#but i ran with it and funnily enough it like. fits. since when youre the player you do embody the character youre playing so

[mrs-weasley-reid]

MADE HIS MARK

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Synopsis: a shivery trip to a liquor cellar turned into a steamy secret between friends and a not-so-subtle reveal between a small herd of colleagues. Word Count: 5k+ WARNING: SMUT. please, please, MDNI !!! penetration (piv). unprotected sex (but fr wrap it up!!!). fingering (a lil bit). obsessed!spencer (bc why not?). ex friends with benefits to lovers. a pinch of angst if you squint. cursing. troublemaker spencer reid and reader. not proofread!! A/N: heavily influenced by the song Dress by Taylor Swift. I love me a TS song. I'm obsessed, and I saw the opportunity. Also, this is my first Spencer Reid smut fic. Be nice, and tell me what you think!

  The sharp brush of spring and little kisses from the evening air prompt you to savor the shivery feeling on your skin.

  You take a deep breath before sliding your heels off, dangling them in your hand as you trail down the maze of a hallway in Rossi’s lavish home. Your dress is now a product of a shoddy decision. 

  All you knew was how presentable and wedding-appropriate it was, but you never realized why you would wear such a dress barely sewn for the crisp evening weather in May.

  “Hiding from everyone?”

  A smile instantly layers over your painted lips before you can even raise your gaze ahead. There’s this tickle of warmth that sparks inside of you the moment you hear his voice. Hands shaking in an intense subconscious buzz of excitement. Thrilling.

  No other than Dr. Spencer Reid is ten feet away from you, standing lazily against the wall. His hair is messy from all the magic tricks he tore out to Jack and Henry and, funnily enough, Penelope, too.

  Bright gleam shines on your face, flashing a saccharine smile you can only muster when the receiver is him. You shake your head.

  "Are you?"

  One hand in his pocket. Spencer shyly nods, “I ran out of magic tricks, and Jack figured out one of my tricks halfway through my little show.” He explains without persuasion, staring into space with playful horrid written all over his face.

  You steal the half-full glass from his other hand, cringing at the taste of sparkling cider. “One sip won’t kill you, you know…” You say, shoving the glass back into his hand.

  Spencer laughs, “You’d love to see me drunk, don’t you?” He quips, a sheepish smile growing with each syllable.

  “Very much so,” You nod, making a beeline to the kitchen to find some kind of beverage that’ll knock you out ‘til the next day.

  He follows you like a tail. Your senses feel his warmth, his breath fanning against your exposed back. The feeling of his tall presence behind leaves your breath hitching between inhales and exhales, and you’d love more than his figure on your trail. You ache for something more than the image of him in your wake. You need him merged with your soul, his body tightly pressed against yours. You crave something harsh.

  It’s wishful thinking.

  “What took you so long? Did you not notice I was gone?” He wonders.

  Or is it?

  “It’s cold out here, you know,” Spencer pouts in your peripheral. 

  You want your lips to wipe them off, then turn them into an O.

  “Aww, does pretty boy genius feel lonely?” You tease over your shoulder, tapping his chest with the back of your hand. Your brows jump, twisting on your heels to face him. “I’ll be damned,” You exclaim, pushing your palm against his pec with more pressure.

  It's been so long since you touched him with more than an accidental brush of your fingertips. His body stiffens under your light squeeze. And the thirst for more slowly dries the circumference of his throat.

  “Reid, when’d you get this fit? No wonder women are all over you.” Genuine curiosity takes over, looking up at him with fluttering lashes.

  Spencer scoffs, leaning down eye to eye with you, “I’ve always been hot.” He retorts with a straight face. The confidence radiates, and it does something in the pit of your stomach.

  A brief silence whooshes between your bodies, and the next thing you know, both of you are laughing ‘til your cores cramp.

  You gasp for air, head against his sternum, hand still placed over his pec. “Don’t ever say that in front of Morgan. He might get a stroke.” You begin walking once more, turning your back to him. 

  “I am! Don’t you agree?” You do. He banters a few feet away, keeping a safe distance—or so help the impulsive thoughts that are whirling around his mind. A playful grin works his facial muscles out, only hoping that you didn’t notice the way he takes in your scent like a bait set out for him.

  Spencer didn’t even need to run to catch up with you. His strides are five times longer than yours.

  You feel a soft fabric cover your shoulders, accompanied by a heavy arm that burns your skin in pure reflexive need. “I thought you were cold?” You ask, glancing to your left, where Spencer walks beside you.

  Spencer shrugs, “Rather feeling cold than you getting a cold tomorrow morning. The chances of me getting sick from being cold tonight versus you sneezing on me like a troll is 15 to 85 percent.” He replies calmly, earning a light smack from your hand.

  You roll your eyes, but your smile never travels far. It only happened once. And you both swore once was enough.

  The two of you became friends during your time in the Academy. You’ll never forget the first time you met him. The urge to shove a sock inside his yapping mouth over the repercussions of shaking someone’s hand. Most people say the two of you are best friends. Somehow, his intelligence didn’t set you apart. You tolerated his constant rambles, and he tolerated your random bursts of sass. 

  It's more than that though. The entanglement was more than two friends. More than innocent study sessions. More than a trip to the nearest shooting range.

  As two twenty-one-year-olds who's never felt the most sensual touch before, one minute of forced proximity and all hell broke loose. What seemed so platonic was sexually intimate behind closed doors.

  However, in lieu of staying attached to the hip, the two of you went your separate ways after graduation. You went to pursue each respective interest. You both said no hard feelings. And both believed things would never work anyway, because no one was willing to put in the work.

  The two of you reconnected when you joined the BAU team almost a year ago. Meeting him once again was nerve-wracking. With unresolved fallout and nonexistent communication, it scared you a bit. But you should’ve known Spencer Reid has always been different—good, different. The bond you had didn’t seem too damaged. If anything, it was merely locked in a vault and became stronger than ever before. You managed to be civil—become friends.

  And since then, you never ran out of ways to be in each other’s vicinity. Or he just always succeeded in keeping you interested in his antics. Or you’re just addicted to him more than you’d like to admit.

  But friends don't shake from mere self-control. Friends don't choke on breaths when the other touches them. Friends don't—

  “What percentage of alcohol will you get from Rossi’s cellar?” He curiously asks, his warmth keeping you from shivering.

  The damned dress.

  And his damned loose tie.

  You chuckle shakily, “You’d love to see me drunk, don’t you?” You mimic, throwing back the same antic he used not a few minutes ago. He rolls his eyes, and you open the door to the cellar. “I was tasked to choose the best whiskey ever made.” You announce, sinking deeper into confinement.

  “So you lost a bet.” Spencer laughs, following behind. He shakes his head when you nod yours. “You don’t even drink whiskey.” He smirks.

  “Go back out there, then,” You shoo him away, waving your hands. “I didn’t ask you to join me on my quest.” You add in a giggle, tying your hair up in a messy ponytail after setting your shoes on the table in the middle of the room.

  You don’t see the way he swallows at the sight of your nape. The same way you hadn't notice his self-restraint for the past year, for the entire evening, dipping his hands in his pockets to hide his clenched fists. Because if he doesn't, they just might crave the feeling of your skin against the texture of his palm.

  “And what if you can’t reach the best whiskey?”

  “I’m a federal agent, too, Reid. I’m smart enough to figure that out.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re similar to a hobbit.”

  The brows on your face lift over your forehead. "Excuse me?" Your mouth fall agape in disbelief, scoffing.

  Spencer shrugs, "You're excused."

  Amusement twitch the ends of your lips. "You sure you're not drunk?" Your eyes narrow, scanning him from head to toe.

  "I'm not." He defends. Scarlet skin glows underneath the soft light. Spencer averts his eyes, stealing a mouthful of a sigh from the chilly air. Okay, maybe he stole one glass of scotch from the unit chief, took a sip, and felt his body on fire, so now he's settled down for ciders the entire evening.

  You smirk, "Then, why are you being so clingy?" Arms cross over your chest. You raise a brow in question.

  Spencer rolls his eyes, silently clearing his throat. "Why not? There's no harm in hanging out with you." His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek.

  "There is when said friend is acting like a clingy boyfriend." You say, skimming through the shelves of liquor adorning the walls from ceiling to floor.

  “Right,” Spencer states blandly, finding himself a seat. “I’m just a friend. I can’t act any other way. I can’t even give you any affection, huh?” He deadpans, tracing the wood patterns on the table.

  Your eyebrows crease in the middle of reaching for a bottle. You slowly go up behind him and smack the back of his head without warning.

  “Ow!” He hisses. “What was that for?” Spencer complains, face scrunching in temporary pain.

  “For being weirder than usual.” You say, hitting his shoulder. “Stop it.” You scold, finger-pointing over his chest.

  Spencer is not one to be petty. Never petty over the boys you mingle with for a short period. Never be petty over your tendencies to somehow land on the worst species of men. Since the two of you reconnected as colleagues, he's minded his business. Why now? And why the hell is your heart pounding obnoxiously?

  He theatrically rolls his eyes, “Am I wrong? Aren’t I just your friend?” There is something in his tone that you can't distinguish. His face is awkward and reserved, as always, but something is different.

  You know. You just love lying to yourself.

  “What else are you going to be?!” Even you are surprised at the volume of your voice.

  The creak of the small open window fills the room. None of you dares to say a word. No one dares to breathe within each other's personal bubble.

  You break eye contact first, stepping away, but Spencer has other plans. His hands land on your waist, gripping the flesh to keep you between his legs.

  “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself,” The luminescence of his eyes turns a shade darker. Chocolate hazel eyes gradients to deep earthy irises. Or it may have been the dim lighting in the room and the glass of wine in your system.

  You swallow—roughly like a ball of sandpaper rows down your throat. Fingers lace above his textured ones, wrapping over the long digits to get their bruises off your skin.

  “It’s a simple question. There’s no reason to dread it.” You almost stumble on your words, taking well-needed pauses to huff a small breath. You try to break his grip on you, but they don’t budge one bit. 

  The more you attempt to remove his hold, the more they tighten against the little fabric over your skin.

  Your brows knit. A sigh of defeat escapes your lips as your gaze travels back to him. “Spencer, stop—” Your spine shivers when he starts to lazily move his thumbs in slow, firm strokes.

  Spencer stands in silence, staring at you like you are a doe he preyed on. His eyes start to make your legs melt, and your heart races wildly.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  His gaze flickers over your lips, “Why don’t you answer the question for me? Since you’re so smart, it seems.” A tone of clear mockery spills from his lips. Spencer smirks under his signature smile—smug and utterly amused by the sound of your small, hitched breaths.

  “Can you stop kidding around?” You prattle. A peel of awkward laughter shoots straight down your bones. It was all you could do to relieve the growing tension between your thighs. Or else you’d jump on him like a desperate psychopath.

  "Who says I'm kidding around?" Spencer narrows his eyes. "I never kid around." He squeezes your sides once more and grins when a soft gasp rattles out of you. He hasn't done that in so long, and the nostalgia and buzz spark something in his chest.

  Thick, airy gulp forces itself down your throat. You know why he does it. The same pattern of movements you knew so well in your younger days. The days you spent with him.

  "We can't." It is almost inaudible, but he catches it. You lightly shake your head, backing away, "I-it's not— We can't."

  Spencer raises his brows. "What are you so afraid of?" He reads your features for a moment. The gentle touch of his gaze along your searing skin is electrifying.

  You nibble at the corner of your lip, "Let go of me, Reid." And it seems you love lying to him, too. Because you don't want him to let go. Desperate for his touch. The soft trail of his thumb. The primal clutch of his fingers, like they were claws. It was all too intoxicating to ever want him to let go.

  “Answer the question first.” He flashes the smirk he’s been trying to hide like a villain, exposing his true colors. “I dare you.” Spencer challenges.

  “You know the answer.” Your chest feels like exploding.

  “Say it out loud, then.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because we’re not leaving this position until you do.” His voice sparks fire in your core. Spencer doesn’t let his eyes stray from your moving lips. If anything, he makes a point that he is, in fact, staring at them like a starving lion, ready to pounce at any given moment.

  Oh.

  Well, isn't he such a sweetheart to feed you just what you crave? You don't know where it comes from, nor do you care, but there's at least four liquid cubic centimeters of boldness that flows through your veins.

  Your laughter echoes in the cellar. “Please, or what?” You relax in his hold, convinced that he's just the same lanky guy you've always known. “You going to fuck me like a slut? Not exactly your M.O., pretty boy.” You tease, playfully tapping on his shoulders.

  A low, hoarse chuckle vibrates across his chest. With lust-filled gaze and a thin, mischievous smile, Spencer shifts his eyes to look straight into yours. 

  “Exactly.”

  Your eyes grow the widest they have ever been your entire life. “What—” Before you can stop him, his lips are already clashing against yours.

  Spencer holds onto you as if he is falling off a cliff, and you are a branch about to snap any second. He kisses you aggressively, pulling you so tight, like he needs you glued to him.

  You try to push him, but it doesn't take long until you give in. Until you kissed back.

  You kissed him back.

  You fucking kissed Spencer back.

  The hands that recently danced on his shoulders begin to tug on the soft curls over his nape. The weight of his lips is starting to make your legs wobble.

  Every scrape of his teeth against your stinging lips feels new. It isn't what you're familiar with. Your mind recalls his gentle touches and gentle words as if you'd break if he held you too tight. But the one kissing you isn't. The slice of his tongue over your lips is primal. He's not the Spencer you once knew. He's the Spencer you've been craving, so much so that the mere thought of bruises caused by his grip has been contaminating your mind since you started in the BAU.

  His kisses deepened, warmth enveloping the two of you despite the chilly breeze inside the cellar. With breathless and plump lips, a new strike of desire courses throughout your body the longer you kiss.

  Spencer breathes you in like oxygen, starving for more, never satisfied with just one gentle breath. It's new. And you love it.

  Heaving, you and Spencer pull away, lips detaching and reattaching like magnets ’til distance is too far to push back. His lips are a darker shade of pink, swollen, and adorned with smeared lipstick. You don’t doubt the effect of making out with him gives you any more leverage, imagining your lipstick thickly outlines all over the rims of your mouth.

  Judging by how Spencer stares at you like a satisfied drunken man, you presume he's loving every second more than he's prepared to admit. Most will wonder if his eagerness is merely a product of lost inhibitions. But a simple educated guess tells you that none of his actions are driven by alcohol. He's as sober as an ice cold water splashed over one's face.

  Spencer lifts you on the table, standing between your thighs. The fabric of his pants scrapes against your skin, and your aching cunt throbs at the feeling. He cups your face into his large hands, reattaching your lips once more like it’s an unforgivable sin to keep them apart.

  He pulls away after air fails him, resting his forehead over yours. “I want to be the only one who gets to fuck you like a slut, or so God help me—” Spencer closes his eyes agonizingly slow, “—No man near you will ever see daylight again.”

  Your heart pounds against your chest, and you mentally beg Spencer to do so too—pound against your hips like you’re banned from ever walking again. The pressure of his voice and hot breath fanning against the land of your skin is ecstatically satisfying. 

  Spencer's hand drives up the slit of your dress, and at that moment, you know exactly why you chose to wear such an article of unfriendly clothing amidst your intolerance to the cold wind.

  You wanted him to take it off of you.

  You needed Spencer to take the dress off of you and fuck you hard.

  The tickle of his lips trailing from your jaw to the spot underneath your earlobe has your back arching almost a hundred and eighty degrees. Ever the opportunist, Spencer takes it as his chance to pull you closer, squeezing your thigh with his palm.

  You throw your head back, giving him access to more eager-to-be-touched skin. Legs wrap around his middle in utter pleasure, “Spencer…” You whine breathily, eyes fluttering close at the way he holds your flesh with both hunger and caress.

  His mouth falls agape. Your voice. His name. It’s addicting. His world stops in a millisecond, reveling in the joy of your mouth, uttering his name with the intense pleasure he provides.

  “We’re barely starting,” Spencer whispers against your clavicle, snaking his hand under your dress to the lining of your underwear. He swipes over your clothed clit.

  You twitch under his touch. A total puppet wrapped around his finger while his literal thumb begins to toy with your clit. The pace makes you painfully and deliciously squirm.

  Spencer loves the image before him, especially the rise of your chest as he plunges a finger, then two, inside your needy cunt. It’s the first time he’s ever heard your moans so... needy and begging and desperate and sweet and hot and something he knows you’ve never reached the volume before with other men, and he’s hooked—addicted.

  “You have no idea what your dress did to me the whole night.” He muffles on your neck. Wet kisses echo at the touch of his lips. Spencer buries himself in your scent, one hand unzipping your dress. “No idea how much I wanted to take it off of you.” He whispers next to your ear.

  A hum spills at the ring of his words. His kisses start to sting, and burning hues form on your skin. Spencer marks you with his tongue and teeth.

  It's euphoric. His hunger. His need. And you want nothing else but to give him whatever he wants, the same way he gives you everything you need.

  The sound of his fly distorting in the air makes your skin tingle, nipples perk, and cunt quiver. You whine when he pulls away, already missing his heat. 

  Spencer’s eyes soften, “Are you sure you want this to continue? When we were friends with benefits things didn't work—”

  “Shut up, take my dress off, and fuck me, Spencer.” You heave, or beg, or whichever fits the way you eagerly undo his tie and unbutton his shirt while kissing the soft spot on his neck, marking him yours.

  The vibration of his chuckles sent delicious throbs down to your cunt, drooling to be filled by him.

  “Aren't you needy—” Spencer lifts his arms in defense, “—alright, shutting up now.”

  The cold is nowhere else but the back of your mind. You feel wetness on the peak of his boxers. Spencer's hard erection suffocates him, and you're eager to relieve him in every possible way.

  He immediately sighs when your dress droops down your waist. Spencer takes you in as if you're the most prized art in a museum. He takes every line, scars, birthmarks, or as simple as the crease of your breast into memory. 

  “So, so beautiful…” Spencer murmurs in sheer adoration and awe. He looks up as if God has listened to his prayers as if he’s a passionate believer. Thankful to have you within his reach.

  Warmth coats you with every sweep of his hand on every curve and slope of your body. He’s memorizing each soft plush and perfect flaw. The sentiment alone heightens your arousal like you’ve been touch-starved for years.

  A yelp comes out of you when he unexpectedly spreads the wetness on your folds, touching where you need him most. “Spencer, please…” It’s a plea. A begging need.

  He circles on your clit with more pressure than the first. “You ready for me?” A vigorous nod responds to him while you bite your moans to keep them at bay.

  Spencer pulls you closer by the small of your back. Your ass is almost falling off the edge of the table. The lacey cloth stretched on the side of your entrance. He aligns his slobbering tip with your equally desperate cunt.

  Unsatisfied by your response, Spencer grabs your chin with so much force your bitten lips set free. “I need a verbal answer, sweetheart. I need to hear your voice say the words.” He’s begging, too, aching to slam just about all of him in one push.

  The anticipation is frustrating. "I wa—" With a mere echo jumping out of your throat, Spencer takes it enough confirmation and thrusts his hips to meet yours.

  Temporary pain and electrifying pleasure cause your body to shake, followed by a pornographic moan that Spencer muffles with his hand over half of your face.

  Your mind spins around in endless bliss as his cock throbs at the pressure of your hold. Spencer doesn't move an inch, waiting for your signal.

  “Please… move. Now.” Your voice is caught in the middle of your throat, dragging into a lovely gasp when he pulls back slowly.

  With the tip of his cock the sole filler inside your cunt, Spencer thrusts back so fast, so good. He keeps a steady pace that leaves both of you a moaning mess. 

  Spencer pins your hips on the table, making sure he satisfies you with every force. He sucks a breath in, dizzy at the sight of your breast bouncing on his beat.

  Can he surpass the knowledge that other guys have seen you undone like this? Never. Will he clash heaven and hell for the sake of pleasing you? The almighty and the merciless needn’t make yet another bet because they know Spencer will drag anything, anyone, to kneel before you.

  Because Spencer needs you undone like you have never been before. He craves to be the first to fuck you like it's the last thing you’ll ever do.

  You're addicting. An influence he freely lets himself get sucked in. Spencer wishes he could brand himself with your name, eager to be yours. He's desperate to be called yours.

  Spencer adorns your skin with red and purple hues, beaming at the sight of his marks with every echo of his lips popping yet another possessive tattoo.

  The pleasure he gives sends you beyond time and space. Euphoric daze fogs up your brain. Vision locked inside your skull, eyes permanently rolled into sensual darkness.

  “Spence…”

  Fuck. The nickname drips perfectly off your lips. You and only you can make his cock even harder just by saying his name. He doesn’t try to keep his head from spiraling into desires, desperately imagining all the ways he can own you.

  You gasp shakily, feeling the knot in your abdomen begin to tighten. One, two—five more strokes and you enter a void filled with sparkling stars and mind-numbing pleasure.

  Spencer doesn't stop, just as you wish, through broken moans and nails digging into the thin layer of his skin. Not a single pace slower or faster. And it is fucking blissful.

  Your moans drool off your lips, clenching around his cock. He rides your high like a limited experience that he will never get to try again. Though, you're sure there’ll be more clandestine rendezvous than you both are willing to admit. You both know this isn't the last you’ll ever get a taste of him. And it is not the last time he’ll crave you like oxygen.

  A hand reaches out for his nape, carding your nails at the tangles of his hair. You begin to comb between his curly strands, massaging the scalp beneath. Spencer spits out a tasteful curse dedicated to the pleasure the sensation of your touch has given him.

  “I keep up with my pill. I’m on a good window.” You assure him, breath hitching. “Fill me up, Spence.” You implore greedily, wanting nothing but all traces of him engraved inside and outside of you.

  His mouth slacks open, burying his cock in the deepest part of you. “Fuck, you’re too good to me,” He hisses in utter bliss. Spencer jolts at the ecstasy that vibrates out of him, emptying himself through the depths of your walls.

  Spencer rests his forehead against yours, whispering praises like you suddenly became his goddess. His senses tingle. And he doesn’t want time to continue.

  Your ragged breaths sync with his and soon turn even. Years of yearning are fulfilled in one evening. The prick of his bites floods your senses. 

  “What was the question again?” You giggle out, still, a bit out of breath, breaking the silence.

  Spencer playfully rolls his eyes, zipping up the back of your dress with a kiss on your shoulder. “I basically asked, ‘What are we’ like a typical chick in a movie.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that.” Your sweet laughter follows while Spencer covers you once more with his jacket despite the clear indication of sweat glistening over your forehead that you’re not nearly as cold anymore. "That many?"

  Pride surges across his chest, beaming. "Like a canvas drenched with paint." He softly bites his lower lip, satisfied by the work he has done.

  You glance down, gasping at the sheath of love bites. "More like a slab of beaten up flesh." Your head lifts up to look at him in disbelief. Spencer painted every inch of your skin, no space left untouched. You don't even recognize your skin anymore.

  "Maybe this will help," He reaches on the back of your head, tugging on the band. Your hair drapes over your neck.

  "No, Reid. It does not help at all." Blinking, you slap his arm lightly, earning a shrug and a peck on your lips. He simply fastens the buttons of his jacket on you, covering everything the fabric can.

  He hunches down to pick up the tie you discarded on the floor. When he stands back up, he says, “We can keep this between us for now while we figure things out if you’d like. But we have to agree on one thing.” He tucks in a wild strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m yours, and you don’t have a choice. Sounds good?”

  You giddily smile, nodding as you dangle your weak legs over the table. “What about me? Can’t I be yours?” You coax, fixing his tie.

  "Do you want to be? Because I'm content with just pleasing you every chance I get. I'm not in a rush."

  "Spencer," You take his face in your hands. "Do you really want to just be friends with benefits?"

  He swipes his tongue over his lower lip. "No..." Spencer squeaks under his breath.

  You nod, humming. "Good, because I don't want you like a best friend either." You flatten the crease on his shoulders.

  "So?" Spencer chases your eyes, hoping he can read your mind.

  "So, you're mine, and I'm yours. Sounds better, don't you think?"

  "Sounds great." He simpers, helping you get back on your feet.

  The two of you come back to the others with the worst whiskey in the cellar. Your hair is neat, and your lipstick is replenished. His tie sits presentably on his chest and hides the smallest purple mark on the base of his neck. Intricate measures for intricate people.

  Derek complains. Penelope agrees. Rossi objects. Hotch sips his drink with no care. Emily laughs hysterically. JJ shrugs. 

  No one knows. Or no one cares. But the secret remain as is.

  Perks of being seen as the most platonic friends. More so than the great Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia. What they know nothing about won’t hurt them, right? And it’s not like it’ll be any worse if they did.

 Yet the absence of suspicion brews boredom and discontent. How come the others are suspicious enough, but not you and him? What's so dull in the air between you and Spencer that no one dares to wonder if romance ever crossed your minds?

  Spencer drags his fingers on your thigh under the table. And no one suspects why you never take off his jacket despite dancing the night away. 

  And as the night deepens, like any other gathering, the group disperses into different areas and smaller groups.

  “So?” JJ starts, wiggling her eyebrows. 

  “What?” You chuckle into the wine in your glass.

  JJ rolls her eyes, “Did you give the photographer your number?”

  Oh, yeah. You’d forgotten about the entire thing, glancing at the photographer who happens to have his lens on you. He smiles shyly, but you swear in your life that your shy boy is a lot more charming.

  “Because if not, I think Will’s cousin has his eye on you, too,” JJ adds with a mischievous smile. The most supportive friend you’ll have. How will she react when she finds out?

  You smile, looking far ahead at the pair of brown eyes.

  Spencer returns the smile, Hotch’s voice muffling in the background.

  “Like I said, it’s quite a little paperwork, but if you want to try things out and date, I have no problem with helping you out,” Hotch advises between sips of warm whiskey, talking about that one agent who approached Spencer at the bullpen thrice. What will he think when he finds out two of his agents are participating in fraternization?

  They have no idea. Not an inkling of doubt whatsoever.

  The naivete. It bores you and Spencer. It’s prosaic. It’s unglamorous.

  From one end to another, the same words echo.

  “I’ll have another drink.”

  The two of you stand from each end, meeting over the table with vast choices of alcohol. You pick up a glass as Spencer stands next to you.

  “Take it off?”

  “Take it off.”

  And you went separate ways.

  JJ’s eyes widen at the small hint of marks on your chest, jacket slightly drooping over your shoulder.

  Hotch doesn’t say a word when he notices the hickey on Spencer’s neck when the younger agent loosens his tie and undoes one button—and Hotch quotes—because of the heat. His peripheral catches JJ, Emily, and Penelope hovering around you like a group of crows scavenging for some sort of fleshy information he thinks he knows what’s about.

  “A simple no would’ve suffice,” Hotch says evenly. “But you’re still filling out paperwork. Am I clear?”

  Spencer stifles a smug smirk, looking down on his drink. “Clear.”

reid masterlist | masterlist

[featherymainffins]

Actually fuck it here's the rest of how it would go but it's a bit of a speedrun because I'd need 5k+ words to do it right:

For a brief moment, her eyes shine bright pink and the scene changes.

Mud coats your legs. The unpleasant opaque liquid makes her thighs disappear. The dark nearly makes her whole body disappear.

That's right, it's dark.

You barely make out the outline of her arms, but the stitches, the stitches radiate a new light. You should know how far they go, how they separate her forearms in perfect halves, how they split her torso like a pig to slaughter, yet this is the first time you properly notice.

"Hey," rings in your ears as her face comes into focus mere inches away from yours, "would you kill me?"

"What?" is all you can manage.

A smile

grin

grimace

laughing maw splits her face in half, just another stitch, except this one is pure black, a darkness to consume all darkness. Her neck bends in an angle not fit for the living.

"Will you not kill me?" her eyebrows squish, forming waves and hills separating them.

Before you can say anything, her nails dig into your arms. A cold liquid reluctantly makes its way to your elbows.

"Come on, will you not kill me? Would you be so kind? My task is over, it is all over...right?" that hole of a mouth spits.

Her eyes widen, two stethoscopes staring at you with intense primal emotions you cannot place. The wider they are, the stronger her grip becomes.

"It is over, therefore it is my time to die. So kill me. Just kill me."

The milliseconds that precede your words feel like centuries. Centuries in a darkness illuminated by nothing but several pieces of thread glowing neon pink.

"Why do I have to do it?" you ask.

At this, Liliana pauses. Her eyes, previously wild and present, stay still. They glaze over as if she was deep in thought or somewhere else.

You aren't sure how it happens or why, but where there was an abyss, there are normal lips again. Dry, chapped and pale but otherwise normal human lips. The eyebrows, too, regain a certain degree of humanity, the waves slowly morphing into much less noticeable curves. Even the darkness around you two turns a hue more appropriate for the night.

Before, you were starting to feel like there was nothing. Nothing but the woman in front of you and the mud below and the fully black sky above. But now it's just dark and if you squint, you can see a few stars in the sky, shining just as bright as your eyes.

The stitches still shine too.

"You do not have to do it," her voice is barely audible and her head hangs low. "If it is unpleasant to you, then do not do it."

Coming back to her senses, her claws remove themselves from your flesh. The liquid beneath your feet splashes as the distance between the two of you increases and the distance between Liliana's hands and arms decreases.

"I can very well simply leave the vessel. Quite the anticlimactic ending of a show though," she cracks a smile. "I was hoping for a proper end. A proper climax before the curtains close."

She turns away for a moment, her eyes looking up towards the sky. The smile stays on but you suspect the meaning behind it is on its way home. Her knees seem to buckle, a slight tremble overcoming the legs, and you consider whether or not you should catch her. Despite appearances, nothing happens.

"When I was but a child, I used to play here. I remember using a twig to draw shapes in the wet ground surrounding the swamp. I imagined myself drowning in the water, sinking to the very bottom, gasping for breath, for air that could never come, dying with my dress flowing around me. It was a truly pleasant day dream."

You don't know what to say to that (you do, but, maybe for the first time in your life, you keep your mouth shut) so you say the only other thing that you can think of: "I didn't know sutures could be that colour."

Her eyes trail to her forearms and chest almost immediately.

"Purple?" she inquires with furrowed eyebrows.

"They're pink, Lillian," you give her a few seconds to digest that. "They're a truly bright fuchsia pink, like some kind of glitter-decorated star stickers you give to children."

"...Oh," is all you get in response, her gaze firmly planted on the Xs on her chest. "Well, do you want to be the star of this show?"

You think about it.

The sky begins to darken once more.

You think about what you want to do and about what you should do. You think about teasing her, asking her who allowed her to die. You think about the possible outcomes of that and decide against it.

It's getting cold. You think about how much colder it could be. You think about your legs and ask yourself if they aren't starting to freeze in the swamp. You think about the murky waters.

"Get out of the water."

"I would prefer to die in it. Aqua vitae and all that, and I am not talking about alcohol right now."

You think about the lack of a weapon. About how her eyes reflect the sky - empty and still, not dead but not alive. You think about the radioactive glow of the coating of her fresh-yet-old wounds.

"I've always preferred 'Per aspera ad astra'. Hand me a sharp rock," you all but bark.

She shoots you a look. For a brief moment. For a moment that cannot be longer than a second and that can definitely be shorter. For a fraction of the click of a watch, the way she moves her body, the way she looks at you, the way her facial muscles twitch suggest she has realised something. But then...then it's gone.

The next thing you know, there's a rock in your hand.

The sky is a void with nothing in it. The swamp is an opaque abyss of static unlife. Despite standing right before Liliana, you would not be able to see a single hair on her head were it not for those threads, now the sole source of light. They form a constellation whose only mission is to shine brighter than the moon or the sun. The light overpowers her blue skin, coating her in the colour of roses. Or blood before a boy could wear the real colour of blood.

And then the curtain closes. The narrative ends. Ophelia has drowned, Eurydice will never see the light of day, Niobe has died. The curtain closes on the stage.

Realised Liliana is so funny for real because in a true inversion fashion she wants to die so so bad.

In the fangame you'd probably have to spend an unimaginable amount of time convincing a certain guy that nothing lasts forever and that it's better for him to accept peace and move on.

You'd have to convince Liliana "I'm a shield and Aesop's turtle" not to off herself. I am convinced that in AU AU AU, as far as the endings of the equivalent of the second installment go, she'd just...die in the evil endings. The little montages you get are whimsical and meme-y (well except for that one plot relevant ending). Well hers wouldn't be.

They'd start like that at first. A little retreat to a lake. A beautiful crystal clear lake with a waterfall nearby, nothing flashy, nothing famous. Nothing crowded. If you find it lacks the wacky vibe of canon, you are free to imagine a few badly cropped jpgs of seagulls hastily pasted into the scene. A funny little montage of your hijinks. Maybe she's holding up a giant lobster in one of them. Maybe she caught it with her teeth. Maybe you did.

And then she turns to you. That's wrong.

Her head turns to you, the creases on her neck a little too stiff, too dry. Something has changed.

What is it?

"Hey," she says.

What is different?

"I have a favour to ask," her voice carries through the air.

Now her whole body turns towards you. With a loud splash, her legs move her towards you, the lake almost making it look like she has no legs at all; a floating ghost haunting your present as much as your past.

Your ears pick it up first. Splash splash. You listen closely. Splash splash. You listen urgently.

"My dear friend," those words reach your ears.

Nothing else does.

The water is perfectly still. No waves singing their song. No sound of the water moving over stones and pebbles. No falling water to be heard. No birds nor frogs to start a choir. No rustling trees. No falling leaves for the wind to drum with. All is quiet.

"Would you do the honours and kill me?"

I realised that at this point I'm just writing a wholeass scene. I'm not gonna do that so godspeed and goodbye.

[charlessainzz]

A request for Lily bringing you to a race to cheer her up after a bad breakup and playing a little Cupid with Charles or Carlos ??

Stupid Cupid

thank you for requesting this! hopefully I did it justice :)

“Lily, I don't want to go to the race! He’s going to be there and think I’m stalking him”, you groaned. It had been two weeks since your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend Matt, dumped you. He was a mechanic for Williams who had been introduced to you by your best friend Lily. 

“Oh y/n don’t be so dramatic! You’re going to put on your hottest outfit and show him what he’s missing, okay!” she said as she threw you the best form fitting jeans money could buy. Unknown to you she had an ulterior motive. Lily felt bad that she and Alex had introduced you to Matt and they needed to make up for it. Alex had heard through the grapevine that the Charles Leclerc had seen you at a party and mentioned to Alex he thought you were cute. So what better person to match you up with. The plan was to somehow get you two alone but how… that would be difficult. 

You and Lily walked into the paddock, your eyes darting back and forth looking out for your ex. “Lily I feel nauseous, I don’t want to run into him!” you cried grabbing her hand. 

“Y/n don’t worry! We’re not hanging out in the Williams garage today, I’ve got passes to the Ferrari garage”, she sing-songed. A huge smile appeared on your face. How lucky to be in the presence of Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc. 

“Someone likes that idea..” Lily joked seeing your big smile. She texted Alex that the plan was a go. It was time to get Charles in place. 

You both entered the Ferrari building and noticed Alex was randomly in the building. “What’s he doing here?” you questioned. 

“Uh not sure, let’s go find out!” Lily said as she dragged you towards him. That’s when you noticed he was talking to Charles. You felt your face go hot. As you both walked up to them, Alex started to introduce you but then like a ghost Charles disappeared. 

“What the-” Alex said shocked, turning every which way looking for Charles. Then he spotted him, he got snatched by his PR person for an interview. “Sorry y/n” Alex said defeated. 

“Haha no worries, I’m not important enough for him to talk to”, you joked. You linked your arm with Lily and walked to your standing area. Lily turned and gave Alex a mad look. Plan A failed, time for Plan B. 

You watched as they went through FP1. You felt like you and Charles kept making eye contact but maybe your head was playing tricks on you. If you hadn't known better you could’ve sworn he kept smiling at you too. 

“Come on y/n, let’s go find a table to have lunch. Alex said he’d join us later with some friends”, Lily explained. You both settle into a table waiting for your guests. 

“Hey man!” Alex said as he patted Charles on the back. “Thanks for joining our lunch!”. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you see who the special friend was. “You know Lily, and this right here is our dear friend y/n”. 

Charles smiles and reaches for your hand. “Nice to meet you y/n”, he grins. You shake his hand grimmacing at how sweaty your palm was. 

“N-Nice to meet you too. You did great out there!”, you stammered a bit. The conversation started slow but the more you all talked the better it got. Almost as if Lily and Alex weren’t there and they got the hint. Lily texted Alex that it was time to dip.

“Oh well me and Lily have to uh- we have to leave!” Alex stupidly explained. You and Charles looked at them with confusion and you so more with panic. They couldn’t leave you alone, not with him! Lily gave you a thumbs up and mouthed ‘You got this!’ as they both ran away. 

Now without the presence of your friends it started to get… awkward and silent. Funnily, Alex and Lily had actually hid behind some bushes watching. 

“Alex, we left too early, it looks bad now!” Lily cried. 

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got something to break the ice” Alex slyly says as grabs a tennis ball from his pocket. 

“What the hell is that for?”, she sternly says. 

“Well I don’t have a bow and arrow, so I have to improvise” he giggles. They watch as you and Charles sit there both trying to find something to say. When all of a sudden a tennis ball goes flying and hits your drink glass shattering it to the floor. 

You both jump out of your seats and look around for where it came from. You look at him and fall over laughing. “I think the universe is trying to tell us something” you wheeze. 

“I think the universe is telling us to get out of here” Charles smiles. You give him a confused look. “Let me take you out to lunch in town, somewhere better”, he says confidently. 

“Oh!” you grin feeling your cheeks blush. “I would love that”. He grabs your hand and starts to lead you to the parking lot. 

Lily and Alex jump from behind the bush and silently cheer. “You are the stupidest cupid Alex Albon”, Lily laughs at her boyfriend. 

“Hey! It worked though, look at them… a perfect pair”, he giggles.

You and Charles walked hand in hand down the paddock towards his car. Just then the one person you had avoided all day walks past you. Matt does a double take as his mouth falls open. Turning to meet his gaze you give him a wink and snuggle more into Charles’s side. 

Hopefully this match made by cupid turns out better!

[aristia-pjoheadcanons]

HOO Crew - Argo Headcanons

Headcanons of the Heroes of Olympus cast on Argo II.

I´d like to imagine that they had bonding activities Behind-The-Scene, just so they can understand how each person works and figure out their strengths.

UNO, TWISTER, SPIN THE BOTTLE, TRUTH OR DARE, WOULD YOU RATHER- ANY GAMES AVAILABLE. Leo has thought of it all.

Connor and Travis probably snuck in theri prank supplies for them to use. Annabeth and Piper wouldnt mind pranking the boys - swapping theri shampoos and making them smell different. (small pranks that only they notice)

Percy and Frank are just confused why the duo is giggling and sneaking glances during breakfast.

Hazel wouldnt want to miss out, having the ourage to just walk into Annabeths/Pipers room "Hey, what are you guys up to?" and joining on the fun.

Making strategic plans for every duo, trio, and combining different people together for every scenario. My girls would think of everything, Annabeth taking the leader-role. Plan a way to attack a monster, with FRANKXANNABETH LEOXANNABETH, PERCYXJASON - Like I said, different combinations of people and figuring out the best choices.

Frank and Annabeth are the most versatile out of everyone. They can be combined with everyone. Percy, Jason and Leo have some drawbacks-since theyre used to doing things in their own tempo even though they have already been on a quest with people they cna easily defeat a monster by themselves. Piper and Annabeth decided to work together - a girl with emotions as her weakness (her pride) x a stubborn girl that ran away from her emotions but is forced to see it as her strength (because of the abilitiy Aphrodite gave). Piper being the best medeator, the balance that holds the glue but can also need reassurance - if the stress is too much she needs support.

Annabeth, Frank, Jason combo would work but would be somewhat slow since theyre all leaders and have great minds-but they have different POVs of things and can often fall into a deep discussion-which you often dont have time for on the battlefield. its not like they argue, but theyre the types of people to think very deeply for every plan. Jason would see the strategic side of Frank and invite him inside his cabinroom, because he can see a leader inside of him. Then, Jason would invite him to join his and Annabeths planning.

Piper and Percy would be awkward at first, until they start talking about monsters theyve fought. Percy loves the stories Piper tells, because they always have wisdom and something to learn from. Her stories helped him understand that every situation different perspetives if youre willing to see it. It taught him patience & tolerance. Instead of being quick to anger, control is important-perhaps thats why he could control the poison in Misery, Pipers teaching helped his powers grow in a different way.

Leo having insecurity issues, would struggle to fit in with the others. I see him almost as a self pitying character, but he denies any self pity at the same time. With Hazel and funnily enough, Frank he would see strength. More on this later.

Nico would sit on the highest branch on the ship. Frank would fly and give him a blanket and silently sit there as a bird. Nico would only eat grapes, Hazel would always offer food and Nico would smell it and say it smells nice but never eat it. "When you eat, I feel full" he would say to try to reassure her.

Percy wouldnt mind letting people use his room as a way to hangout, but the problem would be cleaning up after sleepovers. Leo has snacks stashed everywhere, where not even Coach Hedge can ge this hands on. They would all be on a sugar high and have a hard time sleeping afterwards.

You would think that it is the girls who gossip in theri room the most but NOO its the boys. They all gossip about someone or something. And they live for it. They would try to invite Nico but since he would say no, they just make sure to gossip where Nico is sitting so that he can atleast hear. The girls would be downstairs and the guys would be on deck talking smack about some bitch in the past.

Jason and Percys dynamic would be fine, but they would butt heads for no reason. Which could mostly be due to stress and not sleeping well. I just dont really see them fighting over any leader spot, since WiseGirl is there to take that role.

[leonawriter]

I was watching Magician of the Silver Sky, which is still one of my favourite Detective Conan movies - the opening, the plane landing, so much of it feeling like a run-on sequence of awesome that's kind of easy to follow but very high-stakes - and noticed a moment that made me go "oh? now where have I heard that before?"

Context: Ran said something to Shinichi, but has by this point convinced herself that she was actually talking to Kaitou Kid, so her secret is "safe" from Shinichi. Now talking to him again (though to her, it's the first time since she got on the plane) she's saying she and Kid have a secret, and when Shinichi asks what it is... she says this:

"Why don't you deduce it? You're a detective, aren't you?"

The thing that made me cackle was that the first thing that reminds me of, is this:

Kaitou Kid, replying to Hakuba Saguru (who had just asked "Why do you steal?") and saying "Now, isn't it your [a detective's] job to find out?"

However, given the movies work on a different timeline to the manga and movie events only get referenced in vague ways in the manga, another explanation is that it's actually a call-forward made in 2004 to something that would happen in approximately (by volume release date, at least) in 2011, seven years later. Or the London arc contained a reference to this film (and what Kid said to Hakuba? probably not as likely).

By which I mean...

Ran, in London, talking to Shinichi himself and (the same as in the movie!) being upset that he's constantly coming and going from her life.

"If you're a detective, then at least... you should deduce what's in my heart!!"

In other words, a similar phrase is used all three times (intentionally or not in some cases is another matter entirely).

"If you're the detective, then it's your job to deduce my [reasons for what I do/feelings for you], and I should not have to be the one to tell you when you should have all of the clues in front of you."

Shinichi's response in London is that one cannot accurately deduce the heart of someone you like (i.e, in this case, "love").

Funnily enough, that fits remarkably well with Hakuba Saguru needing to ask each culprit "Why did you do it?" because although he can deduce everything else, the motives people have are often much less clear.

It does make me wonder if the plan for Hakuba and Kid is that eventually, sooner or later (I'm guessing later) there will be a point when he tells Kid that no matter how much evidence he's able to compile and how much he has come to understand the logic of it all, he still needs to have Kid's motivation from his own mouth, because the motivations of even normal people are not so simple that he can accurately pin point them, and Kaitou Kid is far from normal, as well as the desire to actually understand him.

That, though, is pure headcanon and speculation.

[meekmedea]

what are your fancasts for clemmie and other dovecotes?

Hi Anon!

Ooh this sounds fun! I'm still pretty new with figuring out how to fancast since I usually try to look for pictures that fit the vibe rather than looking for a specific person.

But I'll give this my best try :)

Ni Ni as Cleopatra Dovecote

Xiao Zhan as Endymion Dovecote.

Due to his resemblance to his father, I gave him the same fancast as Hector. Only thing is that Hector tends to wear his hair longer while Endymion prefers his shorter.

Aelia Dovecote née Beauchamp.

For Clemmie's mother, I couldn't quite decide on a face. But I do imagine her with curly hair and I do think the models in the photos are fairly close to what I see her as. Couldn't find their names though 😥

Edit: I believe the name of the model on the right is Caroline Reuter.

Clemensia Dovecote

For Clemmie, I ran into a similar problem as I did with Aelia haha. This is set when she's a bit older, maybe closer to her university years?

Anyway, there's 2 potential fancasts. The actress on the left is Zhou Ye. I also really like the actress on the right and I've used her as Clemmie in a different moodboard. Her name is Ni Ni, and funnily enough, it's the same actress that I cast as Cleopatra.

~~~~

Collection of House Dovecote lore here

[satans-arse-crack]

Guess who’s back 🙌🏻

You know the drill, yet another ramble

Hold on tight and buckle your seatbelts ladies and gentlemen it’s gonna be a very bumpy and confusing right 💀

I’m starting to wonder if it’s worse than I thought

I just spent the last almost 20 minutes hyperventilating crying and I’m not even sure why, I was just trying to put my new little hair bonnet thing on and I started bawling my eyes out. It hurt so much and I couldn’t stop, funnily enough the only way I started to calm down was when I put avatar on 😭

I started looking into anxiety and depression to see if I have any of the symptoms. Now I’ve always felt bad for even thinking I might have depression but I found out there are like different types so you can have it more mild or you can have it extreme, you can have it be more physical or more mental, which honestly I didn’t know.

Im probably going to look into it a lot more but I’ve made a start which is good. Definitely still thinking about getting a journal to write in to yk ramble and to write down my thoughts and feelings, maybe I will look into effective ways of journaling

I’m thinking about going into town tomorrow and maybe looking for a nice journal somewhere and to just get out of the house. Let me write a list of what I wanna maybe get in town so I don’t forget

Journal

Eyebrow gel (I ran out months ago and have been using moisturiser ever since 😭)

Fake nails

Cheese strings (I love cheese)

I think that’s it honestly

Although I wanted to to baking tomorrow so I don’t know if I can fit both baking AND going into town on the same day

Especially with this awful weather we are having in Scotland right now, maybe I can go on Friday who knows

This is quite nice honestly just being able to speak my thoughts and what’s going on, granted it would be nicer to be able to talk to somebody but hey ho this will have to do until I find someone to talk to

Anyway I think that’s me for tonight, crying really tired me out

Buh bye ❤️

[kittyt-hexxed]

hey babes 😄

Hope you're doing alright- sorry you're sick!

Just messaging you bc my birhtday is tmrw aand i was wondering if i could maybe get a birthday fic?

If not that's completely fine, ur health is ur priority and i understand that!

It doesn't have to be anything special, maybe just something from your drafts abt one of the arcane women?

Thanks either way!

Stay safe, feel better and have a beautiful week 😙

-Zee

Author Note: Happy Birthday, Zee! I’ve noticed your constant support and I wanted to say thank you! I do notice when people are active with my posts. This was sitting in my drafts wondering if it’d see the sun, and now it has the chance. Funnily enough, it has an underlying birthday theme, so I thought it’d be perfect! Once again, Happy Birthday! 😘 ~Kit

Nefarious Negotiations

Warnings: Deputy Chief!Reader - Inappropriate use of work hours, Making Out, Sexual Tension, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Subtle Strip Tease, Degradation, Strap-On use, Choking, Visible Bruises, Secret Walk of Shame, Sevika pockets your panties

Summary: On the night of your birthday, Marcus begs you to negotiate on his behalf for the release of a newbie Enforcer that got in trouble. Annoyed, you head into the Undercity to meet up with Silco, only to find out you’re meeting with Sevika instead. The meeting rapidly takes a turn when the sexual tension between you two becomes too much to handle.

You were internally cursing out Marcus for sending you into Zaun so late at night. You had filed away the last of your reports for the evening when your boss and best friend barged into your office. From the look on his face, you knew this was going to be a late night. You were already mourning the birthday cake you’d been thinking about all day. That was intensified when he begged you to do some bargaining on his behalf. Apparently, a new recruit had gotten too cocky and ran their mouth in the wrong company. He had to go home to his sick daughter and as his Deputy Chief, it’s up to you to pick up where he left off. Naturally, you agreed even if it was your birthday, but this wasn’t how you imagined spending it.

You and Marcus were childhood friends and you joined the Academy three years after he did. Because of your diplomacy, Grayson had you working closely with the Councilors and higher-ups, so you weren’t involved with regular civilians. You were the one Marcus came to after what happened, and you tossed him out of your apartment in your anger. If it wasn’t for his sweet little daughter at home, they would’ve been burying another body. But, you knew he couldn’t function without you, so you ended up getting involved to keep things from going to shit.

The other Enforcers knew you were a force to be reckoned with. If you caught them slacking off or acting in a manner unfit for an Enforcer, you’d tear them a new one. They were, rightfully, scared of you. No one could understand how someone as kind as you could have a mean bone in your body. Marcus’ meetings with Silco were usually held at night, as he didn’t want people to get caught up in this scandalous situation. So, that didn’t change with this one.

The two bodyguards outside the building stare at you as you approach. Your Enforcer uniform was a bit different from the others. Since you work closely with high society, your uniform was altered to fit in as requested by the Councilors. Thigh-high boots, a shorter skirt on your dress that skims the top of your boots, and a ribbon in your hair. High society wasn’t as proper as they liked to have others believe. You caught many of them staring at your ass or trying to coax you into bed with them. Some especially sly woman caught you at the end of your shift when it wouldn’t be improper to invite you over for some wine. When you came here, you knew ahead of time so you wore the traditional uniform, not this one.

“Back without your boss, sidekick?” One of the guards sneers, crossing his arms over his chest. You roll your eyes at the stupid nickname.

“I’m here as a replacement for this meeting. Personal reasons. Who’s waiting for me?” You put a hand on your hip.

“Sevika. Silco’s out on personal matters.” The other guard chimes in, “She’s on the floor. Poker tables.” They open the doors for you and you wave them off. ‘I guess this is a meeting for the right-hands, huh? This is shit better go smoother than the ones between our bosses. It’s like pulling teeth listening to those two negotiate.’ All eyes are on you the moment you step into the building. It’s not hard to find Sevika, who’s lounging around the poker table with a drink. You make eye contact with her as you approach, the others scattering with a wave of her hand. She was a woman you respected and had sexual tension with. How couldn’t you? Sevika is unfairly attractive and you knew all about Silco’s right-hand woman… maybe a bit too much from your personal research. Even as you take a seat, you don’t break eye contact with her. If you did, you’d be a puddle from her muscles alone. You didn’t see women of Sevika’s physique in Piltover, and there was something about those muscles of hers that did it for you. You weren’t shy to admit to yourself that you were fantasizing about her when you were in bed.

“So I guess we're both here picking up our bosses' slack.” You muse, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your hand.

“That we are.” Sevika says casually, “So let’s get to business… One of your little newbies was saying some shit in the wrong company. He got jumped, they beat the crap out of him and one of my crew kindly interfered before they could choose to kill him.” She takes a drink and your eyes follow the small movement of her throat as she swallows. You didn’t even think it was possible to have such a muscular neck. You tsk, feeling annoyance rise through you along with something else. You hated those aggrogant little shits who thought being an Enforcer meant they could run their mouths. When you get your hands on this guy, he’ll be target practice so he learns to watch himself.

“Something tells me he deserved it.” You click your tongue, crossing your arms, “But, thank you for stepping in even though it wasn’t from the kindness of your heart… What are you looking for in return? It has to be something we can legally provide.” You uncross your legs, only to recross them the other way. Sevika’s eyes had flickered down as you did, catching a glimpse of your garter. It was your subtle way of celebrating your birthday while working.

“What’s an Enforcer like you doing wearing a garter underneath an outfit like that?” Sevika smirks slyly, “That’s not a uniform I’m familiar with, or are you a fake Enforcer for tonight?” You can’t help but blush slightly at the implication. While you’ve gotten many flirty remarks thrown at you in this, no one has ever equated you to a stripper. ‘Not that I mind her comparing me to one…’

“I’m not a fake Enforcer.” You clear your throat, turning your head to hide your blush, “This is my normal uniform. I work with Piltover’s high society and my real bosses had some… adjustments. The garters are my special addition for today.”

“You must be quite the attention whore to wear those, knowing that people will be staring.” Sevika’s eyes are predatory as she takes in your outfit, “Wanting all eyes on you, hm? Even when you’re wearing the normal uniform, you can’t help but flaunt yourself.” Her silver irises practically glow in the light when they meet yours. You swallow, feeling the heavy sexual tension between you two that kept you distracted in past meetings. Sevika was never one to hide her admiration of your body, blatantly eyeing you in close quarters. Your bosses were hilariously oblivious to you two eye fucking each other every meeting. But, this is the first time you’re alone and able to speak your minds. Sevika was definitely taking advantage of it. You’re a bit flustered that your clit tingles from her degrading words. No one had the balls to speak to you like that. Not in your position, and hearing them come out of her mouth was oddly arousing. ‘Focus. This is supposed to be a negotiation. I can’t let my task get derailed by my horny thoughts.’

“What I want is to know your price so I can get home.” You ignore what she says, “So name it.”

“Hm, I could ask for anything in return… so, my price is you.” Sevika says silkily, catching you by surprise, “I want those pretty garters of yours on display while I fuck you on the pool table.” Your jaw drops open from shock as you stare at her with wide eyes. You weren’t expecting that to be what she asked for. You thought it’d be money, access to something they needed, or that she’d even try to sway you into doing something illegal. Not… sex with you!

“I-I-I…” You shake your head to clear your mind, “I’m sorry? Did you say that you want to fuck me?” Her words rattle around in your mind. I want those pretty garters of yours on display while I fuck you on the pool table. ‘Holy shit, that’s hot.’ You bite your lip. ‘That sounds really fucking hot.’

“You heard me.” Sevika smirks, confidently leaning back in her chair, “I’m well aware of you eyeing me during previous meetings, and I can’t say I haven’t done that to you either. So let’s cut this tension, Deputy Chief. Right here, right now. You’re welcome to say no, although, I’m sure that’s not what you want.” You’ve been dying to take a bite out of Sevika for months, and now she’s putting the offer on the table. Literally. When was the last time you had a woman be so shamelessly direct about fucking you?

“Here?” You raise an eyebrow, glancing around the building to see that the rest of Sevika’s gang is still hanging out. There was no way they didn’t hear her proposition, but they continued drinking and talking. The guards from earlier had even come inside and were drinking by the bar. You’d be lying if you didn’t acknowledge the way your body immediately came alive at the prospect. What in the Gods’ names is wrong with you? Getting so turned on at the very mention of Sevika fucking you in front of her crew? That shouldn’t even be on your mind right now. You’re technically still on the clock so everything should be strictly business, not… this! But the thought of finally getting your hands on that woman, cutting the suffocating tension between the two of you in such an indecent way made your pussy burn.

“Where else?” Sevika quirks a brow, “Unless being fucked in public is below a proper woman like you.” She finishes off whatever was in her glass, placing it down with a dull thud. You stare at her, that suffocating tension almost too much to handle as you make your decision. You stand up, rounding the table to stand over her. If you were about to let her fuck you, you were going to have some fun beforehand.

“A proper woman like me?” You purr, dragging your finger down her chest, “Would a proper woman do this?” You keep your eyes trained on Sevika’s face as you undo the belt around your waist. The click makes her eyes flick to your face, but they’re back to following your hands. You undo one button at a time, exposing your chest, your stomach, then your hips before you slide the dress off. You relish in the way her eyes darken, as you sway your hips to the music and her hands come up to caress your thighs before she’s grabbing your ass.

You smirk at the - for once - speechless woman and say nothing as you take a few steps towards the pool table, whirling around to hop up onto it and spread your legs, “Come on then… or is fucking someone in public below a woman like you?” You taunt her. You were trying to hide behind a confident facade but your heart was pounding in your chest. This wasn’t like anything you’ve done before, but you felt like it was something you’ve been secretly wanting. The look on Sevika’s face showed that she was completely into it.

“Look at you. Showing yourself off like some kind of prized slut.” You watch with bated breath as she stands and stalks towards you, “Is that what you are?” Every step closer to you made you shiver in anticipation. You didn’t know how to respond to her or even if she was looking for a response.

Sevika’s hand is around your throat the moment she’s close enough. She pulls you into a rough kiss, teeth biting at your lip and forcing you to part your lips for her. As her tongue enters your mouth, you can feel the cool metal of her hand slip up your thigh and hook your panties. The hand around your throat vanishes to grab the other side of your panties. You can feel her pulling them off, so you lift your ass allowing her to slide them down your thighs. The cold air against your heat sends a shiver up your spine, but that’s ignored in favor of her metal fingers playing with your slit. The kiss is broken by you tilting your head back to let out a moan. The feeling of the smooth metal rubbing against your slit was strange in a good way.

“Tell me what you want.” Sevika demands, her fingers teasingly dipping inside for a brief moment.

“Fuck me, damn it.” You whine desperately, “I’ve waited months to get my hands on you.”

“Months?” Sevika chuckles as she undoes her belt, “No wonder you’re so eager to be fucked. I bet you’ve been thinking about this at night.” If it was even possible, you could swear that you got wetter when your eyes caught a glimpse of the thick, black strap she was packing. Your lips parted to answer her, but a surprised gasp leaves your lips instead when her hand closes around your throat, squeezing tightly as she pushes you down onto the table.

“I guess I’ve got to give the slut what she’s begging for.” Sevika sighs as if the thought of her fucking you was a chore, but the wicked smirk on her lips said otherwise. There’s no hesitation as she snaps her hips forward and the strap sinks into you. Her grip on your thigh is painful and sure to leave a bruise, but it keeps you in place as she bottoms out. An impressed whistle leaving her lips as your cunt takes all of her. Her grip on your throat eases up with the next thrust and you greedily take in some air before it’s knocked out of you. She doesn’t even give you a chance to adjust and you’re scrambling to steady yourself, choosing to grab her arm.

“Wait! Se- Vika!” You choke out between her thrusts, wanting her to slow down. Your body jolts from a particularly hard thrust that has you whimpering.

“No.” Sevika grunts, not giving you a moment of respite, “I’ve waited months to get you beneath me. I’m not taking my time with you.” If you weren’t already soaked, that would’ve been the reason you’d be. Sevika had been thinking about this, too. She was just as eager to have you under her as you were to be at her mercy. You spent various nights imagining how she’d fuck you as your fingers desperately tried to ease the ache. You were not disappointed to learn that your own imagination failed you on just how skilled Sevika was. There was something torturous in the way her hips snapped forward but pulled back so the strap dragged against your walls. You knew it wasn’t because of the size, but that she knew how to use it. You were ashamed to admit that the Piltoven women you’ve slept with didn’t have half of the skill that she was weilding.

“Who would’ve thought Marcus’ second-in-command was such a whore.” Sevika hisses as the head of the strap hits your cervix, “You like being fucked like this don’t you?”

“Not- Ah! Usually!” You moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure, “Just- you.” The mocking laugh that leaves her lips has you clenching around the strap. You just confirmed to her that she’s the only one to get you in a position like this. That must’ve been an ego boost.

“Did you hear that?!” Sevika’s grin is wide and cocky as she addresses the people in the room, “She’s only a whore for me!” The whistles and cat-calls from within the room remind you that you’re not alone. There were eyes on you and they weren’t just Sevika’s. Other people were watching you take her strap, watching as your nails dig into the arm around your throat when she tightens her grip. They could hear the lewd sounds coming from your pussy as she drilled into you. Sevika wanted you so badly that she didn’t care who was watching her, and you found that unbelievably sexy.

“I am.” You groan, “Only- FUCK!” You scream as she lifts your hips, hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you see stars. Your breathing is uneven, but that doesn’t stop you from rambling about how good she’s fucking you. This was inappropriate for a woman in your position, and imagine the scandal if someone topside caught wind of it. But, the heady mixture of praise and derogatory words coming from Sevika’s mouth had you disregarding that. You begged her to fuck you harder, trying to move your own hips even though you couldn’t.

“What was that?” Sevika purrs, “I couldn’t hear you from the filthy sounds leaving your mouth.” You knew it was a trick question from the way she squeezed your neck. But, you couldn’t respond to her properly, even if she allowed you to. She answered your request and fucked you harder, effectively making your mind go blank. All you could think about was the unrelenting wave of pleasure that had you writhing under her. Not even the lack of air could keep you from thinking about her. You weren’t even sure when your first orgasm happened, only remembering her making fun of how fast you came for her.

You had no sense of time, no sense of anything really when Sevika finally let you go. You slowly lift yourself off of the pool table as the dizziness clears up. The wetness of the table beneath you has you blushing heavily when you see how much of a mess you made. You almost didn’t believe that the small puddle on the floor was because of you.

Sevika helped you down before lighting one of her cigars, “Your little newbie will be returned tomorrow morning.” She takes a drag, slowly exhaling as you nod absentmindedly. It takes you longer than usual to get back into your dress as you try not to wobble in your heels. Sevika had sat back into her chair, putting her legs up as she smoked. You could tell she liked watching you struggle to get into your clothes almost as much as she liked you getting out of them.

“It was pleasant negotiating with you.” You say breathlessly, trying to calm your heartbeat as you take a deep breath. Sevika nods, smirking around her cigar and you take that as your que to leave. You turn around and duck your head, blushing, when you see the smirks everyone else is giving you. They give you cat-calls and complement your performance as you walk past them. They all watched you get railed by their boss and even they were smug about it.

You pick up the pace, wanting to get out of The Last Drop before Sevika decides she wants a second round. You personally wouldn’t mind, but you had to consciously remind yourself how to walk so you didn’t want to find out what you’d be like after that. Your hand is on the handle when Sevika calls your name. You turn to her, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Happy birthday.” Is all she says. Your eyes widen in disbelief, but a dopey grin crosses your face. It looks like she researched about you, too. You nod at her before opening the door and walking out. By the time you realized your skirt felt a bit breezier than normal, you were already back topside.

~

Enforcers scramble out of your way when they see you striding through the halls with a scowl on your face. You just finished berating that foolish newbie for getting himself into trouble, and you had no sympathy when he begged you not to place him on leave. Until he was able to, his badge was revoked and he’d be placed on target duty. As in, he’d be the live practice dummy for students in the Academy. While he’d be wearing protective gear, paintballs still hurt.

You close the door to your office and wince as you sit down. Your night with Sevika apparently decided to follow you into the day. It wasn’t as bad as the night before, but you were still feeling your intimate areas more than you should. There was also a visible bruise in the shape of her hand around your throat. Your ascot and neckline only hide so much of it, and if someone was looking for marks on your body they’d see it. That thought alone made you nervous when Marcus came into your office.

“I’m so sorry about last night, Y/n. Ren had a fever and I had to be there for her.” Marcus sighs, smoothing his hair back in agitation. He places a gift bag down on your desk that you move closer to yourself.

“It’s fine, Marc.” You put down your pen, “Things went smoothly. The newbie is back as you can see.” You motion to the door.

“What did Silco want in exchange? Please tell me it’s nothing too out there.”

“Silco? Nothing. He wasn’t there. Apparently, he was out on some personal matters as well.” You shrug, “I was negotiating with Sevika.”

“Sevika?!” Marcus hisses in surprise. His eyes frantically scan over you and you flinch when they widen, “Is that a bruise around your neck?! Did she do that to you?!” He rushes over to you and you slap his hands away.

“Hey, hey! Personal space!” You snap, “I’m fine, Marcus! She didn’t do anything to me, so stop being a mother hen.” You huff and grab the gift bag as he slumps into the chair across from you, “We only negotiated and things went-” You freeze. You had pushed aside the tissue paper to see what the gift was and a dark blue, sexy Enforcer set laid there.

“Marcus?” You say slowly, your cheeks heating up, “Where did you get this gift?” You reach for the little card in the bag, suddenly feeling a bit warmer than normal.

“One of the officers handed it to me. Said it was dropped off for you as a late birthday gift by a friend of yours.” He sits up in the chair, “Why?”

“Nothing. I was just curious.” You flash him a smile, going back to the note left behind. ‘Wear this the next time you’re coming by for negotiations.’

“I can tell something is wrong, don’t lie to me.” Marcus says sternly. ‘Fuck, why does my boss also have to be my best friend? Is there any way I can get out of this without talking about it?’

“So anyway…” You cough awkwardly, Marcus still staring at you, “Negotiations went smoothly and Sevika asked for something simple in exchange. You don’t have to worry about it, as I’ve taken care of it.” You smile at him, hoping he’ll take the bait.

“Y/n.” Marcus deadpans.

“Marcus.” You nod.

“What are you hiding?” He crosses his arms.

“Nothing!” You chirp, tucking the bag into the bottom drawer of your desk, “Shouldn’t you be going back to your Chief duties?”

Marcus narrows his eyes at you before sighing, “…You had sex with her, didn’t you?” The question coming out more as a statement.

“…Yes.” You smile cheekily, feeling embarrassed that he’s not even surprised. The look Marcus gives you is a mixture of exasperation and resignation. Little did you know, Silco was giving Sevika the same look.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Red And Black - Pattinson Bruce Wayne X Female Reader

Title: Red And Black

Pattinson Bruce Wayne X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Alfred, Falcone (Mentioned) Burglar, Martha (Mentioned), Thomas (Mentioned), and Joe Chill (Mentioned)

WC: 2,210

Warnings: Blood, Reader's apartment getting burglarized, fighting, mention of broken bones, sadness, crying, sad Bruce, soft Bruce, angry Bruce, fighting, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of Bruce's parents, fluff, etc

It was a quiet night. Despite the sounds of the city three stories below your apartment. It was peaceful almost, you could say. You were lying in bed, reading while listening to music, which was what a typical weekend night looked like for you. It had been a long week. You worked as a journalist, working to find information on corrupt officials and bring them to justice. It was a hard and stressful job, but it made good money that brought food to the table.

It wasn't even like you needed the money to begin with. You were best friends with the Bruce Wayne. You had known him since you were children, and funnily enough, you had a massive crush on the man. But, it seemed he didn't feel the same. Well, you didn't for sure know that to be a fact. But, for the past few months, Bruce had been very distant.

In the beginning, he asked you to move into the manor with him actually. But, you politely declined. You wanted your own place where you had your own space. The manor, you thought, had too much space. It was slightly overwhelming at times when you visited. You easily get lost. The vast hallways, the dark rooms that hardly saw light, and the high ceilings and massive paintings. Lavish. Dark and lavish. Fit for any billionaire or millionaire. Especially for a man like Bruce Wayne.

After that conversation, you thought Bruce would forget about it and move on, but when you came to visit only days after finding your own place, he called you, you were indeed surprised. Bruce insisted on paying for your new place. All of it, for a good couple of years in advance too. You tried to decline, but he wouldn't hear it. He said it was his way of thanking you for all your help over the years. And then he paid for your furniture too.

"Think of it as a thank you," He told you. "You know... For being my friend."

You hesitantly agreed, telling Bruce how you owed him one. To which, the man said that you owed him nothing. You wouldn't listen. You were stubborn at heart. You owed him, and that was that. Snuggling deeper into the soft mattress, the silk sheets caressing your bare legs, you sighed. You were about to call it a night until you heard your front door loudly slamming open. Freezing, you slowly sat your book down, grabbed your phone and ran to your closet, and slowly shut the door as quietly as you could.

Shaking, you quickly went to your contacts and dialed Bruce's number, hoping he'd answer. You were lucky, he picked up on the first ring. He used to always do that.

"Hello?" You whispered, looking around.

Bruce chuckled lightly, his voice sounding so far away. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Someone broke into my apartment."

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked, his voice going from light to serious.

"I'm fine. I'm hiding in the closet..." You let out a shaky breath, "I don't know what to do..."

You could hear the person ransacking your living room and kitchen, and you were worried they would come to the bedroom next.

"Don't move. I'll be right there. You'll be fine, darling."

You nodded your head, but you couldn't help but worry.

You heard footsteps in the hallway, and you quickly pulled yourself together. You hung up on Bruce, not hearing him on the other line anymore, and listened as the person slowly opened your bedroom door. You held your breath as you closed your mouth, trying to make sure no noise escaped. Then, you noticed the lights click off.

Your heart began to race. You felt like you were caught in a bad horror movie. Shutting your eyes tight, you let out a silent breath, before opening them. You were angry. This person, whoever they were, broke into your home and was wrecking your home. They were probably stealing things too! Seeing red, you didn't stop yourself from slamming the closet door open and tackling the person in the room.

A small struggle started, but you were quick and swift, landing punch after punch to the man you didn't know, head covered in a black beanie mask, and wearing black gloves. You managed to get the man down onto the ground, pinning their arms, and punching their face again and again. You pounded his face until you heard a loud crack, and the man let out a loud scream. His nose was definitely broken.

You kept hitting the man over and over, tears streaming down your face before two strong arms wrapped around your waist pulling you off the now unconscious man. Trying to get out of their hold, you heard Bruce's voice.

"Hey, shh, shh, it's okay. You can stop now."

Feeling the fear inside you disappear, you fall to the floor, gasping for air. The man was still unconscious and bleeding. Bruce kneeled down, rubbing his hands on your shoulders before pulling you up and into his arms. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he held you close to his chest as you sobbed, clutching the lapels of his jacket.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You cried, shaking. "He broke in, I didn't know what else to do!"

Bruce stroked your hair tenderly, soothing you as you continued to cry. "Let me take you to the manor. I'll take care of this."

You sniffled, nodding your head against his shoulder.

Bruce held your hand as he led you out of your apartment, and down the stairs. Once outside, he opened the passenger side door for you before driving to the manor. You were silent in the car, staring out the window as the rain trickled down the glass. Tears still fell down your cheeks, but you did nothing about them. Bruce glanced towards you, worried.

Once at the manor, Bruce helped you out of the car, Alfred meeting you at the door.

"Can you take care of her, Alfred?" Bruce asked softly and the older man nodded, gently taking you by the other hand and leading you away. Bruce watched you for a moment before quickly going to the cave.

~~~

At your apartment, Bruce walked in, his cape swaying with each step. Looking around, all your things had been thrown around, picture frames tossed and the glass smashed. Papers were thrown all about the room, and your laptop was cracked. He noticed that someone had also gone through your fridge, grabbing whatever they could find. Bruce was furious.

Storming into your room, Bruce saw the culprit, bending down, Bruce grabbed the man by the collar. The man groaned in pain, slowly opening his eyes.

"Who sent you!?"

The man struggled, but Bruce was stronger. He slammed the man on the ground, before pulling him back up again.

"Don't hurt me," The man pleaded, wincing in pain. "I don't know... Who sent me..." He spoke, but Bruce growled.

"Why are you here?" Bruce demanded, his voice stern.

"What do you mean?"

"What were you looking for?" He clenched his fists tighter around the man's hoodie.

The man let out a shaky breath, "Some work on Falcone. Something he didn't want out to the public. Please... That's all I know..." The man lost consciousness again.

Bruce growled again, letting go of the man's hoodie.

After dropping the man off with Gordan, Bruce made his way back to the cave before he got dressed in his shirt and sweatpants. He met Alfred on his way through the manor, who stopped him.

"She is in the guest room beside yours..." He spoke and Bruce thanked the butler before rushing off to the guest bedroom.

There, you sat on the huge king-sized bed, staring at your hands, void of emotions. You were just so tired. So very tired. You just wanted to sleep, but all you could see when you closed your eyes was the man's bloodied face. You were crying again.

Bruce was sitting beside the bed, a glass of water in his hands before he handed it to you. You didn't take it, so Bruce sat it on the bedside table, before noticing your red and cracked knuckles.

"You're hurt," Bruce spoke softly, not wanting to spook you. "Did Alfred clean them?" He asked, and you nodded.

"He couldn't find any bandages." You muttered your first words to him since he got back.

Bruce nodded, before offering his hand to you, "Let's go to my room, I have some there."

You took his hand, and Bruce held it in his gently as he led you out of the bedroom and into his. You immediately sat down on the bed as Bruce went to his bathroom and grabbed the gause. Kneeling down before you, Bruce gently took your hand, your hands so small in his.

"I'm so sorry." Bruce spoke, his voice soft.

You shook your head, "It's not your fault... He broke in..." You whimpered, your voice catching in your throat. "It's his fault..."

Bruce began to gently wrap the bandage around your knuckles, "He was going after something you had on Falcone."

"Falcone" You looked at the ceiling, tears falling down your cheeks once more. "That jerk." You chuckled sadly, before looking down at Bruce.

"What was he looking for?" Bruce asked, but you sighed.

Reaching out, you brushed his hair away from his face, noticing the smudges and residue of black around Bruce's eyes. You smiled a bit. You had a feeling on why Bruce had been distant lately.

"Does the Bruce Wayne get into fights a lot?" You asked softly, but Bruce grabbed your hand from his head and began wrapping it.

"You're avoiding the question."

You smiled lightly, "You are too."

Bruce ignored you and continued to finish wrapping your hands, "What was he looking for?" Bruce repeated and you looked off, staring at the wall.

"I found out about this guy... His name is Joe Chill. And... I believe he... He killed your parents." You spoke softly, a tear falling down your cheek.

Bruce froze, unmoving. His eyes filled with his own tears, before you reached out and took Bruce's face in both hands, kissing his forehead. "I should have told you sooner..." You whispered. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted to make sure he was the one."

A small sob escaped his lips, and you fell to your knees, holding him close, feeling his tears sink into your sweater. Bruce held onto you with a tight grip, his knuckles turning white around your sweater-covered waist.

"I'm sorry, Bruce." You whispered, before Bruce slowly let go of you. "I shouldn't have kept it from you." You sighed, tears still falling from your eyes, but you wiped them away.

"No... I understand." He spoke, as you whipped his tears away. "You have to stay here for a while."

You thought for a moment before nodding, "Yes, I think that is best. I don't want to go back home." You placed your wrapped hand on Bruce's cheek, caressing it softly with your thumb.

"Besides, you need me. As I need you." You said, smiling softly to him.

"We have each other." He mumbled, looking at you with his deep blue eyes."

You hummed, "And Alfred."

Bruce stared at you for a long moment before he leaned in, kissing you deeply. Your fingers threaded into his hair, holding him close to you as you both kissed. He pulled away, running his fingers through your hair. He brought his hand to your cheek, wiping away your stray tears.

"Stay here tonight," He spoke, voice low and husky. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I believe you."

Bruce smiled softly, kissing your forehead before getting off the floor, and helping you up. Walking to his closet, he threw open the doors, he pulled out a spare change in clothes for you to change into, a plain shirt and sweatpants. Bruce handed you the clothing and you kissed his cheek in thanks before heading to the bathroom to change.

Bruce let out a sigh, feeling his lips with the tips of his fingers, feeling the ghost of you there. His face reddened before he got into the bed. You soon opened the bathroom door dressed in his shirt and pants. Bruce couldn't help but think how cute you looked in his clothes, your face flushed, as you walked over, plopping onto the bed next to him.

"I need to tell you something." Bruce spoke, almost afraid to say it.

But he knew you needed to know everything, even if it hurt you.

"Yeah?" You asked, laying down beside him, feeling the soft silk sheets fall softly upon you.

"I'm the Batman." Bruce confessed softly. "I tried to keep it a secret, but... I needed to tell you."

You smirked lightly, "I figured." You laughed as you felt his hand touch your arm, slowly pulling you closer. "I had a feeling that was why you had been so distant."

"I'm sorry about that" Bruce whispered, running his fingers through your hair.

"Don't be sorry, I have you now." You squeezed his hand.

Bruce smiled slightly, leaning in close, pressing his lips against yours once more.

[gaitwae]

Could you write a fic where Loki and female reader switch bodies and have to stay like that until someone figures how to turn them back?

Comment/reblog!

Tag List: @make-me-imagine @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword @xlehukax @electroma89 @joucebox @high-functioning-lokipath @lokislittlesigyn @kingix-the-confused-earthling @nilavey @superfangirl-romanogers @funsized-mimi

Warnings: A disgusting amount of fluff.

“Oh, for the last time, darling! You shouldn’t be messing with spells you don’t know the first thing of,” Loki scoffed behind you, making you jump and snap his spellbook shut. It was an odd thing to remember that Loki even had a spellbook, but you had to learn new spells somewhere, right? You were just a simple mortal, and you had no use for things like magic on Midgard.

Or so he told you.

“I mean, yeah, but what’s it to you?” you mumbled, turning around to face him. “I wanted to go over a new spell with you, if that was okay.” You put your hands together in front of you and smiled up at your friend. You tried for your best smile, which ultimately caused him to cave.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Alright. But is it within the range we spoke of? What we just went over? I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself so soon in your learning. Some messes just don’t clean as well as the others do.” He put his nose in the air as if he was remembering just how uncleanable past messes had been. He took your hands. “Let’s do the spell. Hurry. I haven’t got all day and I truly don’t want to be stuck in some kind of situation we can’t sort out ourselves.”

“It sounds like you’re noncommittal,” you teased, reciting the spell you had just read out of the spellbook not even seconds before Loki opened the door and walked in on you.

“I can be plenty committed. Just not to your self-destructive need to be a sorcerer,” he said airily, speaking through the incantation; he didn’t even comment on it. 

If he had even heard it.

When you finished the rest of your incantation, the spell started to take hold. You became woozy, and so did Loki. You crashed into his arms, and he collapsed on the floor with you in his embrace. He smelled like mint and some kind of harsh cologne, but it fitted him. It was the last piece of consciousness you could hold onto before you awoke...

+-+--

“Hey, Lokes, are you awake? Hellloooo?” Tony’s voice came. It sounded far away. You stretched, and you could still pick up that cologne from where you laid. It was less intense than you thought it would be from hardly smelling it at all. You opened your eyes.

“Where am I?” you asked, and funnily enough, so did Loki. Odd choice of words.

“Stark!” someone called. You sat up to see who the person was, but your blood ran cold at the sight. “Stark, what happened? What has been done to me!? Where is—?” 

They stopped as well. There you were, your face, your voice, but... not you. You looked down at your hands. They weren’t yours. Your heart dropped significantly.

“How’s this even possible?” you asked, hearing Loki’s voice once again. “Am I—? Did we—?”

“Don’t do anything!” your voice came again, but littered with Loki’s speech pattern. “If you stain that Asgardian leather, I’ll—I’ll—”

“Oh, you’ll what?” you scoffed, standing. “I don’t even know how this happened! I’m surprised you haven’t started running your hands all over me!”

“Oh, please, we’re friends first,” you—Loki—mocked. Tony was staring at the two of you like you were talking about the finest boots to eat. He lifted a finger, but Loki raised a hand to stop him from even trying to speak. “It appears you’ve gotten us into a mess we cannot fix, haven’t you?”

“Will someone else have to change us back?” you asked. You stood, managed to walk over to Loki, and sat down. “I didn’t mean for us to... to...”

“Swapped,” Loki sighed. “We’re swapped. Either it’ll go away on its own or we’ll have to go to Asgard to convince my father to reverse us. How in the Nine did you find such a spell? It shouldn’t even be in the books!”

“Should I leave you two alone, then?” Tony asked. “Since, uh, you’re both acting extremely weird?”

“Yes,” you and Loki chorused. You crossed your arms and Loki mimicked you. Stark left quickly, leaving you two alone in the medical room, where only a blink ago you had been in a completely different room with Loki in his own body and you in yours.

Once he had shut the door, you watched your own body twist with Loki’s mannerisms and expressions. They turned to you and pushed your chest. You scoffed, gasping. “How could you even experiment with such a spell?!” they shouted. “We might be stuck like this forever! You made me mortal!”

“I wanted to swap our perspectives,” you admitted, gulping, “but I didn’t think it would lead to this!”

“What else could it have meant?!” Loki scolded. They put their hands in the air, then dropped them. They began pacing. “I’m stuck in your body! I may have wanted to hold it, but I certainly didn’t want to have it!” 

You bit your lip. “I didn’t want to have your body, either,” you mumbled. “I just wanted you to see how I look at you... I had thought...”

“Thought what? That suddenly I would fall for you? You’re out of luck there, mortal. It wouldn’t have gone the way you wanted it to,” Loki sighed, shaking their head. They sat on the cot where they had awakened from the spell. 

“I didn’t know you knew,” you said meekly. You looked down at your hands. Your heart was racing. It didn’t usually race when you spoke to Loki. The hands that had become yours, hopefully for a short period of time, were long and pale and so different from yours.

“How could I not, little mort—Y/N?” they asked. “It’s almost like watching someone sink into a depression; everyone can see it, but no one talks about it. I know you have feelings for me. I don’t blame you, though.”

“You don’t feel the same, do you?” you asked, sitting down on your cot. Loki shrugged. 

“I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t fall for you by seeing myself the way you do.” Loki picked at your nails. “Y/N, we shouldn’t be talking about this now, we should be finding a way to get out of each other’s bodies.”

You huffed a sigh. “We should ask Strange. He knows insane magic, and I doubt if I use your powers anything will change. I already botched this spell.” You laughed but stopped when you heard what it was. It wasn’t your laugh. It was odd. Laughter was determined by one’s body, so it made sense that it wouldn’t have been yours... 

“Oh! Brilliant idea!” Loki praised falsely. Clearly, they must have still been upset about the swapping bodies thing. 

You were disappointed in yourself for it, too. “Can we just go and see him? It’ll take no time at all.”

“He isn’t even home," they sighed, wiping their face with your hand. It was hard to watch. "Why must you be so perfect? Being so adorably shy that you cannot even ask me if I love you back?"

Your heart thumped. No, no. Loki's heart thumped for you. "...Don't mock me while you're in my body. I can still hurt you."

Loki narrowed their eyes. "You wouldn't."

"I so would!" you announced, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out.

"Hurting me goes against loving me, doesn't it?" Loki asked, slightly panicky. "You couldn't draw my blood, could you?"

"I won't draw blood," you promised. "I just have your daggers on my person, and I've never really cared for this stupid Asgardian leather..."

"This is going to be a long time waiting for Strange to be back, isn't it?" Loki groaned. You nodded happily. You scooped your own body to his body's chest.

"Oh, yeah. Swapped, for better or for worse."

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tags!

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

Also, here is my buy me a coffee! If you enjoy my writing, tips are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!

A/N I’ve tried so hard to post this, sorry for all the technical difficulties...

[kiirokero]

Outro: Love Is Not Over (2)

Pairing: Daycare Teacher! Hoseok x Single Mom! Reader.

Genre: Single Parent! AU, Teacher! AU, Hybrid! AU, Fluff, Angst, Adorable Kids,

Warnings: Nothing, just very cute moments between mom and son.

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: Heyo, if you want to be added to this story's tag list, you can reply to this post or message me!

Summary: Years after a relationship goes south. You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. He is the light of your life. Yunho is everything to you, and you’d do anything for him. But you’re a human. Yunho doesn’t care, he will tell you he doesn’t. “You’re still my Eomma. No matter what.” He says. But you can’t help but feel like you will never be enough for him. You can’t be the mother he deserves. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. But you try. You try your damn hardest. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

Chapter Guide:

Previous / Next 

Tag List: @kurochan3​ @mrcleanheichou​

      “Yunho! Are you dressed?” I called up the stairs. “Yes! I’m coming!” Yunho called back in an excited voice. It was a wonder how he could be so awake and peppy at 6am. Maybe it was his hybrid genes... Golden retrievers are notorious for being cheerful dogs. 

      I heard Yunho’s rapid steps, and he quickly came skipping into the kitchen, immediately hugging my leg. I set down the butter knife I was using to make his lunch and gave him a full hug, kissing his forehead. 

      “Are you excited for your first day of school?” I asked, picking off some lint that was on his shirt. “Yes! I get to make new friends!” He exclaimed, hopping up and down. It made me chuckle. Even if I was exhausted, he was like a dose of happiness medicine. “I’m glad.” I smiled. 

      I got Yunho his breakfast and finished preparing his lunch. I did a check over all of his things to make sure he had everything he needed. I checked off every box in my head. Pencil case... Notebook... Water bottle... “Eomma!” Yunho called out for me. I walked over to the dining room and saw him sitting in his chair, still eating his breakfast. “What’s up bub?” I asked. “Can you sit with me? Please?” 

     I nodded, walking over and sitting in my seat. Yunho smiled and went back to eating. We sat in comfortable silence while I pet his head. I just admired him for a minute. I don’t know what God blessed me with such a son, but whoever it was, I’m indebted to you for life. 

     Yunho was a calm baby. In the way of, he wasn’t a screamer. I remember Hyejin telling me horror stories about Hajun screaming in the middle of the night, startling both her and Yoongi awake. They worried me when I had Yunho, but he never screamed, maybe once or twice, but he normally kept his volume to a reasonable decibel level. 

     Yes, Yunho was enthusiastic, but he never raised his voice enough to where it was anything but childlike excitement. As a baby, he’d just cry, but he’d cry softly. There wasn’t a right way to describe it. If I was in the kitchen and he was sitting on a blanket in the living room, I would hear him cry, but it wasn’t ear piercing. Maybe it was due to the small house that I could easily hear him... He was just a calm baby. 

     When he was around 3 and 4, he started being very emotive and enthusiastic. At first he’d do it all the time, even when he was supposed to be extra quiet. But after teaching him that there's a time and a place to be expressive, he caught on pretty quickly. 

    That didn’t mean we didn’t have problems though. More than once he’d draw on the walls or walk through the house with his shoes on. Sometimes he was in a foul mood and would throw a fit, but that was rare. There was a time he refused to clean his room, and it hurt my soul to put my foot down, but I was still his mother. 

Point being, Yunho was the sun. A sun that deserved the universe. 

      “Alright bub, are you ready?” I held Yunho’s hand as he stood wide-eyed in front of the school building. Yunho had only been to a small daycare that was also a kindergarten, so this is all new to him. I slowly started walking forward with Yunho walking behind me. It was cute, but I knew he couldn’t hide from school forever. I don’t want to go to jail. 

      The building was dazzling and straight out of a fairytale. Artwork lined the halls and the walls were painted with dragons and princesses, the occasional mermaid here and there. All in all, a very welcoming place. I could see Yunho’s eyes light up as he looked at the walls, and he was slowly walking next to me again. 

    We stopped in front of a room labeled, “Mrs. Hopkin’s First Grade Kingdom!” It made me chuckle. The building seemed to have a theme going on here. We walked in, hand in hand, and if I thought the hallways jumped out of a fairytale, this room jumped out of a Disney movie. 

     It was set up like the ordinary first-grade classroom, but the one wall had a whole mural. There were fairytale decorations hanging from the ceiling. The floor tiles were white with dots of rainbow colors, and they set the desks up in clusters inspired by different fairytale creatures. As in, one table cluster was mermaid-inspired, decorated with scales and a seashell rug underneath. One was dragon-inspired with flame details and a dragon stuffed animal in the middle of the table. A green rug was also underneath the table.

     It made you wonder for a second if you stopped at the wrong school because this seemed expensive and you definitely didn’t have the money to send Yunho to a rich kid's school. Being a writer paid well, but not THAT well. 

     Soon, an old woman walked up to us. She was wearing a floral, floor-length skirt and a white button up. “Hello! I’m Mrs. Hopkin. Welcome!” She smiled, and it was the classic grandmother smile. “Hello! I’m Y/n and this is Yunho.” Yunho waved, still holding my hand. “Lovely to meet you, we’re just about to start!” Mrs. Hopkin exclaimed, so I let Yunho go and ushered him to go play while I went to stand with the rest of the moms and dads. 

     This was a primarily hybrid school since Yunho and I lived in a predominately hybrid community. Meaning, most the parents were also hybrids, but I didn’t care. I hung around hybrids for 2/3rds of my life. Funnily, hanging out with another human would be odd for me. However, that didn’t stop the occasional side glances and looks I would get. 

     I was used to it at this point because I stuck out like a neon sign. It happened everywhere I went. We lived in a pretty sizeable community, meaning I didn’t have to go out of town a lot. At first, it made me insecure, but Hyejin and Yoongi snapped me out of it and told me they weren’t judging me; they were just surprised. I remember Yoongi’s wise words... “Look, dumbo, what the hell are they gonna judge you for? Living? Breathing? I already do that, so no need to worry.”

He got a pretty good punch from Hyejin for that one. 

     Mrs. Hopkin clapped her hands, calling everyone's attention to the front of the class. “Hello everyone! Welcome to first grade!” She exclaimed enthusiastically, “We’ll be going over the rules and then we will say goodbye to our mommies and daddies.” And just like that, she started explaining the basics. It made me think she rehearsed this in a mirror last night. She flowed as if she was running on muscle memory. Or maybe she's been teaching for way too long. 

      It was fairly simple. Keep your hands to yourself, listen to whoever is speaking, raise your hand, yadda yadda... I’ve been to first grade before. After Mrs. Hopkins finished speaking to the parents about expectations and what happens if one of our kids is bad, she let us all say our goodbyes. Yunho ran and jumped on me, burying his face into my chest. 

      He was scenting me, showing me he was nervous. “You’ll be okay, bub. I’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.” I pet his head and his tail started wagging. “I don’t want Eomma to go...” He whined. I swore that my heart exploded. “But you were so excited this morning?” I chuckled. “I take it back.” He grumbled. I cooed and softly put him down, unraveling the scarf I had around my neck. 

      “Here you go. Just for today, okay? You’re a big boy now, Yunnie.” I smiled at his big puppy eyes. Yunho held to scarf to his nose, and I gave him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, baby.” I whispered. “I love you too, Eomma.” 

      Stepping out of the school, away from my son, was eye opening. Yunho was growing right before my eyes, and before I know it, he’ll be walking out of this school grown. Ready to tackIe the next level of school. It makes me tear up a bit and I feel like a mother in a slice of life film. I chuckle, shaking my head as I get into my car. 

      Just as I’m about to start it up, my phone rings. Hyejin. “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, deciding that I’d drive after this call. “Y/n! Thank god you answered!” She sighed in relief. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” She hums and I can hear ruckus in the background. “Yes... No...? I’m in a predicament.”

     “What?” I chuckle nervously, unsure if I should be worried. “So... Um... I forgot today was the boy’s first day of school, so Hajun is not there...” She cautions. “Okay? He can go tomorrow.” I reason. “He’s with me... And I can’t watch him, I have to go to work.” If I was in The Office, this would be the moment where I would look directly into the camera with a blank stare. 

“Hyejin-”

“I know! You can scold me later... Can you come pick him up? Please~” She begged.

“Yeah, I can... I’m at the school right now.” I grumbled.

“Great! Meet me at the daycare so you don’t have to drive as much. I love you!” 

I sighed, shaking my head. She’s going to be the death of me. 

[knjsagustd]

something stupid | ksj

“I just want to do something stupid!” “I know something stupid you could do.”

↳Jin x Reader

↳ w/c: 2k

 ↳ college au, friends to lovers

↳warnings: drinking, reference to sex but not explicit

a/n: this is my first bts fic but we’re taking this plunge so i hope you like it 💛

You’re drunk.  It’s not a secret, you’re laying on Jin’s bed with a half drunk bottle of tequila.  He’s drunk too and maybe that’s why the whole situation seems less ridiculous.  Because you drinking half a bottle of straight tequila is completely ridiculous.  Or, at least, it was four hours ago.  Before you’d submitted your last ever assignment and suddenly realised that the last four years were completely pointless (And maybe the eighteen before that had been too.) Realised that you’d put your life on hold for a piece of paper that would make you more employable in whatever mind-numbing job you’re going to end up spending the next 60 years of your life hating.

“...I don’t even know what people our age do.” You’re all but shouting at Jin’s ceiling.  He just chuckles, taking another swig of the bottle he’d swiped from Yoongi’s stores.  You sit up, the sudden movement making your drunk brain spin, and face him, crossing your legs as you settle. “Do not laugh at me, Jinnie, I have twenty-two years worth of shit to catch up on.  I’ve never taken any risks.  Restlessness is thrumming through my veins, and I feel like I’m suffocating.  I - I just want to do something stupid.”

Whatever laughter Jin was barely holding in fades.  It’s replaced by a familiar look.  One that you’ve never had the brain power to dwell on between classes, assignments, extracurriculars and jobs.  He takes a deep drink from his bottle, then places it and yours on the floor.  Staring into your eyes he shrugs, a movement too casual for the intensity in his gaze.

“I know something stupid you could do.”

For a second you stare back, trying to decipher if it’s a joke. But none of your oldest friend’s usual mirth is left on his face.  So you lean forward, one hand ghosting over his perfect, tanned cheek, the other tangling through the hair at the base of his neck.  And, achingly slowly, you pull him in.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about kissing Jin.  You’ve been bestfriends since you were seven, new in town, and he decided to be your friend.  Honestly, you didn’t have much say in the matter.  Besides, it’s impossible not to fall a little bit in love with Jin.  What with his sparkling eyes, infectious laugh and beautiful heart.  And until this moment, as you mould your lips to his and they seem to fit perfectly, you would have sworn whatever you felt for him was under control.  An echo in the back of your brain at particularly lonely moments.  You are not that girl.  The one who sits on the sidelines waiting for her best friend to see her, uselessly in love.  No, you’ve dated, been in a long term relationship.  (It ran from the beginning of your first year of university to halfway through your third.  Funnily enough they were insecure about your friendship with Jin.  You’d told them they didn’t have anything to worry about.  Eventually you got tired of being asked to choose, so you’d chosen Jin - who had never asked.)  You do not pine.

But this kiss might make you.  The first one is soft, almost tentative.  You can feel his eyes flutter open, the lashes brushing against yours, as you pull away.  Then his hands cup your cheeks, pulling you back in.  This time is more forceful.  You could trick yourself into believing there are fifteen years of longing behind it.  Not breaking the kiss you move into his lap, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly close.  You swallow down the groan that escapes him as you all but grind on top of him.  Your hips seem to have taken on a life of their own.  His hands are all over you, untucking your t-shirt and finding their way onto your bare skin.  A shiver runs through you when they caress your rib cage.  And round the back, ghosting over the band of your bra.

You break the kiss for less than a moment to yank your t-shirt off, tossing it to the far corner of the room.  Awe-struck is the only way to describe the way Jin looks at you, sitting on his lap with your old t-shirt bra the only thing covering your breasts - in your defense you weren’t expecting sex tonight.  But that might just be wishful thinking.  With renewed fervour your arms return to their previous position, your fingers tangle through his hair.  A sound halfway between a moan and sigh issues from him as you tug a little bit on his hair, your nails grazing over his scalp.  His thumbs brush over the sides of your breasts.  Even over your bra the touch elicits a shaky breath from you.  Which Jin swallows down gladly.  In reply you grind again, on purpose this time, trying not to feel embarrassed by the heat building in your abdomen.  You feel like a teenager dry humping in a closet at a party, getting wet from the friction of your jeans.  But you’re not a sixteen year old playing seven minutes in heaven, fooling around with boys you’ll avoid on Monday and only let touch you with the lights out.  No you’re twenty-two years old, the lights are on and you’re making out with Kim Seokjin,  your best and oldest friend, because you felt reckless.  To be honest, it’s perfect.  And hot, very hot.

As if sensing your spinning thought, Jin pulls back, resting his forehead against yours.  Through heavy breaths he says;

“Is this okay?”

You lean back.  Cupping his cheeks you pull his gaze up to yours.  His eyes are dark and soft, they make your breath catch in your throat.  You kiss his right cheek.

“Nothing -” another kiss to the right corner of his mouth - “has -” kiss to the right side of his neck - “ever-” left side of his neck - “been-” left cheek - “more-” left corner of his mouth - “okay.”

And you press a short, tender kiss to his lips.  You’ve always found Jin’s smile to be bright and consuming, but the one that spreads across his face when you finish is like the sun.

“You’re sure?”

A laugh bubbles out of you at that, the almost shy look in his eyes.  As if he’s the one that’s been semi in love with the other for most of their life.  You push his shoulder, startling a laugh out of him.  Then you kiss him again - because a dam has been broken and now you don’t think you can stop.  You don’t want to.

“Jin, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And he’s kissing you now, surging forward with a joyful laugh that shouldn’t tighten the heat in your stomach but does.  One of his hands cups your butt, the other tightens around your waist.  Another laugh falls from you as he lifts you off his lap, laying down on the bed.  He rears back for a moment, to pull off his t-shirt and send it after yours - before leaning back down to kiss you.

*****

There’s a hard, firm, heat pressed against your back when you wake up.  It’s comforting.  A familiar, safe smell envelopes you, you burrow into it.  A sleepy groan comes as you press backwards into the heat.  You open your eyes, blinking in the sunlight streaming through the window.  Despite the dull ache at the back of your head, you smile.  You allow last night's events to wash over you.  They make you flush.  The memory of Jin’s lips pressed to every inch of your skin.  His body against yours.  The stuttering, sighing mess he reduced you to.  How you mewled his name as he filled you up.  It’s selfish but you want to live in this moment for a bit longer.  Before you have to face the consequences of sleeping with your oldest friend.  Savour the feeling of being naked in his bed except for his old t-shirt.  Sinking into his embrace, the weight of his arm on your side, his soft palm spread against your stomach.  You commit the intimacy to memory.

You find out Jin is awake when the arm around your waist tightens and a soft kiss is placed on the back of your neck.  His fingers begin tracing light spirals over your stomach.  It makes a familiar heat begin to coil.  Especially since you now know just what those fingers can do.  The sounds they can draw from you.

“Morning,” Jin mutters, voice still thick with sleep, nestling his head against yours.

“Hey,” you reply just as softly.  After a moment’s hesitation you sigh, rolling to face him.  His eyes are shut and a small smile is playing at his lips.  Before you can stop yourself, your hand comes up.  It begins tracing the planes of his face.  Jin’s arm pulls you in, closing whatever distance was created by your movement.  So you’re laying in your best friend’s bed, tangled up within him and, for possibly the first time, you can’t talk to him.  Any words die in your throat.  The whole thing feels potentially dangerous, fragile.  Liable to explode at the slightest movement.  Like anything you say might destroy… whatever is happening.  But Jin opens his eyes and they make your breath catch.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” he murmurs, the smile widening.

“Sorry.”

He kisses your fingers as they absently caress over his lips.

“It’s okay.  Anything I should know?”

You take a deep breath.  It’s now or never.

“What did last night mean?  Was it just because we were drunk and restless?  Or was it more? Because, like, if I’m being honest I think I’ve been wanting it for a while.  But it’s okay if you -”

Your rambling is cut off by Jin pressing a smiling kiss to your lips.  Automatically your fingers move to his hair, tangling through it and keeping him there just as they did last night.  When it ends he doesn’t pull away, resting his forehead against yours.  His breath ghosts against your lips as he speaks.

“{Name}, I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen.”

You blink.

“Since, you appeared at prom with Woo-sung looking like the most beautiful girl in the world.  I spent the whole night kicking myself for not seeing it sooner.”

Then you smile.

“I’ve got you beat.  I worked it out when Jennie asked you out, we were sixteen.”

If it weren’t for the joyful laugh that bubbles from Jin at this you’d feel embarrassed.  He flops dramatically onto his back.  It makes you smile fondly.

“You’re telling me we could’ve been doing that for… like for years?”  It comes out as a whine, that makes you laugh as you push yourself up.

‘I guess,” you begin, manoeuvring yourself so you’re sat on top of him, just above the hardness you can already feel growing, “we’ll just have to make up for it.”

As you lean over, keeping your mouth a teasing distance from his, Jin’s hands come up to rest on the swell of your hips.

“So that’s how it is?” Despite the teasing tone, his voice comes out a little strained as you begin to slowly move your hips. “You only want me for sex now?”

You quirk an eyebrow, making to dismount.  But his hands anchor you to him.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

And he leans up, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.  You deepen it, your hands exploring his bare torso.  He shivers and breaks the kiss as your fingers ghost over his nipples.  While he catches his breath you begin to leave open mouthed kisses on his neck.

“Go on a date with me?”  It tumbles out in an almost shy rush.  It makes you want to hit him.  Not a minute after confessing that you’ve been in love for years with you literally on top of him, and the man is asking you on a date.  You pull away from where you’d been working a hickey into his collar, with an exasperated sigh.  Before you speak you fix him with a look that says ‘really, right now?’.  But he looks so earnest that you can’t help but smile.

“Okay.”

He laughs that familiar laugh that’s always made your heart soar.  One of his hands brushes your hair out of your face, and he pulls you into another kiss.  You realise again how far gone you are for this man as you laugh into the kiss.

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[midnightmoonkiss]

The Lure Of Nightfall [2]

Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: After accidentally flying in on your best friend jerkin his meat to the thought of you, things get out of hand, and you’re thrown into a weekly routine.

WARNINGS!: Voyeurism, Masturbation

Category: Smut, Smut, Pure Smut.

Word Count: 8.7k+

A/N: You all wanted this! >.< I hope I delivered~

Just To Clarify:

This is a continuation!

panties are a bitch.

Part One

Tag List:  @zylith-imagines-and-fics @birds-have-teeth @my-bnha-things.

The morning after carried on just as any Sunday would have.

Izuku woke up refreshed and ready to start his daily work out.

The strange bird encounter completely slipped his mind as he ran laps, pushing his legs to run faster and faster with each completed circle.

He was always one to push his limits, always one to ignore the burning in his calves and thighs as his legs became a blur of motion beneath him.

All he could think about was how many laps he had run, and how many more he had to go.

You could only ever push yourself so far. He learned that lesson the hard way not too long ago when he didnt stop running until his legs gave out and a student had to come and get him.

His legs were practically dead weight for the following few hours.

Sighing at the memory, he went on, arm coming up to wipe the sweat from his brow.

It was 9:00AM when he finally finished his workout routine, a little later than he was used to. But who could blame him? He did go to bed later than his schedule recommended, after all.

But..

That wasn’t..

His fault..

He frantically shook his head, scarred palms slapping his redding cheeks as what got him so riled up in the first place flickered through his mind.

 He did not need to have such thoughts at this moment.

Heading back to his dorm, he grabbed his shampoo and body wash, as well as a fresh change of clothes before skipping down the steps. He felt gross and sticky with sweat, and he couldn’t wait to feel the rush of water against his skin.

Oh!No one’s here! 

He thought happily as he practically skipped into the bathroom, putting his clothes in the locker beside the shower stall he chose.

He hopped into the shower, not bothering to turn the heat on as cold showers always seemed to snap him out of any dirty thoughts. Plus, not only did they help make someone more alert after an intense workout, the cool water always left a heated body feeling much better.

Once done, he quickly dried off and changed, making his way to the sinks to brush and fully dry his thick, damp hair.

Such fluffy hair regrettably required a stay-in conditioner, or else it would look simply dreadful - frizzy hair galore. No one, especially him, wants that. Though it took away that masculine scent of body wash guys apparently are supposed to thrive in, it did make him smell pretty sweet. It all fit together perfectly in a way. Sugar n’ spice made everything nice, right?

As he was spraying the stay-in conditioner, running a wooden comb through the damp, curly green locks, he let his mind wander.

He forgot something, didn’t he?

It felt like he did.

He chewed his pouty bottom lip, eyes narrowing as he let his arms run on autopilot so his thoughts could drift.

He wasn’t usually so forgetful, so what on Earth was he forgetting?

Something the other day, surely.

He didn’t have anything planned today.

Just relax and enjoy life for a second. They didn’t get breaks often, and last Sunday he was at the mall all day with you and his friend group.

You..

What about you?

He felt like you were the key to his confusion and forgetfulness, but why?

He hadn’t had an interaction with you yesterday that would require his immediate attention, so-

Wait.

His movements stopped as he stared wide-eyed at his reflection in the mirror.

Most birds sleep at night, that was common knowledge.

So why the hell was there one on his balcony so late last night.

He dropped his comb, wood clanging loudly onto the floor, the noise echoing around his suddenly deaf ears.

Birds don’t nuzzle fingers.

Birds fly away when a human approaches.

That wasn’t any ordinary bird.

That wasn’t a bird at all, was it?

No.

There was only one person who could turn into a bird..

And that person was..

You.

Oh god.. Oh god, no!

Izuku collapses to his knees, arms wrapping securely around his head as he blushes and whines like a mad man.

You saw him! You had to have seen him!

He was! 

He was naked-!

You didn’t… you didn’t see and hear him in the act, right!?

He shakily inhaled, shameful tears blurring his vision.

You heard him moan out your name, didnt you!

You must hate him now! Think he’s disgusting..

What type of person masturbates to their best friend!

But he couldn’t help it!

He’s been in love with you for so long..

He knew his dreams would never come to fruition, that you would never like him as much as he liked you, so he took to his mind to live out a life he’s always wanted.

One his body so desperately craves.

It was so humiliating!

How could he face you..?

Fat tears streamed down his face, heart breaking at the thought of you never speaking to him again. His mind fled to a dark place, completely ignoring the fact that the bird had been so gentle with him and seemingly uncaring.

So, imagine his surprise when you happily greeted him at one of the tables as he walked out of the bathroom for water.

Upon seeing his tear stained face, worry quickly consumed you, face contorting as you jumped up and rushed over to him.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong, ‘Zuku? You were crying?”

You bombarded him with questions, hands coming up to delicately cradle his burning face between them.

His head felt fuzzy as he stared into your (E/C) eyes glimmering with concern.

A whimper built up in the back of his throat, fearful that you’d still leave him.

But why were you acting like last night never happened? That you didnt watch him defile your name?

Well, to be honest, you currently clung onto the hope that he never realized it was you. He wasn’t acting angry or upset like you’d expect him to if he did find out, so it was obvious you were in the clear. 

Except, you weren’t. And he did know.

He just didn’t know why, why you were there or why you watched him. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel as creeped out about as he probably should have, it was like there was a small bell of honor ringing in his chest.

All in all, he figured you wanted to hang out, that’s why you were there in the first place.

But he wanted to know why you watched him - why you didn’t leave the moment you no-doubt saw him pleasuring himself.

God, he felt stupid.

He should have paid more attention to the time he chose, you always came to his dorm around that time during the weekend!

He wanted to facepalm, hide his ashamed face beneath his palms.

But for now, he’d soak in the feeling of your soft hands holding his face, thumbs brushing away stray tears.

You were trying to hide it. Hide the fact that you saw him. He’d indulge you, pretend he didn’t know anything

“Y-Yeah! I’m alright..!”

He smiled.

And so the show began.

He never stopped hanging out with you, and the shame soon melted away into desire as the days trudged on.

He didnt know why, but the thought of you watching him do something so intimate.. It thrilled him to his very core, sent tingles down his spine and left him breathless for a moment or two.

It actually gave him quite a few boners in class, much to his embarrassment. Lord, did his mind wander too much. He was just a hormonal teenage boy, after all.

Funnily enough, he could feel that the majority of the time you spent around each other, your stare was directed towards him. It was as if he was your center of attention throughout most classes these days, the apple of your mesmerizing eyes, and it felt amazing.

Like.. like he was the only thing you cared about. Only thing you needed.

He loved that feeling.

He wanted more.

He wanted you to, in a way, need him as much as he needed you.

He wanted it to happen again, wanted to know what it would feel like if he was actually aware of it occurring rather than only finding out about it the next day when his senses came back.

So, he decided he’d try touching himself every Saturday at the same time, since that is when you last showed up, leaving his window and curtains open just so you could, theoretically, get a good view.

He knew how wrong it was, wanting his best friend to watch him do something so sinful at nightfall whilst holding innocent conversations during the daylight.

He was too horny for his own good. Could you blame him?

The first attempt was unsuccessful, and he never did feel your piercing gaze on his trembling body as he worked himself to completion.

It was disappointing, but he had hope, and an unexpected outlet for his sexual frustrations.

Meanwhile, you were going crazy.

It felt like you were holding onto a dirty little secret, one Izuku had absolutely no idea about.

Everyday you had to force yourself to not let the image of him writhing sinfully around on his sheets float to the surface of your overactive mind.

You definitely did not need any soaked panties, especially considering you’d have to walk around all day like that.

It was truly a blessing in disguise.

Was it strange to say that in a way you got off on talking innocently to Izuku now?

Staring into his beautiful green eyes, talking about the math homework you forgot to do, all you could think about was how those eyes were glazed over with lust, pupils blown ridiculously wide as he came all over himself.

Such a messy boy.

Gah!

You aggressively shook your head in class, hands rubbing aggressively at your closed eyes to try and erase the image..

“(Y-Y/N)? Are y-you okay?” Izuku stuttered nervously, hands outstretched, ready to place them on your shoulders if you needed to be steadied.

You were simply talking, but suddenly you had such a violent reaction when he asked what answer you got for question three on the homework!

Had you not done it? Maybe you had had quite the trouble with it and didn’t want to remember the minutes wasted on chewing on your mechanical pencil as tears of frustration streamed down your face? He’d seen it occur before, It was a very weird and.. sad.. sight.

“Ah!” You yelped, ripping your hands from your face as you suddenly remembered where you were - you couldn’t just pull that sort of stunt in class, it’d make people think you were weirder than you already clearly are!

But that was just the start of it all.

You so desperately wanted to see him in that state again, wanted to hear your name slip from his spit-slicked raw lips in a wanton moan.

The fact that he was your best friend slowly started to fade from your mind, replaced by lustful desires. What’s shame? Never heard of that.

Who could hear anything over your moans anyway?

Night fell into a routine of your hands stuffed down your panties, fingers covered in your own slick rubbing roughly at your puffy clit as two of your fingers thrust in and out of yourself.

You constantly wondered just what that pretty boy imagined in that oh-so-obviously dirty mind of his as he pumped his cock.

Was he imagining you riding him, face smothered by your tits, mouth latched onto one of your perky buds, sucking the red flesh into his mouth as you bounced up and down on his long, painfully hard and throbbing cock?

Your breath caught in your throat at the image, fingers speeding up.

Or perhaps was he imagining pounding into your tight little pussy, your legs wrapped around his slim hips, fingers clawing red marks into his back so that he could show them off whilst changing into his gym clothes the next day in the locker room?

You squealed as you suddenly clenched down on your two digits, the coil wound tight in your stomach from all the dirty images whizzing past your head snapping unexpectedly, cumming all over your fingers. 

You laid there panting, eyes staring deliriously up at the star-covered ceiling.

You had to see him in the act again, no question about it.

It was unfortunate how you passed out from exhaustion Saturday before the time Izuku would ultimately begin going mad in his bed.

It was hard not to beat yourself up over it, especially since you now had to suffer through another week of not seeing his pretty face drenched in sweat, mouth wide open and tongue flopping out.

Grr!

More suffering for the both of you.

It was still so very funny how despite all of these lewd thoughts the both of you possessed for one another, you still got along just as well as before.

It was as if nothing had happened at all.

Honestly, it was a great relief to the both of you.

Originally, you had thought that since you saw him in that new light, you’d be unable to have a decent conversation with him, and he thought that you’d be too disgusted with him to ever even think about speaking to him.

Of course, that was bullshit.

He knew you purposely stayed there to watch him. 

That was part of the reason he wanted it to happen again.

He was clinging onto the hope that you liked him back, and that’s why it seemed as if you ignored the whole thing.

No, wait. He didnt want it to happen again… he needed it to happen again. Not just to satisfy him, but to just see if it wasn’t a mistake. A clarification. Something he could cling to in his mind. Something that told him there was an even bigger chance that you might miraculously like some gross nerd like him back.

He was still insecure, even after all the body changes he has gone through.

The scars didnt help much, either.

He could look at his body and feel proud of how much stronger he was, but those rough scars that would permanently taint his skin always left him feeling a bit shy.

He openly showed them, of course, not afraid considering they were marks of his growth and a reminder that he was able to save someone, but they didnt exactly feel nice.

His skin was once silky smooth all over, but now it wasnt, and it would never be the same again.

You knew him without the scars for the longest, but that also meant you knew the whimpy Deku, and not the Hero Deku he was becoming.

So many thoughts were constantly racing around in his mind, it was hard to keep track of them at times.

He blocked out the thoughts with a heavy heart, going back to his previous activity.

And of course, for you, well, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t visit him in your bird form during the night on weekdays, curious to see if, by chance, he was up - which he often wasn’t, and if he was sinning.

To no avail, of course.

It was hard to place if you were missing it by some misfortune, or if he just wasn’t doing it. So Saturday was your best guess. You saw him do it that day, so you figured from the beginning you’d see him to it again on all Saturdays. That’s what you hoped, anyway.

The next Saturday, though, you were proven correct.

The scene was similar to the one from last time, you, perched on the railing, sliding glass door open, curtains pushed to the side, and Izuku moaning like a slut on his bed covers.

Your feathers ruffled up in excitement, it looked as if he just came from the shower, towel discarded on the floor.

Things were going to be much different this time, unknown to you, of course.

Because this time, Izuku knew you were there.

He knew you were watching him.

And he knew it was on purpose because earlier that evening you stopped by to play video games before ‘retiring’ for the night.

Naughty girl, did you expect him to believe that when he’s been able to see through your lies ever since childhood?

He could feel your piercing gaze, and it thrilled him, making his cock slathered in lube he recently purchased twitch against his toned stomach.

Currently, he was rubbing up and down his twitching thighs, trying to calm himself down since, in his excitement at hearing you drop by, he almost came. 

You eagerly watched as he did so, black eyes following his beautiful hand movements.

His thighs were so, so glorious.

Was it a bad thing to want to be trapped between them whilst you sucked his pretty dick?

To have them suffocate you was a dream. You’d give just about anything for them to squeeze your head as he came closer and closer to unraveling.

His legs were always nice, but ever since he began using them to smash incredibly large and sturdy objects, your fixation with them grew.

Hell, who were you kidding? You loved every aspect of that boy.

You wanted to lather his perfect body in searing kisses, whispering praises under every breath you took.

Your toes curled, clinging onto the raining as you leaned forward eagerly, watching as his hands traced down his inner thighs, just to drag across the underside of his dick.

He gasped once his fingers ran over his slit, head shoving itself into his pillow.

He wanted to put on a good show for you, gauge your reaction from the corner of his half-lidded eyes.

Surely you’d be too transfixed by his lower half to notice dark green eyes gazing over at you.

And he was right.

Because you couldn’t tear your attention away from his crotch, his hips lifting off the bed as he slowly thrusted into the tunnel he made with his hand.

It was as if he was teasing himself by going slow, his whines for more being a clear give away, that and the twitch of his hips as he sought a faster pace but held himself back.

“A-ahh~ (Y/N).. S-so good.. To me..”

How could he not imagine his hands as your own?

Yours were so small, too.. Could they even fully wrap around his thick length? He was all too eager to find out, but that’d have to be for a later date. Hopefully.

As time flew by, his impatience grew.

He wanted to put a good show on for you, truly, he did! But he couldn’t help himself, he wanted to cum oh-so badly.

To have that knot that was already building up in his system before you flew in to finally burst.

Sobs tore from his throat as he finally gave in, aching cock slamming into his fist with a wet squelch as his hand squeezed and twisted down on his length.

He didn’t last long, soon releasing his seed all over himself once again with a shrill cry, body arching up beautifully off the bed.

Whilst regaining his breath, he shakily looked over at you, joy sparking in his system to see you leaning forward as if you were enraptured by him.

It felt so good.

This occured more often than either of you would like to admit, but yet, there was no complaints.

Like before, life carried on normally in the light of day, but Saturday night? Showtime.

It was always something new, much to your enjoyment. 

One night, which just so happened to be one where a new moon hung high in the inky black sky freckled with stars, you had the pleasure of witnessing him fuck a pillow. 

So sweet. A true jackpot. 

Since the tranquil, silvery beams of moonlight were absent on this particular evening, an Allmight night light of sorts illuminated the room in a yellow glow. It was brighter than the times before, ultimately giving you a better look at just what he was doing. 

That wasn’t all, though.

Before, with the pale light of the moon, he was always submerged in a sinful atmosphere.

But now, you see, he looked so very soft in this light. It showered his perfectly toned, freckled and sweaty body in such a warm glow. It radiated innocence, despite his downright dirty acts of self-care.

His face was pressed to the side of the mattress, drool dripping past his parted lips as he gasped and moaned, cheeks burning red, eyes closed and brows arched upward as he chased that sweet, sweet release he so anticipated. His hips rutted into the soft pillow like a bunny in heat. Scarred hands had a death grip on it, forcing it down on his cock to provide an addicting combination of pressure and pleasure. Though you couldn’t quite see his flushed dick in action, his adorable face and moans made up for it. 

Was it too bold of you to say he was imagining the pillow was you? 

The way your name rolled off his tongue certainly would lead to that blissful assumption.

Another night you had gotten there early.

It was a particularly breezy night, the wind making his curtains dance and hair sway slightly. It was still hard to believe he liked having his sliding-glass door open. Did he like the fresh air when he was left gasping from his ministrations? Or did he thrive on the possibility that someone could hear him cry out? 

How alluring that thought was.

But, how foolish of you to assume you were being sneaky.

To your luck, getting there early meant you got to see him set up the act, anticipate just what he was about to do. Predictions flooded your mind as you watched him with a tilted head as he poured lube onto his shaky fingers.

Whatever he was about to do, he seemed nervous. A first time thing, perhaps? Or was he shaking with desire?

You’d later come to realize you never wanted to be in front of this man more than that night.

Because, to your utmost delight, that was the night you witnessed him finger himself for no-doubt the first time.

He was cautious and tense, you could easily tell from so far away. You couldn’t see what he was doing exactly, but it wasn’t too hard to put pieces of a puzzle together. 

In the beginning, he was trying to ease himself into it, one hand languidly stroking his erection, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat, whilst the other seemed to tease at his opening.

He bit his bottom lip the moment he decided it was time to quit shitting around, thighs splaying wide open once again for better access - and to you, a better view. His eyes slipped closed as he tried to focus on what he was doing, momentarily stopping the strokes on his cock so his attention would be on the feeling of a single digit slipping in and out of his virgin hole. He stayed tensed for a while, obviously trying to adjust. It wasnt until a few minutes later that he started to get really into it, slipping in another finger as his hips started to rock to the slow beat set.

His weeping dick was given attention again not long after that, hips wiggling and high-pitched cries of ecstasy tears from his throat at the two hands working in unison.

You couldn’t help but hop from one foot to the other that night as you eagerly drank in the sight.

“A-ahh! O-h oh god! (Y-Y/N)! F-faster- oh! Ple-ase f-fahh! Uhn! Ha-ah- ah- ah!”

Were you fucking him in this fantasy? A strap on, maybe? You wouldnt oppose doing so, he’s so cute begging like this. Begging for a plastic cock to pound into his tight ass with each whine, whimper, and moan.

He finished quite quickly, fingers probably finally finding that sweet spot deep inside of him. His eyes shot open, going cross as he practically screamed into the night.

And most recently, you witnessed him cum so hard he passed out for a few moments.

And you knew exactly why.

Because earlier that day, your boredom once again got the best of you, and you couldnt help but notice Izuku was lost in his thoughts during a break period. So, being the cheeky shit you were, you waltzed on over to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear “Hey.” 

It was funny how he had to slap a hand over his mouth, obviously hiding a whine. You knew your voice had an effect on him, especially when it was lowered an octave. Pair that with your hot breath fanning over his overly sensitive ear? The man was pudding. 

“(Y-Y/N)! I-I told you to stop doing that..!” He blushed, eyes squeezing shut to avoid your smirking face.

But that wasn’t all, no. You sat in his lap after that. He almost died, face a cherry red as his hands were held up, not sure where to put them.

It was honestly a rare occasion, for Iida was out with Momo for class president and vice president duties. You had to take advantage of that.

“What? I don’t want to stand this whole time!” Came your pouty response, and he most definitely couldn’t refuse those puppy-dog eyes you used on him.

To his horror, you wiggled in your fleshy seat, trying to get ‘comfortable’ whilst pretending you had no idea what you were doing to him. You knew damn well what it was you were doing, you were grinding your ass on his crotch - just for an agonizing moment.

It was hard to get him to form a sentence that wasn’t broken with stutters the whole time you sat atop his lap. He was so cute, all blushy like that. A little strawberry.

The second Iida and Momo came back from their duties, you jumped off his lap, startling him once again. To your ‘misfortune,’ you dropped the pencil which was tucked into your shirt pocket. So, you promptly bent down to get it, giving the perverted Izuku behind you a glorious view of your round ass covered by a pair of lacy white panties.

It was a wonder how he didn’t pass out as you expected him to, honestly.

You never heard him cry out your name as much as you did that very night.

Who knew such a shy and bashful boy could be so.. Lewd?

It was a major turn on, you could only imagine what it would be like to be there with him.

Oh, how glorious that would be.

To stare into his eyes blown wide with lust and glazed over with desire, knowing full well you were the true reason behind it - and not just his hands.

You wanted to..

You wanted to do so many things to and with him.

But you couldn’t.

Because at the end of the day, you were still only best friends.

He may call your name in the dead of night, he may beg for you in his dreams, but that doesn’t make you more than what you were when the sun rises yet again over the grassy hill coated in morning dew.

Just friends.

Friends until actions occur that change the definition of the word.

‘Friends’ brought a bitter taste to your tongue when it came to describing Izuku. You wanted to be more than just…. ‘Friends.’

But that was selfish of you.

You couldnt always get what you wanted, even if both parties want the exact same thing.

You could never live with yourself if you forced yourself onto him when he wasn’t ready to accept it. You knew very well how easily overwhelmed he could get. You worried that if.. your Saturday night activities got around to him, that he’d never want anything to do with you again. You were playing a dangerous game.

It was a hard concept to grasp, really.

But little did you know, he would be perfectly okay with it. More than okay, actually.

In fact, he craved it so, so much. With each Saturday that came, with every show he put on for you, he so desperately wished you’d revert back to your human form and come join him on his messy bed. He wanted to feel your soft skin brush against his overheated body. He wanted that intimacy.

He knew you wanted it too, he’s seen you almost fly right on into his room with particular moments.

He loved being watched by you, gaining validation every week by your intense, infatuated gaze, but he didn’t know how much more he could take. It was driving him absolutely insane. He noticed himself becoming more brash and reckless during training, his frustration taking over his senses and causing absolute mayhem. 

In the beginning, speaking to you outside of these downright shameful acts was exhilarating, but now it was simply infuriating. How could you act like nothing was happening? How could you stay so innocent whilst he was out here losing his marbles?

The rubber band holding his sanity together was stretched too thin, he had no doubt that it would snap any day now and his carnal desires will be let loose.

Such a risky thing he had willingly got himself into.

But that band snapped much sooner than he predicted, and there was no going back after that.

It’s been nearly two months since this whole act started.

It’s gotten progressively hotter outside, it was almost as if the sun itself had something personal against anyone and everyone who walked in it’s brilliant light.

The training has gotten harder thanks to the sweltering heat. Primetime to exercise until you feel like throwing up, yeah?

They were supposed to progress on their workouts throughout the year, but damn did this heat wave come at an unconventional time. Poor Tokoyami almost had a heat stroke.

The intensity of the workouts was making everyone antsy. The weekdays were hell on Earth, so the weekends became an even bigger godsend to the poor hero students working to achieve their dreams.

That being said, what better way to distress than too..?

This week was particularly stressful, and after the hell Izuku and his fellow classmates were put through, he craved that certain destresser he’s been hooked on for far too long.

It was unfortunate that he cracked a bit earlier than his scheduled 11 PM rub out, making it only to 10:41 PM before his dirty thoughts overtook his being and made his dick twitch to life in his shorts. He wanted to wait, but he became increasingly uncomfortable, hips shimmying, trying to find a comfortable position to wait around in.

After promptly giving up, he leaned back on his bed, tugging his shorts off and letting his eyes slip shut as he palmed himself through his boxers.

Things always felt better for the green-eyed boy if he took it slow, working himself up to the point of desperation.

And that’s what he did.

He knew you wouldnt be there for a while, he knew his heart wouldnt be pumping like it always did when you showed up, so he fell back onto Plan B, fully emerging himself in a fantasy.

He hadn’t done that since you first showed up. A trip on memory lane.

But now he had a chance.

Though he had to admit, he’d much prefer it if you were there..

In his mind, he wasn’t in some silly dorm.

He was a pro-hero living in a large apartment with pristine windows that reflected the night lights of the mesmerizing city below like lanterns in the sky. The interior lights were off, the room cast in a soft orange glow by a gentle flame flickering in the sandstone fireplace situated in front of the satin burgundy couch he sat upon. Soft moans filled the atmosphere, paired with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the complex.

You were in his lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you hung on for dear life. Your nails gave him an addicting sting as they dug into freckled skin, his name escaping your parted lips like a prayer, moans much louder than his own accompanying the pleas. He was in heaven, surely, for how else could there be such a beautiful angel in his lap?

You were glowing, cheeks blazing a deep maroon color, the light of the fire behind you encasing you in a soft, golden gleam.

A heavy breath blew out Izuku’s nose, closed eyes scrunching as he finally decided to rip his boxers off. His rough hand immediately wrapped itself around his cock, hissing in pleasure and thanking the heavens just this once for being such a heavy pre producer - he was far too enraptured by this fantasy to even think about trying to get his trusty bottle of lube.

Avoiding the flushed head, his hand squeezed and twisted it’s way up and down his slicked up shaft, hiding the wet noises with his pathetic whines.

He dived back into his mind.

You were kissing him fervently, tongues dancing in hot caverns as your noises of pure pleasure molded together. Though you were on top, you were far from having control. Izuku’s hands squeezed your hips in a death grip, bouncing you on his throbbing member, green sparks illuminating his body as to ensure a delicious yet inhuman pace. 

He could feel you. He swore he could, even from on this bed, he could feel you. You were so warm, and so, so very tight. 

He couldn’t handle it.

No.

No.

He needed more.

He whined desperately on his bed, back arching as he chased his fantasy but soon lost it as the familiar fluttering of small wings blocked out all other sounds.

He gasped, trying to catch the breath that seemed to constantly slip past him. He was too worked up.

He was too needy. He was aching, body shaking with anticipation and eagerness.

He craved you like a man craved water after stumbling through a burning hot desert all day.

You were so close to him, he could reach out and swear he could feel your feathers beneath his fingertips.

He was past the point of no return, his fantasy just couldn’t do it for him.

He needed you, god he needed you so so bad it hurt.

Sobs tore from his throat, hands stuttering as his eyes finally flew open, 

“(Y-Y/N)! Please!” He cried out with a strangled moan, vision wavering from the pain of not having you with him despite being right there.

Swallowing all of his pride, he looked towards your perched form, tears slipping from his sparkling viridescent eyes glazed over with lust.

His chest was heaving, thighs quivering and body trembling as he called out to you with a salacious plea, “I can’t..! I can’t do this anymore, please! Please, I-I need you!”

He was begging, begging for you whilst simultaneously thrusting into his hand.

Such an erotic display.

At the moment, you couldn’t even care about the fact he clearly knew it was you there. In fact, it didn’t even come to mind as a jolt of electricity coursed through your body, returning you to your human form as you eagerly jumped off the railing to him, all too willing to join his lascivious activities.

He moaned with delight the second your knee hit his bed, dipping his body towards you. His filthy hand shot off his dick, joining the other with gripping at your baggy sleepwear, pulling you towards his burning body. 

You fell onto him, not given a chance to collect your thoughts before a hand buried itself in your messy hair, yanking your hair so that he could easily smash his lips against your own.

The kiss was nothing like how you pictured your first with him to be. Instead of sweet and gentle, it was downright dirty and sloppy, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. You were both clearly inexperienced, but that didn’t matter. You just wanted to feel him, same as he wanted to feel you.

Your hands, shaking with the sudden extreme boost of adrenaline, cupped his chubby cheeks as your lips met again, and again, and again, drool mingling with his own as you tried to get the hang of this.

Eventually, your lips stayed connected, tongues fighting for dominance.

You couldn’t even tell, due to the heat of the moment overtaking your senses, but the entire time you made out, Izuku’s curious hands dragged ever-so-slowly down the sides of your body, feeling those curves that drove him absolutely insane. Just as it seemed as if you’d win the short battle, his large hands came over your plump ass, squeezing the soft flesh and causing you to gasp. With your mind distracted, he quickly smooshed his lips against your own once again, tongue defeating your own and giving him complete access to your mouth.

He explored it, the tip of the wet muscle seemingly grazing over and massaging in just all the right places, drawing a little moan from you that shot straight down to his neglected cock. It twitched against his stomach, and suddenly he wasn’t interested in just making out anymore. He needed more, and he’d fucking get it.

He’s waited so long for this moment, dreamt of it so often it became normal for him to wake up covered in sweat and with a raging erection straining against his shorts.

His grip on your ass moved to your hips, dragging them down onto his member and grinding you down against him.

You both moaned, hips involuntarily jerking against one another, starting up a grinding fest.

Moans melted together as you both continued to kiss before a particularly rough thrust sent your head flinging back and a mewl spewing from you.

“A-ah.. Izuku..!” You shivered, eyes closing as you gripped at his hair. He stared up at you, eyes full of love but darkened by immense desire as you shamelessly moaned above him. His hips ground his rock-hard erection against your soaked panties, brushing roughly against your clothed clit. Your body seemed to jolt with every brush against it, your senses completely overloaded as you were driven mad with lust.

You shrieked with surprise as you were suddenly flipped over, body slamming onto the mattress as Izuku crawled over on top of you.

He continues to grind himself against you, hands moving your legs up so they could wrap around his hips. Whilst kissing at the side of your neck, his nose brushed along the skin, searching for that special spot.

Amidst your onslaught of noises, you made a sound clearly indicating he had found what he had been searching for. His hot tongue licked at the sensitive skin before he bit down on it.

You cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, jumping in his arms as an intense shiver rolled down your back, hands coming up to clutch at his broad shoulders smothered in freckles and burning with a blush.

You felt so, so tingly, so good, so.. So everything. 

Perhaps that’s simply because of how worked up you currently were, every single touch lit your body aflame again and again. Besides, how could you keep quiet when he was rubbing against you in just the right place?

He sucked harshly at the tender flesh before kissing it lovingly as if to apologize for the brutal treatment, licking the pain away and continuing to nibble along the area, leaving a bruise that was sure to remain in the morning. 

In fact, he decided, he was going to leave many. Just..not today.

He couldn’t deny, though, it did feel pretty good that his mark was on your soft skin where all could potentially see.

But for now, you had too many layers on for his current liking.

Izuku drew back, stopping the grind sesh - much to your apparent dismay, tugging at the hem of your shirt, silently asking for permission, and you willingly lifted your arms.

Had you not been so consumed with sheer desire, you would have covered your bare chest. Instead, you nodded your head, giving the man panting as if he had just run a mile permission to kiss his way down to the soft mounds he previously couldn’t help but bashfully stare at.

His lips lavished them both in kisses, praises unknowingly slipping out between his teeth until he finally decided to take one bud into his mouth. 

He was sloppy, messy, and all-around inexperienced, but you couldn’t deny the fact that it still felt good.

He spent surely less than a minute giving attention to each perky nipple, but it was made up for by a sweet kiss. You eagerly returned it, body arching as if trying to bring him closer.

It was so strange how he took control so easily, he had been begging only a few minutes ago.

Not that you minded, of course.

After all, who doesnt like being pampered by their long time crush?

“May I?” He whispered breathlessly, trembling fingers hooked around your panties, ready to pull them off.

You nodded immediately, oh-so desperate to have him actually touch you. You needed to feel him. All this grinding did was leave you with a throbbing clit, pussy so wet your juices were close to flowing down your ass, and the want for more.

He smashed his lips back against your own, practically ripping the fabric off of you and flinging it to only god knows where in this dark room.

His lips didn’t leave yours as his hands traveled down your sides again, squeezing your ass just to hear you gasp. 

You couldn’t tell if he was teasing you, or hit with a sudden wave of embarrassment as his fingers seemed to stutter on your thighs.

“It’s okay.. It’s okay..” You cooed against his lips, eyes opening to stare into his.

He gulped, swallowing his insecurities as he ran an index finger along your sit.

You bit your lip, eyes slipping closed once more and hips twitching forward at the foreign touch against heated flesh.

Izuku took this as a sign to go further, so he did.

Staring at your face, he pushed the finger past your lower lips, ignoring the intense throbbing of his dick as he felt how wet you were. The digit trailed down, searching for your clenching hole. When he found it, he couldnt help but teasingly trace around it, adoring the scrunch of your flushed face and the whine that followed suit.

“Please, Izuku..” You whimpered, and how could he say no to that?

He slowly pushed his finger in, nearly cumming on the spot from just how tight and warm you were. He openly moaned, watching as he sunk the finger all the way down to his knuckle.

Clouded eyes flickered back up to your face, noting how you didn’t seem to be in pain.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he pulled the finger out, then pushed it back in, over and over and over again as your thighs twitched around him, mouth falling open as you breathed heavily, moaning ever so softly.

His heart pounded in his chest as he added another finger, continuing the motions for before.

Your hips shimmied at the stretch, his fingers much larger than your own slim once, but so much nicer, because it was him, and not you. Your hips involuntarily chased the rhythm he set.

“Ahh.. haa..h.. Oh! Ah! Ahhhghh!” your eyes shot open as his fingers curled inside you, brushing against that spongey spot in your clenching walls. “Oh! T-There Iz-Izuku~!” You moaned out his name, and it was as if his body got put on autopilot, fingers thrusting in and out of your sopping heat, curly against that spot that had you moaning.

A particularly loud squeal left your parted lips, and he snapped. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you so bad it hurt. Watching your body react violently around only his fingers? The cherry on the cake!

He needed his dick in you, to feel those soft walls clenching around him, to hear you cry out his name more as he brought you to the peak of madness.

But he was worried about how long he’d last.

He was so close before, what if he came nearly immediately?

Pulling his fingers out fully, which drew your attention back to him, he lifted them to his mouth, shoving them in and putting on a sinful display of licking them clean for you

He smiled at you with half-lidded eyes as you stared at him with astonishment. Lurching forward, you took him by surprise by gripping his sweaty hair and pulling him down for another passionate kiss, moaning around his tongue as you tasted your essence on him.

Keeping his focus on the kiss, Izuku’s hand blindly felt around his bedside table, opening the drawer and somehow managing to find the single condom he kept in there.

You noticed it from the corner of your eye, the moonlight reflecting on the silver wrapper.

“When did you get that?” You pulled away from the kiss, indulging in your curiosity as you stared at the condom between his fingers. 

He chuckled nervously, looking to the side in embarrassment, “I- I got a pack from the corner store.. Not long ago..”

He left out the motivation behind it, not ready to reveal he knew you were watching him the entire time - thus bringing forth his precautious side as he fumbled with measuring himself and getting the right size.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait any longer, princess..” He whispered under a heavy breath, ripping open the packaging, grabbing the latex and rolling it on himself, ignoring your eyes practically burning holes into his heated skin as they watched with eagerness.

Now that it was on, he looked back up to you, hand coming to gently caress your face, thumb smoothing over your blushing cheek as he leaned down to kiss you once more.

Yes, he wanted to pound you into next tomorrow right this instant, be he couldnt ignore the fact that this was your first time together. He wanted it to be.. Sweet.

As sweet as he could make it, anyway.

He jumped in his own skin when he felt your cold fingers wrap around his cock, bringing his oozing head towards your entrance. He was quick to replace them, though, just so he could rub himself between your folds and teasingly against your clit.

“..ready?” He asked nearly impatiently as he guided his tip to your entrance once more.

He slowly pushed in the moment you nodded your head.

Oh god! He thought to himself as he moaned loudly. He was only in by an inch and already it felt like his world was spinning! You were so damn tight! 

He nearly collapsed on top of you, bringing his hands up just to hold your own against the bedsheets.

He was being much too slow for your liking. You were so aroused on, so ready for him that, though you appreciated him going slow for you, you couldn’t handle another second with this agonizing pace.. So, without warning, your legs, which were still wrapped around his hips, tightened, and you forcefully drove his hips forward, fully sheathing him inside you.

He screamed in pleasure, head involuntarily being thrown back as his eyes rolled back. You moaned along with him, the feeling of being full outweighing the slight stinging pain that it brought with it.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he tried to control himself, his body vibrating from how much he was shaking. You held him flushed against you, eyes squeezing shut as you fought to relax around him and get used to his length. Which was pretty damn big! Perhaps you bit off more than you could chew..

But it didn’t take long for the pain to slowly subside, and you were back in business. Meanwhile, Izuku was staring cross-eyed up at the ceiling, holding himself back from exploding.

“Izu-”

“I-I Don-t think I c-can last long, (Y/N)...” he whimpered out, chest heaving and heart hammering. 

You nodded in understanding, he was quite busy with himself before you showed up anyway.

And now all this? It certainly must be sudden.

Plus, Izuku has always been a sensitive boy, so no doubt his nerves were on fire.

Nonetheless, he was quick to catch on to your ‘okay’ for him to move.

So, he pulled himself out halfway, nearly sobbing as he thrusts back in.

You felt so good.. So good.. sogood- “So good.. Ahh! A-ahh nnghjnn S-so go-goo- gahn! Hahhh!” The sheer velocity of his moans overpowered your own as he soon found himself uncontrollably drilling his cock into your pussy, absorbed by the feeling of you sucking him back in like a black hole just to squeeze the life out of him.

That hot coil that had been winding up in his stomach all this time was soon to burst, he could feel himself getting closer and closer with every slap of skin against skin, edged on by your beautiful moans.

“(Y-Y/N)!! I-I’m gonna! I-!” He could barely form any sentences, all that spilled out of that drooling mouth were moans and mindless babbles and praises.

You were just as close, but you wanted more.. So, you ripped one hand free from his grip, licking a digit before thrusting it down just to furiously rub at your puffy clit aching for attention.

You both moaned simultaneously, him at the sight, and you at the combined stimulation.

He was about to break, about to hit the point of no return when he found your G spot. You cried out in ecstasy, body practically arching of the mattress as he focused deep, powerful thrusts on that area.

And by some miracle, you reached your high before he did.

A wave of electrifying pleasure washed over you as your body tensed beneath him, back arching impossibly high off the mattress as your walls seemed to clamp down on his cock like a vice just as that burning hot coil wound tight in your belly burst. Stars bloomed in your eyes as your vision went black, Izuku’s name tearing from your throat.

Your hot, wet walls clamping down on him threw him into his own long-awaited and intense orgasm. His thighs tensed as he cried out in ecstasy into the night air, hips slamming into your fluttering cunt once more before thick, hot cum shot from his dick, filling up the condom deep inside of you.

You both stayed like that for a moment, basking in the afterglow of something you both waited weeks for.

He inhaled shakily before pulling his softening member out, rolling the condom off in a sleepy haze before tying it off and throwing it into the trash bin.

He flopped down beside you, far too sleepy to even think about getting up.

You were already fast asleep, and he couldn’t wait to join you. Wrapping his scarred arm around your waist, he pulled your warm body to his chest, tangling his legs with yours and falling asleep within moments to your soft breaths and the crickets singing outside his glass door.

There was a lot to talk about tomorrow morning.

You’d both have to explain yourselves, talk about what happened, what was next, and confirm feelings for each other. That this wasn’t just a ‘one night stand’ between friends.

And, of course, you’d be hit with a truck of pain between your legs, rendering you unable to walk properly. At least Izuku is there to take care of you, and that it was a Sunday.

Until you both come to the horrifying realization that Izuku, in the heat of the moment, accidentally flung your panties out the open window, which was then miraculously carried by a stray gust of wind just for Kaminari to find in a bush by the side of the building the following morning when taking the trash out.

Thank god nobody recognized them, but you could only hope you’d get the chance to get that back before he, along with Mineta, no doubt do something with them.

[wasabito-reblogs]

here’s my entry for the konoha simps server collab :) check out the rest of the entries here or at @bakubabes-hatake’s page!

prompt: occasions

word count: 2.5k

tags&warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, hints of spiciness at the end (nothing major)

summary: In which you and Aizawa rediscover your synergy

❤︎

There was a sudden click at the front door, following telltale sounds of a key being jimmied into the lock. Both were enough to break the still quietude and have Aizawa cracking open a bloodshot eye, his sleepy, hooded gaze darting around the room until he finally spotted the sudden intrusion.

You stood at the foyer, slipping off your work shoes, with a look of mild concern on your face. Your lips held a slight frown that looked misplaced, especially when directed at him. He knew immediately that he’d fucked up.

A damning, half-empty cup of coffee sitting innocently on top of your old Heroics in Society textbook drew your attention first, before any of the other things. In your shared living room, the state of disarray all pointed to the simple fact that your boyfriend had come home and gone straight to grading.

Aizawa coughed and sat up straighter on the sofa. Though his body moved in slow motion, his mind raced to find some logical reasoning to explain why he was, once again, neglecting his health in favor of work.

Stuck to his chest was the exam sheet he had been eye-balling before succumbing to fatigue. Even after a somewhat restful nap, Aizawa could scarcely make out what hieroglyphics Kaminari had written on his paper.

You came and leaned into the back of the chair to read over Aizawa’s shoulder. Pointing to the true and false section of the exam, you wondered aloud, “Why do the T’s and F’s look so similar? I can barely tell which is which.”

He snorted lightly with a roll of his eyes, “That’s probably the point.” He said, but considering he had just woken up, it sounded more like grumbled nonsense.

Your noncommittal hum in response was all he got before you plucked the sheet from his hands. He watched as you came around and stacked up his papers, making sure to separate graded works from the ones he had yet to look at. How many times had you caught him like this? Passed out on the living room couch with class 1A’s assignments scattered every which way.

“You really gotta take better care of yourself, Shou.”

“I know,” he tugged on your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened at his words and the sleepy expression on his face. It was almost too endearing. “Yeah, okay, you say that now, but I’m sure you’ll be back to it again tomorrow.”

Aizawa couldn’t even deny your claim. He was a workaholic through and through. Most of his time was spent doing some form of work, whether it be in managing his class as a U.A teacher or patrolling the city as a pro-hero.

No one understood the toll it took on him better than you. You were a quirk counselor at Ketsubutsu Academy, after all, so it was your job to make sure that both students and staff were taking care of their physical and mental health. A lot of your work tended to trickle into the home, usually in the form of fussing over your boyfriend and making sure he was taking breaks and getting proper rest.

“You’re home early,” he commented. He kept your hand in his lap to fiddle idly with your fingers. “Something happen? … You look nervous.”

Even half-asleep, Shouta was astute as ever.

“Ah, not really. There’s this thing at work tonight, but I think I might skip it.”

His brows furrowed as he considered your words, “A work thing? Tonight?”

“Yeah, just a little ceremony for the staff, no biggie.”

“Sounds important. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“I—” you fumbled; how could you forget this man could read you like a book? Whenever you were dodgy or evasive, he knew just where to press until you were honest with him. “It’s actually an award ceremony. I’m being honored for my work at the school.”

Aizawa smiled, showing off a row of teeth in a way that made your heart skip a beat. You nearly missed his next words.

“I’m proud of you, kitten. Seriously, you deserve the recognition.” His long fingers threaded into yours, and you felt centered in the feeling of his firm grip like you were finally on solid footing. It definitely helped ease the tension off your shoulders.

“Thanks, Shou.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “So, what time is this thing, because I’m not letting you sit at home and miss it. And before you argue, consider the logic in remaining home when you know you’re being honored for something like this.” He stood from the sofa, stretching, and then cracking his neck. “It just isn’t rational.”

“So...you’re coming with me?”

You couldn’t hold back the surprise in your voice. It seemed almost too good to be true, you and Shouta going out together and to an event, no less. Usually, it took being dragged out of the house by his coworkers for him to enjoy a Friday night off.

Not to mention, no one knew of your relationship. His friends probably had their own assumptions but no one on your end knew a thing. This would be your first public outing as a couple.

“Of course I’m coming with you.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You smiled, realizing it was.

❤︎

An hour later, you stood behind a seated Aizawa in the middle of your bathroom with a towel looped around your body, still dripping from your recent shower.

“You have to hold still, baby, or else it’s gonna hurt,” you mumble while adjusting your grip on the hairbrush.

He had asked you to help him out with his hair, but the task proved quite tricky. Its length and thickness gave you no other choice but to work in smaller sections, which you had no issues with. If only your fingers in Shouta’s hair didn’t put him straight to sleep again. This was the third time he’d nodded off and caused the brush to snag at his roots.

With a sigh, you attempted to run the brush gingerly through his hair once more. In the past, you’d seen pictures of your boyfriend as a child, always with his hair looking unkempt and so obviously unattended to; at least before he grew old enough to do it himself. Funnily enough, it was like you finally understood the reason why.

After a few more minutes of careful ministrations, you patted his shoulder and smiled. “All done!”

Aizawa looked up bleary-eyed, then shook his hair out and ran his fingers through it. “Nice, thank you.” He leaned over and pecked your forehead before standing to his feet. “Want me to do you?”

You snorted at the subtle implications of his words. “Go get dressed already. I can ‘do’ myself.”

“Oh, can you?”

You were tempted to play along with his little joke, but it was getting late and neither of you were dressed yet. Regrettably, you shooed him away so that you could continue to prepare on your own without him being a distraction

Following another thirty or so minutes, you dressed up and met Aizawa at the door. He had put on a crisp button up shirt and a pair of dark, tailored pants that fit him so well, you had to resist the urge to pinch his ass.

When you approached, he was standing at the mirror in the hall, tying his hair into a bun. You could tell he had given up on fussing with his tie just by the way it hung loose around his neck.

“Here, let me,” with deft fingers you undid the knot, sliding the tie off and then promptly tossed it onto the couch. You also unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, smiling to yourself at the lidded stare Aizawa was pinning you with.

“You want me to go out like this?”

“I thought I’d let you off the hook,” you laughed. “No tie tonight.”

Closing the gap between you two, Aizawa planted a kiss at the corner of your mouth, as a silent thank you.

❤︎

From what you understood, the ceremony wasn’t supposed to be a large one, still a good bit of Ketsubutsu staff and student body were present.

Already you could tell that Aizawa was a little put off by the amount of people, especially those who kept staring at you two. Though, it just couldn’t be helped. Not many knew that either of you were in a relationship. Dressed as he was, you wouldn't be surprised if most simply didn't recognize him as the pro-hero, Eraserhead.

Even you had to admit that your boyfriend cleaned up nicely, a stark contrast from his usual ‘rolled out of bed’ appearance.

“Hey! You made it!” Emi Fukukado, otherwise known as Ms. Joke, called to you over the crowd. You were just about to go over to greet her and the others when Aizawa cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna get you a drink.” he gave your hand a light squeeze and excused himself before you could respond.

“Hey, hey!! I’m so glad you’re here.” Your coworker had waltzed over and scooped you into a tight hug.

“S-Same,” you wheezed. “Mind letting go?”

“Oh whoops!” Emi laughed sheepishly. When she finally released you, you couldn't help but notice her looking around. “Weren’t you just with someone? I didn’t get a good look but I’m positive—”

“Oh yeah,” you looked around for Aizawa but couldn’t see him anywhere “I um...didn’t come alone. I came with my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?! Since when?!!”

“Ah! Well…”

Thankfully before you could delve into explaining anything, you were saved by the proverbial bell.

Over the intercom, the principal announced for all attendees to proceed towards the auditorium where the ceremony would be held. Although you followed Emi without question, you still silently searched for Aizawa in the crowd but to no avail.

You were escorted to a seat in the front row with all the others who were also being recognized. Still you couldn’t help wondering where the hell Shouta had gone. You could barely focus during the entire opening speech, your attention having been snatched by worry. If not for Emi subtly tapping your arm, you might’ve even missed your name being called.

You stood up and walked across the stage, willing your legs to move forward. The principal shook your hand and presented to you a plaque with your name engraved in gold lettering. Several others on stage, some heroes and staff, also commended you with handshakes and warm hugs. You murmured thank yous all the way to your seat, but still you wondered about your boyfriend.

“Hey, Emi.” You said as you handed her your award. “I’ll be right back, could you watch this for me? I’m going to the washroom.”

Emi seemed a little concerned by your tone but agreed. “Got it!”

Quietly you exited the auditorium and headed in the direction of the reception hall where you’d last seen Shouta, but it was empty save for a few students milling about the snack table. You were tempted to ask if they had seen Eraserhead, but decided against it, you could find him on your own.

After about ten minutes of searching you went to one of the balconies overlooking the sports field. To your immediate surprise, there stood Aizawa, though he seemed preoccupied. There was a cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. He noticed you not a second later, and concluded his call quickly.

“Shou, what are you doing out here?”

He frowned. “I got caught up in a work call, I’m sorry. Has it started?”

“It’s more than started, it's almost over.”

Your boyfriend looked stunned for just a moment before he let out a sigh, “I’m really sorry I missed it kitten,” he came to loop his arms around you.

“Like I said, it was no biggie,” you mumbled.

“You okay?… You’re shaking.” he whispered, lips pressed against your hair.

“I’m fine,” you responded. “Just cold.”

At that, Aizawa pulled you closer into his chest, his arms acting as a shield against the evening chill.

Something had been on your mind since the beginning of the night. It was an intrusive thought and although you knew better than to entertain it, it was also proving to be hard to ignore. Shouta had been acting strange since arriving here. You thought it was because of the crowd but he wouldn't have missed the ceremony for something as minute as that. You breathed in his scent, slowly gathering the courage to ask what had been rattling in your brain for a while now.

“Be honest with me, Shou, are you afraid of us going public?”

You felt him stiffen and pull back slowly to see your face fully. He didn’t ask you to repeat yourself, so you knew he had heard you loud and clear.

“What makes you say that?”

You looked away from him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “I don’t know… it’s just a thought.”

Aizawa didn’t speak for a long while. He still held you close, almost protectively, but he remained silent like he was trying to find the right words to say.

“Yeah...I guess you could say that.” He sighed, “but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not afraid of what people will think when they see us, far from it. But the thought of you getting hurt because of your association to me...makes me...hesitant.”

You blinked up at him. The way his jaw was set as he spoke became proof enough that he wasn’t as unaffected by things as he appeared. Always so cool and collected, and yet he was possibly the most capable of emotion. You pressed your forehead against his chest as you considered your next words.

“I get that. But that doesn't give you an excuse to run off!” You pinched his arm lightly as if it emphasized your point.

“You’re right kitten, although it was an important call.” his lips spread into a wide smile. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Hm, I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Aizawa huffed and rolled his eyes at you, then bent to capture your lips in kiss. It was heavy and comforting in a way mere words simply failed to be. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in that feeling. His hand drifted lower down your back until he was nearly cupping your ass.

“Mmmm, Shou.” You pulled back, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Aizawa said nothing, instead he smirked like he had something planned. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray lash.

“Shall we take this home?”

❤︎

(Part 2 in the works, stay tuned!!)