#but sure it's deserved to have your shit stolen because you want to grow your business and anymore there's only one way to do that

[xalygatorx]

CW: Big angry AI rant. I get a bit nasty and swear a lot idk what else is new

Was modding a stream chat yesterday and had an AI bro come in and basically say if you were putting your creative work online you just had to deal with the likelihood that it'd get scraped and blamed artists/writers/creatives for using social media for discoverability when the sole purpose and usage of social media is (checks notes) "to take our whims and desires and turn that info into a marketable commodity."

Right.

First of all, cunt behavior.

Second, my goodness they had no idea what "AI" actually is in terms of differentiating it from what's happening now re: stealing intellectual property vs. how a computer inherently works. They were calling everything AI like the sad, creepy boomer they later proved to be (via a glance at X when some of my fellow mods got blocked afterward for having opinions rivaling the chatter's, opinions that said chatter didn't respond to because their valid arguments totaled a whopping zero).

Thirdly, idk what the idea is arguing with people having their work stolen and acting so superior about their struggle. You're not going to get rich off these notions—you and every other mediocre, money-hungry, pathetic little dickweasel ripping off someone else's work bc you've never done a thing worth noting in your life except daydream about sucking off Elon Musk are saturating this "market" if it can be called that. There's too MANY of you for any of you to be special and, from the outside perspective, it's embarrassing to watch.

I hope the only shreds of content you ingest for the rest of your days have the exact lack of soul you must for shitting on the very people that unwittingly fed your only hope at ever feeling "creative" with their stolen, plagiarized work. Taking a page out of our future VP's book, I'm gonna say it, you're fucking weird.

Anyway, I think I'm so consistently surrounded by other artists and writers and creative folk who (rightly) hate how this newer form of AI is being used and how hypervigilant we have to be to protect our work, constantly moving apps every time another one gets on the bandwagon (looking at you Tumblr) that I forget shitlords like this exist outside of memes.

[theonlymanintheskyisme]

cravings p4.

there's a plot lurking underneath?! holy shit.

as usual, homelander is homelander. more smutttttt.

He hadn’t been able to help himself.

It had been several weeks now since you sucked his fingers, and whilst he’d returned to you most nights, he’s never touched you since. 

Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s because he’s trying to cut the addiction, he doesn’t know. He comes to make sure you’re safe. Nothing more, nothing less.

This is the lie he tells himself.

This is the lie he believes.

It’s hard. 

He wants nothing more than to slip into your arms and hold you. Be held by you. To have you take away all of his frustrations, and make everything better. Fuck, he needs that right now.

But to give it back to you. To squash everybody who ever hurt you. To destroy those who made you feel like you were less than.

In truth, he misses touching you. He misses the softness of your skin under his leather. Each night it gets harder to stick to his rule.

He can touch you when you’re together, he keeps repeating to himself. His mantra. It’ll happen soon. It’ll be a perfect moment. You see each other a lot in the Tower, now.

Almost like he’s bumping into you on purpose.

And you never fail to smile at him.

If you knew how often he held that stolen pair of underwear to his face, dragging every last remaining scent of you as he worked his cock, would you still be smiling?

You shift in your sleep, and you groan softly. It’s on the cusp of being a pleasurable groan. And, in that moment, his resolve crumbles. That wall tumbles. 

All it took was one fucking sound.

He’s weak.

You’ve made him weak.

One day, he’ll punish you for that. He’ll hold you on your knees and make you beg for his cock. You’ll be a dripping hot mess for him, and oh.

He’s climbing into the bed, slipping under the covers. The scent of you is too much, it’s like he’s drunk. Arousal mixed with you, hitting him from your skin, the covers, the pillows…

Is he salivating?

Fuck, is he?

They’re up over his head before he can even comprehend what he’s doing. Working his way down, down to between your legs, where he settles, lying down.

This is ridiculous.

This is too much.

But a brief moment of clarity doesn’t stop him from leaning in, pressing his lips to your clit, and then, bringing his tongue out to tease it with the tip.

Nothing on the first tiny touch, but as his confidence grows, your body starts to writhe.

It’s moments before he’s got his mouth clamped around you, tongue working you. He drags it down, pushing it inside of you, tasting you as though he’d never tasted anything before. Like a fucking starving man had just been given the food of his dreams.

He loses himself, hands helping to hold you open as you shift, legs moving and shifting body thrusting to meet that hot mouth as you squirm. 

As he sucks on you, bringing you closer to orgasm, he feels your hand in his hair, gripping loosely.

And that’s when he freezes.

It’s a split second freeze, comprehending the situation.

Sleeping people do not grip like that.

It’s never so consistent. So firm. Fingers tightly wrapping into those short blonde locks, clinging desperately.

You’re awake.

You’re awake, and you’re not stopping him.

His heart is pounding now as he loses all sense of control and is intent to work you into a frenzy. He’s capable of so many things no human ever could do. He’s the Homelander. And he’s been driven mad by the taste of you.

Your moan is throaty and deep when you come once. Twice. Three times. The victim of his hot, beautiful mouth. He doesn’t care that your grip is tight. It’s laughable, honestly. Like a tickle.

Doesn’t care that you’re so obviously awake and pretending to be asleep. 

Doesn’t care that his own cock is aching hungrily. Longing to be plunged inside of you and to fuck you, give you all of the pleasure you deserve. 

He continues until you’re desperately trying to squirm away from him. Oversensitive, soaked to the point some mix of your juices and his spit are covering the sheet underneath you. Then, and only then, does he work one last one out of you.

Falling still.

And there he lies until your breathing settles. Slows.

Neither of you want to face the reality of the situation. It’s easier not to talk about the facts. Which is why he slips out when he’d absolutely confident you’re asleep again. 

Fuck. Fuck. He doesn’t look back as he leaves through your window. Not even wanting to take care of himself. 

Just one thing preying on his mind:

Has he ruined this?

He’d never forgive himself if he had.

[giuliafc]

I really like what you have highlighted here, and I agree. It's not about Gabriel sacrificing himself or not, but as BugNoire rightly point out, it's about not using magic as an escamotage to resolve all issues because that has always backfired really badly against the person who's done it, and this has happened from the very start of Miraculous. It is about learning from your experiences and growing, not keeping on making the same mistake.

Emilie made a mistake 15 years before (and to be honest I'm happy she did or Adrien would never have existed and THAT would've been an awful shame in the Miraculous universe!) (and in mine). Like any other time however, since she used the Miraculous for her personal gain (having a baby), she paid the consequences for it (she died). Colt was tricked to do the same and guess what? he died too. each and every time Ladybug used her Miraculous for personal gain she paid the consequences of her actions. Gabriel has died in order to make the wish, but since I'm not sure whether the wish really was only bringing Nathalie back in exchange of his life, since I think that in his heart was also making sure Adrien was happy (which sounds logical after the chat he had just had with Ladybug), I think that there will be BIG consequences to the "Gabriel Agreste is a hero" thing that has come out after the wish. I don't know whether Marinette is lying or whether she really believes that Gabriel was a hero as part of the wish, whether she, Adrien and all people involved remember that Gabriel was a shit father and all the bad things he's done or if it's all been erased by Gimmi, but one thing that Gabriel didn't know, and couldn't erase, was Lila and her knowledge. Her stolen information. He knew nothing about all that.

It all comes back to Fu's letter again:

"Because what really matters isn't whether you win or lose. It's the ability to accept changes in ourselves. It's accepting that even if life doesn't always give us the gifts we were hoping for, the real gift is life itself."

Marinette has grown to do just this. She accepted the changes within herself. She faced her trauma, won against it, raised as a stronger person and chose to not use the Miraculous anymore for her own personal gain. Gabriel hasn't done that. He let his loss define him. He wrapped himself up in his grief and mourned the gifts life had taken away from him, forgetting to celebrate life itself, forgetting that he was still ALIVE and that HE could have made a difference for Adrien. EMILIE had understood that. Emilie didn't want to be revived. She wanted Adrien to recover from her loss and grow as a happy child with the help of the people who were left behind, who should have loved him. While in the immediate, it feels as if Gabriel won, in the grand scheme of things, he lost. He cowardly ran away from it by 'sacrificing' himself and left everyone else to face the consequences of his mistakes. ESPECIALLY Adrien.

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure that season 6 will be very painful for the poor lad, who's done nothing to deserve all this.

Hi. I saw your Gabriel post. While I agree, there some other points I would like to mention, in somewhat in defense of Gabriel;

First, no, I agree, he did not redeemed himself, I agree. However, in the finale, he himself stated that he crossed his own morality's line, in order to bring Emillie back. He was aware of his sctions, and somewhst of the consequences as well. It doesn't excuse it, I agree, but I would say, it's not madnes.

Secound; I think he did not "redeemed himself, but grow as a man. Minutes earlier, he was shouting about the only ones who are matters are him and his family, no matter, what the cost or who pays it. And yes, he could have brought back Emillie. Yes, he could have healed Nathalie. And yes, he could have saved himself. But at the end, HE paid the priece for his wish. My personal favorite thing was, he did not say the wish, but it was in his heart. So, yes, while I disagree with his actions and this being looked as a redemption, I rejoys he did what he did. Not because he becone a better person, but because he become a bigger one than he was before🙂

(well, it's just my oppinion, it's perfectly fine to think about this an other way, but I still like this ending very much 😊)

I kind of see what you mean, in the sense that it could have been way worse! He could have sacrified two random innocent people, or even two of his enemies (Ladybug and Chat Noir, Felix, maybe even Tomoe if he felt she was becoming a threat), healed himself, and brought Emilie back against her will.

But if you pay close attention to what Bug Noire says — this is not about sacrifice.

This is about not using magic as a way to solve your problems — the exact infraction that got us into this situation in the first place.

This is about facing the consequences of your actions, instead of running away from them.

But most importantly — this is about taking the chance, even if it is tiny, to live and make it up to Adrien.

@buggachat said it best in her Emilie VS Amelie post:

"He would rather be dead, with [Emilie], than alive and caring for his own son."

Because no one matters except them, and that sadly includes their child.

Being with his wife is what Gabriel always wanted. He won’t be around to experience the inevitable consequences of using black magic again. But Adrien will, as well as the multiple children who are now forced to lie in an effort to maintain the illusion.

And you know what? This is what I like most about the finale — how unambiguous it is that Gabriel is still the bad guy, and that the choices he made, up until the very end, will continue to impact our heroes in this new era. So many abusers "see the error of their ways" on their deathbed — but it does little for their victims, who still have to live with the consequences.

Of course, I would have preferred to see Adrien confront him. He deserved it. But I absolutely see how this can lead to interesting conflict in the next season.

[ Original post here ]

[whirlybirbs]

FEVER-DREAM    ;    echo/reader 

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul​ in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough. 

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway. 

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use. 

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet. 

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives. 

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing. 

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika. 

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good. 

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky. 

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin. 

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough. 

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto. 

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling. 

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized. 

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now. 

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep. 

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin. 

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details. 

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.  

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link. 

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile. 

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak. 

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel. 

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch. 

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed. 

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot. 

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you. 

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation. 

Your mouth is moving before you realize it. 

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?” 

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way. 

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.” 

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact. 

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right. 

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

[shinyun]

Uncomfortable

Summary: New term, new people. Transferring from Busan University to Seoul your second year of majoring in law, new challenges pop up; with an addition to your already hard courses, people add to your daily list of concerns.

Warnings: Swearwords, enemies to lovers, a character is lesbian, slight mentions and jokes about lesbianism, witty humour, dark humour, nsfw jokes here and there, hints of sexual acts (non-descriptive, will say it is not smut), literally ot5 x oc tbh

Beomgyu x reader/oc (2nd POV, but fixed personality and some physical traits of Y/n)

a/n: sorry lol gyu’s a total dick in this chapter

You storm into the room the millisecond Taehyun opens it, quick enough to let the force cause the door to slam into the wall. After hearing from Li that Beomgyu seems to have something against you, you chose to take the matter into your own hands. All you’ve tried to do with him is be friendly and show that you want to fit in the group with all of them, not replace anyone.

Yet he seems very angered about your existence even, and you cannot even explain in civil words how much it irks you that he hides behind his phone screen instead of talking to you. Everyone talks shit about each other yes, but you are 100% sure you have not done anything purposefully to anger him. So, you angrily look at him with pure hatred in your eyes. His whole uncaring demeanour hinted at his ego growing bigger and faster than bamboo, yet he had nothing to be cocky for. Cocky is one thing, but his egoistical and self absorbed behaviour is affecting you.

”You fucker, stop badmouthing me for no reason. Be a fucking adult and tell me your problem with me to my face instead of hiding behind your friends!” you scream at the body of Beomgyu as he startedly sits up. A scowl soon paints his face and the thin fingers of his grab the blanket around him to not punch you right there and then.

“Okay then, Y/n,” he begins and stands up, leaving you no choice but to back away to avoid bumping noses with him. With his eyes fiercely pierced on yours, he takes comes a step closer while eyeing Taehyun (who’s still at the door in shock) to leave you alone.

He waddles away, closing the door quickly. Beomgyu scoffs as soon as the door’s automatic lock clicks on.

“You want to know what my problem with you is?”

“Really sounds like the exact thing I just said, dickhead.”

“My problem with you is that you’re a stuck up bitch who doesn’t deserve the fucking love she gets from everyone. You got here 2 weeks ago yet everyone’s treating you like a queen, behaving like children when you’re not that fucking special,” he spits out, venom laced in his teeth. Suddenly the air feels constrained and you huff in an attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Well if you have such a problem with it, say that to them. You don’t have to like me, it doesn’t matter to me because I don’t give a shit about what a low life like you thinks of me. When you get your ass out of those fucking books and realise you have the mental competence of a three year old, THEN I’ll give a shit. Until then, you can go cry about “losing” your friends when ALL I’ve ever done is try to be nice to you.”

And with that, you turn around to leave, not without slamming the door in his quiet face. You want to scream at him more, with all your anger piling up, yet you choose to be a little kinder today.

Not that you are not ever kind, you just know when to talk and not. You aren’t going to let him push your whole persona and image down for his own selfishness.

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This is a work of @shinyun and is not to be copied, translated or stolen. All credits go to the rightful owner and the characters of this story are completely fictional, they do not reflect any of the acts of real individuals. 

[lebenspurpur]

What about how would slashers propose their s/o? :3

How would the slashers propose:

Michael Myers

Michael wouldn't.

As funny as that sounds, I'm pretty sure Michael doesn't understand marriage and its concept at all.

After all.. who'd marry you? A deranged serial killer and his spouse.. pretty difficult to find a priest for that kind of couple.

If anything, he'd propose to show that he cares. Michael isn't the best at showing emotions and a proposal would be his personal way of showing that he does adore you.

It would probably be nothing big though. He'd just hand you a stolen ring and then march off, leaving you alone with your confusion.

Are you ever getting married? Probably not but he'll wear a ring similar to yours if you'd like.

Vincent Sinclair

Oh, Vincent will try his hardest to be as romantic as he can be.

Dozen of candles, hundreds of roses, and he'll actually wear an old suit he found in Bo's wardrobe!

His brothers will be out of town, driven out by your big lover.

He'll make dinner for you. It might taste a little interesting, considering his below-average cooking skills, but hey the idea alone is so adorable.

After dinner, he'll sink down on one knee and you just freeze.

He's super nervous too! What if you don't want to marry him? What if he's too fast and you're not ready for that commitment yet?

The ring will be from a victim but he polished and perfected it himself. He'll design it like his knives, dragons wrapping around the gemstone in the middle.

As soon as that "yes" leaves your lips, he inflates, probably ready to pass out.

Bo Sinclair

Bo.. doesn't necessarily want to marry.

But he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, that's for sure.

You're something he doesn't deserve and yet you're here, with him.

Bo won't be as romantic as his twin, that's not really his strategy.

He'll most likely blurt out his proposal while he's watching TV and make it seem like the most normal thing ever, even though he's frightened on the inside.

If you ask him what he said, he'll repeat it real quietly and you swear he's turning red.

Say yes and Bo will actually flash a big grin, a real one, not his usual smirk, finally pulling you closer to seal his lips with yours.

He can't believe someone would marry him but you wanted to, and he'd always deem that a miracle.

Lester Sinclair

Oh god, Lester will be so nervous.

He has everything: the ring, a nice suit, a romantic dinner but what if he fucks it up?

He even wrote a note containing a few words of his "speech" so he won't forget it.

So it's after dinner and he kneels down, nearly tripping on his open shoelace, and.. uh fuck what'd he want to say???

He can't find his note! Lester is now panicking.

Your reassuring smile grounds him again and he somehow manages to finish his proposal without fainting. How? Lester doesn't know, he has no recollection of what happened.

The ring will be from a victim but he got Vincent to make it prettier. He feels really bad about it as well, please tell him that that's okay!

Baby Firefly

Oh, Marriage? A big, pretty white dress? Sign her the fuck up.

Okay, being with you for the rest of her life is really nice as well.

She's probably talking to Mama when the subject first emerges and she just freezes in excitement.

She's soon skipping down the stairs, calling out your name.

"Y/N LET'S GET MARRIED!"

You don't even have a choice, she will marry you whether you like it or not.

I doubt that she'll even ask you the question, it'll just be a determined "We're getting married." and she's gone again, probably planning for the wedding.

A ring will be there though. She probably stole it but oh well.

Otis Driftwood

Marriage? *Insert him scoffing.*

Yeah no, he's too edgy for that.

However, he is down to invent his own kind of marriage for you.

But you're not getting a ring, oh no.

Otis is showing up with a collar. And it has his name on it.

After he's given it to you, he'll just hold a 15-minute speech about how you belong to him and how this collar will show everyone.

If you say yes afterward he'll be confused. This wasn't a question.

Billy Loomis

Oh Billy has it all planned out... and it can go both ways.

It's either a super romantic, high-school sweetheart-like proposal with flowers, a cute ring, balloons, and all that boring stuff or...

He dresses up as Michael Myers and jumps out at you, scaring you to death, just to hold a ring and propose to you.

I can see him totally scaring the shit out of you the whole evening just to make your proposal a special one.

Stu also helps him which makes you question which of the two you're really marrying.

Stu Macher

Stu will propose in his own way, to be frank, everything he does is done in his own way.

He'll be quite sweet actually, taking you out on a Ferris wheel to ask the question.

He's serious about the whole thing but he doesn't quite show it.

He makes it seem as if this whole thing does nothing to him so you can't see how nervous he is.

After you say yes he'll still act cool but the shake in his voice gives him away.

If you cry, he'll tease you for years so be careful.

Brahms Heelshire

The only idea Brahms has of proposal and marriage is from the books he's read. And those are either porn magazines or some old romance novels from way before our time.

He'll wear a suit. You don't even know where he got it from, it's astonishingly old.

There's no dinner or anything, Brahms can't cook and after all, that's your job.

He'll give you flowers though!

And his grandmother's proposal ring that he found somewhere in the mansion. He just can't buy his own so he has to improvise.

If you say yes he'll smile excitedly and jump into your arms. He's not getting off too, you have to carry him now.

Sometimes he forgets how tall he is.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas will marry you pretty early into the relationship.

After all, his family is very religious and you know what they say, no sex before marriage kids. I doubt that Thomas will obey that rule but let's pretend-

Luda will help him with everything he needs, she'll even get Hoyt and Monty to leave the house with her for a night so you two have some privacy!

Thomas will be very nervous and you very confused. Thomas never stopped working unless it was something important.

You'll eat and have a nice time, you can finally spend some time with your lover and this time, not in the basement. He even takes his mask off, just for you.

After dinner he'll clear his throat and actually say the whole proposal out loud. This is important and Thomas doesn't want to ruin this just because he doesn't want to talk.

He could never ruin anything but he's insecure like that.

If you say yes he's going to grin brightly and just pick you up, spinning you around until he actually kisses you, once again feeling so grateful for you in his life.

Josef

Marriage isn't that important to him so he takes a while to even think about that idea.

Of course, a life filled with you is absolutely amazing in his opinion but he trusts that you won't leave him, with or without a promise binding you to him.

After a bit of thinking, he decides to do it just for the gesture.

He'll buy a ring that he thinks fits and then plan a nice dinner with a few candles, red wine, expensive food, all that shit.

Josef is an amazing cook so that food will be to die for.

After eating, he'll intertwine your hands with his and look into your eyes, quietly bringing up the whole idea of marriage.

If you seem interested and I mean positively interested, he'll pull out the ring, surprising you like always.

Say yes and Josef will get quite emotional, never did he think someone would actually marry him.

He might cry but one word about that and you'll get the silent treatment.

you'll get a gif, as a treat

Amanda Young

Marriage? Uh, not for her.

Amanda hates the whole idea of marriage, stupid love-sick couples marrying just to break up and divorce a year later, leaving children to grow up in an environment that's shaped by isolation and abandonment.

However, she's not against a ring to show that she's never going to leave you.

Amanda will make one for you, yes you heard me, make.

It's so important to her, anyone else but her would fail her.

It takes a while but seeing your happy tears after she gave and explained it to you makes everything worth it.

She'll often admire it, sitting so perfect on your finger.

You're hers and hers alone.

You can't see it but she's smiling.

[roonyxx]

Stolen Crown Chapter 2: Crushed by Laces

By @jay-and-dean​ and @roonyxx​ 

Pairings : Dean x reader ? Kight!Dean x reader ?

Summary :  What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces ?

This, as much as it looks like it, is not ‘technically’ an AU, because your Dean, our Dean, exists too…

Serie Warnings : Smut (please be 18+), Fluff, Angst, Swearing. Mention of physical pain. Each Chapter will have detailled warnings.

Chapter warnings : language, angst

Chapter Word count : 3607

Note : This is a collaboration beetween both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like for Firefly.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Text divider by the awesome @talesmaniac89​​

Stolen Crown Masterlist

Want to read more:

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

A deep frown shadows his beautiful green eyes.

“Who are you ? A witch ? Where is my Queen !” he groans through his teeth.

Her hands above her head, she steps back from the pointy sword cautiously. 

“Put that sword down and then I can explain” she states as calmly as possible but the knight doesn’t move. “Blade down, Dean.”

“There is nowhere you can go, witch” he states coldly before reluctantly putting his sword down.”Now talk or I cut your throat for having the insolence of looking like the Queen.” 

“Okay, this is going to be hard to believe but you have to try” she starts, searching his face. “I am not from this world” her eyes try to read his features, but he stays perfectly stern, waiting for her to say more. “In my world I was working a spell with Dean, my Dean, a-and I think we did something wrong and that caused me to switch places with your real queen.”

His frown grows and his jaw clenches.

“A spell ?” he groans. “So you are a witch.”

When his sword moves up again, she hurries to answer.

“No ! I hunt witches, I’m on the good side !”

“You are saying” he states with a coldness she never saw in his eyes since she met him, a dangerousness he keeps hidden from his queen. “That you come from another world, a world where I exist, and where my Queen could be trapped ?”

She nods, hoping he would believe her because the flame in those olive eyes is ready to kill.

“Are you the Queen of your world ?” he asks.

“No” she shakes her head, imagining bossing Sam and Dean around for a second. “Most countries don’t work with queens and kings anymore. We have overpaid dickheads instead” she lets out a little laugh that dies in the room when he stays stern. 

“When will her Majesty be back ?” he steps closer to her, lifting his sword once again. 

His voice is dark, his back straight and tense. She knows she needs to make him believe her before they burn her for witchcraft or anything those middle age people do when they don’t understand something.

“I don’t know exactly when, I’m sorry. But she will, because I know that my Dean and Sam-”

“Sam ?” he cuts her. “You know Sam ?”

“Yes” she nods, he’s Dean’s- your brother.”

The shadow of doubt crosses his face, and she continues talking.

“They will work on bringing me back so they will trade your Queen too” she breathes out, and dives her eyes in his. “But… If i’m dead… You know yourself, Dean. How would you react if someone killed your Queen?”

“I would burn everyone and everything to the ground” he states with a determination that sends shivers to her spine. “Will they treat her with the regard she deserves ? Is she safe ?”

For a second, she imagines that version of herself in a princess costume ordering Dean to kneel and she could laugh despite the gravity of the situation. He will shake the royal shit out of her, for sure…

“He may not treat her like a Queen” she admits earning a worried sigh from him. “But he would never hurt her in any way, I can promise you that. My Dean is a good man, and he will protect her with his life.”

The knight looks her up and down. 

“Do you have any proof of what you are saying ?”

She sighs, she doesn’t. In fact, she is nor even sure Dean found the Queen or that she’s in her world. But she can’t survive without the knight on her side. 

“Wait, I have something !” she states, reaching for her back pocket. “This, in my world is not magic, I know you will think it is…”

She takes off her phone from her shorts and shows him. Carefully unlocking the screen, making him jump back a little. 

“Look…” she searches in her head for the best way to explain. “It’s a phone. It usually is used to talk to people when they are away, but it doesn’t work here… Look.”

Going through her picture gallery, she shows him photos of Sam and Dean sitting in the library, pictures of her and Dean, one of him holding her in his arms… Her heart clenches : She misses him cruelly. 

Watching the photos, the knight clears his throat.

“You keep saying ‘my’ Dean… is he truly yours ?” his eyes burn into hers, like he was searching for something important there.

“Mine like… Together ? Or like we have sex ? You mean married or something ?” If only she could call Dean hers…

His ears turn a light shade of pink and his gaze meets the floor again.

“Well… to have physical intimacy, you have to be married. A woman of your class has to stay pure before marriage” he states with total certainty. 

A laugh breaks out of her, she tries to contain it with her hands but she can’t. 

“Oh that’s… Purity is really not that but, I guess I’m going a little fast” she tries to not look like she was making fun of him. “I’m anything but ‘pure’ in that case, mister” she chuckles, his face turns white in shock.

“Y-you are not a virgin…?” he carefully asks. “Are you married ?”

“What ? Hell no ! Not married, not a virgin… Wait, are you ?” she looks closely at him. 

It’s impossible for a man -no a knight !- this handsome and charming, to be a virgin.

“I am not” he states coldly.

“Of course not, a world where Dean Winchester is a virgin probably doesn’t exist” she chuckles. “Then why should she be ! It’s so unfair.” 

A silence falls on the huge room after that, both of them are thinking what to do next, weighing the risks.

“I do not trust you, who says you are not a traitor seeking the throne ?” he steps closer to her, caging her between him and the stone wall.

How she wished the circumstances were different…

“Then watch me !” she says. “Really, it’s all I want. You know I won’t survive a day here without your help.”

He searches her face intensely, and she continues, serious :

“I really have zero interest in the throne, all I want is to go home. But I can’t, and with me dead, the chances of you getting your queen back are really thin !” she puts a hand on his arm, but he takes a step back. “You need me, Dean, what will the people think when they find out their queen is missing ? I know nothing about your world, but I do know a royal vanishing is enough to start a war. Do you want her to come back and see someone else sitting on her throne ?” 

He clenches his jaw and turns around, putting his sword back into the scabbat and rubbing his face. 

“No, I do not want that to happen. Dear lords… Not now, she is at a fragile time in her ruling even if the People love her, the Council….” he turns back to her in a sigh. “So what do we do now ? You have no idea of this life and world, the Council will know and…” he sighs with a hint of contempt.”You are no Queen yourself.”

“Teach me ! I c-can pretend to be her, just until she comes back” she explains. “That way your world doesn’t collapse and I get to go back home.”

“How ? You know nothing of her work, of her life, the burdens she has to carry ! No one will ever believe it” he scoffs.

His chin up, he seems to be watching the sky through the ceiling, like he could find answers there.

“Come on ! I’m a great actor ! And you can tell me anything I need to know. Please, without you I’m pretty much dead…” she begs him.

She saw enough documentaries and listened enough in class to know that medieval times, even in a fantasy world or anything, are no fun… especially not for a woman.

He lets out a big sigh.

“You better be a fast learner” he states. “I will give you my protection like you were my Queen. I can’t risk for people to know that she is lost. So sit down and listen.” He steps back so she can take a seat on the small bench in front of the bed.

“Dean ?” she frowns. “You have to be good at this too…”

“I’m good at what I do” he groans.

“I mean faking it, Dean… Your whole body language has changed since you know I’m not her, your face is different. You have to imagine I am her.”

“I will, when you will start acting like her” he states, still pretty cold. “You should start calling me Sir. Only whores call me Dean.”

She looks down and swallows hard.

“Yes… Where do we start ?” she asks with her eyes down.

“With you getting dressed” he states. “And don’t ever look down like that.”

How can she do that ? 

How can this stupid Queen live this life ? And how is she supposed to survive another day in her skin ?…

Only one day passed since this cold, old fashioned, version of Dean Winchester accepted to protect her. Since he called the five maids required to get her dressed, to press her body in those torture instruments they call clothes, squeezing the corset like they were trying to break her ribs, ballasting her with pounds and pounds of fabric…

And it wasn’t even the worst day, compared to what is to come, because today the only thing he made her do was eat in one of the thousand rooms of the castle she has to memorize. 

He pretended she was indisposed and couldn’t attempt the Council today and took her to another stone and wood room and started talking, hitting the wood of her chair with his sword when she did something wrong… And she always did.

Yawning, sighing, looking down, nibbling at her lips, calling him Dean… Pretty much everything is forbidden. Especially “for a woman”. And the coldness in his eyes won’t go away.

Now she lays on her royal bed, alone, watching the heavy curtains barely light by a few candles that won’t even last all night… And she repeats in her head : 

Three Heads, the Shoulders, the Hand, and the Heart. The Council.

Like the knight said, she can’t stay unwell too long, or the rumors will spread ; she has to show herself, do what the Queen would do, at least a part of it.

And convincing the Council is the real challenge. 

Their power is almost as big as hers, and if people decide to investigate, ask for a trial, go to war… it would be them. They are the Guardians of the order and the traditions.

And they are not all on her side.

There are three Heads. They are the leaders of the Council -they each have one vote- : One noble, one religious, and one Man of Letter.

Men of Letters seems to be the thinking elite of the Kingdom, some glorified librarians with very strict hygiene and access to all knowledge. They are the teachers, the doctors, the writers… Sam Winchester is one of them. 

Sam is the Head of the Man of Letters, the queen’s only true ally in the Council.

A little smile crosses her face, thinking at how Sam from this world would look. Would his hair be even longer ? Or short ? It is reassuring to know that the Queen has both of the Winchesters close to her.

The Shoulders are the two people the Heads take with them for advice : Two nobles, two religious, two Men of letters. They can change at every Council on their Head’s will.

She sighs, turning in her huge bed, in this uncomfortable night dress, and tries to remember all that he said because she has to survive. She has to go back to her friends… And to the man she loves.

The Hand is the Army. 

Most of the time, Dean, Sir Winchester, himself, as he is the leader of the Queen’s personal guard and responsible for her security, is the Hand of the Council. The Hand, from what he said, has no deciding power at all, he is there to know the Law, to apply it later. But he isn’t allowed to speak unless the Queen asks him to.

That won’t help when she has to sit in front of all of them. All those powerful ambitious men ready to jump on her at the first mistake she makes.

The Heart is the People.

Three randomly chosen poor people, who are offered a good meal, a bath, and new clothes as compensation for losing a day in the field. They are allowed to speak and participate, but, according to the knight, most of them are barely educated, very impressed by being in the castle and exhausted by the trip, so they stay quiet… 

The Heart has one vote too.

She takes her phone to look at a picture of Dean washing his precious baby in shorts, regretting Democracy. She turns the device off, trying to save her battery, because she won’t be able to look at pictures of her home when it runs out.

“You’re the Soul of the Kingdom” she hears the knight conclude proudly in her head. “You have the last word unless… Unless the votes are unanimous against your Majesty, but it only happened once.”

She remembers his face changing when he said that, like night had fallen on his eyes, or maybe was it darkness, and his dry refusal to tell her what it was about, even when she insisted.

Sleeping is almost impossible despite her exhaustion. Every noise in the corridor makes her jump, every thought of being alone in another dimension. Everything is overwhelming.

Her body is hurt from the corset and all she had to bear all day ; rubbing her painful ribs, she lets her mind follow its path…

She thinks of Dean, her Dean, rock-tapes-and-bacon-cheese-burger Dean. The one that can be hard on strangers sometimes, just like the knight, merciless on enemies too, even harder on friends when he is hurt, but with a heart so big that he welcomes the ones who need it in his house, in his life and in his very soul. Just like he did with her. 

The Dean who never makes her feel bad, flawd and insufficient like she feels now.

The one she fell in love with a long time ago, the one she misses cruelly because he is her best friend, her partner, her everything… And being paradoxically this far from him, and this close to another him makes her feel lonelier than she ever has been.

Will he prefer the queen version of her too if he indeed meets her ? Is she that amazing ? That smart and brave, that well educated and gracious ?

And she thinks of the knight too, of his total devotion to the queen. Is it just how he was raised ? Or is there more ? What can be the story of a man that gave his life to serve her ? Where does he come from in this world and who was John ? And why isn’t he a man of Letter like Sam ?

In the constant dim of her thoughts she doesn’t pay attention to the sun starting to light her room with a weak white light coming from the furthest horizon behind the heavy curtains. 

She tries to find sleep imagining Dean is here, imagining she can complain, ask for help and tell him everything. Imagining he has her back, like he always does.

Just when she’s about to finally find sleep, footsteps make their way inside the room with no more warnings than the creaking of the colossal door, and a whole group of maids enters the room.

“What ?” she grunts. 

Can’t she at least get out of her room when she wants ? 

One of the cold face maids opens the curtains and the others start preparing her clothes like bees at work.

Outside, churches’ bells are tinkling louder and louder and a religious choir is coming from somewhere in the castle, like it was in every wall. And even if the music is beautiful, echoing like an old gospel in a cathedral, it sounds like the rise of a thousand voices telling her that they are watching her…

“Wait” she tries with a weak voice but the covers are taken from her bed and the cold air of the huge stone castle hits her.

“Sir Winchester told us not to lose time, your Majesty” one of them says while she sits on her bed, rubbing her face. 

Before she can gather the courage to face this day, the women start to undress her and wash her with cold water. Once again, she has to hide the anti-possession tattoo on her rib again.

She hisses and winces at the cruel contact of the freezing water on her sensible skin, and flinches when the maid washes her intimate parts with a cloth, tired and humiliated. 

“Stop” she tries low when they start covering her with a dress even heavier and tighter than the one she was wearing yesterday. When the maids tug at the cords in her back to squeeze her waist, she tries again.

“Stop…” she whimpers.

This is too much and no one here is able to understand her pain. Her breath gets stuck in her crammed chest and tears fill her eyes.

“STOP PLEASE STOP !” she finally yells, making the ladies take a step back and bow. 

“Did we hurt you, your Majesty ?” one of them asks with her eyes on the floor.

“Go get D- Sir Winchester” she orders, wiping her eyes before the tears have a chance to fall. 

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Leave” she says, but when the maids look at her, confused, she yells. “LEAVE ME ALONE !”

They run outside and carefully close the door behind them. 

Fighting the corset, she tries to breathe, her nails desperately scratching at the hard fabric on her stomach. Burning tears fall on her angry red cheeks and before she can wipe those new wild sobs out of her face, the knight enters the room.

“What happened ?” he asks, making his way in with a frown and closing the door behind him.

“I can’t breathe” she starts to panic. “I can’t do this, I can’t breathe.”

With three large steps, the knight comes to her and, touching her the least he can, with a strong, expert hand, he loosens the laces. 

In a deep painful gasp, she breathes, clinging to the knight’s arm.

“Did you wear a corset in your world ?” he asks.

“No !” she sobs angrily. “Why would I do that !”

“The maids tighten it like they did for her Majesty, but your body can’t take it…” he analyses the situation very seriously. “You cannot have it loosen too much or rumors of pregnancy will spread and…”

“STOP” she pushes him, surprising both of them with that gesture the queen probably never would have had. “I CAN’T ! MY BODY ! MY M-MIND TOO !”

Dean watches her with that implacable roughness on his face and his palpable contempt for her makes her whimper in pain. She never thought she would see such coldness on this beautiful face.

“You do not get to give up” he states, clenching his jaw at her sobs, like they were both hurting and annoying him. “You have no idea what my Queen has endured. You shall not put her position in danger.”

“YOU have no idea what it is ! To be observed, to be controlled, exposed ! To be far from h-him…” panting, she wipes her eyes but a waterfall of pain keeps drowning her face. “I need him here ! Not you ! You’re mean a-and you’re…”

“I am trying to save thousands of lives” he states. 

“Then stop treating me like an enemy ! I hate being a freaking woman here !”

“I am working on keeping one on the throne !” he cuts her, the violence he hides deep behind his manners shows again, proving that this is more than duty for him. “You are not an enemy.”

Wiping her eyes, she searches his scarred worried face. She finds the exact same freckles in the exact same places and it’s enough to stop crying. 

“I am extremely concerned about Her Majesty’s safety” he admits.

Her tears stop falling on her face and she frowns. 

“You miss her.”

“I could not dare missing the Queen, only protect and serve her” he states, getting a piece of cloth to hand her something to wipe her face and while she does, he takes a deep breath. “The Queen went for a health walk with me daily and, on the days when the eyes of her subjects became a lot for her, I used to take her beyond the walls of the city so she could just…” his cold eyes warm like Spring after Winter. “Open her arms and smile and say silly things… Sometimes, cry. I will take you if you want.”

[stressedoutcanary]

Do You Ever Feel Like A Misfit (Everything Inside You Is Dark & Twisted)

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K (I don't know how tf that happened)

Warnings: Explicit language, Blood and Violence, lots of angst, Hurt/Comfort ✌

A/N: Guess who's back! Just for some context the reader is a magic user and her style is similar to that of Zatanna <3

•°•°•°•°

She’d have reasoned with herself that stealing from one of the most secure and heavily guarded safe-houses of a deranged sociopath was probably not the brightest idea she’s had all day. It never even made it on her to-do-list for the weekend, but here she was, running across rooftops, holding on to the stolen totem like her life depended on it, it probably did. The three assassins sent after her were no Lady Shiva or Talia Al Ghul but they weren’t exactly amateurs either. The deep cuts and two broken ribs she got from their earlier encounter were proof of that.

She glanced back and even though there was no sign of her would-be-killers she knew better than to assume they’d just let her be. They were sticking to the shadows, exploiting her blind spots. The only thing she was sure of was that they were still hot on her trail and would happily plunge a dagger into her back given the opportunity.

She was right. As of this moment she hated being right.

She caught the glint of the two sharp objects slicing through the air, hurtling towards her at full speed. A slight shift of her upper body was all she could manage as one of the daggers got embedded right into her scapula while the other one, fortunately so, whirled past her, slightly grazing her left hip. The impact of the blade on her shoulder made her lose what little balance she had left. Despite her best efforts, when the wounded shoulder made contact with the hard concrete, a loud, ear-piercing cry ripped out from her throat before she could push it back down.

Cursing under her breath she knew, she knew all she had were those few seconds of numbness and disorientation to get a grip and figure out her exit strategy. However, all her hopes started to sink as she saw one of the assassins come closer, appearing more of a blur than a person. Then again that was probably because of the nice, little concussion she got from her fall. The assassin walked over to her, unsheathed their sword and placed it right on her neck, blocking any and every way out.

“You were warned. The Demon’s Head does not tolerate treachery. We are here under his orders to bring back the totem along with the witch’s head; your head”

If she could, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the classic villainous dialogues thrown at her.

“Witch? Who’re you calling a witch Snow White? I’m clearly a sorceress, don’t they teach you the difference between the two in assassin school or something? Hell, I’d even let you call me an enchantress, though that name’s already been taken but you get my poin-” 

The remaining words died in her throat as the sword on her neck shifted slightly. She knew she had extremely poor self preservation skills considering she’s clearly been instigating the very person sent to kill her, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to keep talking when the tiniest movement on either part could result in her having a severed jugular or carotid. 

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’ 

She thought back to how she used the last of her mystic energy to hide the totem away before her fall and how stupid that decision really was because now she could actually feel the agonizing pain coming from her shoulder. It started to spread throughout her back like wildfire, eyelids grew heavy against her wishes. Suddenly she felt really tired and the idea to close her eyes just felt so goddamn appealing. 

‘No (Y/N) that’s the blood loss talking. Blood loss doesn’t get to make decisions’, she mentally scolded herself, still not breaking her eye contact with the person standing above her.

“Give us what you stole and we shall grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

That made her raise an eyebrow, “Ah, lemme think...the correct response here would be…”, she hummed, making a show of how hard she was thinking about the offer she was granted, “How about a fuck you? How would that do for you?”, she gave them a vicious grin, it was all teeth.  They probably weren’t impressed by her response and it showed.

She knew there was no way out but she had promised herself once that if she were to die, that if she ever goes out, she’d be anything but a whimpering and sobbing mess. She was scared shitless, more so than she’d ever been while fending off the league, she won’t deny that but she would rather die than let them know that.  ‘Well at least I got that ‘rather die’ part down to a T.’ she thought, eyeing the sharpness of the blade which was now raised up in the air

She felt bad for just giving up the way she did. Her whole life she was told to fight her way through the impossible, to attain the strength rivaling that of Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine and Doctor Fate himself. To be better than them, and there she was lying on the ground limp as a sword came down on her throat; all for a silly necklace. She would’ve huffed out a laugh if only her ribs weren’t broken, if only her body wasn’t screaming in pain, if only she had a way out. She didn’t. She was too tired, too drained, too numb to do anything else. Closing her eyes she stopped fighting, she let her growing unconsciousness claim her.

‘This is what you deserve anyway’, her barely there conscience remarked.

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

Everything went pitch black. The darkness encompassing her was peaceful, unlike the pain she had felt before. It was nice for a change. It sounded pathetic  but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

•°•°

 When she came to, the first thing she observed was the feeling of something soft against her back, next was a dull rhythmic sound which she realized was her own heartbeat. Though opening her eyes was a tiring task. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. She used all the energy she had into it and her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the white ceiling and stayed like that for a few seconds; a few minutes? She couldn’t tell, but the pain was back now, not too much but enough to tell her it was there, to tell she was still alive.

She saw something shift in her peripheral vision and her body instinctively went stiff. Her mind which was blank before now ran in all directions.

‘Could be Ra’s Al Ghul… Could be worse’, she tried not to think about the worst case scenario, but she knew she had pissed off a lot of beings, beings far more powerful and far crueler than Ra’s himself. An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought. That must’ve caught her captor’s attention as she felt the person move closer to her. Begrudgingly, she tore her gaze from the spot on the ceiling which she had been staring at this whole time and tilted her head. The man in black and blue who appeared, was probably the last person she had expected to see.

“Nightwing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and the hoarseness with which it came out it took her by surprise, but her body visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar figure, at the sight of someone who would never hurt her.  

She watched him pull out a chair from the desk nearby. He sat next to the bed she was lying on and gave her a soft smile, a smile that spelled one word ‘relieve’. She remembered how when she first met him two years ago, she found that particular smile extremely annoying, she had no reason to, but she did. What she couldn’t remember was when she had grown so fond of it.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

He snorted a laugh which made her pout. She was planning to point out how he was being mean; laughing at her when her response truly defined the way she was feeling, but any words she thought of were cut off by the change in his expression. His smile faltered, lips were now pressed in a thin line, face contorted in a way which showed his genuine concern.

“This is the second time, this week.”

That you almost died, he didn’t say. That I had to save you and bring you back from the clutches of death, he didn’t say.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

The silence that settled, stretched far too long for comfort, but she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She wanted to, but there was nothing she could say, that would make it better. Nightwing ran his fingers through the locks of hair, burying his face in his hands.

For the first time since she woke up, she took in his appearance, he looked disheveled,  his suit was torn in different places along visible faint cuts, most likely he got them when he rescued her. She felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. He risked his life for her, she knew he had done it before, she didn’t get it then and she didn’t get it now. Why would someone do that? Why would he? She was pulled back from her spiraling thoughts when he spoke again, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him like he had grown another head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation but by the looks of it they were gonna have it anyway.

“What if I hadn’t been there today? Or any of the other days you almost died. What then?”

“My best guess? I would’ve been dead.”

“And that fact doesn’t bother you at all?!”

She flinched at little when his voice rose, but she stood her ground, at least figuratively since she was still in bed.

“I don’t know, should it?” She didn’t try and tone down the venom dripping from her words. Her words cut deeper than the wounds he got from the assassins; she saw it clear as day on his face. She let out a deep sigh but continued. She had to get it out and he had to hear it, that’s the reason she gave herself for the confession that followed.

“I don’t need your help, Dick. I don’t know what gave you the impression that I did but I’ve never needed it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why was it getting harder to speak?’ “I don’t need you to save me every time. I don’t need you to risk your life for me and I definitely don’t…” She moved to sit up straight, her back resting on the headboard. She shifted her gaze on her open palms resting in her lap; palms covered in blood, in her blood, not very long ago.

“I don’t need you to care...”

The last part was a whisper and Dick was silent, so silent that for a brief moment she wondered if the man she’d come to care about even heard her, admitting something that was so painful for her to say out loud.

Dick moved to sit beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. He didn’t know where all this was coming from but he knew better to leave it unattended.

“(Y/N) I help you because I care about you. I always will, you know that.”

“Why? You have nothing to gain from it”, blinking back the unshed tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a hurt expression as if she couldn’t bring herself to understand.

“Why… as in why do I care?”, Dick tilted his head to look her in the eyes, trying to understand what she meant all the while making sure not to let his own surprise at her words show. She nodded not trusting her voice to not betray her anymore than it already had.

“I don’t care about you because I feel like you need it nor because I would gain something from it”, Dick knew he shouldn’t have to explain it to her. He briefly wondered what she had gone through to make her think that she needed to be useful to be cared for or that she had to need it to be cared for. He felt something pull at his heart at the thought; It was sorrow.

“I care about you because… well I do and there’s nothing you could or couldn’t do to change that. And it is because I care about you that I ask you to be better at taking care of yourself. Now I know for a fact that whatever you stole from The League’s safehouse definitely did not belong there, but I also know that whatever it was, it wasn’t worth your life (Y/N) It never will be.”

Dick grasped one of her hands, interlacing his gloved fingers with hers; she hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he did so. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath despite her protesting ribs. Opening the palm of her free hand she muttered an incantation with practiced ease

“Eveirter tahw saw neddih “, her hand glowed, the golden aura taking the shape of a object. When the light subsided, Dick saw the object in her palm as she rubbed her thumb across it, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It was this totem. It belongs to Madame Xanadu. Don’t know what Ra’s wanted it for though”, she shrugged as best as she could with an injured shoulder then continued, voice firmer than it had been the whole evening,“ She asked me to retrieve it in exchange for information on a girl I was looking for. The girl was somehow sucked into some other dimension, a mystic one and her mother was so desperate when she approached me that I just couldn’t say no. So when I say the Totem was important, then I want you to know that it really is.”

Dick shook his head at that. “Still not worth your life.”

“Dick…”, she sighed. It was all she could do at the moment because she was really getting tired from all the arguing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean the time I met the infamous vigilante Nightwing in a dumpster of all places.”

“In my defense I was badly injured”, she hummed in agreement.

“You smelled bad”

“You try smelling like flowers after falling from a building and into an open dumpster.”

His playful grumbling pulled a short laugh out of her. She was more than a little confused at the sudden trip into the past but happily accepted it as a change of topic. She should’ve know better than to think he’d have let the matter go.

“Anyway my point is when you saw me that day, you first instinct was to help me. You pulled me out and used your magic to heal my wounds. You didn’t have to. You could’ve dropped me at a hospital. You could’ve even walked away and pretended that you never saw me, but you didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I thought you were handsome?”, she said trying to lighten this too-heavy-for-comfort conversation he was trying to have.

“Nice try. I know you. You saved me because you cared. You helped me and the Titans save the city more than once because you cared. It is who you are. I’ve seen you care about and worry over complete strangers without conditions. So why do you think that there has to be some kind of a barter system when it comes to you? Why think that I would want to gain something if I cared about you?”

“Because everyone else did.”

The words shot out from her mouth quicker than she realized. She had voiced her greatest insecurity to the one person who never had anything to add to it and Dick’s heart clenched at the implications of her words, ‘She has never been loved unconditionally before’ his brain provided.

The tears she blinked back earlier came back with full force. She felt two strong arms that wrapped around her, all the while being mindful of her injuries. Dick pulled her into a hug and that was it. She couldn’t control the sobs that tore through her throat, the pain in her body flared due her erratic movements. She knew once the tears started flowing they wouldn’t stop at least not for a while, but now that her façade had been broken she couldn’t bring herself to give it another thought.

He waited for her to let it out, let out all the pent up emotions she had. Now that he thought about it he had never seen her cry. He never questioned it, maybe he should’ve.

“I don’t know who’s responsible for hurting you (Y/N), God, how much I wish I did”, his arms slightly tighten around her at that. “I am so sorry that you have felt like you have to have your walls up all the time, even around me and I should’ve seen that, I should’ve realized that before but I didn’t and I am so sorry for that. I can’t undo the damage you’ve endured and I will not pretend that I can. What I can do is promise you that I’d never let you down like that, never.”

The words he spoke were clear. He didn’t try to tell her to put her walls down, to trust him when she had no reason to. He also didn’t need to justify himself or make such over the top promises but it felt nice to hear it. She had already stopped crying the moment he started speaking again but she still had her forehead pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was calming in a way she couldn’t describe. She pulled her head back to look at him, and the honesty in his voice earlier matched the one in his eyes.

“Okay”

Hearing her response, he gave her his signature grin. It sent unexpected warmth through her, he always had that effect on her. She was sure she was just blushing at this point and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the room. 

She ended up composing herself rather quickly, jabbing a finger at his armored chest with her usual smirk plastered on her face.

“Now that you’ve made that promise, know this, Dick Grayson, if you let me down I will drop a mountain on you.”

“You mean that figuratively?”

“No I mean that geologically”, he waited for her to say she was kidding. She didn’t.

“Alright, alright”, He held his hands out in mock surrender. After considering the look in her eyes, Dick refrained from questioning the feasibility of that action nor did he want to question her magical abilities or intent. Last he remembered, Wally did that and that conversation ended with him being teleported to Sahara and Dick would very much like to avoid the same fate as his best friend.

Deciding that was more than enough exhaustion for one night, he got up from the bed and kissed her goodnight, informing her that he’d be sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t accidently hit her injuries in his sleep. She agreed and watched him slip out of the room before falling into the blissful sleep she had been putting off since forever.

•°•°

She knew Dick Grayson was full of surprises but the next morning when he put forward the offer of become a full time Titan, in front of her, she wondered if she fell from the bed in her sleep and ended up  getting another concussion because he was so not making any sense.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to come live with you and your superhero friends, in the Titans freaking Tower?!”

“I was hoping for a little less yelling after an emotional evening but yes that is exactly what I’m asking.”

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy which made her feel kinda guilty for all the yelling.

“It’s not that…It’s just there is still a lot about me I haven’t told them. There is still a lot I haven’t told you. I don’t see a reason why you all would want to trust a possible threat, let alone live with it”, she gestured to herself.

Dick felt like there was a deeper meaning behind her words, as if she was voicing her own fear rather than theirs but he trusted her enough to tell him about it when she was ready, on her own terms. He could wait till then but for now he crossed the short distance between them, going around the breakfast table till he stood in front of her. He grasped both of her hands in his and ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles. He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then moved to meet her gaze.

“(Y/N), I know you and I trust you and…It sounds silly considering I was raised by the worlds greatest detective but I believe that you don’t have to know every little detail about someone as long as you already know what’s in their heart.” Bruce probably would’ve disagreed but he wasn’t Bruce.

“And you know what’s in mine?”

“And I know what’s in yours.” His statement was firm and left no room for argument, not when it came to this.

“If you’re sure about this, then I guess...”

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”, There was that smile again, seriously what was up with him and his smile that made her giddy inside.

In between thoughts she realized he was still waiting for a response so she nodded. Any underlying doubts she had about her answer vanished when she took in how happy it made him. As cheesy as it sounded seeing him happy made her happy. A part of her said it wouldn’t last long, but seeing her boyfriend hop onto the couch full of joy as he called his friends about the latest development in their lives, she wanted to believe otherwise.    

°•°•°•°•

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[buckyownsmylife]

Make it back to me - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy fulfills his promise and gives you a future together.

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, insecure!Andy for a minute there, divorce, talks of infidelity because reader was the other woman, breeding kink

A/N: this is technically a follow-up to this drabble I wrote during kinktober!

Andy’s P.O.V.

My heart was pounding against my chest even before her beautiful face appeared from the office’s door. It was clear that she was confused, but I was too excited about it to even be able to verbalize what had happened and what we were about to do. So the plan was to just show her.

“You know, I usually like surprises, but this one is freaking me out,” she commented, and I laughed, throwing a glance at the rearview mirror before taking us out of the firm’s parking lot. I rubbed my thumbs on her knees, squeezing it in a hopefully reassuring gesture while I hummed a random song that had been stuck in my head since earlier.

I still couldn’t believe it. 

I thought that maybe she would have connected the dots when I parked in an apartment complex’s garage, but by the inquisitive look she threw me, it was clear that wasn’t the case at all. So I laughed when I held her hand, kissing the back of it before pulling her along with me, up the stairs to the front hall.

“Andy, are you crazy? We can’t be holding hands in public like this. What if someone from the firm lives here and sees us together?” She whisper-shouted, and an euphoric feeling took over my chest at the realization of just how incredible my life was.

“Someone from the firm does live here,” I conceded, hugging her from behind and leaning down to fit my chin on her shoulder. “Me.” Saying it out loud only made it feel even more real, especially since she whipped her head to try to get a look at me, in an effort to understand just what I meant.

“What?” I only laughed, reaching out for her hand again and giving it a squeeze when the elevator doors opened, immediately stepping out to look for the door I held the key to. “Andy, what do you mean?”

I only smiled, patiently opening the door before letting her walk in and following behind. “Sweetheart… Meet my new apartment.” Once more, her head whipped around to stare at me, interrupting her visual exploration of the new environment.

“Andy…”

“I’m divorced,” I interrupted, effectively shutting her up. “It was finalized this morning. I talked to Laurel the day after that party. The day you got your promotion. I didn’t tell you before because I wanted it to be a sure thing,” I immediately explained when I saw her open her mouth to interject, but then she closed it, nodding as she accepted my justification.

“So while I waited for it to be processed, I bought this place. Do you like it? I was hoping you’d move in with me, I can’t wait to christen every room of this apartment.” Once again, she seemed surprised by my words, stopping her evaluation of the living room to stare at me with eyes twice their usual size.

“But you just… Andy, you just got divorced. Quite literally. You can’t tell me you want to immediately jump into the routine of a relationship again.” Frowning, I stepped forward, in her direction, arms reaching out to hold her hips so I could keep her in place while I tried to understand her emotions. 

“You don’t want to be in a relationship with me?” My heart ached at the prospect, but she only huffed, rolling her eyes at me. Immediately, I felt somewhat comforted, although still confused about what was going on through her head.

“Of course I want to be in a relationship with you, you dummy. I just… I fear you’re jumpin too soon into this, and that you’ll grow to resent me. I don’t want to lose you.” Hearing her voice my own fears only made the need to have her closer rise within me, so before I could even realize what I was doing, I had her face cradled between my hands and our lips were connected again, as they always should be.

“And I don’t want to lose you,” I decided to voice it, so she could understand exactly where all of this was coming from, how it wasn’t simply a spur-of-the-moment gesture, any of it. “So what do you think I should do? Keep our relationship without strings, fearing that any moment now someone else will come and sweep you off of your feet? I don’t want to fuck anyone else, sweetheart. And I’ve been dreaming about living all of this domestic shit with you for a while, now. My marriage with Laurel didn’t end because I suddenly despised my ring, it ended because I didn’t love her anymore. But I love you. And I want this with you. Only you.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Now, what else could I possibly say? This was everything I had dreamed about, everything I’d been wishing for since day one, since my eyes connected with Andy’s and we shook hands in the office. And here he was, offering me a future together on a silver platter and I couldn’t find it in myself to fight against it anymore, even if the rational part of me thought this was a mistake. 

Or maybe it was only my anxiety speaking, trying to get me to chicken out, to run away, convince me that this isn’t real and I’m not worthy of all of this love. Because the truth was, I was scared. Scratch that, I was downright *terrified. Because somewhere between the stolen kisses and the longing glances, I’d fallen head over heels for the man standing in front of me, who just poured his heart out in search of mine, and I never wanted to lose him.

“Okay,” was all I managed to say, instead, all I could get out. “Okay, let’s do this.” But still, maybe because Andy really was my long-lost soulmate, he seemed to understand. He managed to read between the lines, hear my devotion and my love in those simple words. I knew it because his eyes lit up, and just like that, I was being embraced by those delicious arms again, held like I was the most precious thing he had ever encountered and the only thing he needed to be happy.

He was everything to me.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Everything felt different, every pet name, every touch. It was sweeter, purer. There was no overwhelming pressure of rushing through this, trying to escape the sin, the guilt. This man was mine, now. I could finally relish every single second of this experience.

“I’ve wanted you since we’ve met,” I finally managed to admit it, making sure to look him in the eye so he could see just how serious I was about this. “I’m just so happy we finally get to be together, like… like a real couple.”

His soft smile was the reason for my heart faltering at times, and when he paired it with light brushes over my cheekbone with his thumbs, it was powerful enough to make me weak in the knees. Still, because it was Andy, after all, he couldn’t help but to tease me - I knew I should expect it from the mischief in his eyes.

“So, everything we did before, it doesn’t count?” I huffed at the same time he started laughing, barely seeing me rolling my eyes at his childish behavior since he had tears in his. And despite how much I wanted to be annoyed at him for ruining such a beautiful moment, I could only feel warm inside from seeing him this happy, and being here to share this new beginning of his.

“You know what? No, it doesn’t, daddy. You’re gonna have to get me reacquainted with your cock all over again. Are you up for the challenge?” He laughed out loud at this, beautiful face suddenly looking boyish as his eyes closed for a moment. so that he could fully enjoy his happiness.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“When you look this fuckable? It won’t be a challenge at all, darling.” I watched with perverse pleasure as she shivered from my words, eyes suddenly darkening with lust as she bit her lower lip. “Now c’mon. Let’s start christening this place.”

My first step was the bedroom, of course. I had bought a new bed with the sole intention of ravishing her on it. Sleep was secondary. “Take off your clothes,” I commanded as soon as we were inside the new room, quickly taking off my shirt before sitting on the mattress. “Slowly,” I added when I saw her initially run to obey, but then a small smile painted her beautiful lips as her movements became more fluid.

“Someone wants a show,” she teased, revealing her perfect body little by little, each new inch making the anticipation rise in me. Damn right I wanted a show. But any amount of time I got to spend with her was a spectacle of itself. She was the muse I once believed I would never find. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes. Come here.” She approached me slowly too, soft hands I knew too well running over her own body and making me desperate to be the one that was touching her. “I want to worship your body the way that you deserve it, after waiting for me for so long.”

I saw her eyes soften at that, her hands cradling my face when she was close enough to hop on my lap. “I’d wait even longer if I had to.” It made me happier than anything else, knowing that she was as happy with me as I was with her. 

So I pulled her to meet my lips again, groaning as I got my taste of her - but it was enough. It would never be enough, especially now that I knew I was hers and hers only. And then she inadvertently started grinding against me and it almost had me falling back against the bed. “God, you’re hot,” I moaned as I watched from under my eyelashes the way that she moved for me and only me.

“I love when you talk dirty.” Her giggles were the sweetest sound I ever heard, and I loved to be the cause for them. But my need for her was so pressing, that I ended up cutting them short by pulling her for another kiss, while adjusting her until she was sitting on one of my thighs.

“That’s nothing, darling. You know just how dirty I can be, and you still haven’t seen everything I got up my sleeve. Come on, move those hips for me,” I directed, helping her ride my thigh by the grip I held on her ass. 

“You know what I want to do to you?” I asked, my voice dropping a tone as I whispered in her ear, needing to see her cum for me for the first night that night. “I want to lick all over your skin without the fear of being interrupted,” I started, reminiscing about just how many things I wanted to experience with her now that we were officially together. “Do you know how great it will be now that what we’re doing isn’t improper?”

Y/N almost laughed, but it came out as a gasp as I flexed the muscles underneath her, making my thigh a bit harder for her to rub her sweet cunt against. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’ll definitely keep doing some pretty improper stuff…” I forced her to quicken her movements until she was cumming before my eyes, sweet, sweet whimpers falling from her lips as she struggled to catch her breath. “... I just won’t have to feel guilty about them anymore.”

As I turned us over to lay her body on the mattress, our lips dancing together once more, the realization that this was my life now making my head feel light with all the happiness inside of me. This was my bed, this was my woman and it was only just beginning.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I teased, taking advantage of the little break that he had given my lips as he slowly but surely laid kissed around every inch of my chest. “For a second there, I thought you wouldn’t want to do dirty things to me anymore.”

That earned me a laugh, muffled by the way his lips were pressed against my neck and making me laugh by reflex, since his beard kept tickling me. “Oh, believe me, pretty girl… There’s a lot of dirty stuff I want to do to you. And I won’t lie, some of them are probably still going to happen in my office.”

I tried to swallow back a whimper that made its way to my lips as Andy licked a stripe up my neck, only stopping to nibble on my jaw before admitting to his plans. “After all, I really can’t control myself when you wear those tight skirts to work. But I don’t think they can really be blamed.”

Pink lips wrapped around my nipple and a gasp did escape me, my hands flying to hold Andy’s locks to keep him attached to my chest, but he had other ideas. “I just can’t seem to be able to be near you without desperately wanting you,” he finished, eyes connected to mine and mouth glistening with the saliva he had spread over my breasts. “You’re just too much of a temptation.”

Now, of course, after such a declaration, what can a girl do? I didn’t seem to find the words to vocalize just how I felt about him too, too busy trying to control my heart and clutching his shoulders while he sucked lovebites all over my exposed body. We didn’t really have to worry about them now, even if they would seem terribly unprofessional for some of the senior partners.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he urged, and I swallowed dryly before finally voicing, “I want your cock in my mouth, daddy. I want to make you feel good.” Andy audibly groaned at my request, quickly rolling off of me and discarding his pants while I assumed a familiar and very comfortable position between his legs.

My mouth watered at the sight of his already fully hardened member, and I reached out to replace his hand that was slowly jerking it off with mine, leaning down to give the head a small kitten lick just like I knew he liked to be teased.

“Fuck, darling,” he moaned, and I could feel myself growing wetter at the pure power that I felt at having this man so fucking needy for me. When I slowly started to suck on the head of his cock, making my way further down inch by inch, the signs of impatience that became evident in his body only made my desire grow.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he half begged, half ordered, leg twisting behind me in an effort to control himself. “Take it all on your own, like you always do. Make me proud.” Shit, he knew just what to say to have me quickly gagging on his cock out of my own free will.

I didn’t even think twice before going down on him until my lips met his navel. If anything, the strangled moan he tried to stop, the way his hips instinctively raised up and blocked the air from my lungs, making my eyes water, only served as incentives for me to keep going, up and down, up and down, licking and swirling and sucking until my jaw started to hurt and still, I didn’t want to stop.

Andy’s P.O.V.

It was always a battle between allowing myself to spill in her delicious mouth or perfect pussy, but today, I had other plans - and they involved me having to exercise incredible restraint as I pulled her away from my member by her hair, chuckling at the whine she let out.

“Lay down,” I ordered nodding towards the bed, and she quickly did so, crawling on her hands and knees towards the center of the mattress, but just before she could reach it, I pulled her by her ankle and turned her around myself.

“Can’t wait to fill you, sweetheart.” I was impatient, that much was obvious, but I don’t think she minded by the way her hips thrusted back to meet my fingers as I fucked her open with them, using my thumb to rub her throbbing little clit. “Do you want that?”

She nodded, managing to hold eye contact but not capable of saying anything, her bottom lip held tightly by her teeth as she struggled to swallow the whines I begged to hear. “Beg me for it,” I ordered, picking up the pace and curling my digits until I was able to hit her sweet spot every time I thrusted into her tight channel. “I want to know how badly you want me, I want to see if it even *comes close to my own desire for you.”

A gasp was still all I received as a response, and I had to contain my smile as I slowed down my movements, making them sweeter but deeper. I knew what was holding her back, and it wasn’t the weakness of her desire when contrasted to mine. “It’s alright, darling. You can scream, you can cry out my name as loud as you want. We don’t have to be quiet anymore.”

When her eyes met mine again, I could see that she understood, but it was still hard for her to fully let go. So I picked up the pace of my fingers, leaning over her to suck a bruise on her collarbones before whispering in her ear, “C’mon, pretty girl. I’ve always loved to see you squirming, trying to keep those beautiful sounds in, but right now, I’m dying to hear you moan.”

Her orgasm was what finally made her lose control, cumming while screaming my name, making me grin from ear to ear and keep the pace of my digits until her hand covered my wrist, a silent plea for me to let her calm down. I allowed her that, pulling away from her with a brief kiss on the forehead before turning my attention to myself, curling my fist around my cock that twitched with only that slight stimulation, probably because of the debauched scene before me.

It didn’t take long for her small hand to cover mine, forcing myself to jerk the throbbing member as a sign that she was ready for more, now. And so I pulled her even closer, forcing her legs to open wider before I rubbed the head of my cock between her lower lips, gathering some of the moisture there.

“You ready?” Pushing into her for the first time was always incredible. Often, it’d take me back to that long night we’d spent trying to work on a difficult case, when it all became too much for both of us to handle and I gave into temptation, bending her over my desk before burying myself inside of her.

The way she gasped so prettily at the feeling of my cock stretching her open was still the same, and it mirrored the way I groaned at how her tight walls squeezed me as I tried to bottom out inside of her. “So fucking tight,” I noted, arms resting on each side of her face as I waited for us both to grow used to the feeling of being connected again.

I kissed her once more before starting to move, losing myself in the taste of her while she messed up my hair, running her fingers through it to hold onto the locks when I did start to fuck her against the mattress. The feeling of her hands traveling further south, until suddenly I felt her nails running down my back, had me jerking abruptly in surprise, the realization that now she could leave marks on my body only leaving me more desperate for her, to make her mine once and for all.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck.” The way he gasped against my mouth was so pretty, I wanted to keep hearing it for the rest of my life. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. This is where you’ll spend the rest of your life, right here, getting filled by my cock over and over again.”

It didn’t seem like a bad future to have, especially when he squeezed my hips so tight, trying to control himself so this wouldn’t end so soon. “Fuck, no one can make me feel as good as you do, darling. No one.”

My body felt warm, like a fire had been lit inside, and the only thing that made it simultaneously more controlled and brighter was kissing him, feeling him connected to me, from his forehead to his toes.

I loved this man. God, I loved him, and it felt so good to be able to feel this way, without having any guilt attached to this wonderful feeling. Knowing that he was now mine and only mine, that I could give my whole heart to him without any fear, because he’d given me his.

It felt different this time, regardless of the dozens of times I’d had him inside of me. It was like we were both stripped to our very soul, finally getting to introduce them to each other, and there was a connection, a certain recognition that I just couldn’t put into words - especially not when he was fucking me this good. We just worked. It’s like despite how it all began, we were meant to be.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” And it was that declaration of love that had me clenching around him, reaching the high of desire that only he could show me. It didn’t surprise me that as soon as my orgasm began, he started to lose the rhythm of his thrusts, until he was groaning, “I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum inside of you, just like I promised, pretty girl.”

The reminder seemed to awaken every single nerve end on my body, and I gasped as I felt another orgasm building as his movements grew more frantic. “Don’t you want it? Don’t you want my cum? Say it, sweetheart. Say you want my cum.”

The reality of the situation hit me then, serving as an added stimulation to my already overworked body. He really wanted this. We were really doing this. “Yes, of course I want it. I want your cum, daddy.”

That was it for him. I watched as Andy threw his head back, eyes closed in bliss while his biceps bulged in an effort to keep him from falling on top of me. “Yessss… Make me a dad, Y/N,” he roared, suddenly pushing himself away from me to hold my legs open even wider, fingertips buried on the flesh of my thighs.

I felt his release paint my insides, and our eyes connected just then, acknowledging the weight of the moment between us. His hand reached out to stroke my chin before he carefully rolled us over so I could rest on his chest without him leaving me.

“I can’t believe we get to stay here for as long as we want,” he suddenly spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between us. “No more excuses, no more hiding. Just you and me, and this big and comfortable bed.”

“I can’t believe I get to fall asleep next to you…” I whispered, lightly tracing over his jawline until he turned to meet my eyes, hand holding my wrist tightly to catch my attention - as if it wasn’t already on him.

“I can’t believe you think you’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” And with that fortunate prediction into my future, I knew it would be full of giggles and satisfaction, just as long as I got to have Andy by my side.

[rightsockjin]

Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?

Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)

Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.

Word count: 8003

Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.

yeo-chin= girlfriend

nam-chin= boyfriend

halmoni= grandma

apa=to hurt

aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'

Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)

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“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.

You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.

It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.

This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.

But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.

You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.

When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”

His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.

“Are you crying?”

No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.

You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.

You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.

You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.

Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.

Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.

He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.

Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.

It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.

But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.

No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.

He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.

“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”

Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.

“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.

You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.

“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”

“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”

Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.

“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.

“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”

You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.

“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”

Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”

He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.

It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.

“I’m a bitch?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.

“I’m the bitch?”

“You heard me!”

You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.

“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.

“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.

“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.

“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.

“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.

A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.

“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”

You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-

“You-you’re in love with me?”

Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.

“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.

Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.

“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”

“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.

Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.

“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.

“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.

“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks

“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.

“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.

“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.

Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.

“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.

It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.

Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.

God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.

But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.

“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.

Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.

Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.

You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.

At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.

He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.

But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.

Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.

Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-

He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.

He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?

Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.

The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.

You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.

But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.

“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”

His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”

“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”

You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.

“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”

“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.

“Make me.”

Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.

“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.

“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”

He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.

“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”

Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?

“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”

But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.

Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”

Your eyes widened. “College?”

He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.

“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”

You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.

“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.

“Talk after?”

“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”

“Wha-no!”

You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.

He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.

“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.

“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,

“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.

“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.

“Yoongi!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”

“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.

You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”

“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.

He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”

“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.

“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.

He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”

“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.

“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.

The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“So can I put it i-”

“I already said yes.”

“In your ass?”

“Ew no!”

Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”

“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.

“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.

“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.

“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.

“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.

“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.

“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”

Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.

“As much as you want,” you reiterated.

And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.

His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.

You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.

“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.

You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.

“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”

“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.

“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”

Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.

“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”

You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.

“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.

He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.

“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.

“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly

well so you let it slide, “move faster.”

“You sure?” He asked.

You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.

This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.

So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.

“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.

“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.

That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.

“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.

You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.

Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.

“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.

After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.

“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”

With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.

You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.

“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.

Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.

“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”

You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.

“So no to yeo-chin then?”

“Yoongi!”

“Don’t you mean Oppa?”

You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”

Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.

Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.

“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.

“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.

“Is that okay?”

Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.

“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.

“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.

He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.

“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.

“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”

He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.

But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.

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Masterlist -in case you want to read more....

I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)

[teddy06writes]

Some unspoken thing

Karl Jacobs x Reader 

requested: no

Trigger warnings: mentions of covid, mild descriptions of a panic attack

premise: You and Karl have been friends, for years now, and now even your friends are starting to see that unspoken thing between you

“---” talking

‘---’ talking through a call

(y/s/n) -  your screen name

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’d known Karl since you were at least 10, and you both agreed that you’d been together forever, through thick and thin it was always you and Karl against the world. You and your unspoken thing.

When he’d first spoken of moving away from Portland you weren’t too sure, mostly because of college, but still, you found yourself here, sprawled across a couch, exhausted from hauling boxes up to your apartment. 

“Why did we bring so much stuff?” You groaned as Karl picked up your legs long enough to sit down, then letting them drop into his lap. 

He sighed, “Don’t quote me on this, but it was you who couldn’t pack your stuff into less than 20 boxes.” 

“Yah okay Mr. ‘I can’t be bothered to even clean this laundry before I pack it up to leave’.” You scoffed.  

“That's not true! I washed most of it...” Karl trailed off pulling out his phone, “Pizza?” 

“Obviously.” 

Soon the pizza arrived and as Karl went to the door to grab it, you went and grabbed two monsters from the fridge, sitting back down in front of the couch as Karl came back with the pizza. 

“Ey I gotta pizza here!” He exclaimed, setting it down. 

“Eyyyyyyy!” You handed him one of the monsters, opening your own as he sat down, already starting to pull up an old episode of survivor. 

Once the pizza had been finished, and the left overs put away you ended up half cuddled together on the couch, your fingers softly carding through his hair. 

^^

“Hey! I’m back!” You called, looking around the seemingly empty apartment, confused, “Karl?” 

It had been a few months since, you’d moved out to North Carolina, and so far online school hadn’t been too bad even when corona hit, not with Karl and streaming to distract you from the reality of the world around you.

You went back to looking around for your friend, calling, “Hey, Karl where’d you go?” 

Sighing you followed the soft, muffled sobs to Karl’s room, knocking on the door softly, “Honey, are you in there?” 

There was silence, then a muffled, “un uh.” 

You pushed open the door gently, blinking into the mild darkness and turning to see Karl sitting on his bed, half curled into the wall and wrapped in a sweater he’d stolen from your closest a few weeks ago. 

Immediately  you crossed the room, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling him into your arms, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” 

His arms drifted around your waist, burying his into your chest, “They all hate me.” He murmured. 

“Who do you think hates you?” You cooed. 

“Dream and Sapnap and everyone.”

“They don’t hate you, no one on the smp hates you.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “What happened?” 

“I said somethin stupid, (y/n), I messed everything up.” 

You knew not to push any further, instead just doing your best to hold him closer, whispering, “They don’t hate you, they’d never hate you okay? It’ll all blow over and everything will be okay. I promise.” 

“What if it doesn’t (y/n)? What if I messed it up forever?” 

“You didn’t baby, you didn’t. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” 

^^

“Ahhhhhh leave me alone!” You half shrieked, running away from Sapnap and Quackity on the dream SMP. 

‘Imposter! Imposter!’ They chanted. 

“I’m just supposed to be babysitting the chat!” You yelled, “I didn’t sign up to bully on a twitch stream! If I wanted that I would’ve been on my own stream!”

Sapnap laughed, ‘Oof! That's sad.’ 

“I know,” You said dramatically, “No one has any respect for (y/s/n), not you, not my chat, not even Karl!” 

‘We all know thats not true.’ Quackity scoffed. 

You half turned, giggling as Karl, came back into the room, “Debatable.” 

“What’s uh, whats going on?” He asked. 

“I’m being bullied, that's what's going on,” The chat started to fill with hearts and ‘(y/s/n) support.’, “Also I’ve decided since your chat likes me more than mine, so this is my stream now, I’m taking over.” 

Karl just half sighed, grabbing the chair from your desk on the other side of the office, and wheeling it over, sitting down next to you, propping his legs in your lap. 

‘(y/n) the world wants to know, how does it feel to now fill the void where Karl Jacobs once sat?’ Quackity asked, through a voice filter. 

“Well, since my dear friend Karl died,” 

“I’m not dead!” He interjected.

You sniffed, “Sometimes I can still hear his voice.”

“Dear friend?” Sapnap scoffed, “Al- Quackity look at the stream and tell me if they look like ‘dear friends’.” 

You face started to grow red, as both Nick and Alex began to catcall at you two, Karl, clearly getting confused as you ducked your head, face entirely red. 

“Whats the matter (y/n)? You got a crush?” Nick teased. 

Half covering your mouth you muttered, “Just some unspoken thing.” 

^^

“If I were to tell you that I kinda sorta didn’t listen to you, and forgot to buy more cereal, what would you say?” Karl asked, shrugging off his backpack as he came into the apartment. 

When he got no real response, he started to look around, finding you a minute later, laying on his bed, “Did’ja hear me?” 

“ehhhh... I don’t really care.” 

His brow furrowed upon hearing your monotonous, “You okay? What’s up?” 

You were still staring up at the ceiling “Grey, ‘s all grey.”

Sighing he came and sat down on the bed next to you, taking one of your hands in his, “Grey?” 

“Sad brain makes everything grey.” 

Karl fiddled with your fingers a moment, before raising them to his lips and softly pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I’ll go make you tea.” 

He headed out of the room, leaving you to sit up and stare at the ceiling wondering what you’d done to deserve someone like him. 

He headed out of the room, leaving you to sit up and stare at the ceiling wondering what you’d done to deserve someone like him. 

A few minuets later he came back with a mug, handing it to you before he sat down behind you, wrapping his arms around you, “Is there a reason for sad brain today?” 

“Everything's just- blah. I’m just tired.” 

He didn’t need to ask to understand you didn’t mean physically, so instead he just pulled you gently to lean against his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw, “Okay?”

You knew Karl had a hard time with words sometimes, and you had long since learned how to listen for the meanings between simple phrases, and especially the weight of certain words, “Okay.” 

^^

‘So what is with you and Karl?’ Niki asked. 

You sighed, “I do not even know where to begin to answer that question.”

You were sitting in a discord call with her, originally trying to plan a joint stream but the conversation had switched.

‘I mean, if you don’t mind me saying so, it seems like your dating.’ 

“Well...” You considered it for a moment, you knew that your feelings for Karl were more than platonic, and had been for a long time, to you, it almost seemed like a fact of the world, the sky is blue, the earth is round, you loved Karl. 

“We've never talked about it, but- I suppose we- uhhh, you know what we’ll just say a little bit.” You quickly changed what you were going to say to be more ambiguous as Karl entered the room yelling, “Hi Niki!” 

‘I know you can’t hear me but hi Karl!’ She yelled back. 

You laughed, turning in your chair, “Niki says hi!” 

Karl grinned, leaning on the back of your chair, “Oh, yeah, dinners ready.”  and Niki raised her eyebrows, smirking at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You laughed, feeling Karl’s chin coming to rest on the top of your head. 

‘I’m not looking at anything.’ she insisted, ‘you would be a cute couple.’

Your face started to turn red, “Shut up!” 

‘It was a compliment!’ Niki laughed. 

“I know!” 

Karl’s face grew confused, “What?”

“It’s nothing. Niki I’ve gotta go, we’ll see about the stream tomorrow, okay?” 

‘yeah, bye!’ 

“Bye!” 

You disconnected from the call, “Dinner?” 

“Yeah! I managed not to burn the chicken!” 

You couldn’t help but grin, “Awesome!” 

^^

“I swear- either there both oblivious or there just really good at keeping it just hidden enough!” Dream exclaimed. 

“I mean if we don’t find out for another two weeks, I get a hundred dollars, so by all means let it drag out.” Quackity laughed. 

Sapnap groaned, “Actually its more like three hundred now, Hbomb, Skeppy and Wilbur all put in more money.” 

“Well I asked the other day,” Niki began, “and they only said, ‘a little bit’, What does that even mean?” 

“Maybe they are dating and that's (y/n)s way of dismissing it.” Tubbo said. 

You were listening to the discord call, trying not to laugh, as Tommy suggested, “Well it’s possible they are dating but like, haven’t realized it?” 

Everyone began to laugh, “Wait- wait hear me out! Hear me out! Like- you know when on like romcoms and shit where two bestfriends end up like there dating even when they technically aren’t and then they accidently kiss!” 

George scoffed, “That's not a thing.” 

“Well still!” Tommy tried to argue. 

“Not even in movies though.” Niki said. 

“Your right,” You laughed, unmuting, “We haven’t kissed yet, so it must not be a thing.” 

The vc went deadly silent as Tommy began to laugh hysterically, “Were you here the whole time?” 

“Maybe.” You laughed. 

“Wait- so are you and Karl together or not?” Dream questioned. 

“Uhhh, let you know when I find out? Do I get the money if I figure it out?” 

“Oh my god (y/n).” Tubbo was trying not to laugh himself as Tommy continued to lose his shit. 

“Yeah,” You looked over to where Karl was half asleep, leaning against you, “I’ve said it before, and I guess I’ll say it again, it’s just some unspoken thing.” 

^^

Music filled the apartment when you entered, some old song by Sinatra, and Karl was dancing around the living room as you pulled off your coat and mask. 

“Are you listening to Sinatra?” You questioned, setting the rest of your things down. 

“Come dance with me!” He giggled. 

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you grabbed his hand, letting the other come to rest on his shoulder, “God, it’s been so long since I’ve dance.” 

“Come on, you remember don’t you?” 

You chuckled, “Back, side, forward, back. Technically this isn’t a waltzing song though.” 

“You can waltz to anything if you try hard enough,” Karl insisted, “Ready, and- one two three, one two three...” 

You fell into step, quietly humming along to the song as you moved in a slow arc around the room.

“..And- spin out...” Karl murmured, gently spinning you out to the side, and you paused for a a moment before he tugged on you arm, causing you to spin back in, finding yourself, face to face with him. 

You laughed nervously, suddenly blushing at the feeling of his arms around you. 

“What are we?” Karl asked softly, “Like, what is- this?” 

“Some unspoken thing.” Your voice was just as low, suddenly the weight of the hand resting on your lower back seeming to double.

He looked at your lips, then back at your eyes, and you nodded softly, leaning in and pressing your lips together. 

Your arms drifted around his waist as he pulled you closer, before you separated, smiling. 

“Does that mean it’s spoken now?” Karl asked. 

You grinned, “Course.” 

Later, after spending the rest of the night like any other you were cuddled up together on the couch, watching the newest episode of survivor, and you pretended not to notice as he gushed to someone through text. 

Your phone began to buzz with  venmo notifications, and Karl looked at you confused, “(y/n), why is everyone paying you?” 

You chuckled, “Reaping the benefits of our friends conspiring in a discord call that was left open.” 

After the kiss you had sent one text to a group chat; ‘I figured it out: pay up bitches.’

[ghostdrew22]

angst fic where ravenclaw!reader has thalassophobia and is playing with the water by the shore in the dark lake with the necklace draco gave her before they broke up a few years back when the new girl he’s been going out with throws the necklace into the middle of the lake in spite, and the reader cannot afford to lose it djeiwis sorry if it’s messy u dont have to do it ure uncomfyyy

Prompts:

If you die, I’m going to kill you.

Jump In || Draco Malfoy

Requested: Yes Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: ANGST, a bit of swearing, panic attacks and thalassophobia mentioned. Summary: Years after breaking up with Draco you find that the last gift he gave you is still the only thing comforting you, and his new girlfriend doesn’t like that.

WORDS : 3546

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

The crescent moon outside begs for your company and you oblige, preferring to be alone than stuck in a room full of people who pity you. You lift the bottom half of your dress from the ground and sneak out of the ballroom nonchalantly, anxiety dissipating as the soft breeze comes in contact with your face.

The sound of your heels clacking against the cobblestone fills the air as you walk toward the boardwalk hanging above the lake, and it reminds you of a time when Draco would bring you down here. The lake behind the Malfoy Manor has always been subject to your fear, and you rarely ever go toward it, but tonight you’ll do almost anything to feel alone and normal for once.

The tiny ripples forming on the surface send shivers running down your spine and you look up at the sky immediately in an attempt to subdue your anxiety. A few meters away lies the ballroom, full of dignitaries and old family friends of the Malfoy’s who attend their annually ball every time without fail, and you can hear the faint sound of laughter mixed with a beautiful crescendo. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and drag your fingers up to your neck to toy with necklace lying around it, as you try to imagine that you’re anywhere else.

You’d thought that it would be easier, coming to the ball and seeing him with his new girlfriend, but it had proved to be a bigger challenge than you’d anticipated, and residual feelings that you’d been trying to stuff down for months had resurfaced like anchors being pulled up from the bottom of the sea. It reminded you of what he said that day, “I’m yours forever, even if you’re not mine.”, and the only thing that stopped you from running back into his arms was the chain hanging around your neck.

A silver chain with a midnight blue sapphire dangling on its end, worth one of your arms and a gift from the blond himself. He had given it to you as a promise, one to love you till the sun stopped rising, and at the time you had thought that it was the perfect gesture. But reality hit and you soon realized that a life with Draco Malfoy would be one filled with envy and uneasiness, and you knew then that you both deserved more.

The necklace’s monetary value reminds you that Draco belongs to a long and esteemed family line which demands attention that you cannot cope with. But the fact that it had been his proclamation of love reminds you that in order for you both to lead happy lives, you must be apart. The way it gleams beneath Chandeliers is so captivating that it always brings you back to earth; a life with Draco is inviting, but some invitations mustn’t be accepted.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

All eyes instantly fell on him the second that he appeared; sporting that notorious smile which always brought people to their knees, and a priceless suit that hugged his figure so well it made all the straight men positively envious. A true Malfoy; charming, rich, attractive, easily the whole package. You didn’t get a chance to speak with him because he was instantly preoccupied with the ramblings of his mother as she dragged him around the room with pride, showing off the son that she’d done such a good job at raising.

Draco’s life had always been politics and he’d been raised to invariably stand tall, look presentable, get good grades, converse well. You watched him in awe every time, admiring the grace and ease with which he conducted himself. But it made you wonder when he’d been taught the art of letting the spotlight go, to focus all of his attention on the one he loves instead of the search for approval. And the answer was that he hadn’t, Draco never grew out of the desire to have everyone’s praise and approval.

‘If everyone loves you, if everyone wants to either be you or be with you, then you’ve succeeded.’ He’d told you late one night after one these balls. You’d looked at him with pity, not having the heart to tell him that love and validation are not synonymous, and you’d hugged him so hard that somehow you both knew it was all coming to an end soon.

He grew up being a magnet to both jealousy and admiration, a symphony of applause being the background track to the movie of his life, and he didn’t know how to live any other way. When all you’ve ever known is lustful stares from fellow peers, stolen glances at the back of your head, and unbridled acclaim masked behind attraction, then it’s hard to put that life behind and settle for the love of only one person.

Walk past, quick brush I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

He truly was magnificent though, even you couldn’t deny. Years ago, when he’d walked down the stairs in one of those clad black suits, he had met you at the bottom of the stairwell and you could’ve sworn that you were floating on cloud 9. He had smiled so brightly at the sight of you, had laughed so sweetly in the space of your ear, and fit so tightly into your side like it was a home made only for him, that you were intoxicated on the feeling of him and hadn’t noticed what was happening.

You were falling in love. You weren’t flying, no, you didn’t have wind beneath mystical wings that you’d somehow managed to grow. You were falling, and at a speed so treacherous that you didn’t even realise it was happening until it was too late. One day you were falling, and the next you were ruins buried so far into the ground that you couldn’t even tell where the earth stopped and you started.

Falling in love with him was fast, like a bullet train, but everything after was so slow that you felt as if you weren’t even moving at all.

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos I see me padding 'cross your wooden floors With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we wandered 'round had never seen a love as pure as it And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea 'Cause it could never be

Promises to run away together and start a life somewhere off in a distant town.

Fingertips, laced with the narcotic effect of young love, tracing lines across the expanse of each other’s faces and trying to figure out which of the other’s features would be inherited by your children.

Dreams about a time when your lives would no longer be dictated by the paths your parents had set out for you, but instead by the spontaneity and reassurance that came with endearment.

Tastes of tea replaced instead with the taste of each other as long-forgotten tisanes made home on bedside tables because you both got lost in the haze of tenderness.

Arguments about mundane and useless concepts that would go on for longer than necessary, because he insisted on disagreeing with everything, and always ended with your acute responses.

Lives that had once lacked passion, that had once been so dull they compared to Snape’s drawling, instead replaced with all the colours that the world had to offer.

It was the perfect life, the one you two had planned.

But it was too perfect to ever be real.

You take a deep breath and unhook the necklace to observe it once more, hoping that it’ll provide some comfort for the ache in your chest.

'Cause I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush Everybody wants you But I don't like a gold rush

“Y/N.” A voice slurs behind you.

You turn with furrowed eyebrows and roll your eyes when you see who it is, “Pansy.”

“Don’t be rude.” She hisses and hiccups as she stumbles toward you, “What are you doing out here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” You narrow your eyes at her, “Are you drunk?”

“Just a tad.” She replies as she hiccups again and finally stands before you. You watch silently as she gracefully sits on the wood below her, making sure not to create creases in her dress or fall over in her heels.

“Shouldn’t you be in there? On his arm like a trophy?” You ask, and inwardly groan when you hear how jealous you sound.

“Probably.” She shrugs and looks out into the water. “It doesn’t matter though, I’m not you.”

She looks up and into your eyes, you look away immediately. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to take from that.”

“Yes, you do.” She states bluntly, “He told me why you left him. That was really selfish of you.”

You gasp and turn to look at her, “How dare you? You have no idea-“

“No, actually, I do.” She gets up from the ground swiftly as a fire rages in her eyes, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be like him? We’re the same, we were practically raised on the same blueprint. Despite what you think, there’s a lot more to the issue than what lays on the surface.”

“Oh and I guess you have all the answers?” You spit out with a scoff.

“I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be smart.” She shakes her head and hiccups as she turns to face the water, “Draco’s entire life has always just been this.” Pansy turns and gestures toward the Manor with a grimace.

“It’s always been about being the best in the room, just so that he can earn five seconds of approval from his parents. But you came, and you showed him more, you gave him a glimpse of what love feels like. Then, because you were scared and couldn’t hack it, you left him.” She continues and you grip the necklace tightly in anger.

“That’s not what happene-“

“How can you possibly expect him to come back to me, to this bullshit, when he’s experienced actual happiness? How is he supposed to come back from you?” She finally turns to face you and you hear a slight crack in her voice with the last words, “I love him so much and if I could make him half as happy as you do then I would.”

“You can.” You breathe out shakily, “If you two try a little more then you’ll realise why it just makes sense.”

“Love isn’t about sense Y/N. It’s not about appearances, it’s not about applause, it’s not about any of the crap that him and I were raised to prioritize.”

“You call it crap but that’s all he knows, and he just isn’t ready to give it all up.”

“Why do you get to decide that for him?” She tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrows, you look away from her.

“I should probably get back inside.” You mutter as you start to turn toward the manor.

“You’re righ-“ She gasps and you turn to see what’s shocked her, “You still have it?”

“Have what?”

“The necklace.” She points to your hand and you nod awkwardly in agreement, “I helped him pick it out.”

“Oh.”

“A sapphire to match your virtue and faithfulness.” She says absent-mindedly as her eyes lock on the piece of jewellery. “Guess he got that wrong.”

She laughs coldly and you scrunch your face in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“You’re just like the rest of them.” Before you even know what’s happening she’s reached for the necklace in your hand, “You love him until it’s no longer convenient, until the paint starts to chip.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice comes out shaky and lacking conviction, it makes her laugh again in disgust.

“And then who has to pick up the fallen pieces? Me.” She continues to ramble as she walks toward the edge of the boardwalk, you feel your breathing start to pickup as you try to focus on her instead of the lake behind her. “As if I don’t have my own pieces to pick up.”

“Pansy, please just come here so we can talk about this nicely.” You respond and swallow.

“No. You don’t deserve a civil conversation.” She spits out as she finally reaches the edge of the boardwalk and hangs the necklace out by her arm, “In fact, you don’t deserve anything. You don’t deserve his love and you definitely don’t deserve this pendant.”

“No!”

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore

Everything after falling in love with Draco happened in slow motion. You don’t know how, or when, but your life had become a slackening slideshow of bad decisions.

You hold your breath as you watch the necklace fall into the lake. It’s as though minutes, hours, days pass in that moment, but you know that it’s merely a few seconds. When the splash finally sounds, you let out a huge gasp and Pansy laughs as she turns to leave.

Panic sets in and you start to contemplate your options. You could jump in and get it yourself? No, that’s absurd, you’re not going to overcome your fear that easily. You could rush into the manor and find someone who’s willing to get it for you? No, no one would take you seriously.

You shake your head and decide to just do the easiest thing; try and work up the courage to get it yourself. You start to pull off your heels and scrunch up your dress so that you can step into the water and you walk toward the edge of the boardwalk.

But as soon as you’re near the water you realise that you can’t do it and your panic rapidly worsens. You step back a few paces before falling to the ground and pulling your head into your knees as silent sobs begin to shake your core.

Breaths, in rapid beats, are going to and from your lungs as the sound of the water swishing fills your ears. Nausea begins to set in your stomach as you think more and more about your terrible predicament, your fear of bodies of water and your sadness at losing the necklace combining to form one indestructible lump in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N? Are you out here?” A voice calls out from a yard or two away and you try to recognize it, but everything is foggy in your state of trepidation.

“Shit, Y/N!” The voice calls out once more and you hear footsteps pick up to a run as the person approaches you. “I swear to Merlin, if you die I’m going to kill you!”

You realise that the person still hasn’t noticed you, and is probably assuming the worst, so you try your best to croak out a word- any word.

“Here.” You manage to rasp out between sobs and wheezes, and the person immediately runs toward you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” They ask as they pull your head out from your knees and you try to nod slowly.

You blink back a few tears and try to focus on the face in front of you, “The- the-“ You try to say and shake your head of the confusion as the words refuse to formulate.

“Hey, breathe princess.”

You recognize the nickname and then soon enough your eyes register that Draco’s kneeling in front of you. “Draco?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He responds softly as he cups your face in his hands and tries to wipe a few of your tears, “Take a few deep breaths for me, yeah?”

You nod and do as told, breathing until you finally calm down and manage to think clearly again. “I’m okay.” You breathe out and he sighs in relief.

“I was so worried, Pansy came in rambling about getting back at you and something about tossing and water- And I was just so scared that she’d thrown you in or something, because I know that you can’t swim and you’re terrified of the lake so I-“

“Hey, slow down, I’m okay. I’m right here.” You respond and manage a weak smile. He nods and sighs again. “She didn’t toss me into the water, though I think she would’ve liked to. She threw in the necklace. Shit! The necklace, it’s still down there!” You exclaim as you try to stand up but find that your legs are asleep, and end up coming back down instantly.

“Calm down. What necklace?”

“The one you gave me, the one with the sapphire that you said was a family heirloom?” You ramble and he furrows his eyebrows.

“You still have that?”

“Yes, I do. And it’s at the bottom of the lake and I need to get it back!” You stand up and Draco immediately does the same, placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you still.

“It’s just a necklace Y/N, you don’t need it.”

“It’s not just a necklace, it’s-“ You pinch your nose and sigh, “It just means a lot to me, okay?”

He narrows his eyebrows but nods in understanding, “Okay.” He steps back from you and pulls off his suit jacket, looking absolutely magnificent with his toned shoulders showing beneath the well-fitted shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get it for you.” He shrugs and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, I can figure something out.”

“You tried to figure it out and you had a full on panic attack, I’m the best option.” He says sternly as he looks at you and you nod in agreement, “Now just wait, very far away, and let me find it for you.”

“Thank you.” You call out behind him but he doesn’t respond.

At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it 'Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea 'Cause it will never be

“Here you go, in perfect condition.” He says as he drops the necklace into your hands and runs a hand through his hair. He looks gorgeous and you look down to avoid getting lost in his eyes.

“Your suit is wet.” You mumble with a sniff and he chuckles, the sound makes your heart race.

“We have magic, I’ll dry up.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finally look up at him and he smiles, that same hypnotic smile. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

“It’s just a necklace Y/N.” He smiles softly and you shake your head as tears begin to stream down your face again.

“No, it’s not just a necklace.” You sniff, “It’s you and I. It’s all that I have left of the love that we had, it’s all that I have left of the life we were going to build together.”

“Y/N.” The sternness in his voice makes you swallow hard, but you pull your hand up to indicate that you’re not done.

“Let me talk, please.” He nods and you continue, “This little gem is all the words that we never had the chance to say. It’s the nights we would’ve spent climbing into bed together, in our little house that’s tucked safely into a small town. It’s the cups of coffee I was going to make you when you woke up in the mornings, and the cups of tea you would’ve made me when we went to sleep. This little gem is the only thing I have to remind me that our love was real.”

“It also doesn’t hurt that it costs a fortune huh?” He asks with a grin, despite the fact that there’s sadness in his eyes, and you nod with a choked out laugh.

“Definitely a bonus.” You say as you laugh a little more and wipe away a few tears.

Draco pulls the necklace out of your hands and opens it to put it around your neck once again, and you turn around so he can put it on. “Look, Y/N, life is too short to fill up with ridiculous mistakes. You left me, like I never mattered to you, and it broke me.”

You turn back around quickly, “That wasn-“

He twists you back around abruptly, “Let me talk now.” You nod and he continues to hook the chain around your neck. “It took me months to decipher what you meant when you said that I had too much love for the spotlight, that I didn’t have the capacity to let it go. It took me months to finally grasp what you meant when you said that people fall at my feet, that my contrarian demeanor is a crowd-puller. And the recognition hurt, a lot, because I realised that you we right about most of it.”

You feel his fingers leave your neck as he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, “What was I wrong about?”

He pulls you back to face him and smiles as he looks down at you, “The only thing you were wrong about was my unwillingness to let it go.” He pulls you into his arms for a hug, and you sigh in his arms.

“You can’t just leave this life Draco, we both know it isn’t that simple.” You muffle into his chest and the vibrations of his chuckles make you smile.

“That’s where you’re wrong angel, I can just leave this life. You never gave me the option but,” You pull apart and he smiles so wide that you think his face might come apart, “I would give it all up, for you.”

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

His eyes are shining as they look down at you with adoration and commitment, and it takes all the strength you have left inside to not pull him back into your arms. He brings his fingers up to the sapphire and rubs his thumb along it.

“It’s not all you have Y/N.” He pulls your chin up so you look him in the eyes, “I’m still right here.”

~~~

get added to my taglist 

taglist: @dracoscene @dreaming-about-fanfictions @astoria-malfcy @gwlvr @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @dracomalfoyposts

~~~

hi lovies! guess who’s finally feeling good enough to write again! :) we’re going to ignore the fact that the FOOLWAG sequel is beating my ass though

I will not lie, I had a great time writing this, possibly one of my favourite requests by far. I was originally going to make the ending angsty but I figured  @evermoreeve (thx sweetie<3) reminded me that we all deserve a happy ending now and then.

anyway, i love you all,

jean <3

[i-need-air]

Hey it's me again ❤️

I'm just gonna whisper something in your mind (is that even possible?)

Having a baby with Hybrid Katsuki.

Just that. Imagine girl. Perfection.

Ok, real talk here. Every time I see a request from you I uwu a little bit bc I know for a fact whatever you're requesting will make me get so immersed and involved and I'm gonna 💕💞AAAAAA💕💞 while writing AND [lemmecatchmybreath] it happened once again skdjdkfkf Hope you enjoy and sorry it took longer than normal~

Word count: 1.8k

× listen 🥺 I already started and I'm melting, ok?

× when he finds out you're having a smol baby together?

× he freezes and looks at you in a whole different light

× if you're getting pregnant, he will definitely smell the change in your scent and will know even before you do; he'd be instantly by your side with a bewitched expression on his face, taking your cheeks into his palms to just soak everything in yet he's shaking slightly

× and even if you adopt [hopefully a smol hybrid], something deep inside of Katsuki, burried and long forgotten surfaces

× this is the life he always wanted, he always craved even in his darker moments

× this happiness, this fulfillment, this joy

× I absolutely believe he will diligently read and learn everything about the baby to come; will educate himself like no other, deciding to be the very best father he could ever be

× his life was rough and he was stolen away from his biological family, he will now have a chance to have his own and he will not fail you or the baby

× when you hold the little bundle of sunshine in your hands, head down admiring the beauty of a new life, he will stand there, again in shock, again soaking this moment in... so beautiful, so perfect

× will he ever tell you that? of course not; angry ass wild pomeranian—

× but his face gives him away every single time and when you tilt yourself to hand him his new son or daughter, he falls in love for the second time in his life;

× he burries his nose in the soft and fragile skin of the baby's head and breathes in, his instinct kicking in to defend, protect, care, look out for...

× watch carefully because once the baby makes a noise, he'll still, unsure of what to do, but smile so softly as the baby coos in his arms securely; that right there is the best image you can have of soft Katsuki.

× the first few weeks are actually horrible, sorry to break it to everyone aksjskdj not because he doesn't know what to do or does not want to help; on the contrary, he is so incredibly attentive but he also recites the books he learned by memory at this point and it's getting absolutely infuriating;

× although understand him, please; he wants to prove he's a good dad 🥺 except you wanna smack him bc he scoffs if you suggest something he isn't sure about.

× you will find him standing by the baby's crib as it sleeps; he's just???? making sure this is not a dream????? don't question anything though

× can we hc Bakugou with a daughter too? [ already established in the Hybrid!Kiri hcs that Kiri'd have daughter bUT i just really really like beefy men with tiny daughters;;; my heartttt;;; ]

× his little angel, no discussion, no argument, his daughter can do NO WRONG!

× he's very down to earth though, don't get me wrong, he just absolutely adores spoiling her

× speaks softly into her ear, the lowest you'd hear from him

× gruff, raspy, gutural voice ofter overused to scream now low and soft as he holds her into his chest; doesn't do baby-voices or anything like that, but calls her his angel then smirks at you if you're watching;;; then starts softly complaining and bitching about you to the baby 💀 all while rubbing her back

× omfg his hand is as big as her tiny back; guys, call an ambulance, I'm—

× Katsuki would be the type of little shit to pull what I just said then grab you and glue you to his chest too; he'd look down at you both, eyes shining in such adoration he'd take your breath away just before he continues his ranting about you;

× once the baby starts being more interactive, her giggles specially the ones induced by her daddy will make him melt; absolute diminute baby with a small wiggling tail clapping her chubby hands at her dad? his eyes would widen suddently, ears snapping high in surprise and he's taken back by the emotions overtaking him

× he's gone, man; she has him wrapped around her tiny little finger and you can't do anything about it

× instantly acts all in denial if someone is around though; scoffs to hide is obvious smile, placing a palm on his mouth to further block it out and tickles her with the other, earning another fit of giggles

× please, don't tell him his whole tail is waving from side to side

× the only clear giveaway apart from his ears and it's;;; a d o r a b l e;;;

× specially when your daughter also starts wagging her tail in response whenever he does it;

× "Hey, come see what the dumbass is doing!" or "Look at what she did" while showing you a video; proud pappa 🥺

× we're bringing back Proud Bakugou bc hIS DAUGHTER iS tHe BeSt; no, seriously, his kid is the mf best in the world and he will start this presentation with—

× now sit down with me and accept this: the baby; yes, your sweet daughter; mhm, that adorable screeching angel; mhm;;; she'll talk so early it's disturbing.

× at 6 months or so she's already saying mamma, dadda, kitty, woof-woof

× seriously terrifying how sharp she is and how she cannot shut up; for the love of gOd, Katsuki, this is all your fault... it doesn't matter, he just smirks as he has another reason to brag to anyone about his child

× did that street vendor look at him funny? "I'M GONNA FUCKING TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAUGHTER—"

× super-protective of her and fucking hates with a burning passion if anyone dares to do that thing where they match up babies saying "Maybe they'll get married when they grow up"

× hands down, no filter, he just looks deep down in whoever had the audacity and says "Like fucking shit they'd deserve her."

× drag him away before he throws fists

× he will definitely if you don't drag him away and you know it, they know it, the baby knows it and cheers for pappa, the whole world knows it at this point and they're buying tickets to watch the shitshow

× chest carrier and walks around with the kid like a boss

× man has shit to do, don't even dare to judge him;

× handles fits really well, he's impressive to say at least

× she's spoiled, yes and always has new toys, coloring books, whatever she wants but the moment she throws fits, he puts his foot down

× baby would be smol angery bb all adorable in all her Bakugou genetics anger and he'd just stare, tapping his foot

× literally waits in place until she calms and looks up at him with big, round eyes, puffy red cheeks and ears lowered

× mission accomplished; he nods then picks her up;

× and you're there amazed??????

× "The fuck you lookin' at?" lil shit still has a foul mouth tho, but make him get just as pouty and embarrassed as the child in his arms by saying something cheesy like "How amazing you are as a dad 💕"

× all rainbows and unicorns until she starts repeating insults and fr tho, Katsu almost shits his pants, fearing your reaction. Will, hands down, chill out with the insults even if he meant no damage with them; he has this unreadable expression on, a mix of shame and fluster, dread too? he's sorry, ok????

× loves, loves, loves cooking for you both and once the kiddo has her own special chair to sit at the dining table together, that's when he sees it: his dream

× you, wiping some food off her cheek with a loving expression, talking about your day casually, baby giggling while she moves her face away playfully; he loves you both so much.

× has these rare moments where, at the end of the day once you're settled in bed, he'd hug you tight and thank you in his mind for... for this... all of it...

× once she starts walking they're both a disaster

× seriously, do not expect the household to be silent ever again [ well, that dream was gone long ago anyway lol ]

× "Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?"

× rapid giggle running around from place to place

× "Oh, for fucks—"

× "Katsuki." you only need to say, catching him in his insults

× 😳 ... "Kid, come back, we're goin' to the park." Skdjkdfkl

× sudden adorable tiny fast steps approach him bc they're going for walkies!

× he is very careful with her and teaches her about stranger danger; also teaches her how to growl and even if her attempt is a total failure, small rawr leaving her lips, he's like "Yes. Good job. Now give it more heart."

× he growls as an example

× she growls back, sounding like a cute lil pup 🥺💕

× as she grows up, she obviously acts more like her father yet he knows when to stop the bad behaviors and it only takes a warning growl from him to get her to cease

× yet somehow you're the strict parent at the end of the day??????? tf????????? who made the rules??????

× starts calling her brat, squirt, lil shit 💕lovingly💕

× "your child" if she did something bad

× "Your fucking child kicked the ball into the vase and broke it." Aha, nice one, Katsuki. Good job.

× not to brag but her puppy eyes don't work on him but yours do; the problem is her puppy eyes do work on you bc she's the light of your life so if she wants something; she'll puppy-eye you knowing you'll get it for her bc daddy loves you very much 💕💞

× literally evil mastermind; didn't I tell you she's sharp? pft, she's playing you both so hard

× every day he comes back from work she runs to him at the door, tail wiggling happily behind her as she stretches her arms to be picked up and he always does, without a doubt, then proceeds to kiss the top of her head

× come out to greet him too? the whole loving routine is his absolute thing and wants to see you, have you kiss his cheek; he complains but adores it soooooo much!

× you have a family night; BONDING WITH MOODY POMERANIANS. Yes, plural, and it sounds perfect~

× even if it's just one of those animated movies he hates so much, he'll watch through all of it and make sarcastic comments just to make you both laugh; will grin satisfied asf if he manages to do so bc he's the best.

× will definitely want another kid, so how about maybe a boy??? hmm???

× asks you if you're up for the idea and if you agree, he'll roll his eyes and crack his shoulders, acting so very uninterested and purely exhausted yet his smirk would give him away:

× "Knew you'd torture me with another devil"

× throw him out, istg— 💀

[bakugohoex]

So theres this small little blip in the manga (no spoilers) where Jean dreams of having a family, do you think you could do this with his S/O and then he wakes up before they have to leave for Marley, and hes just so wonderstruck because it felt so real to him? Your Jean writing is just 💗💗💗

”it was the both of us, we were happy.”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: fluff and slight manga spoilers 

word count: 1300+

a/n: hi, i kinda always end up reading a summary of a requets in my head and then branching into random shit but hopefully you like this, thank you so much for the support anon and thank you to @hedwigs-quills who swayed me to write a jean one shot

summary: in which on the ship to marley, jean has a dream about a family with you, as soon as he wakes up his need for it to occur overtakes him

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The broiling day smothered your faces, Jean outside on the balcony leaning against the frigid window provided some cool to the deep warmth. He stared out into the red and orange hues that cascaded through the sky, the deep ember providing a different type of comfort that he had never experienced. He gazed back through the window, your frame on the other side, letting air out but you sat on the opposite end.

His gaze had fallen onto your face, your eyes sparkling under the rays of golden beams. Your mouth twitching to a smile, the adoration you had on your face in a single moment. The few strands of your hair captivated your face, it framed you perfectively and with your legs crossed. He watched with your skirt riding up, the movement made his eyes graze across your smooth skins, your thighs pushing together.

The only thing that captivated him more than you was the soft plush fingers that trapped your own. The cooes and gargles that came from their mouth, the unkempt baby hairs and the dribble came from their mouth. The delicate baby had a soft tenderness when in your arms, you brought his baby boy into your face, kissing his cheek which produced a wide toothless smile.

Jean continued to watch the baby you had made with him, had created the little family that he had always dreamed about. You noticed him staring at his perfect wife and child, even with the beauty of the scarlet sky. The beauty of his family with the woman he loved was incomparable.

“Jean.” It was a soft whisper, holding your baby against your body.

He opened up the window more to let you creep onto the balcony, before putting his arms out, “come ‘ere.”

You complied, resting upon his thighs you had always loved to sit on, the baby looked so much like you both, the brown specs of hair and y/e/c eyes. Made him in an instant know that this was everything he had always wanted, always dreamt about. He kissed your temple, your head against his shoulder, you could feel the stubble brush against your own jaw in comfort.

The baby you both had created falling off into his own loose sleep, “I love you Y/n.” It was almost a whisper, but you turned to face the boy you had watched grow up and fall in love.

“I love you too.” His lips were soft on your neck, little whispers of sweet nothings. One firm grip on your waist and the other on you and the baby, he had fought for this, fought against the titans for his happily ever after. He would protect you and his new family for the rest of his life if it meant you both finally got the award from your suicidal sacrifice of comfort and peace.

The red hues become bluer and blacker, the soft snores erupting from your nose, it was comforting for Jean. He had waited for you to sleep before falling asleep himself, he just wanted to make sure you felt safe in his arms. Even if you never admitted it to the boy, the only place you truly felt safe was with him and your baby.

He watched the boy play and grab at your hair, a soft chuckle coming out as he brought his finger to the little ones much tinner ones. In an instant the boy grabbed a hold and he had found a new love that filled his heard even more than it had been before. The boy and his wife were his life and he’d be damned if titans came again to ruin what he had established. Another soft kiss into your hair, the smell of mango coming from your head engulphed his nose.

He finally tightened his hold on the two of you, he would protect you, that was his job. He would protect you, he wo…

The waves crashed against the stolen Marleyan ship; the smell of salt dusted under Jean’s nose. Your head rested against his body, his arms around your waist and heavy snores coming from your mouth. He stared down, a wide yawn after feeling his own body resting against the metal rails, he noticed you move yourself to feel even more encompassed between his arms and chest, your head resting against his broad chest.

Your other hand placed against around his neck lowly, you stayed curled up in his arms, he watched over you thinking about the dream he had just had. He had only woken up due to the splashing of a wave hitting the ship to rock it a bit. But even then, the dream, you and him, and the baby it felt too real. He looked out into the distance, once this was over, once you had won the war against humanity, he’d make his dream a reality. He promised himself that he would have the family he deserved with you.

Moving the stray strand of hair away from your face, you started to stir, your eyes widening at how he looked at you with love.” Hi baby.” You were a lot less tired but remained in his arms out of comfort.

“Hey princess.” He whispered kissing your temple just as he did in the dream. You felt the stubble near your jaw and feeling of it grazing across your face made your heart flutter.

“Your dream seemed intense.” You spoke yawning and wrapping your arms tighter against the boys body. He had fallen asleep first under the light blue almost pastel skies and seeing how concentrated he had looked it perked your interest.

“I had a dream.” He continued to look past you; his gaze fixated on the endpoint of it all.

You laughed at the obvious statement, “I’d hope you would have.”

He rolled his eyes shaking his head before speaking again, “it was the both of us, we were happy.”

You looked tenderly at your lover, he was picking up and remembering every last bit of his dream and you wanted to hear it all. “Why were we happy?”

He hadn’t been meeting your eyes, but at the question he finally looked into your delicate caring eyes. The fruitful tenderness you brought like a free element that engulphed all the horrors of Titans and only provided adoration. Taking in a sharp breath he began to explain the dream, explain every moment from the soft hues of the sky to the little fingers of your baby. To the way you dressed ad how even in his dreams you gave him the same love and comfort that you gave to him in real life.

“…I had a family with you.” He ended with and the smile that had fixated on your face had refused to leave. He watched your lack of speech; you were silent, and he was fearful that you didn’t want this with him. Even with the smile he was conflicted on it being a callous smile or a sorrowful smile where you would confess it was never going to happen with him.

Seeing the fear in his eyes, you brought your hand to cup his face, the stray hair grazing your palm and you softly kissed him. It was the same feeling in his dream, even more so with comfort and love. His lips tender and seethed with the taste of saltiness and sweat from the heat, you didn’t care though enjoying every last moment of it. After a couple seconds you finally departed and you could see him still worry, speaking the six words he had craved you to say, “I want a family with you.”

In an instant he knew what he was fighting for, why he was going to Marley in the first place, to beat them all and then, he would finally have the happiness he deserved. The happiness you both deserved together.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore @answer-the-sirens

[whumperooni]

for shame

Pairing(s): Natsuo Todoroki x Sister!Reader, Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Tags/Warnings: incest, feelings of shame and humiliation, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, breeding/pregnancy talk

Word count: 2k

A/N: This was brought on by a big brained nonny. I had a lot of fun daydreaming this/writing this ♡

It’s been a long day for Natsuo- a hard test, coffee spilled on his favorite jeans, his phone charger stolen, his essay given a poor grade; all of that added up to a long day for him.

A shit day if he’s being honest- one that he thinks can’t get much worse.

He’s proven wrong, of course, whenever he gets home and opens the front door only to be met by loud moans. His mind first jumps to “fucking Touya brought home another girl and is banging her on the couch again” and his nose wrinkles along with the thought, an aggravated huff leaves him.

It’s only when he hears the squeal of “Daddy! Daddy!” that he realizes that those loud cries sound very familiar.

Natsuo gulps, frozen in the middle of toeing off his shoes, and stares down the hallway with wide eyes.

There’s...there’s no way. You aren’t- he’s not- no. No. If you were going to fall into something so horrible and ruining it wouldn’t be with him, it would be with-

Natsuo slams the breaks on that thought before it can finish and shakes his head, desperately tells himself that he’s mistaken.

It’s not happening. It can’t be happening.

Another loud whine and Natsuo gulps, finds his feet taking him to the living room despite his mind screaming at him to just turn around and leave the house for another good three or four hours.

There’s a gasp and a whimper that sounds right before Natsuo peeks inside the living room and it’s something that Natsuo thinks is horrible simply because it sounds so hot.

Please don’t let this be what I think it is, Natsuo pleads to whatever gods may be listening to him. Please don’t let it really be happening. Please don’t let it be with him.

The gods don’t listen- that or they’re just being cruel, spiteful.

Natsuo peeks into the living room to find his sweet, beloved sister in their father’s lap- your hips arched into big hands, your small ones gripping onto broad shoulders as Enji Todoroki thrusts his cock into his daughter’s soaked little cunny.

All at once, Natsuo’s heart breaks, his temper boils, his fists clench, his face flushes with rage and horror and shame.

Rage because how could his father do this to his daughter, to Natsuo’s most treasured and adored sister. Rage because how could his sweet little sister let their father do this- how could you let him fuck your wet, wet pussy? How could you let yourself moan and mewl like a perfect little whore while Enji spears your cunt with a cock that should be much too big for anyone to take?

How could you do this with “daddy! daddy! daddy!” instead of your beloved Natsuo-nii?

Horror and shame rushes in after his rage and a sick, hot pulse of mortification has Natsuo slapping a hand to his mouth, has his guts twisting with the sudden impulse to throw up.

How could he think that?

...probably for the same reasons you could be in Enji's lap.

Natsuo swallows down his sickness and he curls in on himself as self-disgust hits him harder than one of his father’s punches. He’s horribly aware that he’s half-hard and he hates himself for that- hates how hot he finds it whenever you throw your head back with a loud whine whenever Enji brings you down and makes you take him fully, whenever Enji moves your hips in a stir and lets out a growl of, “So needy, little one. You take my cock so well.”

Blood rushes to Natsuo’s head- to both heads, actually. He goes from half-hard to achingly, fully hard as you whimper and try to move to ride Enji, as you whine out a soft little “daddy, please, more” whenever you’re forced to stay seated on his cock instead.

A choked noise claws its way up and out of Natsuo’s throat- he can’t believe you’re so needy; he can’t believe you can take such a big dick; he can’t believe that he’s so into the way his little sister begs so prettily to be fucked.

God, how many time have you done this? How many times have you fucked your father?

Natsuo’s heart pounds hard, but it pounds harder still whenever turquoise eyes flick up and meet his own.

He recoils in an instant- fear and shame and embarrassment racing through him- but he doesn’t run away even with his instincts screaming at him to bolt and hide and not come home for a long, long time. He’s frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Enji grips your hips tighter and makes you shudder and arch your back.

He should run. He needs to run- who knows what Enji will do now that he’s been found out?

Natsuo’s fingers twitch along with his cock and he swallows hard, stares down his scowling father.

Rage is sneaking its way back into him- rage over being embarrassed and ashamed and fearful when it’s his father that’s gotten caught fucking his daughter, fucking Natsuo’s baby sister. Why should Natsuo run and cower when it’s Enji doing something so obscene?

Natsuo holds his ground despite his wide eyes and the jackhammer thumping of his heart.

Enji narrows his eyes and then he lifts his head- haughty with a look of authority, challenge as his eyes move from Natsuo and back to your pretty face.

“So impatient, little one,” Enji rumbles out. “You need to be fucked that badly?”

A whine from you and a nod. Natsuo can’t see your face, but he’s sure you have a trembling little pout, flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You probably look so fucking good. God, he- he wants to see you all needy and pouting to be fucked. He shouldn’t want to see that. He absolutely should not want to see that. You’re his little sister- he can’t want this. He can’t.

Natsuo’s cock throbs in his sweatpants and he almost draws blood from digging his nails into his palms to keep from touching himself.

“Daddy, please! I wanna- I wanna be-”

You cut yourself off with another whine- hips trying to arch up and move along your daddy’s cock. There’s a low chuckle from Enji and Natsuo hates the smirk playing on his father’s face, the smug way he slowly slides you up his dick and forces you to take his slow, slow pace.

Enji stops when you’re half-way up his cock and Natsuo has to slap a hand over his mouth whenever Enji makes you lean forward, arch your hips. Natsuo can see how his father’s dick is parting your swollen, dripping lips with the new position- can see it even better when big hands grip your soft cheeks and spread you open even more.

It’s the hottest thing Natsuo has ever seen- lewd and disgusting and so filthy that he almost whimpers in need.

You probably feel so good inside.

He’s such a horrible older brother to want to know how slick and warm and honeyed your little cunny is.

Bile rises in his throat in contrast to how pre-cum spills in his boxers and Natsuo grips the door frame tight with his free hand whenever you let out a needy, sweet sob.

“D-Daddy, please! Please! I want- wanna be fucked! Daddy fill me! I need it!”

The smirk grows on Enji’s face and Natsuo’s fury roars among the dizzying swirl of emotions clouding his senses and judgement.

Why the hell are you begging Enji for that? He doesn’t deserve it- he doesn’t. If you’re going to do this with anyone in the family it should be the one who takes care of you the most, the one who has always been there for you.

Natsuo deserves to have you begging for his dick.

(God, he wants you begging for his dick- he wants to hear you cry out “nii-chan! please! please!” so fucking bad.)

“Shh, little one,” Enji says- voice almost soothing but not quite making it with a growl reverberating in the words. He kisses your cheek and he cants his hips up slowly to sheath himself in you once again- locking his eyes again with Natsuo as you whimper and mewl.

“Daddy is going to fuck you, little one,” Enji rumbles out- loud and so fucking pleased with himself. “I’m going to fuck you. Fill you. Give you what you need.”

You sob, the sound pitching close to a wail as you’re stretched open again. Natsuo’s vision is almost going spotted from everything now- he’s so overwhelmed and everything is so much and he is so fucking hard and all he can think now is fill you fill you fill you- i want to fill you as he watches Enji thrust languidly up into your needy pussy.

Enji kisses your cheek again and his eyes go half-shut as you tremble, as he watches his son struggle with his desires in the doorway.

“Daddy is going to fill you,” Enji continues- not looking away from Natsuo for one second. “Daddy is going to make you a momma, sweetheart. I’m going to give you a little one.”

You cry out a “please!” and Natsuo breaks.

He bolts from the doorway before he can process the action- runs to his bedroom and closes the door behind him, sinks to the floor and sticks a hand down his pants. A moan leaves him- loud and shameful, perverted as he frantically jerks off to the image of his little sister getting fucked by their father and the desire to know how you would feel on his cock, how horrible and wonderful it would be to cream your sweet little cunny and stuff you full with him instead of Enji.

Natsuo grates out a rough breath and he jerks as he starts to come- hips battering against his fist and the world rushing and roaring around him as he cries out your name.

He comes harder than he has all year and he falls to the floor after- panting and curling up into a little ball as shame tries to devour pleasure and greed, hunger, and want boil through his blood.

He wants you. He needs you. He’s so fucking awful but he needs you- needs your soft hands on him and your lips pressed to his, his cock filling your pussy and his seed spilling inside you, out and down your soft thighs.

Natsuo hears you cry out in the distance and he squeezes his eyes shut, hates himself as his dick throbs and envy washes over the mortification that should be taking over him.

He feels disgusting. Horrible. Hungry.

He wants to be the one fucking you and he hates that, but it’s not enough to stop him from reaching a hand down to jerk off to the thought. It’s not enough for him to replay the image of Enji spreading you apart over and over again in his mind. It’s not enough to keep him from moaning and rutting into his fist like some needy pervert. It’s not enough to keep him from coming to the thought of you begging for his cock.

It’s not enough to keep him from laying on the floor- a flushed cheek pressed to cool wood and his mind racing with a million schemes to get you into his bed.

...if you’re going to do it with Enji, then why not with Natsuo? Why not with your big brother?

If the number one hero can fuck his little girl, then why can’t Natsuo fuck his baby sister?

(It’s so wrong and he knows it. Is disgusted by it. By himself.

But, god, he wants it and after seeing you with Enji- with his father, your father- he knows that you probably want it just the same. He knows that you’d be happy to crawl into your nii-san’s lap like a good little girl and ride his dick like you ride daddy’s.

...if you’re okay with it, is it really that bad?)

Natsuo swallows hard and he squeezes his eyes shut, curls up tighter on the floor.

He’s a horrible big brother.

In the distance, you moan and mewl as your father fills you with his seed. Natsuo quietly, regretfully wishes that was him filling you instead and he sinks into a murky pit of pleasure and hopelessness, frustration and desire.

Natsuo had been wrong- his day actually managed to get a lot worse.

(Or maybe this is better?)

Natsuo grimaces and he forces himself to stand, wipes his dirtied hand on his sweatpants and heads to the bathroom so he can try to wash away his sins.