a small smile “Oh yea I'm ready I can always come back anyway” I smiled back at him as I grab his hand and walk towards the cashier setting down my clothes and jewelry she quickly rings then up “That’s gonna be $357.45.” I smile and start to take my card out when suddenly Vinnie hands her 400 hundred dollars I turn to him with my mouth wide “Why did you just do that please get your money back” Vinnie laughed at me grabbing his change and the receipt “you can pay it back to me by going to dinner with me again tomorrow?” I look at him we haven’t even gotten food yet and he’s trying to schedule another date “your not paying for my food this time or next though you just lost those privileges” I say with a sassy attitude grabbing my bag and walking out Vinnie following close behind.

Fast forward to now we never really tried to hide our relationship we just let it grow naturally and didn’t speak on it. Everyone has recently been hating on me jealous girls calling me ugly and fat, at first it didn't even affect me. I know Vinnie love me but in the back of my mind it bothered me it hurt my feelings. I didn't tell Vinnie, I don't want him to feel bad or worry there is nothing anyone can do to make them stop so I just lived with it. It's been 3 weeks since I've been getting hate in my DMs on every platform everyday I wake up and it keeps piling up. I look at them again before clicking my phone off and getting in the shower to release some tension and stress.

Vinnie's Pov

“Alright ill see you guys later!” I yelled at the boys running up to my door step we just got back from the skate park and I was so Gross and sweaty. I open the door and make my way upstairs as I walked into Y/n and I’s room slipping off my shoes and stripping myself of all my sweaty clothing except my boxers I fall flat on the bed. “Ouch” I said as I felt my forehead connect to a hard surface “what the fuck” I said in a soft voice holding my head I look down and see Y/n phone a smirk spreading across my face. I'm gonna tweet weird things off her twitter I think to myself as I open her phone I see her DMS are open and people are saying some pretty nasty things I look at the other social media platforms. I'm shocked and I'm pissed how could they even say such thing about Y/n the sweetest, most humble and beautiful person I have ever met or seen for that matter. I click off the phone and place it on the bed side table hearing the shower turn off quickly I pick up my clothes off the floor and shut the door I watch as my beautiful girlfriend comes out “boo.” I say behind her seeing her jump in the air slightly “fuck baby you scared me” she said turning around kissing my lips before turning and grabbing her lotion. Now usually when Y/n gets out of the shower she drops her towel and puts on lotion before getting dressed this time she picks it up along with her clothes and speeds off to the bathroom quickly shutting the door. “What are you doing sweetie?” I ask softly before tapping on the door “n-nothing...just getting dressed”

I bit my lip slightly “baby this doesn't have to do with what I saw on your phone does it?” no reply so I tried the doorknob and it was locked “baby let me in please” I hear sniffles and shuffling “let me g-get dressed fir-” I growl slightly not even noticing “now princess” I once again her shuffling before the door clicks. Pulling the poor open I rushed in seeing Y/n naked and basically covering herself looking at the ground “oh no baby look at me” I say softly walking over to her “please beautiful” she sniffles before looking at me I see tears are running down her face. I simply kiss them away “please don't hide yourself from me baby” I kiss her cheeks and her forehead “I love you and I care about you I think you're perfect” I say before kissing her lips. Slowly she dropped her arms kissing me back harder I take my hands to her thighs picking her up which we usually don't do she would always complain and get uncomfortable. This time was no different “mmm no vinnie put me down” I kissed her lips squeezing her thighs “i got you I promise baby just to the bed” she finally wraps her legs around me her arms leaving the wall going to my hair. She wasn't even hard to lift let alone carry 20 feet I wish she didn't think and feel this way about her self. I walked her straight to a wall completely skipping the bed.

“I'm gonna show you how beautiful and amazing you are my sweet girl” I began kissing her lips and grinding against her my hard shaft against her bare clit moans spilling out of her mouth immediately. I grab her full breast in my hands playing with her soft nipples as I kiss down her neck whimpers coming from her mouth. My hard cock grinding harder against her as my mouth attacks one of her nipples my hand attacking the other pinching and pulling. Her moans get louder as I switch nipples I leave little hickeys on her boobs and chest making my way up her neck. I could feel her legs gripping onto me and her hips thrusting against mine “oo-ooh shit Vin... I'm gonna cum” she says in a hot breathy tone I kiss her lips pulling one of her knees up onto my shoulder and gasp leaves her mouth letting me enter my tongue I grind faster as I abuse her sweet mouth with my tongue swallowing her moans and pants. Her thighs shaking slightly pulling away I kiss her cheeks grabbing her other leg tossing it over my shoulder so her full body weight was against me and the wall. Her sweet pussy staring me in the face I could smell her and I moaned spreading her legs wider hearing her gasp I smirk “you smell so good baby mind if I have a taste?” she just whines and kicks her legs slightly “mmm I'll take that as a yes baby.”

I say with a smirk dropping my head slightly my nose poking around her clit and my tongue plunged as deep as I could possibly get in moans spilling from my mouth as her taste fills my mouth. Clouds cover my brain all I can think about is making my baby cum. I was making a deep growling sound in my chest and didn't even notice it everytime she tried to pull away from my mouth and nose it got louder almost like a warning to stay still. “Ahh Vinnie baby please” I started to get curious and before I know it I feel my tongue swipe across her pink button and load moan and gasp along with her grinding her hips into my face I assume she likes it. I do it again this time swirling around it making it known I'm doing it on purpose “Vinnie why are you doing that?” she say grinding against me “Do you want me to stop?” I answer her question with a question she throws her head back and moans “noooooo please more!” I pull her from the wall walking to the bed I drop her. Y/n spreads her legs apart looking up at me “butt in the air Princess spread your legs as far as you can get them.”

She flips over her hands and elbows holding her up that's not exactly what I want tho “spread your ass and pussy for me baby” I say with little smirk she lays on her face and knees as her hands pull her butt cheeks apart with a little moan. I look down admiring her sweet little holes staring at me I let out a wolf whistle “damn beautiful....i can't wait to taste you again” I grab ahold of her soft asscheeks in my hands as hers fall to her sides. I lick a thick stripe over her clit all the way to her button slightly entering my tongue before licking around it again “please daddy” I look up at her pushing my thumb in to her greedy pussy “yess daddy more please” I chuckle “what more could you want baby?” she slightly blushes turning her head the other way “mmmm baby Daddy isn't a mind reader if you want something you have to speak up.” I say with a smirk “p-please ea-” she shakes her head and takes a deep breath “please eat me” I chuckle she's so cute “eat what baby?”

I rub her thigh with my other unused hand and kiss her squishy butt cheeks definitely enjoying myself “God I love your bubble butt princess it's amazing If I had my way I would sleep on it, roll on it, and most definitely eat it” I say giving her the ok to ask biting down on her ass “YES YES DADDY EAT MY ASS PLEASE” I laugh before spreading her open and I lay a kiss on her wet hole as a moan leaves her mouth I lick around for a second before slipping my tongue in slightly before pulling out. Her moans and whimpers music to my ears I repeat this a few times till I think she's loose enough to put my tongue fully in “ready my dirty little girl” she moans in response and I slip my tongue fully into her as both my thumbs attack her clit and slit “FUCK DA-ADDY MORE PLEASE” I eat her like crazy shaving my tongue in between both holes as I slap her ass and clit “OOOOH FUCK IM CUMMING” she yells as I feel wetness on my chin and fingers.

I pull away dropping down next to her before turn my head to meet her gaze “sit on my face Princess” I say as I pull her hand she slowly moves over to me with wild eyes I pull her over me before pulling her hips down to meet my face she was completely sitting on my face with all her weight as I dive my tongue in for a third time occasionally slipping it in her butt making her moan and grind against my face “Daddy I'm coming already” she says humping my face with her hands in my hair “MMMMM” she gasps as she cum on my face for the 4 time “fuck princess you ready”

I say as I pull my boxers down she nods as she lays down spreading her legs for me “such a good girl for Daddy” I pick up one of her legs wrapping it around my hip tossing the other over my shoulder before slipping into her. I grunt as her walls squeeze around me I hear her moan “shit daddy your so big” I give a breathy laugh “i think your just tight baby” I say before I thrust into her. Moans leaving both of our mouths as I pound into her I pull out flipping her over and push back in “AH” she groans “you good baby” I say as I thrust softly “ye-YES” I smirk pushing into her as deep as possible “can I put my babies inside of you baby” she gasp and turns her head to look at me “i wouldn't want anyone else to spend my life with and I can't think of ayone I would rather raise my kids with then you baby” she drops her head moaning as she thrust her hips back in to me “flip me back over so I can hold it in Daddy we might not get lucky the first time but it's worth a shot.” Y/n moans grabbing my hand I flip her over putting her legs on my shoulders fucking into her “mmm baby I'm gonna fuck my baby into you honey” I bite and suck at her neck “would you like that?”

She moans and throws her head back moaning “hold it princess please just a little longer” I pant kissing her neck quickly I grab my pillow and shove it under her ass before stuffing my entire length inside of her moaning. Releasing my load deep inside of her before pulling my hips out almost all the way fucking my cum inside of her till I couldn't feel it sloshing around anymore. “Do you wanna cuddle baby” she nods her head I turn her to her side putting her under the cover getting up to turn the light off climbing back in behind her “stay still princess I wanna make sure nothing comes out tonight” she smiles holding out her hand. Knowing she was going to be sensitive I grab it kissing her shoulders and back as I slowly slip my limp cock inside of her before it hardened back up “oo-oh shit Daddy I love your big cock” she says sleepily I pull her close to me kissing her lips “well we love you too” she opens her eyes “ew” she laughs making me laugh too “go to bed brat I love you beautiful” “I love you to handsome I'm very excited to have a mini you running around”

[sisterofsomeone]

Personal Training

- Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader SFW

- Warnings: mention of harm, bandaging wounds, choking

- Summary: as a third year, you and your childhood friend Shinso have been moved from the general studies course onto the hero course. No one seems too keen on you two, until you meet Bakugou late one night in the training city and he seems to take a personal interest in you

———————

Wandering around the testing sites at midnight wasn’t something you should be doing, but ever since you got moved from general studies into the hero course it was the only way you could calm yourself down after a day of training. It was dark, the cold air still around your skin and the only light shining was from the full moon above you. You’ve always dreamt of being a hero, but knowing you couldn’t control your quirk, knowing you had the ability to seriously hurt someone if you lost control, you applied for general studies and vowed to learn to control your power before you tried to move into the hero course. Your thoughts drifted to Shinso, you two had been friends for years going all the way back to nursery, just two toddlers constantly holding hands and only ever with each other. Your chest swelled with pride thinking about how both of you had beaten the odds and been moved from general studies to the hero course after all your efforts. You were in your third year, you’d missed a whole two years of the intense hero course training but it meant you two finally got the attention you deserved. You were finally seen as hero material. Sure you felt bad for the people who got moved out, but you didn’t know them and they were obviously not making the most of the opportunity, so you were glad to take their spot. You had to be a hero at any cost.

It was quiet around you, the only noise you could hear was your own footsteps, your breathing the only sign of life. Your breath was coming out softly but because of the cold it was visible, the curls and twists of your breath softly disappearing into the moonlight. You’d been wandering around the town for a few hours now, watching the silent, dead city around you, the buildings towering over you and the roads stretched out and empty. It reminded you of home, disappearing after long days being bullied at school and skulking through the dying streets.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You hadn’t noticed the boy sneaking up on you. You could understand why he currently held your throat in his hands, you did look exceptionally different in and out of class. You didn’t bother fighting his grip, you knew this boy and he would certainly overpower you in hand to hand combat.

“You with that hand guy? He sent you in here to spy on me huh?” His grip tightened but you never once broke eye contact. His red eyes blown out with anger, his lips curled into a snarl and his breath warm on your face.

“I-I’m in your c-class dumb arse.” You managed to get out between shallow breaths. “The o-one with Shinso all the time. The new girl.” He seemed to believe you, releasing his grip on you ever so slightly but still eyeing you with intrigue.

“She has floaty purple hair, and that weird dark aura quirk thing...” You weren’t necessarily in the position to roll your eyes at him, but surely he should have noticed that your whole ‘dark aura quirk thing’ changed your physical appearance too? You’d fought him enough. You decided to indulge him, letting your power grow until you changed in his hands, the light from the moon almost being drawn into you as the darkness swirled and danced around you. Your body surged with the release of this power, your skin feeling hot, as if it was about to burn right off of your bones. You had never been able to control yourself before UA, and this place had shown you how to harness this power and use it to your advantage.

“Okay creep -“ he released you suddenly when your darkness started creeping up his arm and pulling him in. “- I believe you.” He was wiping his hand on his trousers now, obviously feeling the same burning you always did. You pulled your darkness back in, your hair falling flat against you, your eyes returning to their natural colour and your skin settling down. Dusting yourself off, you stood to face Bakugou. He towered over you, the boy growing to be over six foot during your time at UA.

“It’s almost as if you should believe me, seeing as I also live on the same floor as you.” Raising an eyebrow you tried to register his reaction but he didn’t seem to be paying you any more mind.

“Oi, I’m talking-“

“Shut up, I’m not interested anymore.” Sticking his hands in his pockets he turned on his heel and walked away from you. But you weren’t gonna let him get away that easily.

“Oi fucker! You don’t get to talk to me like that!” You walked after him, grabbing his arm.

“Get off.” He snapped back, his eyes dark and angry.

“Not until you apologise for trying to choke me out.”

“Not gonna happen sweetheart. Don’t wander around on your own acting all sketchy and I wouldn’t have had to.” This was ridiculous, all you wanted was an apology.

“But what about you huh?” He stopped walking and turned to face you.

“You’re skulking around here too, does that mean I get to choke you?” You smirked up at him feeling proud of yourself when his eyebrows furrowed.

“You can try, but I’ll kill you if you do extra.” This fucking guy.

“Are you serious right now? Like, does this act usually work on your classmates? Because I’m not scared of an immature man child who can’t even apologise when he’s done something wrong.” In a blur he’d managed to pin you up against the wall that you swore was 15 foot away from you two only seconds ago, his body pressed into yours and his hand around your throat again. You felt his thigh in between your legs, and you couldn’t help the shudder that moved through your body when he spoke.

“You should be scared of me, I’m gonna be number one, I’m the best.” He was staring directly into your eyes, not breaking the gaze he was bearing down on you.

“You think you’re gonna be number one? I beg to differ.” His cockyness seemed infectious. “I’ll beat you Bakugou, just you wait.”

———————

It had been a few weeks since your little scuffle and you had been trying to keep your word.

“Y/n, are you seriously gonna try and fight Bakugou right now?” You’d filled Shinso in on what had happened between the two of you and even though you knew he believed in your abilities, he really didn’t think you were ready to fight him.

“I need practise, and I can never go all out with you because I care about you, you’re my friend! It doesn’t work!” You laughed and Shinso rolled his eyes. He always asked you to go all in when you two sparred but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him, even if you knew he wouldn’t hate you, you would hate yourself.

“Look, he’s finally done with Kirishima so now’s my chance. I’ll be okay I promise.”

You totally weren’t okay. Bakugou had kicked your arse, and all he had to do was get close enough that you could feel the heat from his skin and place a hand on your waist during an attack and your hormone-riddled brain freaked out. Not that he’d noticed you’d frozen mid fight, so he just kept firing off attacks as you scrambled to think up a defensive strategy. But it was no use, one well aimed hit and you were down.

You were with Recovery Girl in the nurses office when Shinso popped his head in.

“Told you so.” He said bluntly, drawing a tut from Recovery Girl.

“If you’re gonna be negative she doesn’t need you in here. She need positivity for healing thank you.” He apologised and moved further into the room.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Tired I guess, and a little sore, but nothing bad. How did the rest of the lesson go?”

“Well, Bakugou and Todoroki got into another fight, Deku tried to break it up but that didn’t really work so they’ve all got dorm cleaning duties for the next week.” That got a chuckle out of you.

“Bakugou? Cleaning? Unlikely.”

“Oh yeah, Aizawa said he’d stop by randomly to make sure they were cleaning.” By now Recovery Girl had ushered you off of the bed and had begun handing you your clothes back.

“You’re all bandaged up, now get dressed and get out of here! And take some candy! You! Make sure she gets back to her room safely will you?” Shinso nodded as you slipped your jacket and shoes back on, wrapping his arm around your waist as a support. You were thankful for him, even if he was a miserable bastard most of the time.

———————

Shinso had managed to get you back in one piece, placing you on your bed softly. No one else had come to help, but you two had expected as much. Since being transferred in you had been singled out as the outsiders of the group, no one had even tried as much as to have dinner with you guys or watch the tv with you two. You were always alone together, you were each other’s rock.

“Hey Purple hair.” The voice behind him was rough and angry, you recognised it in an instant.

“Bakugou. What do you want?” Shinso tried to take no mind, keeping all of his focus on tucking you into bed.

“I need to speak to y/l/n. Alone.”

“I don’t trust you alone with her after today.”

“Let me speak to her.” Shinso turned to face him, his eyes burning holes into Bakugou’s head.

“After the stunt you pulled? No-“

“Toshi, I want to hear what he has to say.” You tugged on his shirt feebly, and his guard dropped. He always softened up around you.

“Fine. But I’ll be outside.” You mumbled a thank you as he barged past Bakugou, hitting him with his shoulder as he passed. Shutting the door behind himself, Bakugou entered your room looking oddly sheepish.

“Hey.” You started softly, not wanting to jump straight into a fight with the guy.

“Hey. About today? I mean, I’m not gonna say sorry because you asked to fight but I just wanna say that I should have noticed you freeze and let up a bit. I didn’t notice and Kirishima had to point it out to me later on, so yeah. Don’t come in unprepared next time.” Well. It was a start.

“Oh, I mean I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to freeze up on you trust me!” You tried to laugh it off, but the atmosphere in the room was way too weird.

“Was it because I touched you?” You blushed at this and dropped your gaze to the floor. Where you really that easy to read? “Because if it was then Kirishima owes me $20.” Oh.

“No. I don’t know why I froze but it wasn’t because you touched me.” He smirked at this, moving to sit on the end of your bed. You instinctively pulled your legs closer to yourself but he took this as an invite to spread out more. You took in his toned shoulders, his strong arms and long fingers. Your mind drifted, wandering how good they’d feel slipping under your shirt and -

“You’re not even listening are you?” He pulled you from your dirty thoughts and you shook your head.

“Wow. I said that it’s a shame, because I’d love to explore what else I can make you do with my hands.” He had to be joking right? You blinked at him, your mouth agape with pure confusion. 

“See? You’re all frozen again. I must have an effect on you.” He started moving closer to you, shifting on your bed until his lips were a mere inch away from yours. His eyes were boring into yours, but the pupils were flickering slightly from your eyes to your mouth. He raised a thumb to your lips, rubbing the calloused skin across your bottom lip. You swallowed, suddenly aware how fast your heart was beating and how clammy your hands had gotten. 

“Bok-” He placed a finger on your lips as if you quiet you. 

“Call me Katsuki, y/n. I have a feeling we’ll be training much more closely from here on out.” With that, he pulled away and stood from your bed. He left your room, glaring at Shinso who was waiting patiently outside. The purple haired boy ran into your room as quickly as he could, inspecting your face when he saw you red, hot and flushed. 

“I’m not even gonna ask what happened here.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“Oh, n-nothing happened. He just offered to train with me more.”

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[phantomgirl15]

Going Angst Week Day 2: Obsession/Instinct

Warnings: implied suicide, gun use, trauma description.

Rating: M                          Words: 1,649

The halls were almost empty, school having gotten out not long ago. Danny was alone, his backpack slung over his shoulder as he walked slowly to the place he had agreed to meet. His shoes were barely grazing the floor, his instincts telling him that something was about to happen to him, and not something good. He heard a few chuckles from down the hall, his head slowly rising to see a familiar face staring back at him.

"Weston."

"Fenton."

Danny continued to slowly hover towards Wes. He felt the tension in the hallway as he stopped in front of the classroom that was designated for their use. He waved for Wes to enter first. The redhead slowly turned himself and walked towards the desks in the room, Danny following, still feeling the unease that he felt in the hall.

"So why are we here?"

Danny crossed his arms lightly over his chest, waiting for Wes to once again say anything. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand themselves up. Shivers ran up his spine as he saw what was in Weston's backpack.

"Hey. Why do you have that?"

He saw a Fenton ghost gun. His eyes widened as Weston continued to stay silent and put his hand over the device.

"How did you even get that into the school?"

Wes pulled it from his backpack. It hovered in his hands for a moment, Wes looking closely at it before making eye contact with Danny and holding the gun to his face. Danny could feel the laser his mom had installed for aim.

"Tell me why you killed Kyle."

. . .

Danny had been feeling a weird irk in his core all day, it was only a Wednesday, the weekend not close enough. His core pulsated at him to tell him that he needed to go ghost soon. He hadn't had a reason to for a while, all the ghosts avoiding the town for the past week. The town had been almost too quiet.

He felt his head pound for a moment, his core forcing him to feel the irk harder, stronger. He groaned in pain for a moment, the loud commotion in the hallway not helping with what felt like an oncoming migraine. He saw his friends down the hall, waving him down frantically.

"Hey, how's it going, dude?"

Danny fist-bumped Tucker, hugging Sam.

"Eh, you know. Just feeling that urge to go ghost ASAP."

"Why don't you just try ignoring it?"

Sam smacked the back of his head as she walked past him and gestured to the lunchroom that they were scheduled to go to.

"I don't know if I can. It's just... Instinct, you know? It feels like something bad will happen if I don't."

Danny hauled his backpack higher on his back, Tucker snickering a bit.

"Dude, you're acting like an animal. I'm pretty sure you've turned taking care of your ghost half into an obsession."

"It's not an obsession!"

"That's what all people who are addicted to something say."

Sam laughed as they got to the lunchroom and sat down, the conversation beginning to stress Danny out. Sam could feel the cold around him spreading further from his body.

"It's not an addiction. I promise. I think I'll just go for a flight after school."

Tucker felt the static around Danny from the conversation topic's stress. The air around him almost made it feel like he was playing with static electricity. He shivered a bit, the air chilling his spine.

"If you say so. Just be careful."

. . .

"What does that have to do with you killing my brother?"

Wes moved the gun closer to Danny's forehead, Danny raising his hands in surrender.

"Chill, chill. That's the late morning the day it happened. I'm getting there."

"Speed it up."

"I can't if you want the full story."

. . .

School got out, the final bell ringing. Danny sighed in relief, rushing himself home to drop his backpack off before feeling the usual cold, tingly sensation as he let his ghost half show. He breathed deep, letting the air out of his lungs completely, his ghost portion stopping the breathing.

He took a step towards his window, swinging it wide open. Another step and he was floating above the town. He felt the spring breeze and leaned back a bit, his core pulsating calmly. He felt it almost thanking him for giving it time to be free.

"It's not an obsession."

Danny whispered gently to himself, feeling a warm pulse in his chest, almost a heartbeat - which wasn't normal for him. He gasped, feeling the need to breathe out of shock. The warmth grew stronger, Danny feeling the need to use more powers than just flight. He felt his body aching from too much power in his core.

He moved a bit, stretching himself out before flying towards the center of the city. He saw the school below him, a few kids just getting done with practice and study groups. He felt the warmth spreading through his whole body almost making him itch under his skin.

The feel of it was unbearable to Danny, he almost felt the need to protect the city.

"Oh god."

Danny ran his hand through his hair, his glove getting lost in the white mess on his head.

"It is an obsession."

He felt a few muscle spasms, felt his ghost half begin to act more like a ghost than a human, the one thing he always tried to prevent. He felt the ghost's anger, rage burning through him, no longer feeling that he was in control of himself. He fell the pull of the ghost, the fangs he always kept hidden sliding out and showing themselves.

Danny felt his body dive, closing in on the school at a rapid pace. He found a room in the building, one student left. He didn't even care who it was. He saw that it was a redhead, assumed it was one of the Weston's. He no longer cared which one. It was going to be hell for him now that he couldn't control his ghost portion.

. . .

"That tells me nothing."

Danny became flustered, not certain why Weston was expecting more.

"I... I blacked out. I don't remember what happened after that. I woke up the next morning to my alarm for school in my bed. I can't help it that I had ghost instinct."

Danny paused for a moment.

"Because I couldn't control it anymore. Because it's an obsession."

Wes let the gun charge, making sure it was pointed dead center in Danny's forehead.

"You couldn't control yourself? I had to see that he never came home. Because you killed him. At school. His blood was all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. I had to be shown that video footage. I... school couldn't happen until they managed to clean that up."

He swallowed harshly.

"Because you couldn't stop yourself, I had to lose part of my family. This school will never be the same. Nothing will be the same."

Danny opened his mouth, wanting to defend himself.

"It might be your "obsession" to take care of your ghost half, to let it have its ghost tendencies... But that doesn't overpower my obsession to reveal your secret to the whole town. Whether I die or not."

Danny felt the warmth again, felt his fangs slide out. He felt the power of his ghost half spilling into his human half. Wes stepped forward again, his hand tremoring a bit from fear. He felt the sweat on the back of his neck, cold drips running down into his shirt.

Danny's core glowed, a white light showing from inside his chest. Wes noticed it. He noticed the white rings that appeared at the waist, hovering for a moment before revealing the white-haired ghost boy. Wes felt the hands that grabbed him, pushing him against the wall, not even having been able to see how fast it had moved to grab him.

"You think, that I care? I'll just let my ghost become the new me. Nobody liked Fenton anyway."

A small laugh erupted from Danny's throat. Wes tried to gulp down some air, his lungs almost refusing.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Wes raised his forearm slightly, the gun still charged. He saw the laser on Danny's shoulder.

He pulled the trigger.

Danny fell backward, grabbing his shoulder and hissing. Wes pulled himself back up, his shoulder aching from the recoil that made him hit the wall harder. He charged it again, Danny rushing hard at him, he pointed, his eyes closing as he pulled the trigger again.

Wes's eyes opened, slowly, one at a time. He saw the gaping hole in Danny's chest, right where the glowing had been. Danny had frozen entirely, his mouth hanging open, hands reaching for his chest. Wes saw the face change from anger to shock. The pain crossing his face, the body collapsing on the floor. He saw the white rings again, and now the human Danny was lying on the floor, the same hole in his chest, his eyes glassed over.

Wes felt his jaw quiver, a small breath being all he could get in. Tears ran down his face, the Fenton's ghost gun being charged one more time. He pressed the small button on the back, the almost unnoticeable button, the charge switching from green to blue. Wes pressed the trigger, collapsing to the ground, his tears stopping as he slumped up against the wall. He looked to the security camera, knowing that Danny would be revealed after this mess. The school could no longer keep it a secret.

"I'm sorry."

Wes barely pushed out his last few words, his brother once again in front of him, smiling and waving to him cheerfully. Wes smiled, seeing his brother again was all he had wanted.

[yesmooshoe]

6) (i) from the AU list for ironhusbands? 👀💖

You’ve got a date tonight and you asked for advice on what to wear but I’m so in love with you and damn you look good in the outfit I picked out for you.

“Rhodey Rhodey Rhodey! I need help!” Tony cried out as he burst through the front door of their drafty apartment.

Rhodey’s head shot up to look at him, but he didn’t move from the nest he’d created on their couch. He was wrapped in several blankets with a few large stacks of books and notebooks surrounding him. Mid-Terms started next week, and he had a lot of material to get through.

As Tony stumbled over some of Rhodey’s books on his way into the living room, he finally noticed all of the shopping bags that Tony was carrying.

“Did you get a haircut?” Rhodey asked, seeing that his friend’s usually unkempt hair was freshly trimmed and styled.

“Yeah, and I got a bunch of new clothes. I have a date! An actual date! And all of my clothes are trash and I’ve got no idea what to wear so I went to the mall and just like bought everything that looked cool because I just really want her to think I’m cool.” Tony rambled as he dropped the bags to the floor and started tearing through them.

“Wait, hold up. You have a what?”

“A date!” Tony said with a big smile.

“With who?” Rhodey asked as he closed his book, realizing that this was going to be a thing. Tony didn’t date. If he wasn’t at the apartment he was either at class or in the robotics lab, and he didn’t really have any other friends.

Until this year, at least. Tony was 17 and finally the same age as some of his fellow classmates, so Rhodey had noticed him being a bit more social. Still, Rhodey felt very protective, and while he’d never admit it out loud, he kind of missed having Tony all to himself.

“Uh, Amy Lin? She’s a freshman! And she’s on the robotics team and she’s just super cool and smart and we were sitting outside today and she was like 'hey do you want to go out sometime?' and I was like 'what do you mean, we're already outside.' and then she laughed and was like 'no like...go out. On a date.' and I just felt like such an idiot and I didn't know what to say but eventually I managed to say yes I think and well now we're going on a date! And I have no idea what to wear, you gotta help me. Everything I own is ripped or has burn holes from welding or is covered in grease and who knows what else and I just want to look good."

Rhodey resisted the urge to tell him that he'd look good in a paper bag, and did his best to swallow his own jealousy before he started helping him look through the bags.

The crush on Tony was very new. 

Two years ago Tony had just been this quiet, nerdy kid who didn't know how to do his own laundry and was afraid of his own shadow. This year though? This year he was just different. Over the Summer he'd grown a few more inches, gotten his braces off, discovered contact lenses, and overall just came off as more mature and confident. Rhodey's jaw had literally dropped when he saw him for the first time at the beginning of the semester, and ever since then he'd been struggling with a lot of feelings.

"Uhh, ok. Well first of all, where are you going?" Rhodey asked as he pulled out item after item, which ranged from a leather jacket to a tuxedo, so he wasn't sure what the vibe was going to be.

"Bowling."

Rhodey just laughed. "You bought a brand new tuxedo to go bowling? Is that what you rich white people do?"

"I...I mean, I don't know. She mentioned maybe getting dinner at one point and I think I just panicked like what if she wanted to go somewhere fancy instead of bowling and all of a sudden and I just started grabbing everything I could possibly need." Tony explained, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Dude, take a deep breath. It's going to be ok."

"I know I just...I want to do everything right. I want her to like me, ya know?"

"She will! She already does. She asked you out, didn't she?"

"Yeah but...I don't know. I don't know what to do. I'm just not used to this. People liking me. I’ve always been so much younger than everyone at school and no one ever talked to me and I always just feel like I missed out on learning how to be a normal teenager. I don’t know how to date." Tony admitted, being way more candid about his feelings than Rhodey was used to.

"You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Just go out and have fun. Be yourself."

"I’m just afraid she’s going to see what a huge nerd I am and change her mind."

“You guys are on the robotics team. You’re both nerds. It’ll be fine.

“I just - 

“Tony.” Rhodey Interrupted. He hated when Tony got like this, and something in him just snapped. “Stop being so down on yourself. You’re funny and smart and sweet and you tell great stories and you’re so enthusiastic about your work and about learning new things so that you can change the world. You’re incredible. And I’m sorry that no one in your life has ever told you that before, but it’s all true and if she sees what I see then...then she’ll love you, ok?”

Tony was just staring at him like a deer in headlights, and Rhodey immediately knew that he’d said way too much. He just hated when Tony got like this, and he wanted him to just see how great he actually was. 

“Rhodey I…” Tony started, clearly unsure of what to say in response to that, and Rhodey’s stomach just dropped. Had he completely fucked this up? Had he made everything weird? There was nothing weird about telling your friend that you love him, right? Even if you did happen to have a huge crush on that friend? 

They were both silent for what felt like forever, though in reality it was only a few seconds.

“You’ll be fine. Anyway. So when is this date?”

Tony glanced down at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet her in 45 minutes.”

“Well, then we’d better get to work.” Rhodey said as he stood up and grabbed an armload of clothes.

They made quick work of it, just putting Tony in jeans, a red t-shirt, the leather jacket, and a fresh pair of Chuck Taylors. They were a little quiet at first, but soon they found their way back to the joking and teasing they were used to. As Tony stood in the hallway trying to fix his hair the way the lady at the hair salon had told him too, Rhodey just stood back and admired his work. There was nothing spectacular about the clothes, but they were new and clean and fit him well. And the leather jacket was driving Rhodey crazy. As he watched Tony from behind, he wanted nothing more than to grab him, pin him against the wall, and have his way with him.

There were a million reasons why he shouldn’t do that, especially since he was literally about to leave to go on a date with someone else. With a girl.

“How do I look?” Tony asked, spinning around and giving him a big smile.

“Great.” Rhodey replied simply, resisting the urge to say hot. He didn’t want to make anything else weird.

Tony seemed unsure, but looked at his watch again and took a deep breath. “Right. Well, I gotta go. Thank you. For everything. Don’t study too hard, all right?” He said with a little smile before taking one more look at himself in the mirror and then heading out.

Rhodey tried to focus on studying after that, but he just couldn’t. He was jealous, he was embarrassed, and most of all he was horny. He took care of the latter problem a few minutes after Tony left, but after that he just laid on his bed and started at a crack in the ceiling while a million thoughts raced through his head.

This crush on Tony was stupid. Tony obviously wasn’t gay, right? And being gay in the Air Force sounded like a not-so-great idea anyway, so Rhodey really had to work on resisting these crushes if he ever wanted the chance to fly. Still, he couldn’t get that image of Tony in the leather jacket out of his mind, nor could he get over how jealous he felt. 

He figured that the best way to get over it was to distract himself, so he got up, took a cold shower, ate some dinner, and settled in back on the couch to watch TV and wait for Tony to get home. Despite the jealousy, he wanted to hear about the date and how it went. He just wanted Tony to be happy, and if dating Amy made him happy, then he’d do his best to be enthusiastic about it. At least on the surface.

Not long after Rhodey settled on the couch Tony came home and immediately plopped down next to him.

“Hey, you’re home early. How’d it go?” Rhodey asked, genuinely shocked that he was home. It hadn’t even been two hours, and he was just glad that he hadn’t decided to jerk off again.

“Yeah, it was fine. I mean, I had fun. We bowled and had some pizza and then sketched up an idea on a napkin for a bowling robot that we might try to build next week.” Tony said as he stared at the floor while fidgeting around with his zipper. “And then like, we were in the arcade part. Playing pinball. And she kissed me.”

“Well hey! That’s good, right?”

“I don’t know. It was weird. I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone before so I’ve not got much to compare it too. But like, it was like kissing my sister. If I had a sister, I guess. I don’t know. Just didn’t do much for me.” Tony admitted quietly, and Rhodey had no idea how to respond to that. Luckily, Tony kept talking. “And then it was a little awkward and she said that she didn’t feel like bowling anymore so we turned in our shoes and then she said that she thought that maybe we should just be friends.”

“Oh. Well shit, that sucks man, I’m sorry. But this is only your first date, there are plenty of other girls out there! There’s even at least 1 more on the robotics team, right? I’m sure you’ll find someone that makes you feel that spark.” Rhodey said as he put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. He just didn’t want him getting too down on himself.

Tony just looked up at him and smiled, and it was a look that Rhodey would have to file away to use later. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s fine. She still wants to be friends, so that’s good. Friends are good. I’m gonna go change, ok?”

“Sure.”

Tony stood up to head to his room, but then stopped and hesitated for a moment.

“Tony? You all right?” Rhodey asked as Tony turned to look at him. He was quiet for a moment, like he was searching for what to say.

“Are you doing anything Friday night?” Tony finally asked.

“No.” Rhodey answered, confused.

“Do you - would you be interested in like - going out?”

“W-what?” Rhodey stuttered out as his heart started pounding. This wasn’t actually happening, was it?

“Go out? Like...on a date? I guess? Unless I read that whole situation earlier wrong.”

“I…” Rhodey just trailed off, completely taken by surprise by all of this. “Um. A date?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Uh...ok. Yeah. We can do that, if you’re sure.”

Tony nodded. “I’m sure. Been thinking about it all night.”

“Oh.”

“Ok, so. It’s a date, yeah? Dinner? Movie? I don’t know, that’s what people do, right?” Tony said as he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Tony nodded again and turned to head to his room.

“Hey, Tony?” Rhodey called out after him, causing Tony to stop and turn to him. “Whatever we do, promise me you’ll wear the leather jacket.” Rhodey said with a confident little smile, finally regaining a bit of composure.

A huge grin spread across Tony’s face, like he was finally relaxing too. “All right.”

Rhodey was terrified, but also so excited that he couldn’t imagine focusing on his notes anymore. After Tony disappeared Rhodey ran straight to his room and to his closet, desperately looking through all of his clothing. Nothing seemed good enough, so he figured he’d have to take a trip to the mall himself tomorrow. He wasn’t sure he could look as good as Tony did in the leather, but he could certainly try.

[skylarmoon71]

E2 Harrison Wells x Reader- Oneshot (Flash)

"Listen to me, you don't have to do this. You aren't a killer. "

You just closed your fist, eyes dark with hatred. The more you squeezed, the harder it was for the criminal in front of you to breathe. Barry took a step forward and you raised your free hand.

"I don't want to hurt you Barry, but I will if I have to. BACK OFF!"

"No! I'm not gonna stand here and watch you throw your life away. I know what it's like (Y/N), to resent someone to the point that you're willing to risk it all." your hands faltered for a second, and the man on the floor groaned. Your lips were quivering.

"H-He killed him Barry..for a stupid watch and some cash. "

"I know, and I'm so sorry (Y/N). " Bit by bit he was inching closer, and you could feel your anger dissipating slowly. You should have known that Barry would be the one to figure it out. After losing your boyfriend to a mugger, you dedicated your life to tracking his killer. 

You worked under Joe at CCPD. You were just an officer. A close call with a meta one night when you were working with Joe had led to the discovery of your own abilities. Shortly after he introduced you to the team. Even with your loss, you felt like you were slowly but surely getting your life back together. Then you heard of another robbery. Similar MO, except this time the individual survived. They were able to identify the perp. It could have been an impulse, but you tracked him down. Took you hours.

Standing in his beat down apartment, all you wanted to do was inflict as much pain as you could. You just wanted the hole that he left in your chest to disappear.

"Please (Y/N)." Barry's eyes were pleading. You finally lowered your hands, and the male being pinned gasped, coughing. Barry moved forward, pulling you into his arms and you stood there, gripping onto his shirt as you bawled your eyes out.

~~~~~

"You saved a lot of people. He's been on the run for weeks. Hurt a lot of innocent people too. Good job kd." You can't even look Joe in the eyes. You keep your head down nodding and he pats your shoulder. This entire situation could have gone completely sideways. All you can do is watch as they take the handcuffed man away. You're standing next to Barry who's doing his best to keep you grounded. As Joe leaves, you look over at Barry. "Thank you." you whisper. If he hadn't brought you from over the edge, it could have been you walking away in cuffs.

Barry knows that no amount of sympathetic words can help, so he just offers a hug. "Anytime (Y/N)."

~One Year Later~

"Guys I could really use a hand here!!" The meta currently trying to break past your barrier was a little more than you could handle at the moment. Between fighting past his metal armor and trying not to become like the unconscious officers around you, it was a struggle. With gritted teeth, you push harder, but he's fighting through pain. Being able to control liquid elements was a nice ability, but for this iron head, it may not have been enough. You were manipulating his water components, but it was just barely holding him off. A normal person would have been out cold by now.

"B-Barry!" On cue he zips by. The meta looks down at the cuffs on his wrist. You grin, because he no longer has the metal to shield him. With a flick of your wrist, his body is thrown back, hitting the wall.

"You know he was bound right." Barry says. You just shrugged. "I know." He shakes his head with a laugh, calling in Joe to round up some reinforcements. Finally, you can relax.

"What took you so long?"

"Well Harry and Cisco were-" you wave your hands.

"Don't bother, I can already guess. " Those two never quit.

"Next time just ignore them." you state walking away.

"Will do!!"

~~~~

"The next time you dipsticks decide to have a fight don't forget their actual people out there that don't wanna get crushed by a psycho metahuman." Cisco and Harry stood still as you basically ripped into them. Most of the time you could care less, but Barry could tell that something about this case must have really agitated you. Storming out the cortex, Barry's eyes followed you. He hadn't seen that look on your face since, well since you lost Calvin.

"Did she seem off to you?" Cisco inquired.

Barry was still zoned out.

"Just give her some time." Barry advised. He wanted nothing more than to help you, but he could tell that right now all you really needed was some space.

~~~~~

Later that afternoon Caitlin and Iris invited you to a well deserved girls night. Fighting metas as well as dealing with regular criminals took a pretty heavy toll on you. So of course you accepted. Knocking on the door, Iris rushed to open the door. The moment she saw your face she was grinning. You barely had time to greet her before she was tugging you inside. You laugh at her excitement. 

"Someone's ready to party." kicking off your shoes, you raised your head. You didn't expect to see the many faces that filled the room. "Uhhhh.." you were positive she'd said girls night over the phone, so why was Cisco, Harry, Joe and Barry here.

"Sorry we set you up, it was Barry's idea.' Iris apologized with a smile.

"Hey!" you can't really be mad. You step forward, and Barry is the first to hug you. Not anticipating it, you pat his back awkwardly. "Y-You okay there Barry?" He's acting a little strange. When he pulls away, all he does is smile, patting your shoulder. "Yeah I'm just...really glad that you're in our lives."

He's certainly being weird, nevertheless, you appreciate his words.

"That's sweet Barry, thank you." He nods.

"Alright let's get this party started!!" Cisco cheers. He's never one to pass up getting drunk.

"I'll make sure Ramon doesn't pass out on your couch Allen." With the both of them you know it's only a matter of time before the bickering begins, and it's sort of comforting.

For the night you all talk, drink and exchange stories. Harry gives some moments where he's had to scare away Jessie's potential boyfriends. Joe states the same when Iris had started high school. You're dying of laughter at one point when he says he flashed his gun to intimidate one of them. The night carries on. Somewhere along the line, you've slipped out to the balcony. You enjoy the company, but right at this moment, you need to be alone. You lean over, eyes staring up at the sky. 

The facade you've been keeping up all day has fallen, and you allow the tears to flow freely. You sniff a couple times. When you hear the door behind you slide close you straighten, wiping at your eyes frantically. 

"I-It's pretty chilly outside. Kind of makes your eyes water. The man standing there, it's not who you'd assume. Harry just watches you for a moment, and you're convinced he can see right through you.

"W-Well I should get inside before they start to worry." you try to bolt.

"Who did you lose?" Then he asks that question. You haven't even fully made it to the door yet, and you're lucky for the curtains that block the view on the other side of the door.

"I've been watching you all night. This morning Ramon was concerned you were acting unusual. I brushed it off, but seeing you tonight confirmed everything. The smiles don't truly reach your eyes. "

You have half a mind to tell him that it's none of his business. Who the hell did he even think he was, profiling you like some kind of criminal. Harry takes another step, and when he looks down, your barrier crumbles instantly. With a shaky hand to your lips, you lean your back against the wall. His eyes convey sympathy, and he takes your hand softly. You sob, and Harry slowly pulls you into his arms. You hold unto him, breaking down right there. It's been such a struggle carrying on all day. Harry is the absolute last person you ever would even think could provide comfort, but you're grateful.

~~~~~~

It takes a while for you to calm down, at one point Barry even comes searching, upon seeing you chatting with Harry, he closes the curtains with a smile. The both of you just sit in silence. You've pulled out a chair, and Harry is right beside you. He doesn't press for any kind of information. You kind of like this.

"His name was Calvin."

Azure eyes move in your direction.

"We were together for three years." You place a hand on your chest, and Harry watches as you reach under the neck of your shirt, pulling out a necklace. There's a ring attached to it. A beautiful diamond right at the center. "The night he was.." your throat tightens. 

"The night I lost him, he was going to propose. They recovered all the items that were stolen from the guy's apartment. Calvin bought it a year before. He was making down payments to afford it. " Your hands grip the ring, and you can feel the tears about to spill again. You swallowed, looking over at Harry. 

"I-I'm really sorry that I yelled at you guys today. I-I was just.."

"You don't have to explain. " He was starting to get the bigger picture. Today was important to you. This is what was needed for you to mourn. He understood, more than you realized. You knew about his past, and now he knows about yours.

"How long does it take for this feeling to go away?"

He wished he could give you an easy answer, but he was the last person to ask about dealing with loss. Tess was the most stable and treasured thing in his life. Then he lost her, shortly after that he almost watched his only daughter get killed. Safe to say he was the worst at trying to move on.

"It never really goes away." he knows that isn't the answer you want.

"But it will get better (Y/N). You have people here that care about you. Family."

They were the reason he no longer looked at the world at people as if they were expendable.

"You'll be fine." He takes your hand when he says it, and the confidence of his assurance. It's exactly what you need.

"Thank you, Harrison."

A brilliant smile.

"You're welcome."

[fallingappleshurt]

Bumblebees and Buttercups

Tommy knows how to get into the forest and even though it’s against the rules he can’t resist showing his friend

Hiiii I disappeared for a bit- sadly but I am back with a little snack sized fic that could probably use more polish!

This takes place in my DFF AU and here is the ao3 link!

Hope you enjoy!

A soft breeze brushed against Tommy’s skin as he pulled on his friend’s floppy, threadbare, sleeve.

“Come on! It’s not that far now!”

“Where are we even going? We’re all the way in the fourth ring!” Tubbo said, jumping over a dip in the road, Tommy had insisted on showing him a ‘very cool and important secret’ after school that day but wouldn’t explain a single thing else.

“You’ll see- now come on! You’re so slow!”

Tommy missed Tubbo’s eye roll and tried to urge him along, hoping to avoid the more dodgy areas Phil warned him about years ago.

He led them past Skeppy’s shack, past the dilapidated buildings, and towards the fence. They ended up close to the gap that Tommy had followed Techno through a few weeks earlier.

Tommy ducked behind a house, motioning dramatically for Tubbo to follow, Tommy looking for the telltale willow tree vines that hid the gap, ignoring Tubbo’s questions.

“There it is!” He started to run but skidded to a halt, cautiously checking the area, then crept forwards, waving for Tubbo to join him.

He peeled back the gangly green vines and looked to Tubbo for a reaction.

“What- what is this?”

“The forest outside the rings!”

“Well obviously- how did you find it?”

“That’s not important,” Tommy grinned, “What is important is that we have access to the outside world.”

“What are we even gonna do with this?”

“Well- I don’t know- it’s- it’s cool! It’s just cool-” He paused, “Not like you would get cool.”

Tubbo nodded, taking a step closer to the fence, “What do you think is out there?”

“Nothing we can’t handle! Come on- it’ll be fun! We can do anything we want!” And without waiting for a response Tommy marched in, Tubbo sighed before trailing behind.

The edge of the forest looked worse than the last time Tommy had seen it, more litter was scattered in the foliage and trees, the thickets were sharper and pulled at already thin clothing and pricked his skin but that didn’t stop him.

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Of course! I’ve been here loads of times!” Tommy jabbed a thumb at his own chest proudly.

“How many times?”

“Uh- too many to count!” Tommy stammered, scrambling over a mossy log, intentionally crunching on the leaves. “Just know that I am a professional!”

Tubbo snorted, optioning to crouch under the log instead.

They continued deeper into the woods, soft sunlight dappling through the canopy of leaves, emerald green grass brushing against their ankles, the chittering of nearby animals filled their ears.

“Do you think there are bees in here?”

“Of course- there have to be!”

“I’d like to see them- I’ve only seen a few in the rings…”

“Hell yeah! Let’s go find us some bees! There are probably some close by!”

The pair bounced through the woods, crossing little creeks and streams, hopping from rock to rock and trying to swing on the low hanging weak vines on the trees.

Tommy had tried a particularly weak one, slipped, and landed flat on his back.

They happened upon a little flower patch, immediately taking notice of the buzzing coming from the vibrant flowers, a few yellow specks fluttering about.

Tommy watched as Tubbo crouched down and inched closer, biting his lip to stop from laughing.

“Ya know Tubbo- I don’t really get why you like those things.”

“I don’t know why either, I just think they’re neat, come and watch them.”

“No- that sounds boring.” Tommy said as he shuffled closer to Tubbo, who was poking tentatively at the bees. “Moths are better.”

“No they’re not,”

“Yes they are!”

“If they are so much better then where are they?”

“They-they’re not out right now- because-” Tommy trailed off briefly.

“‘Cause they’d get eaten.” Tubbo filled in nonchalantly, not bothering to look up.

Tommy shrieked, “Aw no! That’s sick- that’s so sick! You’re so twisted!”

“I’m not twisted- that’s just how nature works-”

“Nature is stupid!”

“You’re stupid-”

They bickered back and forth for a moment before the argument dissolved and they sat in a not awkward but not comfortable silence.

Tubbo broke it, rubbing a soft yellow flower petal between his fingers, “I wonder what type of flower this is- the bees seem to really like it.”

Tommy looked up, briefly stopping from pulling up grass, “They’re buttercups.” He said simply.

“You answered that fast.” Tubbo teased, watching Tommy’s head shoot up.

“Well- well yeah! Because I’m so smart I just know these things!”

Tubbo laughed, plucking a bee free buttercup from the ground and laying it across Tommy’s busted up shoes.

“Sure big man.”

In turn Tommy took it and tried to weave it between the laces, after he mangled the steam just enough to get it to stay he picked a buttercup of his own and stuck it in a free button gap on Tubbo’s shirt.

They grinned at each for a moment before Tommy cleared his throat and looked over at the bees, “Hm, they aren’t so bad.”

“They’re great- at least they actually do things for the environment- unlike moths!”

“I’m tired of your shit! Moths are great and it’s not my fault that you’re too stupid to see that!”

The banter continued until they heard the bushes rustle and froze, it was too strong and too loud for it to be a small animal. Tommy put up a hand and crept forwards, taking care to not step on anything that could alert the thing of his presence.

He stood on his tiptoes and looked out to see something slinking forwards, hissing softly, not in his direction, it almost blended in with forest as it.

He wasn’t able to recognize it but knew it was bad news, just looking at the monster’s bend form sent sharp shivers down his back.

Tommy let out a shaky breath and took a step back, he had heard Techno say there were monsters in the forest before but he thought Techno was just trying to scare him.

He tried to rationalize to himself, it was fine, the monster didn’t even know he was there, they just had to sneak away- which was totally doable!

Tommy took a one cautious step backwards, still keeping his eyes locked on the monster. He took another, didn’t make a sound, and the monster's head snapped to the side, zeroing in on him.

It’s eyes narrowed and it let out a sharp, grading, cry before charging forwards at full speed.

Tommy shrieked and ran towards Tubbo, grabbing his arm in an attempt to pull him up, babbling about a ‘something big something bad- monster- run run run’.

They rushed through the trees, trying to stick close to one another without tripping, jumping over large roots and avoiding vines they didn’t dare bother to look back.

“We need to move around more- so we’re harder to follow!” Tubbo called to him, Tommy shook his head.

“No! We could get lost- besides we can out run that bastard!”

The land started to look a little familiar, the trees started thinning and the chitters of the animals were dying down.

Tommy dared to look behind him and skidded to a halt, chest heaving, he didn’t see the monster behind him and flopped on the ground, trying desperately to suck down as much air as possible.

He heard Tubbo stop too, looking over to see him leaning against a tree, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“So- besides- besides the monster- I think that went pretty well.”

Tubbo gave him a look before laughing, “Yeah- yeah it did.”

They waited for a few moments, trying to get their breathing back under control, Tommy took to breaking a twig into smaller pieces while Tubbo fiddled with the flower still stuck in his shirt.

After a while Tommy sat up, immediately regretting it as all the blood rushed from his head, tossing the shredded twig bits aside.

“We should probably get back home,”

Tubbo nodded as Tommy climbed to his feet then rushed over and grabbed Tubbo’s shoulders.

“You can’t tell anyone about any of this, okay Tubbo? It has to be a complete secret.”

Tubbo nodded again, putting his hands on top of Tommy’s, “Got it!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay- now let's get out of here.�� They walked to the edge of the forest and after making sure the coast was clear ran over and ducked back through the fence, pushing the swaying willow vines away.

The fourth circle was quiet, the cracked cobble brick roads were barren, the sun was just starting to set so they picked up the pace.

They couldn’t have gotten three houses down the road until they ran into Technoblade, he barely spared them a passing glance, in favor of messing with a hole in his sleeve.

“There you guys are.” He said, “Knew you were out here.”

“What- how?”

“It’s a sense- I can tell when you’re doing something stupid.”

“That’s rude- I don’t do stupid things-”

“Sure Tommy, now lets get home.” Techno had already turned to walk away.

“Get home?”

“Yes.” He looked over his shoulder, “You have people who worry about your wellbeing you know.”

‘I don’t think you know that.’ Tommy wanted to retort but kept his mouth shut, trailing behind Techno who didn’t seem to understand there wasn’t a rush to get home and there was no need for him to walk that fast.

The walk back was mostly silence saved for a few questions about the weekend's homework. The trio eventually reached the rusty metal stairs, Techno turned to Tubbo.

“Can you make it back to your place okay?”

Tubbo nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be fine, see you later.” He waved and continued down the street.

They watched him leave and Tommy felt his nerves settle just a little bit when;

“You were in the forest.” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh-”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tommy froze, not sure of what to do, was Techno mad at him or just annoyed? He could never tell.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Techno sighed, Tommy shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t see anything weird in there?”

“Nope.” Tommy felt like it was probably better if Techno didn’t know about the monster even if it didn’t get that close- better safe than sorry.

Techno eyed him up and down. “Okay you’re definitely lying.”

“What! No I’m not- you stupid-”

“Yeah yeah- just get upstairs.” Techno sighed again, nudging Tommy towards the stairs.

Tommy stuck his tongue out but headed up towards the apartment anyways, grinning when he looked down and noticed the buttercup still wrapped in between his shoe laces.

It was busted up and missing a few petals but was still soft between his fingertips and glowed softly in the dim light of his room.

He put it in a little glass of water on his desk for a reminder of his adventure with his friend.

[shakspeare]

faith is the ache

→ dean/cas fic → circa season four. it’s the emo soldier of god for me.  → this is 90% kink y’all, most definitely rated r.  → ao3 link here if you’d rather read there → first time destiel writer the renaissance rly hit hard

Cas and Dean’s first kiss is a battlefield kiss.

It’s raw and desperate and bloody, torn from Cas’s lips like salvation, a prayer. Dean’s never been a praying man, but if this is faith, he’s a goddamn saint. He can taste blood on Cas’s tongue, feel Cas’s breath through his ribs, rushed and angry and brutal.

This is faith.

Faith is the way his fingers feel like they’re about to break. Faith is the way he’s holding Cas to him the same way he’d hold onto his gun. Faith is Cas’s eyelashes, dark and wet, ghosting against his cheek. Faith is every stolen breath and broken bone, every stabbing pain, every gasp, every tear, every loss.

Faith is the ache.

The world burns red through his eyelids; he opens his eyes. Releases his angel.

“Sam!” he roars, spinning on his heel, staring into the fray. The woodland’s half on fire, some demon coughing up its guts at his feet. He slams his heel down on its throat, scanning the tree line.

“Sam!”

“Let’s move!” Sam’s spat out of the forest like a rocket, tearing over the waste ground between them. Dean doesn’t need telling twice. He hauls Cas to his feet and they run.

The forest blurs past them in shadow and ash. The night’s dark; freakishly so. No stars. A volley of sparks explodes in the air above their heads; they flinch, keep running. Things had gone wrong, gone very badly wrong. Dean stumbles on the broken earth, curses under his breath. It was a trap, that should’ve been obvious. He was off his game.

“Dean?” The angel’s voice is curious, not yet practised in concern. Dean jerks his head; keep moving.

“I’m fine,” he barks, and Cas turns, keeps going.

“Here!” Sam’s voice comes low through the trees, and Dean gives a sigh of relief. He thought they’d overshot by a mile, but the Impala is just visible in the darkness. Least something’s gone to plan. His heart’s hammering against his ribs and something feels really wrong there. Broken, he’s guessing. He drops into the driver’s seat, fumbles for the keys. Half a second to breathe, and then he’s gunning baby’s engine to freaking Timbuktu. He reaches out to yank the door shut, but Cas is there, suddenly, holding it still. He stares down at Dean, eyes wide, hair going every which way.

“I’ll lead them off,” he says, and his voice is rough and low. “I doubt we will go undisturbed.”

Dean blinks, Cas takes a step back—

“Wait, Cas!”

He tilts his head, frowns at Dean. Dean gives himself a shake; man, he’s losing it.

“Get in the car.” The angel looks at him almost pityingly.

“No, thank you. I’m much faster out of it.”

“I’m not offering you a lift, you goddamn hippie,” There’s something moving in the trees. He slides the key into the ignition, keeps his voice low.

“You going off alone, that’s exactly what they’ll be expecting.” Castiel hesitates, still staring at him.

“Get in the damn car!”

Cas slides into the backseat just as he guns the engine and the angels break the clearing; the Impala snarls and jerks forward over the rough earth, spraying up dirt and stone in her wake, and if he said that didn’t satisfy him to hell, he’d be lying. He yanks the steering wheel hard left, spinning them out onto the freeway, and in 30 seconds he’s put miles between them and their heavenly little tete a tete. Cars flicker past either side of them, and Dean’s eyes flick up to the rearview. Cas’s baby blues are fixed firmly on the road ahead, that little frown quirking his brow.

“So it was a trap,” Sam grimaces, running a finger down the gash in his arm.

“Woah, dude!” Dean exclaims. “Upholstery, blood; blood, upholstery!” Sam ignores him, reaching out a bloody finger and daubing some hokey symbol on the passenger side window.

“Angel proofing, dumb-ass. They won’t be able to find us.”

Angel proofing. Right. Dean grumbles under his breath. It’s not the worst idea in the world. The pain in his ribs flares and he winces.

Yeah, they need some off-radar time.

“Check the map,” he nods at the roadmap on the floor at Sam’s feet. “Find us somewhere to crash. My four hours is calling my name.” His eyes flick back up to the rearview. No reason why.

***

The nearest motel’s about an hour’s drive. Sam falls asleep in his seat; Dean flicks on the radio. Adrenaline’s coursing through him like a freight train; it always does, after a hunt. He flexes his fingers against the wheel, shifts in his seat. Feels good. Feels strong.

His lips are burning.

“You ok?” The words come out a little gruffer than he’d intended. He clears his throat, keeps his eyes fixed on the road. It’s just the polite thing to do. Ask. For a minute he thinks Cas might’ve angel-ed out, but then—

“I am uninjured.” Right. “Great.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, itching to do… something. He needs a drink. A sleazy bar. Pounding music.

“But I… feel strange.”

He can’t help it; he glances up at Cas’s reflection. Cas is gazing out at the night, frowning.

“Strange how?”

“I should have known it was a trap,” Cas murmurs. “There were warning signs. I failed to notice them. I failed to keep you safe.”

“Guilt. That’s called guilt, Cas.”

Cas sighs.

“It’s not a big deal, no one got hurt.” He ignores the stabbing pain in his side; he’s had worse. “Everyone make mistakes. It’s uh, human.”

Cas’s searching gaze meets his and he swallows, looks quickly back to the road. Jesus. A scattergun of images flicker past in his mind’s eye; Cas, bright-eyed, burning, in the split second before he kissed him; Cas, in the barn, sparks exploding in the air around him, hair lit up like some dollar store invocation of Jesus Christ; and another, something he’s not sure he’s ready to think about yet; Cas, with bruised lips, shirt collar open and staring at him like he’s seeing for the first time.

Yeah, he’s itching to do something, alright.

“Dean.”

He jerks out of his reverie, slides the steering wheel left a little, keeps them straight. Eyes on the road. Get it together. Right. He shifts a little in his seat, pretends like Cas’s gaze isn’t burning a hole in the back of his neck. His cock twitches in his jeans.

“Alright!” He clears his throat, reaches over to the radio. “If you’re gonna slum it on earth with the rest of us, you gotta live the whole experience. Guilt, shame, the whole nine yards. Now this,” he raises his voice over House of the Rising Sun, “this is a whole experience of it’s own.”

Cas frowns a little. Dean sighs, leans back in his seat. Resists the urge to shift his hips, let the denim friction graze his dick. Jesus Christ, there’s something in the air. He risks a glance at Cas again; he’s gazing out his window now, thank god, watching headlights flicker past.

Alright. It’s not like he hasn’t been with men before. It’s no big deal, right? Except — and this is the kicker — sucking some trucker off for twenty dollars is pretty fucking different. Isn’t it? His heart skips a little in his chest, imagines Cas looking down at him, Cas running deft fingers through his hair. Yeah, it’s different. Different like, there’s a part of him that wants to pull the car over and get on his knees right now. He remembers the heat of Cas pressing against his chest, rough and aching; remembers the sting of his angel blade, caught between them and digging into his side.

Is Cas thinking about it? Do angels get turned on?

He’s not even sure why he did it, why he stepped over the angel Cas had just gutted and wrapped his fist in Cas’s shirt. He remembers the last time he had sex; in that strip joint with some hooker — he’d barely started railing her when all hell broke loose and he and Cas had to book it out the back. Does this feel like that? His dick twitches at the memory; the chick buck naked and spreading her legs, widening her come-fuck-me eyes. He frowns, shifts, remembers the puzzled expression on Cas’s face before he kissed him.

Nah, this is different. He doesn’t know why — the chick was hot, Cas is hot, his dick’s sure as hell into both. But it is. It is different.

Cas is still silent in the backseat. What’s he thinking about? I feel strange. Probably still grappling with his newfound guilt, whatever that feels like for an angel. I failed to keep you safe. Dean snorts. Right. Safe. When has anyone ever worried about his safety before? He barely worries about it himself. His mind fritzes for a hot second; faceless men in truck stop bathrooms; this week’s monster, teeth bared and barrelling out of the darkness; dad, waking him up at three in the morning and thrusting a sawn-off into his hands.

Safe doesn’t figure. It just doesn’t. And if he slammed on the brakes and insisted the angel in the backseat fuck him in the next lay-by, there’d be nothing safe about that either. He shifts, presses his dick against the rough fabric of his jeans. A single streetlamp bursts overhead as they fly beneath it, and in the shower of sparks, he sees Cas, bright blue eyes, one hand gripping the back of Dean’s neck like he owns him.

They make it to the motel somewhere round two in the morning. Seeing Cas properly for the first time since he kissed him is a freaking test. It starts to rain as they haul their bags out the trunk, and Cas has done nothing to fix his shirt, where Dean had wrapped his fingers in his collar and claimed him just hours before. He looks a goddamn mess. Dean swallows, slams the car door, wonders if there’s a bar anywhere nearby. Cas maintains his angelic silence as they cross the lot, stumble into the motel reception. Sam stays awake just long enough to check in, scrawl a bunch of sigils on the window, and then collapse on his twin bed, shoes on, dead to the world.

Dean slings his duffel onto the vacant bed. He’d gotten a twin room on autopilot, hadn’t even thought about it. Now it feels weird. He clears his throat, gives himself a shake. Tries to ignore the ache in his throat. God, he needs a drink. Or something.

Cas is stood at the window, gazing out at the blinking neon sign. White Rose Motel.

“Uh, Cas— ” Cas turns, looks at him expectantly. “What are you, uh—”

He was going to ask what Cas was gonna do all night, going to ask if he wanted his own room, hell, maybe angels like their privacy, he doesn’t know. But Cas is gazing at him, throat exposed, and Christ, he doesn’t remember the last time he wanted to fuck someone this badly. Dean glances at Sammy, passed out on the bed, and clears his throat.

“Outside?”

Cas narrows his eyes a fraction, and then nods, the tiniest movement. He closes the space between them, and when he presses his hand to Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s knees almost give way.

***

The air vanishes, twists; rain glitters on the sidewalk; the night fills Dean’s lungs, and he can’t wait, can’t wait another goddamn second. His fists find Cas’s shirt and he seizes him, pulls him close; his head collides with the wall behind him; the pain in his ribs flares like an open wound, and he doesn’t give a damn, doesn’t give a damn about anything. He’s done thinking. Sex is sex, and he’s a freaking cowboy. He needs this.

He can taste Cas’s blood on his tongue, feel Cas's lips against his, rough and punishing and claiming. Mine, mine, mine, and oh god, he wants to die here. Suddenly, Cas’s hand locks onto his wrist like a vice, and he steps back; Dean’s eyes snap up to meet his; strange, blue—

There are unspoken questions in Cas’s eyes, in the persistent frown that quirks his brow. His grip tightens on Dean’s wrist, and he presses Dean back against the wall; he can feel the damp coming through his shirt, feel the rain, soft, on his forehead. Dean can’t remember the last time he was this turned on; he doesn’t want to stop, to think, he just wants Cas—

“Cas, please—” It falls unbidden from his lips, and in the silent seconds that follow it feels like heresy. He’s hard as hell, and the angel at his throat is looking at him like he wants to tear him apart, and god, if that doesn’t turn him on more. Dean finds his voice, chokes out a word.

“Please.”

Cas’s fingers wrap around Dean’s throat, and he can’t tell if he’s about to kiss him, or kill him, or both—

Then Cas kisses him and he moans; a prayer that’s snuffed out by the press of Cas’s mouth against his own and suddenly he’s desperate, starving; his hands find the back of Castiel’s neck and he holds him to him, panting, pressing into Cas’s kiss like he wants to die on the altar of his lips. He gasps into Cas’s mouth, inhaling liquor and salt and copper. Cas shifts against him, open palm against his chest and—

The pain in his ribs flares suddenly, sharp and hot.

“You lied,” Cas whispers. “You’re hurt.”

Dean nods, doesn’t know how he manages it, but he does.

“Ah— yeah. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, Cas.”

He doesn’t want this to be over, he can’t have this be over, not yet. Cas passes a hand over his ribs, gazing at Dean like he’s lost in thought. Dean winces as his hand slides across the break; he can’t help it. Cas’s eyes flicker silver.

“You should let me heal it.”

“Right. Yes. Okay, Cas. Heal it, please— and then—”

“Pray to me,” Cas murmurs.

“Wh— what?” 

His eyes are gleaming, hair lit up by the street-lamps, glittering with the fallen rain. He looks fucking otherworldly, divine. He loosens his grip on Dean’s throat, and suddenly he’s full of something Dean doesn’t recognise. All he knows is that he craves it, needs it, dark and bright and strong and holy.

When he falls to his knees, it doesn’t feel anything other than right. He doesn’t question it, doesn’t think. When Cas runs his fingers through his hair, tilts his chin up to the sky, the ache in his chest subsides. The rain continues to fall, and the cold is creeping into his bones, but he doesn’t care. This is different.

He prays. He wants to. He wants Cas to be his, and he wants to be Cas’s, forever. Cas whispers to him softly, voice almost lost in this hiss of the falling rain. He lets him drag his tongue over his cock, lets him taste it, kiss it, and then — once he’s asked and begged and prayed a hundred times — Cas answers his prayer, thrusts his cock between his lips. He tastes like ichor and iron and wine and his fingers wind a little tighter in Dean’s hair. Dean’s never wanted to please someone this badly in his goddamn life. He’s good at sucking cock, he knows he is, but for Cas, he wants to be better than good. He wants Cas to need him, to know him, to never leave him. He runs his tongue down the length of Cas’s cock, wraps his hand around the base. He drags his tongue over the head, slow and rough and teasing. He keeps his eyes on Cas’s. When his cock hits the back of his throat, Dean feels like he’s about to fucking ascend. When Cas pulls him to his feet it feels like rapture. His legs are shaking; he all but collapses against him, his angel, and then Cas’s lips find his and Cas holds him up, pressing softer kisses on him now, sweet and deft and silent.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Dean feels lightheaded.

“Yeah?” he manages to breathe, in between Cas’s soft, persistent kisses.

“Yes,” Cas murmurs simply. “That was good,” and Jesus Christ, why does hearing that drive him crazy? Cas’s hand finds the tear in Dean’s ribs, palm like an open flower, and there’s a moment, warmth, and the pain is gone. Dean moans into Cas’s kiss, keening, presses his hips against him. For a moment Cas pulls back; Dean’s left breathless, aching, Cas’s fingers tracing the line of his jaw. Then the air around them rents itself in two, and suddenly Cas’s lips are on him again, but the world is upside down; the wall is gone; the air is closer, drier—

He tries to right himself, get purchase, and realises he’s flat out, sheets beneath his head. Cas’s had is still at his jaw, gentle, kind, and he realises with a lurch that the angel is fucking straddling him. He gasps, pressing up into Cas’s kiss so hard he can feel the bruise it’s going to leave on his lips.

“Where—” he manages to breathe out, the last vestige of his dignity wondering where exactly they are, though right now he’s so turned on he’d gladly beg Cas to fuck him in front of a freaking bar full of people — his dick twitches in his pants at that thought and he thinks he notices Cas’s eyes darken — that’s a thought to explore at a later date —

“An unoccupied room. This motel is not popular,” Cas murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of Dean’s throat. His hands find Dean’s, loosening his grip on him, and Dean whines in protest; he wants to pull him closer, find some goddamn friction, never let go.

“Quiet,” Cas murmurs. His hands slide along Dean’s wrists, guide them up over his head, press them into the mattress, and Dean’s breath comes out in a little stutter. Cas blinks at him with those fucking weird, cosmic eyes, and then he’s closer still, pressing little butterfly kisses to his neck. Dean tilts his head back to the stars and gasps. The ache in his chest feels like holy fire, and he forgets everything — god, girls, demons, devils. All he can be sure of are the hands on his wrists, the mouth at his throat, the blood on his tongue, the split in his lip.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice vibrates, soft, just by his ear. A shiver runs down his spine; his eyes flutter shut.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s weight shifts slightly; Dean opens his eyes.

Cas’s eyes are bright in the shadows; he’s tossed his coat aside. There’s still blood on his shirt, staining the white, patterning his throat. He can see it when Cas looks away, lifts his chin and gazes across the room He shifts beneath him, a little, til his cock is pressing into Cas’s thigh.

“What?”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s gaze meets his, and there’s no challenge, no threat. Dean’s stomach flips over when he recognises the glimmer in his eyes. There’s no challenge because it’s all possession. Quiet, unyielding, simple. As if it’s all there is.

He swallows. “Yes. I’m sure.”

There’s a split second where Cas doesn’t move, only blinks at him, and he grinds his hips up into Cas in frustration, voice coming out in a whine—

“Please.”

And then Cas’s kissing him like he’s about to die. The press of his body against Dean’s is like a blessing, something otherworldly and dangerous and close to god. Dean can’t think, can’t breathe, can only arch up into the angel at his throat and pray, a broken string of words and sounds and promises that tumble from his lips without thought. When Cas lets go his wrists, his hands tangle in Cas’s hair, trace the curve of his jaw, the hollow of his throat. Cas’s shirt is gone, and he jerks his own off over his head, rough and careless, and when Cas’s palm presses against the brand on his shoulder like it’s a prayer, a rite, some secret sacred invocation that only they know, only they will ever know, Dean loses his mind, desperate, aching—

Cas draws back for a split second. His hair is tousled, his skin like marble in the half light. Dean’s heart is hammering like it’s going to leap out of his chest; he gasps, breathes, collapses back onto the bed.

“Cas,” he whispers, hands restless, reaching. “Come back, come back, please.”

He feels Cas’s weight shift, move, and when he opens his eyes Cas is beside him, eyelashes ghosting against his cheek. His lips press softly against Dean’s jaw, just below his ear, and suddenly Dean’s eyes are wet, and he has no idea why. His hands find his belt; he slips free of his jeans, his pants. He knows what he wants, and he doesn’t want to stop, to think. The air is warm against his naked skin but he feels vulnerable, strange; he rolls towards Cas, shields himself against his body.

Cas catches his chin with the pad of his thumb; soft, tender. He traces the sides of his body with the tips of his fingers, and his eyes are dark, brilliant, and Dean’s trembling because this is different, this is different from any guy, any girl, anyone he’s ever been with before. No one has ever looked at him like this before. The way Cas touches him, it’s like he’s the one who’s divine.

Cas presses him gently onto his back with a kiss, reverent, and his hand drifts down, over his stomach, his hips, finds his cock. He drags his fingers along the length of it, slow, playful, and Dean whines into the kiss, pleading. Suddenly his dick is slick, wet, and he moans, twisting in Cas’s hand.

“How—” he gasps, and Cas’s voice is just a breath in his ear.

“I’m an angel, Dean.”

When Cas pushes his legs open, and slips between them — when he trails kisses down Dean’s stomach, runs his tongue down the crease where his thigh meets his hip — when he kisses Dean so hard he draws blood, and then slips his fingers into Dean’s mouth — Dean’s gone. He can feel his own cock leaking against his stomach, so exposed and vulnerable and untouched. He needs this, needs Cas to touch him, hold him, want him. He swears out loud when Cas’s spit slick fingers slide between his asscheeks, tease at his hole. He pushes into his touch, craving more, needing to feel—

And then Cas’s tongue grazes his cock, his thigh, his asshole, and he’s trembling, bucking on the bed beneath him; his hands find Cas’s shoulders and he grabs him, pleading, as Cas’s tongue, hot and wet and obscene, teases at his fluttering hole. Cas’s gaze flicks up to meet his, eyes glittering, lips bruised, the column of his throat stark in the half light, and Dean is suddenly hit by the fact that this is an angel, this is not a man, this is an angel, a soldier of god, a force of nature, divine and unknowable and sacred. Cas slips up over him and presses a kiss against his open mouth, presses his palm against his aching dick, and slowly, agonisingly, pushes his cock inside him.

Dean’s lost. His throat is tipped back to the stars, stars obscured by a plywood and mortar and brick. He rocks onto Cas’s cock, and Cas whispers in his ear; soft, calm, quiet, tender. He moves slowly, gently, like Dean is fragile, sacred. Like he matters. He presses kisses to his lips, his throat, his shoulders as he pushes deeper in, as Dean gasps and presses up to meet him, wanting, always wanting. His hand grips Dean’s cock, thumb flicking lazily over the head, smearing pre-come and Dean could swear he’s enjoying this, toying with him, making him wait. He whimpers beneath him, tries to arch his hips in time with Cas’s lazy, teasing thrusts.

Cas lowers his mouth to Dean’s ear, whispers, his voice rough.

“Wait.”

Dean can’t wait, can’t think about anything but the ache between his thighs, the gentle fingers teasing him, the fact Cas pushed in even further as he whispered wait, bottomed out, flush against Dean’s prostate and just holding him there, not moving. He shakes his head, protests, tries to grind into Cas’s palm, but Cas tuts, sighs, brushes his thumb across his lips.

“I told you to wait.”

“Please, Cas— I can’t wait, I— please—”

Cas’s eyes are bright, searching.

“What do you want?”

“You know, Cas— you—”

“I want you to say it.”

“Please— Cas, please—”

Cas’s gaze flicks down, over his throat, the expanse of his chest, his leaking cock. He shifts, and Dean moans beneath him. His hand comes to meet Dean’s jaw, dragging the pad of his thumb down over his lower lip, gazing as if he’s curious, thoughtful.

“I want you to say it.”

His voice is low and rough and it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine. He’s a mess; he needs this, like he doesn’t remember needing before; and the fact Cas wants him to say it is somehow even better, even more—

“I want you to fuck me. Please. Please.”

Cas doesn’t move, still watching him, as if lost in thought. He twitches his hand a little around Dean’s cock, rubs his thumb over his aching head, and something in Dean snaps, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them—

“I need you to fuck me, Cas, I need it, I’m begging you, I need it, I need you, I need you here, please, god, please, Cas, please, please, just fuck me, touch me, make me yours, I can’t—”

And then his words are cut off by Cas’s kiss, hard, rough, dominant; one hand on Dean’s throat, the other like a vice around his leaking cock, and he’s fucking him so hard Dean cries out, sound lost on Cas’s lips. Dean wraps his legs around him, pulls him closer, closer, closer, and Cas’s hand finds his shoulder, palm like fire against Dean’s brand. Dean’s hips stutter and he gasps, his cum hot and wet against his ribs. Cas’s mouth is at his throat, his lips, and then he pulls Dean toward him, Dean’s forehead pressed against him as he comes, head tipped back and moaning, eyes lidded, lips parted, dishevelled and messy and divine and his.

***

He falls asleep in his arms.

There is a split in his lip; Cas brushes it softly with his finger. His healing touch is light, deft.

He moves very little; he doesn’t want to wake Dean.

Sleep. It looks peaceful. The warring emotions that usually colour Dean’s brow have all but faded. For a brief moment, Cas considers closing his eyes; perhaps there is bliss in the wilful dulling of the senses.

But that would mean taking his eyes off Dean.

Anger — unfamiliar, strange — courses through him; he had failed last night. Failed to protect the man who sleeps, now, mercifully whole, in his arms.

He would not make the same mistake again.

Dean turns in his sleep, turns toward him, nestles into Cas’s chest. His eyelashes flutter against him, his breath warm on Cas’s skin.

Cas feels — peaceful. Anger, guilt, joy; the messy milieu of human emotion is startling and strange. But this is different.

He knows this. The ache in his chest, the fire that burns. Faith. It is, perhaps, the only thing he has ever truly known. And for millennia, he had never questioned where to place it.

Dean murmurs in his sleep, and Cas traces his fingers over his chest, sweet and gentle and slow. By morning, there are a hundred Enochian love letters patterned, invisible, onto Dean’s ribs.

The stars fade, and the sun rises, and Cas watches over Dean.

This is faith.

[pjoseries]

Congrats for reaching 600 followers! ✨ Quote: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren't supposed to see that.” Percabeth, please? Thank you!

✨ “Am I your lockscreen?” / “You weren't supposed to see that.” (ao3 link)

(***no gods au)

══════════════════

Annabeth scuffs her battered shoe on the floor, avoiding eye contact, and stares at the hole in Percy’s sleep shirt. Gray. It’s her favorite of his. It’s weird to think he has the same wardrobe after all these years. She can even remember how it felt if she thinks hard enough, all threadbare and worn on her skin. She always used to borrow it when she slept over. She clears her throat and her hand tightens its grip on her luggage. 

She makes the mistake of glancing upwards, her eyes catching his, and her free hand trembles slightly. She shoves her fist into her coat pocket, glad that winter still settled in around them. She hopes that he doesn’t notice her movement and almost sighs in relief when his eyes remain steadfast on hers, never flickering, never wavering. 

She takes in the sight of him and the pain burns at the center of her chest. He looks good. His hair is a little longer, making it curl more at the ends. There’s the barest hint of scruff tickling at his jaw and it surprises her. It shouldn’t, but she hasn’t seen him since they graduated high school and they’ve both graduated college months earlier. But she’s immortalized seventeen year old Percy in her mind: bright-eyed and smiling and beautiful. He’s just as handsome, maybe more now if that’s even possible, and it’s a wonder that she ever let him go. 

But he isn’t exactly hers to miss. 

She says, her voice deceptively even, “Thanks for doing this.”

“I’m not letting you sleep out on the streets, Annabeth.” Percy yawns widely and gestures her to come inside. A pang of guilt rattled around her throat, knowing she woke him up at an ungodly hour, years after they'd last spoken to each other. But Percy is Percy and she always knows she can count on him, even as years have passed. Percy’s loyalty is the most precious thing she’s ever earned. It’s a simple truth in the world that he will do anything for those he calls his friends and Annabeth is just lucky enough to still be his. 

Percy moves forward and takes the luggage from her hand and pulls it inside. The warmth of his body contrasts nicely against the brisk, late night wind and she tries with all her strength not to lean into him. 

As she closes the door, Percy’s already halfway up the stairs towards his room. She blanches and hurriedly toes off her shoes before padding up the stairs after him. “I was gonna take your couch, Perce. It’s not a big deal.”

Percy snorts. “The couch will break your back if you sleep on it for more than a night. Besides, you’re here for a few days. You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Annabeth’s fingers catch on his arm and he turns, eyebrows raised. “You just said that the couch will break my back. You are not sleeping there. I literally barged into your apartment at three in the morning. I feel like that’s enough reason for me to sleep there.”

“Nope,” he says, grinning at her. He huffs out a laugh and he didn’t even sound winded hauling her bag up. He opens the door to his room and places her luggage near the closet. “You’re my guest.”

“Unwanted guest,” she corrects. 

He ruffles his hair and it’s so familiar, it makes her miss him that much more. “Who said you’re unwanted.”

“Anyone in their right mind.”

“Annabeth, you could never be unwanted to me,” Percy says softly. She feels her face heat up and she focuses on getting her coat off instead of looking at him. She throws it on the chair and pushes her sleeves up to her elbows. 

She mutters, “Well… thank you.”

“No problem.” 

He turns to go back downstairs when she finally remembers where he intends to sleep. “Wait, you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Where do you expect me to sleep, Chase?” He has this smug look on his face like he knows there’s no other option available. 

“With me,” she says, stubborn as a bull. Even though she knows what it sounds like. 

“Oh, really?” he teases. 

She rolls her eyes. “Not like that. We’re both adults, we can sleep in the same bed.”

Percy looks at her for a hard second and shrugs. “As long as you’re fine, I’m good with it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Something in her shoulders loosen and she breathes out evenly. 

Percy nods and heads over to the right side of the bed where his phone laid and sat down. He has a full bed which is usually a decent amount of space for one person, but she’s going to have to avoid moving around if she doesn’t want to intrude on his space. It’s weird, honestly. She doesn’t regret saying they should share, but she’s acting like she hasn’t seen Percy for a week, not years. 

She grabs her pajamas—which are just an old, oversized camp shirt and a pair of ratty plaid bottoms that Annabeth’s pretty sure was Percy’s once upon a time—and heads to the bathroom she saw on her way to his room. She quickly shoves her clothes and balls up her old ones and walks back to Percy’s room. 

He’s sitting up against his headboard, his blanket already covering his legs, and he’s tapping something on his phone. She throws her clothes into the open luggage and slides in next to him. But before Percy can turn off his phone, she glances at his phone and gapes. 

“Am I your lock screen?” she asks. 

Percy fumbles with his hand and drops the phone. It lands face-down, so she can’t double-check to see if she imagined it. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“No, no”—she reaches out a hand to comfort him—“it’s sweet, Percy. Really.”

Percy stays unbearably quiet. 

“I’ve missed you too,” she confesses, gripping his hand in hers. His fingers remain loose for a second before he faces his palm upwards, threading their fingers together. She smiles softly. “Sorry I left.”

“Why did you?” His voice is low, barely audible. 

She knows why he asked. Before she left New York, before she left Percy, they were both dancing around their feelings for each other. A sort of fondness rolls over her at the memories. It didn’t seem that long ago when she’d sleep over at his place and they stayed up all night talking about everything and nothing, or when they’d both linger too long when they hugged to be anything other than platonic, or when they both let their affection for each other shine and everyone around them always mistook them for a couple. 

But she got scared and despite knowing Percy for years, she couldn’t help but feel like he was too good to have, that if she took it further—if she asked for more that her luck with him would disappear. So she left. Annabeth went to college across the country and let their interactions fade. She blamed it on college being hell, but she knew what she was doing. All she can say is that she hates that she hurt him. 

“I…” she starts, but falters. “I was terrified.”

“Of what?”

“You.” 

Percy stops breathing and she can feel him about to pull away. She grips his hand tighter, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand. 

“Not like that. I could never be scared of you, Perce. I’ve known you since you were twelve when you wore cargo pants and I was taller than you.”

“Then what.” Something in his voice cracks. His head tilts downwards, blinking away his own tears. 

Her heart breaks at the sight. “You’re the only good thing in my life and I didn’t want to ruin that. But I did it anyway and I’m so sorry. I was terrified of being with you because if I lost you…”

“You’d never lose me,” he says vehemently and he turns to face her. His eyes are dark in the dim lighting and he lets go of her hand to cup her cheek. “You’re my best friend and you’ll always be my best friend even if you stop talking to me. I’ll always be there for you.”

“I know,” she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. Percy’s thumb wipes them away with gentle strokes. “I miss you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Percy leans in and presses his forehead against hers. 

“I can tell,” she says. “I’m your lock screen, remember?”

Percy huffs out a laugh and hesitates for a moment before he presses his lips against her cheek. “Let’s sleep, okay? It’s been a long day.”

Annabeth nods and they both slide down underneath the covers. She turns on her side while Percy faces the ceiling. Her right hand rests lightly on his chest and he holds her palm in his left. She’s tired enough that just laying down makes her eyes flutter shut. She murmurs, “Goodnight, Percy.”

“G’night,” he whispers.

[slafkovskys]

too busy being yours / a. turcotte

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from do i wanna know? by the arctic monkeys

before you read! with everything going on in the world, i would just like to put this out there. if you are not able to financially contribute to the black lives matter movement but would still like to help out, this post contains links to petitions that you can sign and some donation links as well. please take a look at it and do what you can. thank you and happy reading!

-

when the brown-haired, brown-eyed boy stumbled up the stairs onto your front porch, you couldn’t help but giggle. you were leaning against the wall outside your dad’s office as he wheeled in his first piece of luggage. your mom walked towards him with her arms outstretched and wrapped him in a hug, “how are you alex? was your flight good?”

he chuckles as he pulls back, stepping aside to let your dad in with his equipment. “i’m good. the flight was good. thank you for having me, mrs. hughes. it means a lot.”

she shushes him, rubbing her hands up his arms in the motherly way she always did even if it wasn’t one of her own children. “nonsense. we’re happy to have you, alex. you don’t have to call me mrs. hughes, it’s too formal. you can call me ellen.”

“okay, mrs- ellen,” he’s quick to correct himself at the sharp look she gives him.

“you can’t help, or are you too pretty?” jack interrupts your mother before she can speak again. he glares at you as he passes through the door.

“i’m too pretty,” you pout jokingly. alex, as though he hadn’t realized you were there, turns his head and looks at you with wide eyes. you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers, “plus i just got my nails done jacky and, as you know, they weren’t cheap.”

your older brother rolls his eyes as he moves over to the stairs to set down alex’s duffel bag. your mother gives you a look before gesturing you forward, “this is y/n, the baby of the family even though she’s not the youngest.”

“the baby, the light of my parents’ life, just a few words commonly used to describe me,” you grin, holding out your hand for the boy to shake. almost tentatively, he does so.

“you forgot pain in the ass,” jack mumbles and your mother is quick to scold him. he flushes and apologizes, but you know that he didn’t fully mean it.

“are you hungry?” she changes the subject, turning to look at the house’s newest resident who nods. she grins before clapping her hands, “great! y/n can show you around while i make you something to eat. you don’t mind do you, y/n? perfect!”

she didn’t even give you time to answer before she turns around and walks towards the kitchen. jack follows quickly after her, “what about me? can you make me some lunch? mom?”

you chuckle at your brother’s antics before looking back at alex. “you don’t have to look so scared. i promise that i’m not gonna bite your head off or anything.”

he chuckles before scratching the back of his neck, “good to know?”

“c’mon alex. let’s go on a field trip,” you announce as you push off the wall. you point towards your dad’s office, “that’s the office. it really just holds all of the boys’ memorabilia, like they’re awards, pucks, all of that-”

“do you play?” he asks.

“i used to when i was younger, but i just decided it wasn’t for me as i got older. left it for the boys,” you shrug before pointing your finger in the direction of where your mom and brother had gone, “that’s where the family room, kitchen, and dining room are. down there is the basement where we have ping pong, the xbox, and other stuff. that door leads to the garage which is basically just the boys’ practice room. the only time there was a car in there was, like, the first day that we moved and we were unpacking stuff.”

he chuckles and follows you as you move towards the stairs, “mom and dad’s room is down here too, so we get the entire upstairs to ourselves which is pretty cool. i think that they regret it because when we argue, it can get pretty loud and they just hear us stomping around on top of their heads.”

“do you argue a lot?” he questions, following you up to the second floor where all of your rooms were.

you shrug, “i mean, we’re siblings. it’s more playful than anything. i’ll call jack a bitch, but i mean it in a loving way.”

“what about me?” you hear jack shout from downstairs.

“i was just telling him which room was yours!” you shout back, looking at alex threateningly. he holds his hands up in surrender, but the dimpled grin on his face tells you he wasn’t the least bit threatened by you. “speaking of rooms, luke’s is at the end of the hall. jack’s is there, mine is right here, and you get quinn’s old room beside mine.”

“lucky me,” he teases and you have to turn your head so he doesn’t see you flush.

you push open the door to his room and gesture him inside. “we didn’t unpack your stuff, but if you don’t see something, i think dad put some boxes in the closet too.”

“thanks,” he nods, moving past you into his new bedroom. he looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets. “does your mom care if i hang some things up, like pictures or posters?”

you shake your head, “it’s your room dude. do whatever you want with it, just don’t punch holes in the walls. that was quinn’s only rule.”

“i won’t,” he assures, taking a seat on the bed.

you sigh, “well, i’ll leave you to unpack your stuff. let me know if you need anything.”

“thank you,” he says as you turn which causes you to look back at him with a raised eyebrow, “y’know, for the tour.”

“anytime,” you wink, grabbing the knob of his door and pulling it behind you. you leave a crack before moving into your room next door. you shut your door fully behind you and press your back against it as bite your lip, “anytime.”

-

it was kind of strange how quickly alex had become part of your life, part of your routine. having him there was just natural. normal.

the first year flew by and when he came back for his second and final year in the program, the two of you were practically inseparable. you were never able to see him as another one of your brothers, but as more of a best friend.

you basically had an open-door policy for alex (something your brother’s had yet to obtain so they just barged in as they pleased) which never made it weird when he wound up in your room, either splayed across your bed or in the chair in front of your desk. currently, he had taken up residence at the latter as you tightened the string on your top.

you move to stand in front of your mirror, giving yourself a once over, “how do i look, al?”

“fine,” he says, sparing you a glance before looking back down at his phone. you groan and grab a boot before launching it towards him, “what the hell?”

“i don’t want to just look ‘fine’ alex,” you sigh, resting your hands on your hips, “i want to look mature. i want to be drop-dead gorgeous.”

“first of all you’re sixteen,” he holds up a finger, “and secondly, if i called you drop-dead gorgeous, your brother would probably break my leg.”

you flush, turning away from the mirror. you grab your sneakers before nodding towards your door, “let’s go down. avery’s gonna be here for me soon.”

“who’s all gonna be at this party that you’ve been so quiet about?” alex asks.

“her boyfriend probably,” jack teases, not looking up at you as you move into the family room.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes. you look at alex and he stiffens at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend.’ you shook your head as you sit down on a barstool to put on your shoes. “some friends from school. some u17s, nothing new.”

“you need to watch out for the- oh, no ma’am,” jack finally looks up. his eyes rake over your outfit and he pauses on the sliver of your abdomen exposed by the gap between your jeans and shirt. “not today, not ever. go change.”

“no,” you’re quick to respond, looking at him annoyed. “i’m wearing this.”

“no you’re not,” jack says, standing up. he points upstairs, “put on a shirt. an actual one.”

“jack-” you don’t have time to argue before your dad comes through the garage.

“dad, tell y/n that she needs to change!”

“where is she going?” he asks, looking at you. unlike jack, he didn’t make a face at your outfit. you were used to walking around in cutoff shirts or hoodies, so it was nothing new to see a bit of your stomach.

“a party,” jack states, and just for the extra nail in the coffin, he smirks, “with the u17s.”

“no, yeah you definitely need to change. sorry princess,” he walks over to press a kiss to your head before going back towards his room. you hear the door shut and you turn to glare at your brother.

“you-” you feel your phone buzz in your back pocket so you pull it out to check. it was avery and she was outside. it was then that you were thankful for how punctual she was. you smirk, looking back at the two boys. “actually, i don’t have time. my ride’s outside. don’t wait up.”

you take off towards the front door. you hear jack shouting after you as you tear through the front yard and open the backdoor of avery’s car. both avery and lily (who was in the passenger seat) look at you concerned, but you shook your head, “drive.”

she listens, pulling away from your house before jack could catch up. she barely makes it out of your neighborhood before your phone lights up. it was a text from alex.

alex t

for the record, you did look drop dead gorgeous, he’s just being an ass

have fun and don’t do anything i wouldn’t do ;)

you don’t even realize you’re grinning until avery calls you out on it, “who are you texting? you’re grinning so hard it looks like it hurts.”

“nobody,” you try and lie, but your voice crack gives you away. both girls giggle and pester you some more, “fine, fine. it was brett. happy?”

“no it wasn’t,” lily shakes her head, but the conversation is thankfully dropped.

that night as you danced around with your friends, hung around with brett who you were kind of talking to but he always seemed to forget that, and even during that, your mind was on alex. his smile, his stupid dimples, him.

that was when you realized how fucked you were.

-

it was one thing everyone around you noticed, how close you and alex were. while your family had grown used to it, anyone who didn’t live in the house always made sure to tease you two about it.

“so now that he’s gone,” trevor’s voice drops as jack leaves the room to go and grab his wallet that he’d left upstairs, “you can tell us the truth. are you two like-” he puckers his lips and leans towards patrick who shoved him away.

“trev, i love you man, but not that much,” patrick says and you giggle. alex’s hand squeezes your ankle and you look at him to find him already staring at you. “but seriously,” patrick says, “what is up with you two? and don’t say that you’re just friends because this isn’t friend shit.”

he gestures to where your legs were thrown over alex’s lap and the hand alex kept on your ankle almost protectively. you weren’t daft. you had also noticed how alex had changed when it came to you, you just chose not to bring it up. you were scared that if you did, if you asked if the feelings were mutual and they weren’t, it would scare him off and you weren’t ready to lose this side of alex so you just kept your feelings to yourself.

“we’ve been planning this for weeks, pat. it’s not my fault that it fell on boys night,” alex shrugs, turning to look at the massachusetts native. “i’ll be at the next one.”

“what happened to ftf? what happened to bros before,” he pauses, rethinking his choice of words, “other bro’s sisters? no offense y/n. you’re beautiful.”

“thank you. none taken,” you laugh at him. you press your heel into alex’s thigh which causes him to look at you, “you can go if you want. i can just watch it alone, al. it’s no big deal.”

“no, you wanted to watch this together, so we’re watching it together. i made a commitment to you before i did to them,” he shrugs and you sigh.

trevor huffs before running a hand over his face, “pat, we’ve officially lost him.”

“who did we lose?” jack asks, coming back into the room with his wallet and keys in hand. he looks at alex, not even paying attention to where his friend’s hand rested because he was so used to it, “you sure you don’t want to come man? i’m positive it’ll be more fun than watching hocus pocus and eating mac and cheese.”

“i’m good,” he replies to your brother who rolls his eyes.

“can you just go already? you’re killing my halloween vibe,” you whine. the four boys laugh before jack walks forward and places a kiss on top of your head, “love you jacky. be safe.”

“love you too princess,” he says, moving over to alex. he tries to hug him, but alex shoves him away. jack puts on a show, a pout on his lips as he whines, “but i love you turcs.”

“i love you too jack, but i’m not your sister,” alex kicks jack in the leg when he tries to lean on again. you pull your legs back when alex stands up as they start to tussle around.

trevor and pat are in the background watching, waiting for jack to finish because he was the driver. it lasts for only a minute before they separate and fix their clothes. alex sits back down and pulls your feet back into his lap immediately, draping his arm over them to weigh them down.

the three head towards the door, but trevor hangs back to say one final thing, “goodbye lovebirds.”

both of your faces flame as trevor walks out of the door cackling. you sink into the couch, hoping it would swallow you whole as alex turns to you, “i’m sorry about him. i keep telling him-”

“don’t worry about it,” you shake your head. you look at the time on your phone before sitting up, “do you wanna do a face mask? you wanna do a face mask.”

as he always did, he goes willingly when you drag him off the couch. though you didn’t need to pull him all the way up the stairs by his wrist, you did. you craved that physical contact with him. you wanted to hold onto him so he wouldn’t slip away, not like he would.

you lead him into your bathroom which was connected to your bedroom. when you first moved in, you discovered that there was only one bedroom that had an attached bathroom so you were quick to claim it. you’d had to share with the boys before and it was an experience that you didn’t wish to have again.

“can i do the purple sparkly one that you had on last week?” he asks as he hops on the counter in the empty space beside the sink. you look at him with a raised eyebrow. “what?”

“you noticed that?” you bend down and open the cabinet, grabbing the jar.

“i notice a lot of things you do,” he mumbles, probably thinking that you wouldn’t hear him but you did. that was one thing about alex, he was terrible at whispering.

you take a deep breath before standing, grabbing a headband for yourself and a scrunchie for him. you move to stand between his legs, “we need to pull your hair back so it doesn’t get stuff in it.”

you run your hands through the front of his hair, gathering it in a tiny bundle before tying the scrunchie around it. he had closed his eyes and you giggle, pulling out your phone. he peeks open an eye, “what are you doing?”

“i’m taking a picture al. smile,” you demand. he does so, giving you his real smile and not his normal one. you smile at the picture, “you’re cute.”

“let me see,” he says, leaning forward to look at your phone. he looks at the picture and shakes his head, pressing the ‘x’ in the top left corner. “you’re deleting that.”

“well, i already saved it so,” you shrug, turning off your phone and placing it on the counter. you twist open the jar and scoop some onto your fingers, “hold.”

he takes the jar from your hand with a chuckle, “yes ma’am.”

he lets you apply the mask, not talking or moving too much because this wasn’t the first time he’d done this with you. unlike your brothers, he was more than willing to do face masks or let you do his eyebrows. he probably would never admit it, but deep down you knew he liked it.

“let me do you,” he says, tightening his legs around you as you finish and try to move to the side. “please?”

“okay, but you have to do a thin layer or else it will take forever to dry,” you say and he shakes his head. “sorry, i’m sorry.”

his fingers are gentle as he rubs across your face, applying the mask evenly. he tucks your hair into your headband when it keeps falling out. “don’t want that to get stuck,” he would say to himself.

he smiles when he’s finished. you move your head to the side to look in the mirror, giving him a nod of approval. he hops off the counter as you move to stand in front of the sink.

“i have a question,” alex announces as you wash your hands. “a hypothetical question.”

“well i have a hypothetical answer to your hypothetical question,” you send him a smile through the mirror as you shut the water off and grab a towel. “what’s up al?”

“hypothetically, if i were to ask you out on a date, what would you say?” the look in his eyes tells you that he was nervous, fearful even of what you might say.

“hypothetically, i would say yes,” you turn to face him, playing with sleeves of the grey, wisconsin long sleeve that belonged to him, but was currently on your body. “but if you don’t ask me, i can’t say yes.”

“okay, that’s good,” he whispers to himself, moving in front of the sink after you. he didn’t ask after or when you walked back downstairs. he didn’t ask as you started your october first tradition (which he’d only been a part of since last year) of making mac and cheese and watching hocus pocus. he didn’t ask as you washed off your face masks. he didn’t ask as you got closer on the couch and ended up pressed into his side with his hand under your shirt.

it wasn’t until later that night when you were tucked under your comforter ready to slip into unconsciousness that alex walked through your door. he perched himself on the edge of your bed and leaned over you. “hypothetically,” he grins at your giggle, “would you let me steal you away this weekend?”

“i would,” you raise your hand to thumb at his cheek. he leans into your hand and you smile sleepily, “can we stop being hypothetical now?”

[soldierallen]

You’re a Tease.

Summary: your costar is henry cavill but you are romantically involved with chris evans and chris gets jealous of the time you have to spend with Henry, Chris storms into an interview.

Warnings: sexual content, teasing, kissing, cursing, and well smut. blowjob.

Y/n and Henry have been filming an action movie for a few months and you’re each other’s love interests, it’s been fun because Henry is the nicest sweetest most lovable guy in the world but she’s with Chris, she’s been with him since a year but never officially became boyfriend and girlfriend which made y/n mad it’s been this long and you still haven’t asked? do I mean nothing to you?,

“so our big scene is coming up” she raised her eyebrows flirtatiously he laughed as he sat in the chair drinking his coffee “he’s not gonna be here...right” Henry gave her concerned eyebrow she nodded her head no “he’s been acting weird lately” she sat next to Henry in the directors chair waiting for everyone to set the scene “a kiss in the rain, sounds romantic.” She said glorifying the moment ahead of them “don’t be nervous” he said sarcastically taking another sip of his coffee with a smile “shut up” she hit his arm, making the pair chuckle she didn’t realize someone was recording them “behind the scenes for later!” The DA says she smiled and waved to the camera and so did henry, this was it their big scene.

“don’t you understand?- we’re stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere because you had a HUNCH! come on jack! didn’t you think the outcome would’ve been bad! We’re alone in this!” she shouted over the rain as they tried to sit under a tree in the Forrest “it’s here I know it is! Don’t give up on me yet! just a little longer” he said shaking her shoulders “maybe I shouldn’t trust you anymore!! I’m done with the lies you never knew where you were going in the first place alexander was going to get the crown before you but no! you! Needed it first” she pushed on his chest angerly, he pulled her in with a bit of force kissing her, the scene calmed as they kissed her body up against the tree as his weight leaned on top of her she pulled away “jack” “I want you” jack says “all of you allison...every single bit of you since the day I met you” he kissed her neck and there clothes coming off-

“CUT” both actors pulled away from each other smiling “you did good jack” she bopped his nose making henry smile “seems like you enjoyed it” a way too familiar voice appeared around the corner “Chris” she shouted out henry handed her, her shirt he whispered “go” she jogged up whilst pulling over her crewneck “this is why you didn’t want me here?, because you had a kissing scene with henry?” he said annoyed “Chris I asked you to come and you said no I don’t wanna watch you kiss henry” he looked at her confused “you weren’t paying attention to me again, like you always do” she crossed her arms over her chest annoyed that he would accuse her of something like that “you know something I came here to see you, to see the one person I care about and you always have to have a snarky remark or something in the lines of that, don’t come over tonight I’ll do fine without you” and with that chris walked away... “what just happened” she screamed at him while he left she turned around and looked at Henry not knowing what that was about.

The movies finished, it’s been a few months edited. She’s tried talking to Chris and he never answers her calls or texts, he’s completely ghosted her it’s been months...

she smiled for the camera’s as she felt her heart break in her chest knowing he wasn’t here, he didn’t care.. apparently he never did. A hand grabbed hers by quite suprise it was henry of course she smiled at him and they hugged going into the interview, “that kissing scene in the movie is hot and heavy am I right?” the interviewer lady said making them laugh and y/n blushed thinking about their first kiss, her mind instantly taking her back to Chris. “yeah I mean we’re really good friends so it was easy to feel comfortable around each other” henry said “I feel chemistry between the two of you am I wrong? Come on!” she laughed and so did the two actors “we’re really really close friends and even before the movie we was close” she laughed he looked at her while she talked when an interuption came a door opening the three people turned their heads to the doors not sure what was happening “we need to talk now” Chris said as he barged into the room uninvited “you don’t get to do that!” she got up from her chair “I’m sorry please excuse me” she said to the interviewer pushing Chris out the door she closed the door behind her “what the fuck is wrong with you! Seriously that’s so fucking unprofessional” she was dumbfounded she couldn’t believe how much he embarrassed her.

“I love you, and it took me this fucking long to see it and I’m sorry I acted the way I did and I’m sorry I pushed you away...-when I saw you with henry I panicked he could give you everything more than I can” he felt threatened, “I wanna make things right I wanna be with the you I don’t wanna envy your costars I want you forever”

“You love me?” Her eyes teared and he pulled her in hugging her “that’s all you got from that” he smiled smelling her perfume for the first time in months, touching her hair feeling her “I love you to evans.” Her eyes twinkled “what I did was stupid and I shouldn’t of barged in-“ she kissed him a real kiss not a movie kiss however a real one for the person she loved. She loved Chris “be with me be my girlfriend with me” he gave her millions of kisses on her neck and her cheeks making her giggle and so did Chris “I should’ve never pushed you away that was me being an idiot.”

“I’ll be your girlfriend under one condition” he nods his head “you name it” his hands on her lower back holding her “you let me get back to my interview and I take control tonight” he smirked at her “yes ma’m” he let her go smacking her ass

she went back in the interview “you okay” henry mouths as the interviewer and crew are stepped away from the two she nodded “we’re good...” she sat down next to Henry “I’m really sorry” she apologized to everyone having to deal with a matter “it’s fine we can take it from where we left off” they both nodded.

when she got to Chris’s place she knocked on the door, he opened kissing her sweetly “I wanna show you something” she was confused he grabbed her hand leading her in and took her into the bedroom, he lit candles and had red roses scattered on the bed “chris” she said leaning into his arm “my apology for.. the last few months. Life without you was not worth it” she gave him a sad pout he kissed her lips his hand on her neck she slightly pulled away “on the bed” she ordered his looks were lustful, he sat on the bed she straddle him he went backwards a little bit making her laugh he tried unbuttoning her blouse she pulled his hands off “very handsy I see, not today” she lifted his arms pulling off his tight white t shirt showing his incredible body filled with tattoos she kissed his chest all the way down to his buttoned jeans she open the button with her hands pulling the zipper down her shoes came off, she unzipped her pants not taking them off “you tease” he said his breath hitching watching her she pushed her hands up against his cock “you’re already semi hard” she laughed “god I missed you” he moaned as he tugged on the sheets, his pants were fully off just in his black boxer briefs, she sat there teasing him through his underwear “fuck” he soft moaned she straddled him again pulling her blouse off “this is what you get for leaving me”

she stood up and pulled her pants down her bra and underwear still intact her mouth coming so close to his underwear only to go up his stomach he was smirking loving it, however he was upset, the teasing was making him nervous.. she pulled down his underwear finally let him hang free his cock hitting his stomach he was so thick she loved it “umm” she moans getting closer to cock he tried to move his hands to feel her and she pushed them away “no” she said straddling again she teased him rubbing herself on his uncovered cock, he bit his lip loving the feeling “I missed you” he moans, she moans too with a yes coming out “I wanna be inside you” he says she comes down to his ear whispering “I wanna feel you inside me” she whispered in his ear his eyes rolling in his head ready to feel her again, his hands tried to reach around to touch her ass she stopped him again “if you try it one more time, I’m getting off and making you watch” he nodded his head putting his hands back to the side she kissed him “I love you” she said, he smiled kissing her “I love you more” and with that she slid down her underwear climbing in his naked body, she slowly teased herself with his cock riding him not inserting it, god was he amazing his eyes were like stars watching her, he bit his lip to stop the moaning that he so badly to do. finally she lets herself push him in, sounds of moans coming from both of them loving the feeling so desperately “can I hold you” he asks she nods yes he finally puts his hands on her hips as she rides him slowly “fuck” soft moans leave his lips that turned her on even more hearing him be so vocal he tried to quicken her motions and she stopped him “you’re a very very bad boy” she said kissing his neck he kissed her neck her hands on his chest as she was straddled against him “you’re a goddess” the words left his mouth so swiftly she lifted herself “just for that you get to be on top” she smirked standing up so did he, she took her hand and stroked his cock a few times he pushed into her hand she let go seeing an evil look at his face “you’re gonna pay for that” he said with a smirk an evil evil smirk, they fixed their positions and he teased her hole only the tip of his cock entering she went crazy she laughed as he teased her finally he entered quickened his pace she was moaning like a pornstar at this point he rubbed her clit as he went in deeper and deeper every time hitting her in the right spot “fuck chris” her moans got louder he hummed with lust in his throat feeling her get tighter “you wanna cum?” “Come on baby” he moaned “yeah I wanna cum” she said “are you sure” he kissed her lips “yes yes” she moans through the kisses he quickens his pace “right there don’t stop” she screams

and she came, so hard she felt her whole body shake, she hasn’t came like that in months...he stopped watching her cum underneath him it egged him on he was getting closer she pulled him out as she got up he stood on his knees on the bed she got down sucking his cock she hummed for him to feel the viberations in her throat he pushed himself further in her throat feeling her gag on him he pulled out “you wanna cum in my throat” she asked looking up at him he nodded “yes princess” he kissed her lips she sucked until he came down her throat “fuck fuck” he screamed his moans loud, she smiled at him as he reached down and kissed her again “I’m sorry” he said “it’s okay” she knew it was still about what happened before they laid down next to each other and he got up getting her a towel wiping her down she smiled at him “you’re amazing” he kissed her again “and you’re such a tease” he laughed and so did she

[themysteriousauthor18]

Radiodust oneshot [Childhood friend AU]

Artist of picture above: 

A wild deer, that’s how it started. 

              A wild deer and a small boy watching it from the bushes. His brown eyes watched it curiously with the handgun in one of his hands, waiting for a perfect angle. As he raised it ready to aim the perfect shot would have been fired….if not for the sudden intrusion.

It was quick a blur almost but the mop of blonde hair was obvious as the small person ran at the deer and they almost had it. But the deer was faster and it moved at the last second causing the stranger to fall face first into the dirt. The brunette groaned, annoyed as he got up from his hiding spot, watching in aggravation as the deer made it’s escape. Far too fast for him to land a hit. 

He looked over to the spot, it was a child and as he approached he noticed the small hand knife in their hand. He wasn’t scared though. “Hey.” The little brunette said, crossing his arms and frowning, the little blonde pushed up onto his elbows and a pair of lime green eyes met brown. 

He had never seen such bright and pretty green eyes and he found himself staring for a second before regaining his thoughts. “Ya ‘don scared off ma’ prey.” The other boy tilted his head as he got to his knees before his feet. Once he stood the brunette stifled a laugh somehow taking pride in the fact that the other was at least a foot shorter than him. 

“I saw ‘em first.” The brunette stared quizzically, he sounded funny. 

“You got da weird voice.” The little blonde boy stuck his tongue out.

“Yeah well, you talk funny.” The two little boys exchanged looks for a second before the smaller of the two looked away. The brunette couldn’t help but look at the knife on the other hand. 

“Why ya got da’ knife?” The blonde looked down at his knife. 

“My pa is making me hunt animals.” The brunette scoffed.

“Dat’s dumb. A gun is betta.” The little boy smiled.

“That’s what I said!” His smile faded soon after, the brunette liked his smile. It was...nice. The shorter of the two glared at the grown. “But whenever I say that he hits me...so I stopped saying that.” The two fell silent the only sounds being the subtle forest sounds around them and heavy sounds of cicadas in the hot summer heat. 

“What’s your name?” The brunette finally asked his curiosity getting the better of him. He was sharply dressed for his age and the other found it strange. His outfit looked like it had been stolen from someone, multiple tears in the pants and white T-shirt he wore. 

It was a stupid choice to be talking to someone, especially out here. His father had told him never to trust anyone yet here he was talking to a boy that was strangely out here in the woods on a hot summer day. Especially when children would be playing in a pool somewhere or getting ice cream. 

And despite all that, he found himself answering. “Anthony.” The brunette found himself smiling, something he rarely did these days. 

“My name is Edward.” The taller of the two said, reaching his hand out as if they were businessmen.

Anthony looked at the hand curiously but found himself grabbing it. They shook and their hands stuck together for a little longer than normal before awkwardly separating. 

Anthony looked at the ground. “So uh..how old are ya’? I just turned 9!” The brunette narrowed his eyes.

“10.” The blonde looked up amazed.

“Wow your old.” The brunette gawked at the bluntness.

“ ‘Dats real rude!” Anthony only grinned.

“But it's weird.” Edward tilted his head confused.

“Why?” He couldn’t help but stare into those large round doe-like green eyes. The freckles, blonde hair and pale skin..it was all so interesting to look at. Was it because he was younger that he looked like that?

“Well I’ve met older people and they weren’t cute. But you are.” Edward smiled nervously.

“D-you can’t go sayin’ ‘dat!” The shorter was simply confused.

“Huh? Why?” Edward frowned his cheeks tinting a like pink. 

“My fatha’ said it ain’t okay for boys to be goin’ around and liking boys. He don’t like it…”

“Oh…” Anthony muttered staring at the grass, as if it held the answers.

“Well, I like you!” The brunette’s face flushed a bright red.

“D-don’t be sayin’ dat!” He gawked, completely shocked. He’d never met someone like this or a boy who had said something like that. 

“Well I am so there!” Edward crossed his arms.

“You very weird.” The blonde boy only grinned. 

“I know. Oh-I gotta go! Bye Edward!” The boy suddenly took off running and before the brunette could question just why he’d run off, he could hear the boy's name being called by a gruff voice.

...Maybe he would see him again. 

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            Two boys, each drastically different, it seemed as if a friendship like theirs would never work out. But somehow it did, in that small quaint town of New Orleans they seemed, by luck, to run into each other again and again. And somehow that friendship grew and they got along. They would go into the woods together and attempt to hunt or sometimes just sit around and talk about random topics. 

Although only the mothers knew of the boy's friendship, and would be the one to maintain this secret friendship. Although there was a lot of bad on each of the boy’s sides, for what it was worth, when they were together things almost for those two years, were perfect. 

And then those 5 years came to an end. 

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            A soft knock came at the door but Anthony refused to look up from the floor. He heard the door open and still refused to look up. He expected to hear the booming voice of his father yelling at him, snatching up and beating him. But instead he only heard the light tapping of shoes as they got closer…

This led him to think that it was his mother who had entered his room, and so he looked up. But his eyes widened in shock, it was not his mother who was currently closing his door very quietly nor her who was smiling sadly at him right now.

“Ed!” He whispered loudly as he got up from his bed and tackled the other in a tight hug. In these two years the other male had grown a bit taller, his voice had gotten a tad deeper and he now wore glasses. But other than that, he hadn’t changed very much. The way he hesitantly passed Anthony’s shoulders before gently pushing him away only proved this.  

“Are you alright?” He asked, he had begun suppressing his accent since a year ago, and although Anthony wasn’t sure why he never bothered to question it. Even if he did miss it. 

Anthony nodded with glossy eyes that he tried to wipe. Edward was dressed in that blue polo again, the one they always wore in schools. Wait did he just skip school? “How did ya get in here..” Anthony whispered. Edward simply shook his head dismissing the question as unimportant.

“Why are you frowning?” Anthony wiped his eyes. 

“You know why! I ain’t gonna be in New Orleans tomorrow…” It was all his father's fault, and he truly hated him for it. He had done quite a lot of horrible things but this was one of the worst. They were being forced to move back to New York just because of his father's work. Naturally he didn’t have a say so in it and, it would also be the last time he would be able to see Edward. He didn’t have a cellphone, he wasn’t allowed one and Edward was far too poor to afford one. Anthony didn’t know his new address and he didn’t want to get the other in trouble for possibly sending letters to his home.

Truly, it seemed this would be the last time they would be seeing each other. 

It seemed. 

And Edward knew this. 

He was frowning now as he moved his thumb to wipe a stray tear from the shorter boy's face. “Don’t frown Anthony. You have a beautiful smile.” Anthony sniffled as he shook his head resting it against Edwards chest.

“I don’t wanna say goodbye to ya...you're the only person in this shit hole whose actually nice to me...everyone else sucks.” This time Edward allowed the contact, he kept his hands on Anthony’s shoulders. 

“I don’t wanna say goodbye either Anthony.” He admitted quietly. He gently patted the other's head. “But there’s nothing we can do.” Once again he pushed the other away holding him at arm's length. Anthony looked up with glossy eyes once more. Edward smiled sadly, and reached into his breast pocket taking out the red handkerchief. 

“Come now, a frown doesn’t suit your pretty face.” Anthony took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes free of any tears. He held it up to hand it back but the other simply shook his head. “Keep it.” This caused the corners of Anthony’s lips to tug up almost into a smile. It was that smile that Edward craved whenever they met up, whenever he saw him and whenever they said their goodbyes.

And this time was no different. 

“Sbrigati, fottuto marmocchio!” The familiar gruff voice shouted from the hall in italian. Anthony’s smile vanished as did Edwards. 

He sighed, suppressing the urge to cry once again. “I-I gotta go…” he muttered in a broken voice. 

“Hm, I think not. Not until you smile.” Anthony looked up.

“Ed-your gonna get me in trouble. Move out of ‘da way..and..and you gotta go before you get found by my pa.” Anthony bit his lip swallowing the tears as he gestured to the locked window. He wanted to run, run away with Edward..but he knew he couldn’t. They wouldn’t survive out there, and he knew his father would find him. Running would just make it worse...besides, he refused to leave his mother and sister. 

Edward only shook his head. “Not until you smile. So how can I get that to happen?” Anthony looked to his feet, only shrugging. Edward hummed lowley as he took a step forward noting to himself that he’d locked the door. He tilted Anthony’s head up and without warning leaned down and pecked his lips. 

The blonde was shocked, thrown off even. The action was enough to get him to back away, the back of his hand covering his mouth. Edward only smirked, finding Anthony’s bright red face and confused green eyes that searched him, humorous.

“E-Ed what the hell! W-why did you do that.” The brunette only looked quizcally, the smirk on his lips not falling.

“Did you not like it?” Slowly the hand covering Anthony’s mouth lowered, his eyes looking anywhere that wasn’t Edward. 

“.......I did.” He said quietly, almost too quiet to hear. Almost. 

Edward stepped closer once more, leaned down again but stopped just an inch from Anthony’s lips. He smiled softly, and Anthony kept his eyes away even though he could feel Edwards breaths on his cheek. As he felt the others hand come up to cup his cheek he found his eyes tracing back to the brunette. Those large green doe eyes stared up into brown. 

Anthony leaned up pressing his lips against Edwards and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Edward only tilted his head, locking his free arm around Anthony’s hips. 

Time seemingly stopped for just those few minutes. And for once, Anthony felt safe and warm. 

And then that moment was over. 

The loud banging at the door and failed attempt to open it brought the young pair back to reality causing the brunette to quickly pull away. Angel looked up at him alarmed as he moved over to the window quickly opening it, ignoring the angry italian behind the door. He sat perched on the window ciel, the jump down wouldn’t hurt too much as long as he landed in the bushes. 

He looked over to Anthony and reached his hand out. “Anthony come with me.” The blonde looked at the offered hand and slowly shook his head. “I can’t Ed...my sister. A-and what about your mom..” Edward frowned deepened as he sighed. 

He leaned forward, cupping Anthony’s face and kissing him gently one last time. It was short this time, but sweet. He stared into those bright green eyes resting his forehead against the others. “....Goodbye, Anthony.” 

Anthony’s eyes become glossy once more, he couldn’t help but sniffle once again. “Goodbye Edward..” he hoarse words came, and they were the last things the brunette heard before tearing himself away and jumping from the window. 

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          “Wow that sounds like a childhood love story.” The blonde-haired girl said from Angel’s bed. He sighed leaning against his dresser. He took another hit from his joint, his eyes staring out the window and into the city of New York. 

“Eh it was probably the heat of the moment.” The women hummed. 

“Your an adult now, why not just move back to New Orleans and go lookin’ for him?” Angel shook his head taking another long drag from the joint, this time letting stay in for a second before blowing it out. The smoke filled the room, not that it bothered the women.

“That was 10 years ago Cherri, he’s probably long gone by now. An I don’t even remember his address let alone where he lived in New Orleans.” She laid down on his bed. “Plus I can’t. Just cause I got my own place don’t mean pa ain’t got his hooks in me still.” She frowned.

“Well, who knows...maybe you’ll meet him again someday. Loves got a way y’know?” Angel looked into the mirror, he’d grown up his features matured..freckles not as visible anymore. But most importantly, his eyes didn’t sparkle a bright green like they had back then. Sometimes he wondered if that kiss really happened, or if it was all just his imagination. Trying to make something good of a sad memory. Wanting to kiss the guy he’d developed a crush on. 

Did it ever happen...or was it simply a false memory?

“Yeah….I hope so.”

But he wouldn’t get his hopes up. 

He knew better.

He suppressed a sign as he leaned over and switched on the radio. He wanted to listen to something while he did his make up. 

“Good morning all you listeners! Today is quite a lovely day yes indeed! A pleasure to have you all listening once again. I shall be your host for today, Alastor haha! Now let us see what dreadful things are to be had today in the city of New York!” 

Angel frowned only listening to that broadcast in the background..

.

.

.

.

…..Maybe they’d meet again someday.