#but i know every word of that is utterly empty and doesn't mean shit

[neuromantis]

like there's that specific feeling of tiredness and emptiness and hopelessness that never abates anymore. the visceral feeling of beeing too ill to continue living despite my body still struggling through the days fairly fine.

the closest thing i can describe it with is "not fitting in" and "being the wrong tool for the task", it's not like a societal pressure really, but the feeling of being too broken to continue existing. like. this is not supposed to happen to anyone. stronger people than me gave up. i feel like a puzzle piece for some reason put on a chessboard as a figure, forced to play the game, when i don't even know what piece i am supposed to be, because the concept of chess is alien to me.

[kiridarling]

"𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒."

izuku midoriya | friends older brother!izuku + college student!reader + f!reader + squirting + size kink + more! minors dni! does this count? as dark content?

— 2.4k words

"It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

“[Y/N?]”

“Uh, hey Izuku!” You smile, grip tightening around the strap to your bag. Izuku fills the doorway, broad shoulders kissing both sides of the frame, and you can’t help but feel minuscule in comparison. “Kota around?”

Izuku shakes his head, peering over his shoulder for a second before returning his attention to you with a click of his tongue. "Uh, no I think he's out with Eri. They should be back soon though...it's been a few hours."

"Shit," you curse under your breath. Your friend's older brother smiles in apology, biceps straining under his white tee.

"You need something?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing your eyes back onto his, instead of the broad chest presented at eye-level. "Just my precalc book."

Izuku waits a second, thinking, before his palm claps against the doorframe and he's walking deeper into the house. "Come on in, then! I'm sure he won't mind."

You step into the house after him, and it's...weird. Weird being with your Kota's older brother without Kota there, because despite the thousands of times you've been in your best friend's house and as well as you know the greenette, you and Izuku have never been alone.

"Find it?"

You've been rummaging through Kota's room for a solid ten minutes and somehow still empty-handed, moving slowly in fear you'll see something you can't unsee. And hey, with Kota and Eri dating, anything's possible.

"No," you sigh, ready to give up rather than find a strap-on. "It's fine. I can just come to get it tomorrow or something."

"How soon do you need it?" The greenette asks, his forearms leaning against his younger brother's dresser. You take a seat on Kota's comforter instead, silently hoping you'll find your book by accidentally breaking your tailbone against the damn thing; you're a little disappointed when all your ass comes in contact with is a plush mattress.

"Like, tonight," you grieve, knowing that tomorrow morning, your math grade will suffer severely. "'S fine though. There's always another test."

Izuku snorts at that, crossing the room to take a seat next to you. The bed whines under his weight but doesn't collapse, and you feel a little bad to say you're surprised. Voice full of reminiscence, he sighs, "Ah, the college days."

You giggle, "You act like they're lightyears behind you."

"They might as well be," the greenette shrugs, before reaching behind your waist to steal a pillow. "Couldn't tell you a thing I learned."

You shrug trying to remember the last time you’ve felt prepared for a test, “Neither can I.”

Izuku chuckles and nods, though you’re convinced it’s because he has nothing to say. An awkward silence takes possession of the room by the neck, and you shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say that could give you an excuse to leave, or at least redirect his strange yet heavy gaze. As Izuku licks his lips, you notice how close you two actually are, as he's big to the point where your shoulders almost brush, but not quite.

"How um, hows your boyfriend?"

You scoff at that, but you suppose it's been a while since you and the greenette have talked one on one—and the last time you had, you weren't single.

"Oh uh, he's fine, I guess," you brush it off with a shrug and a wave, cringing at the thought of how that ended. "I don't know. We broke up a while ago, so."

"Oh sorry!" Izuku flushes and throws a hand over his mouth, and you giggle.

"You're fine. He was an asshole anyway," you chuck a laugh, but it's not really that funny. Frankly, he's left too many emotional scars to count, along with the ones healing from past exes. "I...don't have a good reputation when it comes to picking boyfriends."

“So, I’ve heard—no offense,” he says sheepishly, though you don't blame him. You've definitely had a few surprise visits caused by a nasty break-up or two, knowing this is the place you'll probably find both of your best friends hiding out. When Izuku speaks again, it’s borderline awkward as his eyes dart around the room, cheeks puffed and lips pursed in apprehension. “Found...anyone new?”

You frown, “Anyone new.”

“Yeah!” Izuku exclaims, and it’s almost encouraging. “Like a new boyfriend.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Um, no. Like I said, I don’t have much luck with that type of stuff.”

Izuku snorts, rolling his eyes before he’s adjusting himself to lay on the pillow, half of his body upright. “I bet you do. You might not realize it, but you do.”

Now it’s your turn to snort and roll your eyes, leaning back on your hands with a huff. "You're just being nice, Izuku."

"No, seriously!" He props himself higher so you can see he really is serious, evergreen eyes locked and deadset, "Like—okay, and this might be a TMI or something, but how do they, y'know, and then be dicks, y'know?"

"They don't."

"They don't...what?"

"They don't...make me cum," you heave with great depression, despite the seemingly surface-level complaint. With wrists tightening around your ankles, you hate uncomfortably in the silence, and watch Izuku's mouth open and close, before it opens and closes again.

"Like...never?"

"No." You give him a weird look.

"But what about your last boyfriend? I thought he—"

"I don't know what you're looking for, Izuku," you chuckle, shaking your head. The greenette seems more pained than he is shocked, eyes wide with a big fat pout in place of a neutral face. "It's not like I haven't had an orgasm before. Just...not with someone else."

"That's not the same!" Izuku defends, slowly becoming more animated than you've ever seen him. "It's like...more passionate with another person, you know? And that makes everything a whole lot hotter."

"Thanks," you huff, mood souring more than it already has. Izuku's mouth stills once he realizes what he's essentially bragging, guilt clouding his face. As you exhale out of your nose, you can't escape feeling bad for snapping. "Look. I'm perfectly fine with being the only person to be able to make myself cum. It's not that deep."

"You sound like you expect no one to be able to," Izuku snorts with a raised eyebrow, shoulders bumping against yours. "You've just...had bad boyfriend luck. That doesn't mean no one's capable of doing it."

"Well," you click your tongue bitterly, because you've heard all of this before, and you're utterly tired of hearing it. "They've been able to make all their exes orgasm. And it's not like it even matters, relationships aren't abou—"

"I could do it."

"I—" you blink, shaking your head at the pure audacity of his request? Suggestion? Comment? Whatever the fuck. "Excuse me?"

"I—wait, listen," Izuku rushes like you're getting ready to book it the fuck out of there, sitting upright so his body is turned to yours. "You're...it's...I've been told I'm good with my fingers, right?"

And what a way to start a story.

"Izuku, in the nicest way, every guy is like this," you scoff, "He thinks he's all that just because a chick or two said you made her feel really good. I don't need to fake another orgasm."

"You won't have to," Izuku purrs cockily, leaning forwards on his hands and making you wonder where all of this is coming from. "Let's play a game of simon says, yeah?"

"Simon—" your chest collapses with a giggle of pure disbelief, "I'm not that much younger than you, you know."

"I wouldn't be offering if you were," the greenette reasons, eyes growing dark slowly, if any. "Yes or no?"

"What's the catch?" You bargain and Izuku huffs a laugh. You can feel it on your face.

"No catch, Pretty," he hums, and you can feel the vibrations in your fingers. "It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

You gulp as Izuku lifts a hand—and a very large one, at that—and it's jagged and rough with scars and bulky knuckles. His free hand makes you grab his wrist and you're fingertips barely touch, but you’re pulling his hand south by your own volition.

“Gotta take your pants off first,” he chuckles, and you flush red. That would be helpful, yes.

It doesn't take long before they're off though, flung towards a corner somewhere—and this is when you realize that maybe, you shouldn't do this on Kota's bed.

"Izuku maybe we shoul—"

But before you can say anything else, he's pushing your panties to the side and shoving both fingers into you at once, eyebrows folding as he groans under his breath from the sensation.

"So wet already? Clearly, someone likes this more than they let on."

"I—what the fuck happened to simon says!" You yelp, but his fingers don't move. Izuku just beams like the deceptive asshole he is.

"Game starts now," is all he says, and you're huffing, propping yourself up on your elbows. Izuku's fingers might as well have knocked the wind out of you, lungs struggling to find room to breathe as he curls his fingers to tap directly onto your g-spot with worrying precision.

"Simon says um, move please," you grunt out. Izuku's fingers stay still, and you frown, kicking him in the thigh. "Hey, I sai—"

"You gotta be more specific than that, Pretty,” he says with a grin. You snarl. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I..." you start, but it's fucking embarrassing, and you know Izuku feels you twitch around him when you say: "Can you um, fuck me with your fingers."

He doesn't move.

"Simon says fuck me with your fingers, asshole," you grunt with narrowed eyes, though they widen when he starts to pump his fingers in and out, chuckling when you shiver from the dexterity.

Except, his fingers move painfully slow, and you find yourself gritting your teeth at the speed when he doesn't make an effort to go any faster. You click your tongue—he's really going to make you request everything, isn't he?

"Simon says faster," you growl with a challenge burning in your eyes, and Izuku meets them with equal fire, fingers finally forgetting their torturous pace for a much quicker one. Finally.

"Fuck! Simo—simon says right t-there," your legs spread wider and Izuku makes more room for himself in between. He hums with dark eyes as you whimper and whine his name, writhing in his younger brother's sheets like they belong to him—like you belong to him.

"I wanna touch you all the time, you know," Izuku grunts before cursing at the sight of your wetness around his fingers. "Make you feel good, make you mine. I don't think Kota would approve, though."

"We don—" you wheeze and he places a hand next to your head, towering over you. The angle only gets better, your hands digging into the sheets as Izuku's fingers curl just right. "We don't have to tell him."

Izuku chuckles at that, chest rumbling as he leans in closer to the point where your noses nearly touch. "You dirty fucking girl."

You moan at that, hips bucking into his hand. You're so close and yet you need more, something else to push you over the edge for good. With a whimper behind a bitten lip, you say, "S-Simon says rub my clit."

Izuku's thumb falls upon your clit and you squeal from the amount of initial pressure, thighs jolting from the white-hot waves that pump through your bloodstream as his thumb moves in small, ever-quickening circles that have you gripping for Kota's comforter for dear life.

"Iz—Izuku I'm gonna—g-gonna cum," you pant, and he's ripping his hands away before you can even reach a hint of the edge. You glare at him out of pure and utter betrayal, and he beams.

"Simon didn't say, did he?"

Your mouth flies open before your brain has time to process it all, "Simon says make me cum, p-please, I need to—fuck!"

Izuku's stuffing you full with his fingers in an instant and his thumb returns to its rightful place.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, Pretty?" His hands somehow find the energy to speed up to the point where the clap of his palm against your pussy fills the room, slowly being replaced by a lewd squelch as you tighten around him. He chuckles when all you can do is whimper, grappling for his big shoulders as he says, "Oh, yes she is. So fucking close I can feel it."

You let out a broken moan and in a blink you're squirting, body buzzing as you make a big wet mess of Kota's sheets. It doesn't even register how screwed you two are because you're too busy wading waist-deep in the sea of Izuku's eyes, chest heaving in time with his as he gives you a look of pure awe. Not at what you've done, per se, but at you, and that's when you understand it—the passion.

"We should uh, probably clean up," Izuku flushes as he chuckles, cheeks pressing into the crescents of his face, and you find yourself smiling along with him. With a final click, he pulls his fingers out, gesturing to a circular wet spot on his now see-through shirt. "You made quite a mess."

Fuck the passion.

You shove your fists into his chest and Izuku laughs, pushing your hands away with his one dry free hand, wiping the wet one on Kota's sheets.

"Izuku!" You gasp, looking at the new and improved addition to your mess. The greenette shrugs.

"What? We're going to have to clean it anyway," he shrugs before assuming the dry spot to your right and nestling his forearms in the pillow to peck you on the forehead. Then he freezes.

"I uh...am I allowed to do that?"

You roll your eyes, grabbing him by his squirt-soaked shirt to pull him into a kiss. Izuku hums at that, suppressing the urge to smile as his big hands find their way to your waist. He's an annoyingly good kisser

"No, you're not," you say with swollen lips once you pull away. Izuku grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his eyes flutter to yours for a moment, before they're staring into your soul again.

"I like you," he boldly states, albeit quietly, like he's talking to your eyes and nothing else. "Like, a lot."

"I—" You start, but you're interrupted by a click of a lock and the sound of the front door opening. Shit.

"Oi! We're home, Izuku!"

[ifwallscouldtalkkkk]

"Look, I'm not gonna kidnap you" - Michael Clifford Oneshot (COLLEGE)

Female reader × Michael Clifford

Mentions of alcohol, slightly tipsy (consensual) interactions, swearing, SMUT.

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You miss your bus home after a night partying with friends. Luckily, you meet a guy willing to give you a ride home, and his playful pinky promise to not kidnap you somehow convinces you to accept.

The smut in this story is fairly short. This was my first ever attempt at writing fanfic back in 2018, and I was a bit scared of sounding stupid

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Your shoes clacked as you ran on the cobblestones. You were so close to the bus station that you could see the bus driver flicking a cigarette butt onto the ground and leaving the embers glowing on the dark cobblestones, before taking his seat behind the wheel. You picked up your pace even more and frantically waved a hand in the air, hoping that you could cut ahead as the bus made its turn around the station back and onto the road. You cursed under your breath, mentally labeling yourself an idiot for staying at the party a couple of extra minutes to say your goodbyes to a friend who was too preoccupied with shouting random answers to the ongoing pictionary game to even hear you.

You skipped every other step on the small set of stairs to reach the platform, and when you reached the corner where the bus would turn, you started jumping up and down and waving in a feeble attempt to get the driver to stop and pick you up even though you weren't technically in the pick up zone. You could see him seeing you, it was a clear summer night and thus barely even dark! But the near empty bus didn't stop. The driver probably saw you as an entitled child who was too drunk to be on time, and maybe he was at least 25% right.

”Fucking bastard” you squeezed out through clenched teeth as you stomped around in a little circle with your head thrown back in frustration. Calling your parents to drive an hour in the middle of the night to come pick you up and let you off at your dorm was not ideal. You knew that they would do it for you, not wanting you to walk the 6 miles home. No, this was definitely not your plan, but maybe it was a bit irresponsible to plan to take the very last bus for the night. You stomped one last time and breathed out deeply.

”What the fuck are you doing, girl?”, someone called out in a humored undertone.

You swiveled around and your eyes landed on a car parked a short distance away, at the designated pick up- drop off parking area. The boy whom the voice belonged to leaned out the open window of the driver’s seat, with his arms folded and propped up on the edge of the window. His smug smirk felt hurtful in your frustrated state, but it brought you back to reality somewhat. You could admit that you probably looked like a child who didn't get a pony for christmas – and to be honest, you felt the same amount of betrayal.

”What a fucking jerk!”, the guy in the car yelled when you didn't answer. ”Where ya heading to?”

You donned a tortured expression, brushed out your skirt, picked your bag off the ground, and started walking home.

You heard the lone car start and you put a bit more speed in your step. It soon pulled up mere inches from you anyways.

”Come on, you're not seriously walking home? You obviously live a ways away since you were supposed to take the bus”, he said with the same amused tone in his voice.

”I'll be ok, and you're probably wanting to get home yourself”, you said, trying to politely reinforce the idea of him leaving you alone

”Look, I’m not gonna kidnap you, I pinky promise”, he chuckled at his own words but continued when you kept your eyes locked straight ahead. ”Girl, I’m guessing that you live on campus, and that's like a billion miles away. I’ll drop you off all gentlemanly at your doorstep and tip my imaginary top hat at you as I drive away, never to be seen again.” You stopped walking and he had to jerk his car to a stop along with you.

”The fact that you know that I live on campus is not very reassuring”, you replied.

He rolled his eyes and let out a little laugh. ”That bus-” he pointed down the road that your planned ride home had disappeared along a few minutes earlier ”-goes straight to campus. I just dropped my pal off here to avoid driving him all the way to the uni, but looks like I’ll have to go there now anyways.” You looked him in the eyes. The way he spoke elicited a strange amount of trust, and although a couple of piercings and a questionable hair color for an adult could be spotted under his beanie, he didn't seem like bad news. ”Look, the door doesn't even lock properly, I wouldn't even be able to kidnap you!” he demonstrated the faulty lock on the passenger door. You had to smile at the enthusiastic way he presented it.

”You promise you won't leave serial killer notes in my mailbox?” He lit up even more at your reply.

”Promise”, he said. You swung your bag up on your shoulder and reached for the door. This was in no way the wisest thing to do in the situation, but you were already overwon by his goofy charm.

You climbed in and kept your gaze forward, feeling the boy's eyes on you, and you caught yourself subconsciously holding your breath. You caved and looked at him when it became clear he wasn't going to drive forward before you gave in.

”Seatbelt.” he said with a parental tone. ”Can't have such a pretty girl making unsafe choices!” It wasn't as funny of a comment as his facial expression suggested, but he really knew how to lighten the mood. ”Michael.” He stretched his hand out to shake yours formally. You replied with your name and a firm handshake. ”Oh girl, with that grip, no one could even dream of succeeding in kidnapping you" he said, laughing at your overly stern behavior.

”I just hate limp handshakes", you smiled, rummaging around in your bag after a snack. ”Damn it I left my granola bar at home”, you muttered under your breath.

”Oh uh, I've got a bag of peanuts somewhere…” Michael trailed off, reaching over to the glove department to rummage through his own stuff. His warm hand grazed your bare knee while reaching and you tensed up at his accidental touch.

”Dude, eyes on the road!” you exclaimed and he chuckled in response.

”I thought risk taking was a theme tonight – oh wait, here they are!” He plopped a bag of salted peanuts in your lap.

”Wait, you're not allergic, are you?” he asked. ”Some risks are not worth taking.”

”No, I love peanuts, no worries”, you poured a handful out and put a few in your mouth. After a night consisting mostly of liquor and dancing around, something to eat felt heavenly.

Michael asked you a couple of standard questions about your studies, and you gave all the standard answers.

”I kinda miss studying. Never thought I'd say that." Michael smiled. His hand dipped down into the bag in your lap to get some peanuts, getting dangerously close to between your thighs. You stumbled for a few seconds.

”Um oh, ok really?” His behavior was so unlike anyone else you knew. He was so daring and sure of himself, but he felt so warm and fuzzy in contrast. Maybe the previously ingested alcohol skewed your judgement, but you couldn't help but find this stranger utterly charming.

”Yeah… I'm on the road a lot nowadays for work", came his reply.

”Oh, what do you do? Uber driver for college girls who can't keep track of time?” You saw one corner of his mouth pulling smugly upwards at your joke.

”Uh no, I'm in the music producing business.”

”Huh, that's fun. I wasn-" you didn't finish your sentence as a deer jumped out onto the otherwise vacant road from between a few bushes on the side of the long stretch of asphalt nearing the campus grounds.

”Oh shit", you heard Michael exclaim while swerving a bit and stepping hard on the brakes. The deer stared confused at the headlights before scurrying off towards the other side of the road. ”You ok?!” the boy asked between quick breaths. Your breath was labored too, but your eyes and mind were mostly focused on the male hand that had instinctively been placed protectively on your thigh while braking. Michael unfastened his seatbelt and leaned closer when he didn't get an answer.

”Uh, yeah…” your eyes now focused on his light, green, worried eyes.

You just stared. You didn't mean to, but you didn't make an effort to look away either. He had gotten so close. His left hand was on your upper arm in a protective manner, and his face was just inches away from yours. You didn't mean to stare, and you most definitely didn't mean for your eyes to briefly flicker down to look at his lips. He noticed. He must have noticed given the way you were both so focused on each other.

”Wa-", you began, but didn't finish the sentence. To be honest, you couldn't even remember what you were about to say. Your eyes flickered down again, when your vocal cords failed you.

‘Shit!’ Your mind blasted out inside your own head, but Michael didn’t pull away, or look alarmed. If anything, his brow furrowed deeper, all the while he was trying to calm his own breath. After a couple more sharp exhales his grip on your arm tightened, and he pressed his lips to yours quickly, as if he was taking a running start. You kissed back automatically before you even registered what was happening. You tensed up and felt Michael’s grip loosen as if to retreat. 'No no no', you were not gonna lose this moment. No way. To signal that you were on board with what was happening you brought your hand up to his neck. ‘He can't stop now’, you were aching for him to continue touching you.

He got more involved in the kiss in response, and your other hand found its way up to the back of his neck too. The hand that had previously resided firmly on your arm now fell to your thigh and snaked its way to the back of your knees, pulling you closer still. Your voice had given up any sort of attempt of self control, and a short moan escaped your lips. The man reacted to your premature excitement and his right hand fumbled to find your seat belt button. In a surprisingly smooth motion for the situation being, he simultaneously pushed his own seat back from the steering wheel, and pulled you onto his lap as soon as the belt let go of you. Both your hands braced against Michael's chest, while his own hands pressed into your sides. Your fingers curled to grip his shirt, and his fingers mimicked yours by curling too, his nails digging into you. You could feel your pulse going crazy. Michael's heartbeat was probably also going off the rails, because he lifted you off of him a couple of inches so that he could grow more comfortably in his pants. He looked you deep in your eyes the entire time and let out a lengthy exhale.

“Girl, I don't even know what to do with you.”

He grabbed your ass to grind you into him. You let yourself angle your head back in reaction to your core finally being stimulated, and Michael straightened up his upper body to nibble at your neck. You helped him by moving your own hips along with the rhythm, but his hands still stayed firmly on your ass. When you couldn't take it anymore, you reached down to unclasp his belt, but your fingers fumbled more than you intended. You hadn't noticed how much you were shaking in excitement before now.

The stranger turned lover stared into your eyes patiently while you unbuttoned his jeans, but as soon as you managed to slide them down his thighs he pressed you hard against him, almost as hard as he pressed your lips together. Your underwear starting to become soaked from the thought of what was to come. Michael shifted his underwear down to meet his jeans. His hands couldn't decide where to rest, alternating between your hips, your chest, and your neck.

When focusing on your hips, his fingers on one hand slid up ever so slightly underneath the hem of your underwear, and his touch left you grinding harder into his thigh. You could tell that Michael knew how wet you were, your panties practically gliding around. His fingers found your hemline once more, and he slowly let his fingers follow the leg seam downwards. He let two fingers slip between you and the fabric to rest right outside your entrance for what felt like several minutes, but then inserted them forcefully when your whimpers became more desperate. He groaned too, from getting to feel you from the inside and knowing what pleasures it gave you. As if this didn't feel explosive enough already, his thumb joined his other fingers and circled your clit carefully.

You felt your cheeks turn red from the blood rushing fast through your body. Feeling sparks in your lower stomach already was not something you anticipated. Michael seemed to understand though, because he stilled you from assisting his fingers’ movement. He had stopped his movements too to make sure you would focus on his face. The look of his eyes as he kept them locked on yours was piercing and the icy-ness of it felt amazing on your hot cheeks. He held one hand deep inside of you, and the other on his own throbbing organ. He slowly replaced his two fingers with his cock, letting you get used to him gradually. You sank down, and the pain of stretching was miniscule compared to all the pleasure in the air. Once Michael was sure that you were comfortable with him, he elevated his hips just enough to push your limits. He finally let out a well kept-in moan. The subtle hip movements turned more and more intense until the point where you could tell you would end up with leg cramps in a few hours. The car wasn’t gigantic by any means, but you found ways to make do. With your hands behind your back, you could hold onto the steering wheel for support, with the added benefit of letting Michael’s hands roam over your torso freely.

Eyes watering, heart pumping, and legs trembling, you could feel your orgasm coming closer. Both your moans blended together into an audible mess as the electric pulses took over your body. After your release, your body relaxed heavy against the steering wheel.

A long, loud honk sounded out before you could get the chance to lift yourself off in horror. ‘Oh shit.’ The motion of lifting yourself off and plopping down in the passenger seat again wasn’t graceful, but it was at least fairly quick. You sat paralyzed holding onto your seat as a dog barked loudly at the sudden interruption of the usual peace and quiet. A lamp lit up in a house a few hundred yards away. It took a minute, but Michael finally chuckled - his hands rubbing his face. You cracked a smile too, but your stiffened posture would take a few minutes to get rid of. Michael clearly had a more easily relaxed personality than you.

The back of his head lay on the head rest, and he let it fall to one side to turn towards you. The same all-too-humored look that he had when you missed the bus was painted over his face. He didn't say anything, and neither did you. Words didn't really help in this predicament. He just pulled his pants up to waist level again and turned the car keys. You two drove in silence the few minutes left to reach campus grounds.

He crawled to a stop outside of the main dorms, and turned his head lazily again. You had quickly gathered your stuff in your hands as he pulled in, and you got out the second the car stopped.

“Well, uh… Thanks for the ride”, you said politely.

“You’re welcome”, he replied just as politely, and with a rare sincerity.

You raised your palm up in a subdued goodbye as you took a few steps backwards, and then turned around to walk away. Your shoes on the asphalt click-clacked loudly in the silent summer night. You reached for the door handle, the cool metal feeling sobering in your grip.

“HEY!” a word sliced through the silence.

You spun around on your toes quickly.

“Hey girl!” Michael continued when he knew he had your attention. He was leaning out the rolled down window again.

“I know where you live!” The grin on his face almost bursting by the seams.

A huge smile immediately spread across your face too.

ifwallscouldtalkkkk MASTERLIST

[askdracomalfoyofficial]

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𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Note: The paragraphs that are in italic are the thoughts he is thinking —

TW: Mild thoughts of killing her. Swearing. Possession. Nothing to serious, but thought I would put this before-hand. Enjoy!

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It all started after I had called you a Mudblood. You see, my father taught me all about blood-status, pure-bloods being the highest form of witch or wizard. Magic comes easy to us, our veins are filled with it. We have control over it. Then theres you, someone who has Muggle parents, making you just that. How you had a outburst of magic is something I'm currently questioning. I can certainly see you being someone who's Drabble around with it, study it in your books.

But my father warned me about people like you. Warned me that your blood is dirty, and anyone whom surrounds themselves around you, or even do much as become friends with you is a blood-traitor.

Anyone under us, we don't care for.

Yet, there was something about you that had always piqued my interest somehow, someway or another. I can't tell you what it is, Granger. But, Merlin… I don't know how you are our Brightest Witch of Her Age became such a thing for a Muggle-born. You and your swatty ways, always raising your bloody hand in class every two, three seconds. Basically… dissecting the answers or things the Professors would teach us. God, how I wished I could cut your hands off, or cast a silencing charm on you so your mouth stops moving, you annoying wrench.

The witch with unruly messy mop on her head. Tame your fucking mane, Granger. Get some tips from Pansy for all I care, maybe then… you'd learn something. But, you're not someone who cares about appearances are you? You're the first girl I know to not. Doesn't surprise me.

He breathes out a sigh.

I bloody fucking hate you. You have no idea. I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and watch the life leave your eyes but not as much as I want to run my fingers through your hair, grab a fistful and yank your head back just to crash my lips onto yours. To make you feel the hate I have for you, to make your lips swollen. To have my tongue vigorously dance with yours, a duel to win. I want to press my lips to your neck, find your pulse and feel it beat against my lips then suck your breath from you. Suffocate in your aroma, to smell your hair and taste the salt of your skin against my tongue.

“For instance… I smell,” she leans her face more over the steam. “Freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and–“ Her words trailed off as she started to realize who it was.

Thinking about it is repulsive, thinking about you, specifically is repulsive. I’m thinking about all this, while you're smelling your Amortentia, and I bet what you're smelling is that daft bimbo, Weaselby.

Ah, the lovely Amortentia. The most powerful love potion that there is. It has a smell for each and every individual according to what attracts them.

Draco adjusts his stance, hands finding a home in the pocket of his trousers. Eyes on her, more so the back of her head, watching while she smells the steam that swirls endlessly up towards her face, and the way her hair grows with the humidity. In a way, it matches the way his had been tousled at his fringe. It looks as if someone had ran their fingers through his own hair and ruffled it up. Hers just looks like straight bed head, yet not taken care of.

His brow raised, looking through his lashes at her.

Weaselby smells like mown grass, well that's quite bloody disgusting. And, you're telling me that's what attracts you?

A scoff slipped out from somewhere in the room, and for a moment he panicked because he knew it came from him the moment Blaise lifted his eyes to look at him with a brow of his own raised. But, Draco's eyes were on the back of her head, which in that moment he regretted because she turned around and automatically met his. Jaw muscles worked as it snapped shut, clenching his teeth together.

Don't look at me like that. Who do you think you are?

Professor Slughorn dismissed the class, he hurried to get his things situated and left the room without so much as a second glance back at his fellow classmates; including her. But he could feel the way that her eyes bored into his back, setting his skin ablaze.

Eventually, Blaise caught up to him. “What was all that back there, mate?”

“What? What do you mean was all that?” He stopped in his tracks, and lifted his eyes to meet Blaise’s but grew uncomfortable and looked away, ah, the stone wall was helping particularly well in this moment.

“Why did you act that way after Granger smelled her Amortenia?”

Merlin! He wasn't going to let this up. Fucking always so observant.

“Because what she smelled was ridiculous.”

“No, what is it really? You can't possibly think I'm that stupid, Draco.” He persisted.

Draco’s eyes gravitated back to him. Jaw tight. “What would you like me to say, Blaise? Is there a specific thing you're expecting me to answer with? Because whatever you're trying to get out of me, isn't there. So, I suggest that you stop while you're ahead.” Was what he left the conversation with.

Blaise, if I told you anything, you'd think that I’ve gone bloody mental, shit, I'm beginning to wonder myself if I did.

All through the years I’ve been watching Hermione Granger, bullying her and her friends because I get amusement out of the looks on their faces. How I know that I piss them off, and I'm good at it. There was once a part of me who loved to watch her cry, to bathe in those tears that fell down her cheeks, those very cheeks I want to grab in my hand and attack her jaw with my lips.

Draco shook his head as if he were trying to dismiss the thoughts, dismiss the way he was feeling and thinking as they weren't quite appropriate.

This year was so utterly fucked. I just want it to be over.

He made his way through the corridors, retreating from Blaise and dipping around the corner. He needed some down time, perhaps the library would do some good. Settle down with a book, in a far corner sounded lovely.

An hour gone by, and he'd been so enveloped in multiple books because he couldn't just decide on one and he needed to distract his mind from the interaction with Blaise, and Hermione interfering his thoughts.

But low and behold, she came into the library. Of course! The know-it-all loved to read just as much as he did.

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me.

Draco rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw tight and pretended to read but every so often his gaze would lift to where she was. She was huffing loudly, even two exasperated sighs left her mouth. His teeth gritted and the muscle in his jaw worked.

After a couple of moments, perhaps five minutes gone by of her continuing with her loud outbursts of breathing, huffs and sighs he had enough of it all. Draco slammed the book shut, picking up the others and went to return them to their slots. When he was done, he approached her. Shouldering the frame of one of the bookshelves.

“Do you need to be so loud? This is a library for a reason.” His voice was cold, like a cool breeze brushing through the space between them. By the looks of it, he could tell that when he spoke that he had startled her.

She turned around mid-way while pulling out a book. Her chocolate-colored eyes lifted to meet his with a glare. Her head tilted to the side, and a retort was just waiting to leave her mouth. Draco had noticed this when he seen her lips twitch.

“Do you wish for me to apologize to you? Because,” she scoffed, crossing her arms with the book over her chest and under one arm. “You won't be getting it.”

“Who said anything about you apologizing?” His brow raised. “It's the fact that you are in a library, being loud with just your breath.”

Hermione looked around them. “Seems to me like we're the only ones in here, Malfoy. So —” she put the book back and moved down the shelf more, opposite of where he was standing. “I don't really see a problem here, you're just always bothered unless it's you doing something someone doesn't like.” She retorted, rather calmly.

How are you always able to handle your composure when around me. Yes — keep going down the aisle, pretty soon you'll be stuck in that corner.

Draco’s jaw snapped, his throat clicked. He hadn't really observed the room when he came in, but she was right about it being empty and the only ones in there being them. What a situation to be in.

“And you breathing loudly happens to be something that I don't like. I wouldn't be standing here right now if otherwise.” A hand slipped from across his chest, as his index finger lifted from the light fist he held, raising it like he were thinking before taking a step closer, slowly. “I am always bothered by you. Your presence is insufferable. Anywhere I go, I always have to see your face, I'm repulsed by it.”

It's true, I am always bothered by you. You are insufferable, but I am sure I could put you into your place; if you'd let me. I may be repulsed by your face, but I can't help but also like looking at it, at those lips —

She laughed manically, like what he said was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard, or perhaps she had seen right through him. Hermione stopped what she was doing with the books, what book was she trying to find anyways? Her body shifted, feet angled towards him and arms remained crossed over her chest.

“You're the only one who thinks these things, and quite frankly they do not bother me.”

Man, you are bloody stubborn — not as much as I am.

He stepped closer, a hand coming up to grip onto the edge of the shelf. His own height towering over her own, blocking out the library light from her face. They were now sharing each other's exhaled breathes, and he knew she could feel the way his ghosted along her face. She didn't at all seem bothered by his presence now crowding her, backed into the corner of a bookshelf. He was looming over her.

“They don't bother you?” He asked and his tone dripped sarcasm. She shifted uncomfortably. “Do tell me, what does bother you then?”

“Why would that be something you're curious about? Since when did you care about what bothers me or not?”

Draco smirks, his head turning to the side while his eyes fell to the door of the library. Tongue grazing the bottom of his upper teeth. “You're right,” he turned his head back, glaring down through his lashes. “Why would I care? I don't care for someone of the liking of you.”

With that — he leaned down towards her more, for a moment he looked as though he were going to kiss her. But it was just to give a look of intimidation before his weight pressed into the hand that gripped the shelf to push himself off. Hands finding their way back into his trouser pockets.

I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much and you already know that don't you, Granger? Because I make it known, it's all over my face whenever you look at me, whenever we run into each-other. I hate you, yet I want to fucking kiss you, I want to do these things to do you that I, when I was younger couldn't see myself doing. Let alone have never done with a witch before besides Pansy, she always knew how to keep my best interests in mind.

I want to have my hands in your hair, tangled in my fingers and watch as your curled locks fall through. I want my hand around your throat possessively, let my thumb graze along your jaw and down the front of your throat like I'm thirsty for you and just want a little taste.

I want to have your clothes pooled at your feet while my eyes roam your naked canvas, I want to take in every scar, beauty mark, freckle. I want to do it all.

I want to trace the pads of my fingers down your spine, to your tailbone and trail them around to your hips.

I want to do so much to you — I want to possess you.

But then I'm reminded just by looking at you that you're a Muggle witch, and I fucking hate you, you're repulsive and insufferable. A know-it-all swat, who just can't keep her fucking mouth shut.

I'm conflicted, my stomach is in knots and this'll be the one thing that takes me to my very grave.

[attackonmango]

|Teasing| Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader x Zeke x Reiner|💦|

|Throat fucking, oral(m receiving), teasing and mentions of daddy in the form of a nickname, praise, dirty talk|

|Song recommendation: Ordinary Life - The weeknd|

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened just as you planned, though it took a bit longer than expected, Porco endured this torture as you taunted his friends like a champ. Teasing Porco in a short and frilly black skirt as you paraded around was a perfect way to calm the pattering inside your core. Your thighs deliciously plush and rubbing together due to the lack of your usual tights. The black skirt was paired with a yellow top that went well with the skirt. A sliver of cleavage peeking from the neckline. Just enough to piss Porco off. Because Reiner, Zeke and Colt’s peering and hungry eyes.

You relish in the glory of the pissed look at was plastered on Porco’s face as he grumbled out his replies, pouting every time attention was on you. You smile at the jealous expression appointed on his beautiful features.

His fingers curling into fists as his mates complimented you. Ones that you took as you were utterly unbashful, your smile never faltering.

“I love your hair, Y/N.” Colt gushes, his eyes flickering from yours to your tits, hair delicately framing them in soft tendrils, a faint blush on his cheeks as you smiled softly at him.

Reiner watched as your thighs jiggle as you swing your legs, feet hovering because they didn't reach the floor. He peered from a side glance as your clothes hugged your marvelous body. He couldn't help but eye what chub you have, thinking about how soft your tummy would feel against him chest. “Your outfit looks amazing.”

“Yea, what is there, looks pretty. Porco let you in here like that?” Zeke teased, peering down at you over his glasses. His eyes eating you up when you weren’t paying attention or when he though Porco wasn’t. “Porco doesn't control what I wear,” you'd roll your eyes, knowing it would rile him up. You smirk when he scoffs, rolling his eyes as his arms crossed around his chest.

“I compliment her enough so watch it,” Porco seethed each time, replying for you. You’d just laugh, and shake your head before giving a smile in reply.

He could’ve sworn he hid that outfit. How did you find it? Guess it didn’t matter now, not when this could end in something fun.

You were driving his friend nuts as they watched the fabric of your skirt flow around your thighs. Zeke sucked down his cigarette a bit fast, and Reiner couldn’t keep his hands off the collar of his shirt as their eyes trail after your every move, clearing his throat every time he looks at you. It didn’t help that Colt had his hands in his lap, his eyes following you shamelessly, a stupid grin on his face. And Porco couldn't stand it. He wasn't one for sharing and he didn't like your flaunting. To put shortly, he wasn't amused by your action.

The way your tits squeezed together as you jotted down the battle plans and essentially Zeke’s every word. Porco hated the way you stared at Zeke, the amusement of evident on your face as the war chief stumbled over his words, swallowing thickly as his eyes lingered on your plentiful breasts.

Rolling his eyes, Porco jumped out of his seat, not flinching as the chair scraped against the floor. His jaw clenched as he glared down upon you. “Bring your ass.” His harsh words fill you with anticipation as he stalked off after grabbing his.

“Can we come too?” Colt called after his friend, his expression dead serious, “cuz I mean..” he trailed off as he railed you with his eyes.

“Damn,” Zeke and Reiner muttered in sync, finishing for Colt. You blush at their reaction, cringing at the thought. Porco didn’t miss the way their eyes fucked you as you stood up and trailed after him like a lost puppy, not wasting much time to keep up with him.

They shut up due to the glare that Porco shot in their direction, over his shoulder. “Fuck no,” his words laced with the deadliest venom he could muster.

As you stood, you used your hand to cover your ass, but it didn’t stop your skirt from flipping up a bit, revealing a sliver of your ass cheek. They relished in the fact that your panties matched your laced yellow shirt. The wet spot on your chair bringing blood to their aching cocks. How Porco’s bitch ass got someone like you was beyond them.

But what could you say? You loved how aggressive he could get. He was the only one who got your rocks off the way you love. He fucked you into submission and it made you want more.

You had to jog to keep up with Porco’s long strides. As you walked behind him, you could feel the heat radiating off him. You slam into his back as he suddenly stills.

He says nothing to you as he pulls open an empty extra closet. It had enough room for you both to fit comfortably in the room, an entire wall clear, so he wastes no time shoving you inside. But Porco didn’t want you comfortable; he wanted you stuck, not worrying about having you any space to do anything other than sit on your knees for him. He had you in the corner, facing him while his back was inches from the door. “You think you are fucking slick?” he'd breath down at you, his eyes peering down at you, while his mind wandered over the things he could do to you, even in this small room. He shook his head at the thought. All that could wait, for now. His finger nipping at the nude buds under your shirt brings a high pitched sigh from your lip. Of course you didn't have a bra on. Such a fucking tease.

“Such a bad girl,” he growled as his hand harshly patted your head. You try not to cry out as his hand-knotted up in your hair. The other hand gripped your jaw, forcing your mouth to part. Once he got it to open, his finger prodded your tongue, making your jaw ache. “Teasing me,” you savoured the fire that burned intensely in his honey eyes that made you shudder under his touch, as you hollowed your cheeks around his fingers a few times, teasingly. “By teasing my friends.” His hand dug into his pants, fishing out his hard cock.

“Shit,” you wince as his dick hits the side of your face, springing outward. You can’t help but recoil back, Porco’s fingers falling from your lips, connected still with a string of spit. “I-I just thought the outfit was cute; I wasn’t trying to tease anyone.” You lied through your teeth, almost convincingly, feigning a plea for mercy. You made this bed, and you wanted to enjoy it.

The shocked look painted on your features and the glint in your eyes mocking innocence. The way you slowed thickly around his hand travelled to your neck. The exhale you gave when his grip tightened softly. Too bad Porco didn’t care. He had you right where he wanted you. Your lying didn’t fool him, for he knew better. He made a mental note to bring that up later.

“Tough shit, open up.” He brought you closer to his hips. His dick dangling by your moist lips that you licked with yearning.

But you don’t open your mouth until a soft smack lands on your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting, mouth dropping at his words. “Be a good girl, come on, don’t be dumb, you know how this goes.” He commanded, his eyes stoic and cold while a sly smirk played on his lips. The harshness was paired with a loving stroke on your head.

Drool pooled in your mouth as Porco placed his cock on your wet muscle. A growl crawling up his throat as your spit coated his thick cock as it stretched your mouth, almost unpleasantly.

You hummed delightfully as his pre-cum filled your taste buds. “Come on, baby. Suck.” His hand in your hair tightening, causing you to cry around Porco’s cock. Obeying him, you resume prodding him with a sliding tongue. Cheeks hollowing around him.

His hand left your throat as his hips rocked into your mouth, as you ran your tongue around his tip before it trailed down his shaft. He revelled in how he fucked you into the corner, hand blocking your head from hitting the wall too hard, though you bounced around a bit. Slurping erupt from your mouth as your tongue rested at the base of his cock.

Massaging his balls with your tongue coaxed soft groans from Porco’s chest, the back of your throat greeting his sensitive tip. “Fuck, your mouth feels fucking amazing.” He rutted into your mouth, holding you all the way down on his cock as his free hand disheveling his habitual slick back hair style, curtaining his forehead. “You look perfect sucking Daddy’s cock.” He praised, loud enough for Reiner and Zeke to hear, he made sure. You were his, after all; he had you wrapped around his finger and your lips around his cock.

Shame and arousal were piling in your chest at the nickname he gave himself while you gagged on his throbbing length as it skimmed your uvula, repeatedly. You couldn’t help but groan as the ache in your jaw grew while you bob your head up in down. “Remember who you belong to, Y/N,” Porco muttered possessively, losing himself in your throat. Confidence surged through you, feeling how he throbbed against your sopping tongue. You pull your mouth back far enough to wrap both of your hands on the base of his dick, pumping away.

Throat squelching as Porco jackhammered into it, chasing the high that he felt like he deserved. He stared into your fucked out eyes, chuckling at the tears that muddled in them, falling silently and freely on to his thighs; Man, how pathetic and pretty you looked while you sucked him off. “Fuck..dammit, swallow it all!” Porco shouted his command as his cock spazzing inside her throat as it spilled from his cock. The thick bodily fluid salty as it coats the back of your tongue. Spurting down your throat as Porco held you still, not giving you a choice to let off, while he holds you with both hands, fucking so deep into your throat that he could feel a heartbeat in your neck. Guzzling him up like the lady you were, you weren't going to be rude and spit out what he worked so hard to make for you.

His dick pokes around in your mouth as you are forced to swallow every last drop. You gasp as he pulls from your mouth, hand massaging your head in praise, signal a job well done. Not caring about the line of drool that trailed from your bruised lips to his softening cock, Porco tucked it away anyways. You smile as Porco uses his shirt to gently wipe your lips while he stood above you, smirking at your panting figure. His breathing matching yours.

“We aren’t done yet, but at least the guys know what’s up,” Porco murmured as he pulled you to your feet. “You belong to me, right,” he reminded you, not caring to ask, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You loved his possessive nature and the way he brought you to your knees to pleasure himself.

[waiting-for-motivation]

nothing

summary: (Y/n) is supposed to watch over BB8, but nothing seems to go as planed. When Poe returns from his mission, he is face to face with his anxious crush and a very scratched droid.

pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader, BB8 x Reader

warnings: fluff, bee being a little crackhead

words: 1244

a/n: inspired by me playing battlefront II and accidentally killing BB8 by rolling him over a cliff...

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

"What do you mean Poe likes me? Don't be silly, little bee." The female looks up from her book and raises an eyebrow at the white and orange droid. He tilts his head to the side as if he wants to say: It's obvious he likes you.

Because the droid turned her attention away from her book, (Y/n) sets it aside and leaves the comfort of her bed. The droid follows her, every step she takes. Together they leave her room, greet a few people in the corridors and then enter the canteen.

Before BB8 can go inside, the automatic door closes in the exact moment the droid is in between. A screeching noise scares (Y/n) and as she turns around, the droid she should be watching and taking care off, is in between two heavy metal doors.

Quickly, she runs to him and helps her white and orange friend out of the danger.

"Be more careful, little bee. If Poe sees only one scratch on you, he will literally kill me!" The droid beeps apologetically and follows the female to one of the bars where she gets her food.

On their way to a table, BB8 bumps into a man who empties his hot soup on the droid. (Y/n) sighs, puts down her tablet and kneels in front of her friend. She wipes the soup away with some tissues as best as she can. The man who the soup belonged to, walks away without another word and ignores the chaos.

"That's exactly why I prefer droids", the female sighs and wipes a noodle away that covered one of BB8’s cameras. "There you go, bee."

(Y/n) sits down and starts eating her food while watching the droid talk to everyone around them. Some ignore him while others smile at him and pet his still soupy head.

After some time, BB8 comes back to his friend. He starts beeping.

You know he loves you, right? He says your name when he is sleeping and don't get me started on our missions. It's always like: I can't wait to see (Y/n) when I'm back. She would love this planet. I should ask her if she would like to join me on my next mission.

(Y/n) laughs because she knows that BB8 is only making fun of her. No matter how nice it would be to have Poe Dameron fallen in love with her, it's not reality. She is just the person he comes to, when he needs someone to watch his droid.

After the female put the tablet and dishes away, they leave the canteen.

"Hey, little bee. The last one outside is a loser", she says with a huge grin on her lips and starts running. The droid follows as fast as he can. Because of her advantage, (Y/n) is the one leading but as they reach the exit, the droid rolls past her.

"Hey!" She watches in shock as the droid rolls too fast over the stairs, flies through the air and lands on his head. Unluckily, BB8 loses his head and lays motionless on the stony ground.

He beeps quietly. Loser.

Once again (Y/n) runs to the little droid and puts him together, hoping nothing important is broken. The droid tilts his head from side to side and gives her a happy beep.

"Poe will definitely kill me."

They go back to (Y/n)s room because she needs to fix the scratches on her metal friend. As if on purpose, BB8 hits a few corners from time to time.

Now, they are in her rooms, sitting on the floor. (Y/n)s back is facing the door while the droid is telling her that maybe a few patches will cover up is injuries.

"You don't need patches, bee. You are a droid. The only thing that could save me from my inevitable death is your paint. But the only person owning such is Poe himself."

Silence fills the room. BB8 rolls through the room, looking for something that could help. But actually hitting everything he can see so that Poe might find the courage to talk to you. On his way he gets caught in (Y/n) bedsheets.

"What is that?", a male voice asks and (Y/n) immediately stands up and turns around, facing the pilot Poe Dameron himself.

"Nothing."

"Well, it doesn't look like nothing."

Poe walks to his beloved droid and helps him out of the sheets that smell so heavenly like (Y/n). He stares in shock at the droid with his scratches and even a few patches on his back.

"What happened to you?", he asks the little droid. The pilot kneels down and turns BB8 around so that he can see every little scratch. He is still wearing his flight suit, the arms tied together around his waist. It seems like the pilot didn‘t bother changing his clothes and instead went straight to (Y/n). On other days she would have admired the beauty of Poe Dameron.

"It was my fault. At first, he got caught between a door. Then I wasn't watching him, and he bumped into this idiot who spilled soup over him. On our way outside, I motivated him to chase me, and he hit the ground really hard. I'm so sorry, Poe", the female says with teary eyes and watches as Poe walks to her. He doesn't look angry. There is softness in his brown eyes.

(Y/n) closes her eyes because she fears the next words of the pilot. But instead of screaming at her and cursing, he places both his hands at each side of her face. By the time the female opens her eyes again, she is face to face with the handsome man. He is smiling at her like an idiot who fell in love. And that‘s exactly what he is, truly and utterly in love with the girl in front of him.

"Don‘t worry. He looked worse and I‘m pretty sure this little shit hurt himself on purpose, so I have to talk to you“, the pilot says with a short glance towards his beloved droid. BB8 beeps shyly, rolls back to the bed and hides underneath the blanket on the floor. (Y/n) and Poe laugh. When they lock eyes again, silence fills the room.

"I‘m glad he did it.“ Poe bits his lower lips and lets his gaze wander from the females (e/c) eyes to her lips. Not even he knows how many times he thought about pressing his own lips to her soft ones. In his dreams he takes every chance of kissing (Y/n), but right now he hesitates. "Because today I may have the courage to…“

Poe can‘t finish his sentence because (Y/n) already presses her whole body against his. Her soft lips finally touch his in a sweet kiss. While his hands stay on her cheeks, she lets her hands wander from his chest to his hips and back. Finally, one hand finds it‘s place on his neck.

Their lips move as if they were made for each other. At first (Y/n)s lips feel like the touch of a butterflies wings but then the kiss gets more intimidate and intense. Now and then they part to breathe but the second their lungs are filled with air, their lips hug each other again.

A happy beep from BB8 who finally managed to escape the blanket halfway, interrupts their shared kiss. Both look at the droid with huge smiles on their lips.

"Thanks, buddy.“

[brideofcthulhu10]

More headcanons to help me work through the dreaded writer's block! Hope you guys don't mind it's a bit slow right now, I plan on posting another tonight and hopefully I'll be able to get to some asks once my brain is no longer fried

Dwayne Headcanons

When he was responsible for Laddie, Dwayne would often take him out to the boardwalk whenever Star was busy. Sometimes he’d even choose to take him along even if they were with Star just to hang with the munchkin

If anyone told him he was too short Dwayne would hypnotize them into letting him one. He wasn't exactly worried about the kid being flung from the roller coaster, he could easily catch him if it happened. It felt awesome impressing him at the strength test, just watching him jump up and down as the attendant handed him a giant blue monkey which of course he'd give to Laddie. The boy was such a hyper, sunny child it was hard not to laugh when this spritely eight year old would play a water gun game and yell “this is a load of bullshit” when he lost. Well, he did grow up around four teenage guys, two having the worst language you could imagine. David used the word "fuck" like it was going out of style. At one point some lady in her thirties tried to lecture Laddie about watching his language, to which Dwayne had immediately stepped in after he said “piss off lady”. Again he had to choke back a laugh, pushing the kid behind him before this lady throttled him. To save face Dwayne feigned some half assed “shame on you” to Laddie just so she would piss off, and then ushered him away- for an ice cream sundae. Granted while he couldn’t condone a kid cussing up a storm, he did find it utterly hilarious watching this uppity chick squawk like a hen in outrage.

“Seriously though I don’t know where the hell you learned all that from-”

“Paul taught me.”

“Yeah, well, Paul probably isn’t the best guy to copy, kiddo. "

Chinese food isn’t his favorite, but he knows it’s Markos so he doesn’t complain when they have it at least once a week. Actually, his favorite is probably Hispanic. Many forget much of California was once Mexico, and as such the culture still thrived even into the early 1900s. Santa Carla flourished, and between pick pocketing gigs and heavy labor on the docks, Dwayne could always count on there being fresh tortillas for a few dollars after a long day. Elotes with extra chili powder, huarache, freshly brewed horchata on ice? Utterly delicious! Nothing can compare to freshly made tamales by a sweet abuela in a tiny food truck cooing to you in Spanish. Even he can blush when they pinch his cheeks gushing about what a skinny man he is. Paul and Marko love it as well and will often tag along when Dwayne goes to Mama Rosa’s, although he often has to elbow Paul in the gut because he’ll flirt with the cooks in the back into getting a free taco.

“Ay, Paul, mi angelito querido cielito, you’re skin and bones!”

“Well, I always skip a meal before coming here, abuela. Your cooking is too epic to have anything else in my stomach!”

“Dude, will you stop flirting with that poor woman before you give her a heart attack, you ass?”

Dwayne had a brother many years ago who was lost after being caught in direct sunlight during the great San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Since then on April 18th he holds a small memorial for his brother Jasper, who died pulling the curtains shut to shield them from the sun. Some years David, Paul and Marko will join him, silently drinking to their fallen friend. It's a rare moment of seriousness for these wild boys, sitting beside an altar crudely constructed atop a wooden crate, draped over with the jacket once worn by Jasper that survived the flames. Decorated in worn candles melted by decades of use, a bottle of rum from over eighty years ago still untouched with an empty shot glass beside it caked in dust and cobwebs, worn flowers shriveled into darkened husks, a glass of blood they keep freshly filled with each visit, feathers of birds to help carry him to the sky. Every time he adds something new, a gift from every era. Recently he brought Jasper a Def Leppard vinyl record, propped against a sketch of his brother drawn before his passing by an admirer who had died long ago. Paul left a little toy motorcycle for him, Marko brought an old pocket watch he found at an antique store that bore a striking resemblance to one he had admired long ago, and David brought him a hunting knife

“You would’ve loved hair bands, Jas. Everything’s changed now, its crazy. It sucks you never got a bike of your own,” Dwayne would say, sitting in the dark with only the tender flicker of candles brushing away the dark. Never again would he let the sun take him. It was the darkest, deepest cave in the hotel. And there, Dwayne spoke more than he ever does outside “Horses were cool, but it’s better to have something that doesn’t stop every time it takes a shit, you know?”

Unfortunately Dwayne sucks at video games. It’s not that he doesn’t get it, but he has the worst gamer rage. Now, Dwayne doesn’t often get legitimately mad, but when he’s been playing the same god damn stupid water level for the past hour and a half just to be killed by a squid-! Well, lets just say Paul practically dove to catch the controller before it was chucked at the tv, and cue a dirty look towards Dwayne for nearly smashing his “baby”. He wasn’t about to have him break ANOTHER controller. Yeah that wasn’t the first. At this point he’s content just watching from afar and sometimes back seat gaming when Marko is going the wrong way. He’s not nearly as bad as David who will openly call someone stupid after dying. 

Dwayne is definitely the type to nap after a long night. Truthfully he misses when he could just lay out in the sun like a lizard on a hot rock after a long day, it’d feel incredible. Instead he’s resorted to a hot water bottle or a heating pad. Yeah, he loves hot weather. Summertime is his favorite time, just savoring the toasted air blowing in his face on rides over the beaches. Sometimes he’ll try to wake up early to watch the sunset from within the cave, although it’s burnt him on more than one occasion he will still try to get a glimpse. Winter is the worst for him, he hates, absolutely despises the cold. Even though he doesn't technically get cold anymore, everything seems to die away in the winter leaving only twisted branches and grey skies. David may enjoy all that gloomy melancholy but not him.

One wouldn’t assume Dwayne to have much of a sweet tooth. That’s because they’re wrong. While he isn’t into the marshmallow caramel double candy bars deep fried and dipped in chocolate like Marko or Laddie, he has a serious weakness for chocolate. Like, a major weakness. Paul is still searching for his stash, tucked away somewhere secret in the hotel. Any time he thinks he’s close to finding it, Dwayne moves it again.

“Dude, sharing is fucking caring you greedy bastard”

“Get your own candy asshole, why do you think I keep my stash hidden from you guys?”

Now the whole hoity toity fancy chocolate isn’t what appeals to him. He can certainly appreciate a well made chunk of dark chocolate sprinkled with chili powder, but he’ll settle for a cheap bar snatched from a gas station. Most sweets weigh heavy on him, but chocolate is such a unique medium that can be changed into almost anything, appealing to every taste imaginable. Sweet, savory, spicy, bitter, semi-sweet, rich, dense, light. Chocolate cake, chocolate doughnut, hot chocolate, fudge, and of course the traditional candy bar. You make him a mug of Mexican hot chocolate and he is putty in your hands. You couldn’t necessarily bribe him with food. But you could certainly butter him up to suggestions when he’s crunching down on a candy bar. Paul knows this, and at this point Dwayne knows this guy has royally fucked up if he comes up to him with a stack of chocolate bars.

“Heeeeey, Dwayne, buddy, old pal, chum, lookie what I found, all for you man how cool is that?”

“....,” Dwayne glances up from his book at the handful of chocolate and slowly lowers it with a firm sigh. “What the hell did you do now?”

“Wha-Whaaa-? Oh! Okay, wow. Woooow. Offend much? I go out of my way- I mean, can’t a guy just, you know, do something nice for his best friend-?”

“Paul. What. did. you. do?”  

“Okay okay, well you see David made me go fill up his stupid bike, and there was this hot chick at the gas station, I mean perfect fuckin ten man, she had the biggest frickin tits- okay anyway! Well, next thing I know the keys are gone, the chick's gone, the fuckin bike- You gotta help me man he’s gonna fucking kill me and dance on my grave!”

Of course Dwayne will help… in exchange for twice the chocolate. Like I said, it won’t always work as a bribe, but it’ll certainly help your cause if you go in with some incentive.

[muffindaddystyles]

(CLANDESTINE CHAPTER TWO)

ᗩᑭᑭOIᑎTᗰᗴᑎT, ᖇᗴᗪ ᐯᗴᒪᐯᗴT ᗩᑎᗪ ᗰᑌᖴᖴIᑎՏ

𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚

Rhythmically mellifluous waves of notes echoes after bouncing back from anile theatre's walls, the trill getting softer the more I firmly place my chin over the tail piece.

Eye lids slip shutting at the flurries of heart chasing the last cadences, pinky shivering as the middle and ring finger pushes the string down while the bow touches through the strings simultaneously producing the last chords.

Feels like a voyage over a baby leaf that's leading me through a pallid wind.

My chest heaving vigorously and lifting my jaw from the violin my head snapped in the direction of loud claps flowing. After a hectic performance the seats went empty and instead of going backstage I tried to play a melody for myself.

I was so lost finding my way through strings that didn't even noticed when Azi came. He's the owner of this old hideously beautiful theatre, his love for arts has this place still running without compliance knowing else it would have left baren just like the other popular theatres they shut years ago.

"Well done Harry, people seemed to love your performance last night and today." A smile quenching from my inners causing the bottom lip to tuck in between my teeth.

A feeling like no other spiralling around my ribcages, this's all I ever wanted.

"They were properly soused into your magic and we know what that means, shit loads of money." I remained quite putting my violin and bow aside while he spoke with a tobacco cigar rolled in between his lips.

I never wanted to play for money but nor do I've problem if we're getting it because half of the people in theater needs it. They deserve it.

It's not their fault they've to die in return of loving the devotedness that's gifted naturally.

Their talent and adroitness is the only thing keeping them in this world even though they've to remain veiled from the ordinary people.

Azi drags the stash of money on the table in my direction causing me to shake my head in refusal, "you know that I don't need this money. Save it for the renovation of theatre before we all get buried deep under it." He laughs lungs rumbling from his old age.

For God's sake the ceilings are about to cripple and chandelier might bonk my head one day.

"Or' maybe double pay our ballerina she was prepossesing last night." The twitch of his wrinkles at the corners of eyes smoothed down sadly and he sighed loudly piercing a hole in my stomach.

Anticipation wrapped around my head shoving me into the sea of worry where I'm finding it difficult to process, "what happened-" my words choking in my windpipes when he cuts me off revealing the horror information.

"She was abducted last night, her body was found shot near the suburb of where she lives." Everything's feeling claustrophobic around me and I keep on gawking him in astonished dread.

She was one hell of the great dancers, the only ballerina of our theatre. She didn't not deserved this; fuck it nobody does. I refuse to believe.

Fuck this government. Fuck this stupid world.

Gripping my hair from roots I looked him straight in the eyes, "Tell me if her family needs any help." Then the realization dawned upon me like a heavy dust she never had a family. This theatre, her skills were her only family.

"Harry my boy listen I know you'll take it as a hard toll but believe me we can't do anything for what has happened, go home have a rest you've a performance in the coming month." I was taken aback when he hugged me assuring me like a father would do, not utterly sure how to respond to interactions like these I raised my hands several times only to let them fall back.

Memories of her on tips dancing beautifully on the stage displaying infront of me as I stored my violin into case putting it aside.

We weren't close. But the few times we had exchange of words in the middle of lunch breaks and her full concentration on my foolish jokes was worth than any friendships I ever had; which I unfortunately never had.

Without even noticing the whispers let out of my chest, "I'll miss ya." Never thought you could yearn to have a single glimpse of people last time even though they were barely in your life.

I didn't changed into comfortable clothes letting the flashy suit stick to my skin, so the weigh of it will keep on making me realize that the world has no place for us.

A sacrifice for living praise.

The alley outside's pitch dark with the sun roguishly trying to dawn from the horizon.

Azi Theatre's situated at the most lifeless spot in the city possible, you've to walk through several hidden allies to reach there.

While, walking past the streets and avoiding to ruin my trousers by splashing my boots into puddle my brain havoced with unnecessary thoughts.

Thousand of faces with erastz beauty passing in mili seconds on these vast fulgurant billboards their mocks appearing like arrows to my already wounded guts; though it's all in my head it's still crawling under my skin.

A peek of cognisance from the day she made me ate her red velvet muffins dizzied around in my mind painting sorrow over me.

Even though I protested with my nonsical excuses she won ending up handing me one of her perfectly shaped muffin on my palm with a huge grin.

Just like that alot of people's smiles in my life petered out in the lost pocket of my mind.

In the littlest remembrance of her I made route to the small bakery situated two blocks away from the building I live in. The city's sleeping the only thing's shop's boards blinking and hazy bakeries showing through the thick fog.

It's open twenty four hours seven. The sky tweeked with ribbons of brume and the digital clock showed 5:00 sharp in the early dawn the large glass windows fogy from weather. The counter lady's wrapped into a comfy blanket trying not to fall asleep.

The bell chimed startling the cute old lady when I stepped inside passing by the wooden counter, "uhh..hi sorry to disturb. I'll look in myself." She nodded slumping back into her seat soon about to knock off.

Strolling in between the squeezy aisles my eyes roamed over empty refrigerators ceasing to the one at the far corner.

There in the transparent domed box are four cherry-red muffins attracting every dull view of bakery towards themselves. They're perfectly shaped and snow-flaked into red coconut shudders but failed to water my mouth.

I've no appetite to eat them. Her's used to be baked into undescribeable funny shapes but atleast I had a company while chomping them in one bite.

A reel of same memory binging and before it could permanently imprint in my brain I cleared my throat raising my pointy finger as a habit, "I'll have these!"

We said in a unison. Hold on. We? Am I that exhausted that I've started to hallucinate.

My head snapshoting towards the person from whom the feminine voice billowed in the dense warm air.

Resplendent. Florid and kaleidoscopic were the first words that striked my confused mind when my vision raked from the faux suede ankle boots richer in pigment than the red velvet muffins resting inside the refrigerator; then straight towards to meet their eyes.

Her gaze projecting warmth in this wimtertide and out of curiosity I met her eyes to recognize their colour.

Golden syrup. They're like the glassed honey pool that has squeezed the bee in the syrup lake as if it's greed for honey became it's trap, hazel speckles caged inside the rim of irises flickering with her slightest of eye movement.

We both keeps on looking at eachother the morning peace surrounding us too unsure how to break the spell.

She's wearing a cerise peach long trench wool coat a sweet rose enamel pin attached to where her heart is. Her nose and ears pink from the cold outside, but her lips plump from under the translucent violaceous bubble gum coloured gloss.

Burnette tresses of hair loose till her covered shoulders, the peach tealed beanie intact on her head.

The women standing infront of me is in abstract contrast to the pastels of the bakery and the luster of gray buildings out of these bakery walls.

The pastelish hues still prominent in her and crimson peaked up my neck at the fact that she caught me intriguing her by my peer.

Boldly her eyes remained fixated at my suit that's very exotic for strolling into a bakery. She might think so I'm a bellend idiot.

The cashier lady came to us yawning placing her hands on her hips done with two strangers just looking at eachother but she doesn't know that both of them are inquisitive of what the other is wearing this early where anybody's barely awake.

"We've the only box, decide it quick kiddos that who'll get it." The lady yawned for fiftieth time taking the box of muffins out of refrigerator.

"I came here first and I was the first one to ask." I frowned for an obvious reason and the lady was about to give me the box when a honeyed voice again melted in my ears.

Now I really wanna hear her talk for a long time, "but I pointed at it first!" She whines softly jutting her lower lip.

"But vocalisation matters the most." I quipped arching my brow at her and she glared me but her beatific personality radiating naturally from her is breaking the bitter demeanour she's trying to pull towards me.

"Kay. We can leave it upto the rock, paper and siscorss." She smirks mishveously raising her brows several times in a challenge.

Her tongue poking out from her glossy lips with her one leg straight and other bended perpendicular she placed her on foot over another balancing with only one leg like a flamingo.

The cute small lady groaned, "are you really gonna do this?" Our eyes widening and chuckles spiraling when we once again we said 'yep.' In unison.

She was ready to launch her hand in a paper and mine was stone so I quickly interrupted looking down at her legs, "why are you standin' like a swan?" Her eyes slitting into a squint and lips shrinking into a pout.

Tilting her chin towards me and standing in the same position as before just the difference now's that her hands are on her hips to convey the offend.

She ruched her lower lip inside her mouth to stop from giving a smile, so she's a buoyant person...

"Because maybe I am?" And she doesn't have simple answers to straight questions. Our fists still raised into air and the cashier lady hissed this time ready to throw hands.

"You kids are worse than my grandchildren!" She gasped comically at the words of short lady.

"That's very mean of you..." I'm clearly surprised that she isn't one bit influenced by lady's sharpness instead she's further engaging in a conversation that will result in the loss of time for all of us. "...and your daughter wouldn't be very happy to know."

"Kay. Back to where we left." She quickly turned her head towards me her complete concentration struck over me making my stomach go fluttery and funny.

"Uhm..yes- rock, paper, siscorss!" I never thought I'd play a game with some stranger who's looking so cozy and comfy in the early dew, for some muffins in the middle of empty bakery when I scarcely interact with people.

"Yes! I won." I punched the air when my siscorss cut her paper and her jaw went slack for a moment.

What the fuck you're doing Styles!?

Out of shyness and awkwardness I abruptly combed back my curls rubbing my hand down the nape of my neck not meeting her eyes.

The lady handed me the box with a boring expression while Hers stayed ticked to it, "anyway I don't even like red-velvet muffins." Yeah. Grapes are sour when fox can't get it.

She was about to walk away near to step out of shop. I want to call her but don't know her name; so out of sheer rampage I blurted out the only word that the department of my brain could manage at the time.

"Swan!" She halted in her tracks torso turning and with her chin atop of her shoulder she looked back at me smiling coyly.

"Yes. Sparkly?" She's probably calling me that because of my glittery black suit and I'm sure my ribcages did something at the name. Getting made fun of doesn't sound very good; but it is at the time.

Today's an odd day.

"Um..we can share if you want to?" Her grin etching to the corner of her lips and she jumped excitedly clasping her hands together,"Really!?"

A timid smile crawling over my features watching her get delighted at the littlest of fact. "Yes. There are two pair of muffins we both can have one pair if you like to?" I told her and she bobs her head while going towards the cash counter, patting the counter with a huge grin indicating me to put the box down.

"Your total's $8.25." We both payed half of the total price and I shoved my hands into my trouser's pockets scrutinizing my surrounding while the annoyed cashier lady packed two muffins separately for one of us.

And she rummaged through her wallet which has alot of ebullient key-chains hanging from it, who's this girl?

Why I've never seen her here before? and I've never seen a person this cheerful in the crowd of prosaic people of city.

The lady handed us our respective delights with a roll of eyes and I was the first one to take mine and quickly sprinted out of there, because I didn't know what else to do.

A whiff of pungent vanilla, mulberry pomegranate sprouting with cocoa made it's way in my nostrils when I passed beside her. Her fragrance's divergent.

You know a scent that addictively clouds your senses but it's so rare you never get to smell it again; but if out of nowhere you get to it brings back nostalgia for no reason, she smelled like that.

When I glanced back the two women were still watching my weirdness in amusement through the glass windows of bakery.

It appeared like her rose enamel pin winked at me from far.

Mick was tangled up into cassette tapes when I stepped inside my flat, the tiny bugger he is jumped atop me straddling me to the floor.

"You're lookin' like a disco ball. No need to be so proud." Instead he gave a long slicky lick to my cheek woofing at me.

He's being too cheeky but it wouldn't last long when I'll take him for a checkup. He fucking envy his doc. I'm already sensing sympathy seeking whining from him, happens every year.

Shaking my head I grunted skiding from underneath him but he's fast and climbed up in my lap while I struggled to open the box.

The minute red hilly muffins were infront of me it reminded me of honey the ooze of golden, treacle eyes. Her eyes.

Shit. It's getting hard to get rid of her delicate image that's playing like an aesthetic reel in the back of my mind.

I was jerked into reality when Mick lurched greedily eating the delcious muffin from my hand in one bite, leaving his slickness at the tip of my fingers. Before he could attack my muffin too I quickly grabbed it.

"Mick you wouldn't believe what happened today!?" I spoke in an animated voice scratching his sweet spot under his ear my mouth full of red coconut and he looked up at me with his sick puppy eyes.

"We wouldn't have been able to eat these if I wouldn't have won from...." I stuttered pondering over the fact that the nameless peachy coat girl's too stubborn and wouldn't leave my fuzzy thoughts alone, "...from swan."

Mick just barked at me going to his sleeping pillow and I practically rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms to bring myself to some consciousness from that bloody bakery fantasy.

_

When the proper morning hit I made myself breakfast and the longer I stared it the more it impeded my appetite.

With one hand offering Mick treats to deceive him into the idea that I'll take him to the park for a walk which instead will end up in a clinic's room and other hand diligent in searching word puzzles over the newspaper my jaw worked to chew the sandwich.

Throwing a sweater over my head and slipping into white washed jeans quickly I got ready to take Mick with me.

I had to scoop Mick up in my arms when he sprawled onto footpath of veterinary clinic the second he realized what was about to happen.

The kid leaning against the wall giggled loudly watching me practically drag my dog across the floor because he's too socially akward, fucking wow.

The waiting area's already full of pupils alongside their pets, someone stood up from the last bench and taking the advantage of opportunity I strided towards it sitting at it's edge.

Fifteen minutes passed since I've been caressing and comforting my scared bud, tucking his crown under my chin to make him at rest.

There's loud raucous noise when the elevator doors to the floor we're at opened wide gaining everyone's attention and when the person in tizzy strided inside the corridor I had to look at her twice.

What the fuck she's doing here? She never owned a pet and the one for whom she'll get this worried about.

Lyida's exactly same, her eyes bright as always and she has become more striking from when she was with me.

But she's not mine now, she never was.

She lurched over the receptionist with the box in her hand and distress of having to meet her eyes creeped inside me. The girl beside me threw daggers at me when I stood up hastily causing the whole bench to shake. I apologised for the disturbance.

My hands fumbled with the knob of nearest door right beside me and I had to shush Mick sternly when he kept on whining.

Heavy puff of breaths escaping my lungs when I stumbled inside some empty doctor's room shutting the door behind me, back meeting against the wooden plank of door, cold sweat breaking under the nape of my neck and I blinked several times taking in my surrounding.

I'm a weak son of a bitch.

It's fuckin' gruelling to be in her presence. It's hellish to meet her sympathetic gaze for me and I'm a bastard who's pathetic as hell.

I have to be away, I've to go right now. Trotting towards the large window panes I uncliped them stepping outside the shared balcony of room.

There's a drain pipe so I can climb it down to the ground and get the hell away from here.

Maybe, Mick was right it was a bad day and idea to come here.

Adjusting Mick inside my armpit I threw my one leg over the rail and then the second, my breath wavering as I gripped the rail tighter taking baby steps towards the plastic pipe.

The smack of air stinging my eyes while the cars are being parked infront of me at the parking lot.

A delucet voice clamoured from inside startling me to death and Mick barked lowly in reaction, "Whoops! Sorry to interrupt your suicidal mission." I turned my head steadily to see who's it even though I can comprehend the sherbet similarity.

Her voice has melted like a hot maroon stamp into my ears since the dawn hour and with the corner of my eyes I watched her leaning against the stretcher.

"But let me tell you Sparkly this height would cause you nothing but two broken ribs, one fractured thigh and you might loose your brain memory. No more than that." I gawked her appalled while she remained peacific arms folded infront of her chest, into different cardinal clothes now.

Again a replete splitness to what every other person's wearing outside.

Even though my intentions are nothing like that but saying this to someone who's about to take their life doesn't seem very pleasing.

I was about to speak something into my defence that she misinterpreted things but she cut me off popping her chewing gum and capturing the ropes of sticked bubble around her lips with her teeth.

Fuck.

.

A/n; Please lovies. Reblog it and gimme feedback alot of kisses!