#i got fucked so good that im still hazy the morning after

[smxlegxrl]

remember, it's important that he fucks you into submission to remind you what you're meant for: you're a hole and it's your job to please him however he wants. you should derive pleasure from the simple act of being used.

[aftver]

the value of pleasure

thinking heavy about service/soft dom aki…

pairing: aki hayakawa x reader

content: established relationship, fem! reader, pretty tame smut with some fluff, praise, pussy job, unprotected sex, mating press position, cervix kissing, slight overstimulation, creampie, some aftercare.

word count: 1.6k

notes: first one of my works im actually publishing! aki is such a survive dom and you can't tell me otherwise. also i didn't plan to do full smut, not even halfway in i got sidetracked Imfao.

Imagining just how good of a service dom Aki would be.

Showering you with love any chance he gets whether it be making you breakfast in the morning, cooking your favorite meals, massaging you after a long day of work, buying whatever items he sees you eyeing while shopping. Really anything he thought that would make you happy. He wasn’t the best at expressing his love verbally so he made up for it with acts of service because he thrived off seeing his pretty girl smile.

And not only did he thrive on the non-sexual intimacy, he also loved any chance he had to please you sexually.

Aki did almost anything you wanted to do, because putting your pleasure before his own was his ultimate goal. It satisfied him knowing he could make you feel good. And even if you were the one telling him what to do, he was still in control. He controlled when and how many times you orgasmed, what positions you’d be in, and whether or not you’d be restrained.

He prioritized how you felt so much that it was almost brutal.

You’d be sat on his lap, fingers tangled in his hair to tug at as you’d bounce unsteadily on the length of his cock due to the multiple orgasms he’d given you prior. Even with your head all foggy and fluffy, Aki would whisper such sweet praises to the shell of your ear.

“Doing so good for me, baby.”

“You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

And when you murmur, “I can’t cum anymore, Aki. ‘s too much.” He’d take it upon himself to move you onto your back, because surely you can cum one more time for him.

He’d start off with slipping himself out of the wet and warmth of your cunt to rub the head of his cock languidly through your folds to which your legs would spasm and twitch due to the heightened sensitivity on your pussy. Pretty little squeaks and whimpers would escape your mouth when he’d rub against and tap at your swollen little clit with his tip.

“Think you can cum for me one time?” He speaks lowly, teasing at your entrance.

Your eyes are hazy with arousal and exhaustion but still you nod. “Y-yes, I can.”

“Atta girl.”

His left hand is cold as it rests at your waist, thumbing at it gently whilst his right hand that held his shaft slowly enters your cunt. You moan shakily as he splits you open once more, but the pain quickly subsides as you adjust around his length. His thrusts start off slow, groaning at the way your pussy drags him in when he pulls out just enough for his tip to remain inside you.

You’re clenching tightly onto the black sheets underneath you with one hand while the other slips up to fondle your breast. You tweak at your nipple as Aki’s pace begins to quicken. His hands quickly replace the hand you held your tit in, he gently kneads at the mounds of flesh, leaning down to take one in his mouth.

He sucks on your tits, tongue swirling around and teeth lightly tugging your nipples. He kisses at the tops of your breasts, and marking them with pretty little love bites.

“Aki,” you say meekly. He looks up at you, responding with a hum. “Kiss me.”

A small smile curves on his lips as he brings himself up and in-line with your face and he leans down to lock his lips with yours. Your left hand runs up Aki’s chest to rest at his nape and your right resting at his jaw. Your tongues quickly meet, sensually tasting one another. Aki bites at your bottom lip, coaxing soft moans from you, he makes you stick your tongue out for him so he could suck on it before meeting you in a sloppy kiss.

Aki’s pace in your pussy fastens as he grows excited at the way you kiss him. The plump and softness of your lips were something he could never get enough of. He swallows each and every one of your moans, savoring them as your hands move to tug at his black locks. You part away from his lips to look down at the way his cock, sheen with your slick, swiftly moves in and out of your cunt.

“Oh, god,” you whine. “Aki, deeper, please. ‘want you deeper.”

His eyebrow quirks at that, but whatever his girl wants, she’ll get.

Aki straightened his back up to grab ahold of the back of your thighs, pushing them up so your legs pressed against your chest, and leaning forward to have you folded. And your body trembles when he began fucking into you with hard thrusts. The sound of his hips hitting against your thighs filled the room along with your cries of his name.

In this position Aki was much deeper, his cock hitting you in just the right way, his stomach rubbing against your clit, giving you double the stimulation. It was all too much yet everything you wanted at the same time.

“That feel good, baby?” He purrs, a groan following soon after when you tighten around him.

“Mhm! Feels s’good.”

Aki’s fingers dig harder into your thighs as he plunges his cock deeper into your cunt. Your entire body flooded with heat and pleasure. Your hand sneaks in between yours and Aki’s body to rub hard, gentle circles on your clit to push yourself closer to cumming. You were so, so sensitive, your soft whimpers and whines turning into broken sobs and cries as Aki’s cock kissed at your cervix.

“A-Aki, I think ‘m gonna cum.” Your eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows knitting together as the coil in your stomach grows tighter with each thrust.

“Yeah? Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

There’s a couple more snap of his hips until you’re cumming hard around him. Your pussy clenches and pulses around his cock, he groans lowly seeing you all fucked out.

“There you go,” he coos. “That’s my pretty girl.”

You cry out as Aki continues to fuck you through your orgasm — one reason being he wanted to ease you down, the other being he was close to cumming himself.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as Aki is still relentless with how deep he’s in you.

“C-cum inside me, baby.” You plead. “Fill me up.”

“Fuck.” It didn’t take much longer for Aki to cum, he had been restraining himself from doing so ever since you began riding him. And when he came, he came so fucking hard, your name and a series of incoherent curses coming out from his mouth. His cum was hot and thick inside you, his hips faltering as he made sure he pumped all of his cum in your cunt.

Aki released your thighs, letting them fall down to his waist as he straightened himself up again, looking down at the mess he made of your pussy. He pulled out his cock slowly to watch his cum seep out your pussy only to use two fingers to push it back in. He looks up at you to see you with your eyes closed, lips parted as you catch your breath. He goes to plant a soft kiss at the top of your forehead, you smile warmly at the gesture.

“You okay?” Aki asks softly, resting his forehead against yours.

“Yup,” you nod lazily. “More than okay.”

“Good. Now let's get you cleaned up.”

You nod again. Aki slipped out from the bed, slipping on a pair of briefs before heading towards the bathroom. When he comes back he has two towels in hand — one for you, one for him. He returned to the bed taking a seat beside you, using one of the towels to clean you of the sweat, saliva, and cum that was on you. You did the same for Aki with the other towel.

Aki silently asked you questions about whether or not he did good, if you liked it, if you were thirsty or hungry, and if you were okay. And after the two of you were wiped down enough, you headed to the bathroom to shower, but not before you used the toilet to further clean yourself.

As you showered together, Aki would lather your body with your favorite soap, pressing light kisses to your shoulder, neck, and forehead just to see you smile bashfully, and tickling at the sides of your waist as you both stood underneath the warm pressure of water. To further assist you with cleansing, he’d use two fingers to clean out any remainder of his cum out from your cunt.

And when the two of you are all clean and refreshed he’d cover you with a fluffy towel, damping your hair gently with a smaller one. You’d apply lotion throughout your body while Aki picked out comfy clothes for the two of you to wear. He helps you change as well despite your protests saying you could do it yourself.

Once you’re dressed and content with being washed up Aki would join you in the comfort of his bed. Blankets huddled on the top of you two as your back was pressed into the warmth of Aki’s chest, one arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to him while the other went under the pillow his head rested on.

It’s silent as the two of you cuddle, you occasionally speaking to say something random. Until you think of something you’ve been meaning to ask Aki for a while.

“Aki?” You say quietly, not knowing if the man was awake or not.

“Yes?” His voice is husky as he responds.

“You know how I’ve been saying how I want to try something new?”

He’s quiet for a second, he recalls you mentioning it but not exactly what you wanted to do. “Yes…”

“How do you feel about trying anal?”

[montussydeprived]

My pretty girl

( Pairing human Monty x fem reader )

Warnings : Oral sex , face sitting , rough sex , breeding

Artist // sei_jurou25 twitter

Your Morning started off morning , you were finishing up your shift at el chips . You made plans with monty to play golf after your shift so you headed to monty’s gator golf . You saw him playing “ Hey “ you said as you walked over to him “ hey there lovely”

Monty was competitive but so were you , you guys stood at a tie and playing over and over was getting tired so you just let him win “ Ha I’m too good “ you chuckled at his words “ wanna go to my room?“ you nodded to his question , Monty’s room was destroyed as usual “ when are you gonna stop destroying your room “ you looked at him waiting for a response but he just smiled . He sat down and tapped on his lap signalling you to sit on his lap. You straddled him as his hands rested on your waist , rubbing your soft skin as he stared at your body , admiring every bit of you , no one knew but you and monty had this secret relationship .

His hand moves up to your jaw , thumb caressing your cheeks , you started grinding on him as you whimpered quietly . “ Your so pretty , my pretty girl “

“ sit on my face gorgeous.. “ his raspy voice said , you hesitated at first , your hands resting on his chest “ lay down ..” you say to him in a quiet tone . He repositions himself now laying down as you sit on top of him . You got off and stripped completely as he smirked at the sight of your naked body . You sit back on him as you slowly hover up to his face “ already so wet for me ..”

You feel his tongue explore every bit of your cunt trying to find your most sensitive spot , you moan “ monty ..” His tongue going in circles on your cl¡t . Your legs already shaking as his tongue makes its way to your hole . He hums making a vibrational feeling , making you buckle your hips , his hands drawing circles on your stomach as he grabs one of your tits . You were a moaning mess , you were starting to feel hazy , as his tongue slides around your walls . You let a loud moan , he found your sweet spot , “ hmm y..your - ahh feels so good “ , he curled his tongue on your sweet spot .

Grinding your hips over him , you feel your orgasm build up in your stomach as you kept grinding over his mouth and nose . “ nghh im.. i’m close !” your legs are shaking even more now as his grip on your waist tightens trying to keep balance . “ Ahhhhh” you squeal . An euphoric feeling taking over as you gripped on his hair . He lets out a hum as he taste your juices . You went down to lay on his chest. “ hm you taste so good baby” . You hummed as your cheeks heated up from his sweet comment .

You feel his boner grow even more as he looks down at you “ wanna go again ?” you nodded as he flipped you over , now hovering over you . You tugged on the waist band of his pants “ I need you monty .. need you inside me .. “ you whimper “ whatever my pretty girl wants .. “ his pants were off as his cock sprung out , “ hm too big..” you nervously look at his dick “ i’m sure you can handle it darlin’ .. you did yesterday " he says to you making you remember yesterday .

He lines up his cock to your opening as he slowly slides his tip in “ hmphh “ he grips on your thighs , you hiss , already moving inside you “ still so tight no matter how many times i fuck you ..” he groans as he throws his head back , he was thrusting into you so hard , fucking the living out of you , “ Pretty girl making me feel so good ..” he moans . His tip brushing against your cervix making you whimper . Your hand scratching his back as you try to hold onto him .

“ You’re so big… monty “ you moan . “ you’re taking me so well darlin’ , so gorgeous “ his compliments kept sending you over the edge , his hips slamming in you at such a inhuman speed . “ Ahhhhh monty .. don’t stop please , go harder “ your hands grasping at his shoulders leaving scratch marks . “ you like it there? huh ” he says as he stares at your fucked out face . Every thrust of his sending a bliss of pleasure as he kept hitting your g-spot .

“ Hmmph ‘m gnna come , want more .. i want more .. more monty .. please .. “ you said as you buckled your hips at him trying to get more friction - “ hm baby wants more ..” another knot building up in the core of your stomach “ you feel so good sweetheart”

his thrusts become more sloppy signalling he was about to come too “ where do you want my come baby..?” he looks at you “ hmmph inside .. “ you didn’t realise what you were saying since you were fucked out .. but you still wanted it . “ you want daddy to breed you ?hm you want it that bad “ he teases you “ say you want me to come in you “ he says as he continues thrusting into you “ please come in me .. please i want you so bad monty ..”

your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel his fluids fill you up, slowing his pace down . He slowly pulls out as you whimper no longer feeling him .

“ let’s clean you up baby “

[raindownforme]

Theater Kid

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

It wasn’t odd for me to be left alone in the big open space. Most nights I was there into the late hours when my teachers were too tired to remember I was there. But tonight they’d actually forgotten, so I busied myself by sweeping the giant black stage. The push broom had been left near the side lighting panel, so I chose a few flood lights to turn on to better see the flooring. The lightbulbs hummed to life above me and I went back to take center stage as a starting point. I turned to look towards the house but, as I stared out into the seats, I saw someone standing who hadn’t been there before.

“You turned the fucking floods on.” His voice echoed across the near empty space and I shushed him as quickly as possible. Fucking actors always having to be the loudest.

“Jesus Christ Theodore shut up. Haven’t you ever done this before?”

“No. I don’t stay after school cleaning like a weirdo.”

“Well you’re here. And I’m not a weirdo! It’s a shared space. If anything you should appreciate me.”

I watched as he awkwardly picked up his backpack and walked down the aisles towards me. He stood at the foot of the stage, staring up at me, which wasn’t that much of an angle for him. He was an abnormally tall person, especially for a highschool student. Of course it only added to the strange charismatic spell he held over almost everyone else in our shared department, and I hated it. I hated the way he never talked to me but talked to everyone else. I hated the way he would sit on the desks and the tables in the classroom and the makeup room and on the edge of the stage and when he caught me looking he would give me this wide, crooked smile. I hated how loud his stupid improv club was that he got to lead was because he was the only student good at it. I hated how I spent every day inside the workshop and the prop hallway and the sound booth and the set alley and the lighting booth and he never payed a bit of attention to it. It was everyone else but me. And even knowing how close I’d gotten to being the stage manager, I knew I’d always be one peg under him.

“Did you hear me?”

I blinked myself out of my angry thoughts, trying to catch up with the real world. “I’m sorry?”

“I said you don’t have to call me Theodore. Ted is fine.”

“Oh.” I rolled my shoulders back unsure of what was the appropriate next step. “Well my name is-“

“y/n I know.” He cut me off. I stared at him in confusion, simply having assumed he didn’t know who I was. “We have like five classes together. We’ve done every production together since freshman year. You’re the one in charge when I come to set days. I sit across from you in the makeup room during lunch. And I know you do all your homework at the director’s desk.”

I stared at my feet as I felt my face flush. It felt like I couldn’t make words. It didn’t make sense that this guy I thought was a prick for the last three years knew me? But I knew that I liked him knowing me. And that was the worst part; I’d been fine with thinking he didn’t know me and didn’t want to because it gave me a name to whatever this feeling was. And now I don’t know. I looked back towards him, trying to think of anything to say. “You don’t care about tech.”

“I- what?” I couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Staring at him again I noticed the strange tint to his face, which seemed to be turning pinker by the second. I could see my reflection in his glasses and I realized how awkward of an angle we were at.

I bent down on my knees to meet his eye level. “You don’t care about tech. You’re the guy who’s a lead character and comes to rehearsal just to fuck around when you’re not needed act all high and mighty when really you never do anything.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if thinking, and then slapped his bag down on the stage near my feet. “Give me a fucking broom.”

We spent the next while peacefully sweeping up the stage. At some point I switched to the nail detector (which was really a long stick with a magnet on the end) and began going around the edges and crevices to try and find anything. We crossed paths a couple times, shoulders brushing together or brooms clinking.

Eventually I had passed him just enough that he stopped me in my tracks. He grasped my forearm gently, but I stared at his hand. I didn’t seem to want him to let go. “Here.” He took an AirPod out of his ear and handed it to me.

“Ooooh fancy actor boy has AirPods.”

“Literally shut up and appreciate me.” I smiled as I walked towards the trash can. I didn’t know what was playing, but it seemed like some indie bullshit I probably would have admitted to liking if it wasn’t coming from Th- Ted.

I sighed as I leaned the broom against the wall. “I think we’re done here. I can put away the broom in the morning if you don’t know where it goes.”

“I got it.” I watched as he took the trash can under one arm and the broom to the designated little outcropping in the workshop.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in here.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and stood up straight to look down at me better. “Freshman year someone smacked me straight across the face with a roller. Worst acne I’ve ever had.”

“Oh. Ouch. Still on the handle?”

“Nope.”

“Wet or dry?”

“Wet. With paint. Fresh paint.”

“Ooh. What color?”

“Forest green.”

“Euch. Nasty.” I chuckled as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. It wasn’t uncommon for this part of the school to be the coldest, especially surrounded by walls of exclusively concrete and a single garage door, and the seasons still changing as we neared the end of winter. I felt a shiver run through my spine, and Ted looked at me funny.

“Is it cold in here?”

“For some of us.”

“Here.” Ted shrugged off the heavy bomber jacket he had been wearing and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm on the inside, much warmer than I’d been expecting. It almost fit, but I guess his torso and arms were just slightly larger than mine. I looked back to him to say thank you but instead he was staring at me with this dumb look. He was smiling and his head was tilted slightly, and his face was pink again, but darker this time. I felt my face heat up as we stared at each other.

“We should leave.”

He seemed to snap back to reality. “Right. Yeah no right god it’s- what time?” He flicked his wrist out to move his sleeve in order to see his watch. Of course the pretentious bitch wore a stupid watch. “It’s like 6. I guess it’s eating time.”

I nodded and walked back out towards stage left, Turing off all the lights except for our single ghost light that had to sit center stage. It cast a hazy shadow over everything. I watched Ted walk towards center where the lightbulb stood. He started to reach for his bag but I heard the song change in the AirPod. He made eye contact with me as a slow waltzy song moved through my ear. He extended a hand to me and I tentatively reached for it. His hands felt good in mine. They were soft but worn, I and I could clearly feel the lines that ran through his palms and his fingers.

He took one of my hands in his and his other hand placed itself gently on my waist. “Have you ever waltzed before?” His voice was low and raspy, trying to be as quiet as possible.

I whispered back, “no.” He began to shuffle us around, pulling me left and right and pushing away and pulling me. I felt surrounded by the way he smelled and the way he held me gingerly, like a glass figurine. I stared down at my feet as to not step on him, but he took the hand that was holding mine to gently lift my chin up.

“It’ll be easier if you look up at me. I know you can hear the rhythm.” He began to hum the song as we continued to move. The song began a flourish ending as he threw me out in a twirl, then pulling me back in to his arms. I felt him dip me to the ground as the ending came. I let my self dangle, my head up side down, staring at the ground, then gently lifted my face back upwards. Ted was mere centimeters away from me. I could feel his breathing on my neck.

“Ted. I should-“

“Yeah. No no I know. Yeah.” He lifted me up slowly until I was sure I was flat on the floor. I grabbed my backpack, holding the straps.

“Do you want your jacket-?”

“Keep it. I can get it back tomorrow.”

“Today’s Friday.”

“Right. Monday then.”

I nodded and walked towards the door. I could hear his heavier footsteps behind me, gaining quick due to his longer legs. The door clicked shut behind us, and the cool February air rushed through my skin and hair. I watched Ted take a keychain out from the pocket of his back pack. He looked at me and frowned.

“Did you drive or do you have a ride?”

“Oh yeah. No they’ll uh. They’ll be here in a bit.” I dropped my bag and sat on the curb with it on my lap to try and stay warm. Ted’s jacket was lovely but not lovely enough.

I heard Ted drop his bag and watched as he took a seat next to me. He looked over at me. “What? I’m not gonna leave a pretty girl out alone at 7 at night in the winter. Besides my parents probably think I’m at the game anyways.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear the sound of cheering and drum line off in the distance.

Did he call me pretty?

We both waited on the curb for probably another 10 minutes before he started talking again. “There’s no one coming is there?”

“Ted-“

“I never see you leave because you always leave last. After anyone who could possible give you a ride has left. You’re one of those kids.”

“I’m sorry one of those kids?”

“No I didn’t-“ he exhaled and closed his eyes. “You don’t have anyone waiting for you. So you just walk.” We were both quiet for a moment, taking in the cold as it burned your skin. Ted stood up and extended a hand to me. “Get in the car.”

“Im sorry what?”

“Get in my fucking car. I’m not going to leave you to get kidnapped on the way home so you’re coming with me to get food.”

“See now this feels like kidnapping.”

“Oh my GOD get in the car.”

I reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat of his car, looking at the very minimal personalization that had been done: a couple stickers on the back window and a glasses case in the center cup holder. I watched as he reversed out of the parking spot, extending his arm against my seat to better turn around. I did my best not to stare, but I wasn’t sure what else to look at. He stopped before going into drive, asking if I didn’t mind McDonald’s even if there was a long line.

“Sure. It’s not like there’s someone waiting on me.”

He frowned at my response, but nonetheless kept on driving. “Well, there’s also a Dairy Queen, Sherri’s, maybe a Taco Bell-“

“Sherri’s.”

He glanced over at me with a confused look. “Really??”

“Come on, you know sitting in a dirty trashy restaurant at night is the total teenage coming of age moment.”

“Yeah but a Sherri’s? The food isn’t even good enough to justify.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried those loaded hash browns.” I jokingly placed a hand on his shoulder, but I felt him tense at the contact. I retracted my hand and he sighed, moving to turn on his right blinker.

Ted swiveled his head to check for passing cars, but he grinned at me as we made less than a second of eye contact. I turned my head away towards the window next to me, trying to swallow whatever heat was rising towards my cheeks. I watched us pass cars and headlights as we approached the poorly lit parking lot. I jolted as ted’s plastic bumper lightly scraped the ground. He mumbled something under his breath as he pulled into a spot.

“I hate this stupid lot. Always scratch something coming in.” He unbuckled his seat belt and got out quicker than I expected. I went to unbuckle and get out but as I reached for the door handle, Ted opened it for me from the outside.

“Oh.” I stared at him for a second and he grinned at me.

“I know. Such a gentleman. Now get out of the car before I break your heart.” He winked at me, obviously joking, but I still felt my heart drop out of my chest.

“HA.” I pushed him away from me gently, but my fingers burnt at the touch.

I heard Ted shut the door behind me as I walked into the restaurant. There was really no one inside other than a group of kids tucked away in a booth in a far corner. I watched as the hostess approached me, saying I could sit in any table I wanted. I heard Ted walk in behind me and I turned to look at him, but he was staring at the group of kids in the corner.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Oh shit-“

“HEY. TED!” One of the kids started yelling at him from the booth. The other boys laughed at him as the maybe two or three other girls giggled. I looked between Ted and the boy, who seemed incredibly belligerent or under some sort of influence. He waved his arms in a wide span over his head, as if telling Ted where he was. “NIVISON! COME SIT OVER HERE! COME ON FUCK THE LOSER! GET OVER HERE.”

Ted looked at me, making a prolonged eye contact, then back to the kid. “No thanks! I’ll see you later.”

He linked arms with me and rushed over to the other side of the restaurant, tucking us into a small booth by the window. He said almost nothing, staring just out at the bushes. A waiter came by, dropping off two thick plastic menus.

“Anything to drink?”

Ted mumbled, but I was sure the waiter wasn’t able to hear. “Water for him please. And how much is a vanilla milkshake?”

“$2.50 for a small.”

“A small vanilla milkshake then. Please.” I smiled gently at him, and the waiter seemed to straighten himself a bit, more self assured than he had been two minutes ago.

“Of course. Right away.”

The waiter walked away and Ted stayed quiet. I slid my hand across the table towards him. “Theodore-“

“I’m not friends with Jake. I mean I was when we were younger.” He was looking me now. Well not exactly me, but my extended hand at least. “He joined the football team and some other sorts and we just stopped hanging out because of time. And he does still wear the lettermen’s jacket but....” he dropped his voice and leaned in, I copied and leaned closer to him. “He got cut from the team because he would show up drunk so now he goes to games just to drink under the bleachers and pick up cheerleaders from the other schools. He tells anyone who asks that he got a brain injury and can’t legally practice but still goes for support.”

“Oh my god.” I blinked, my voice still at a whisper. “That’s terrible.”

Ted nodded eyes wide. He looked over my shoulder, tapped my hand, and then sat up. I sat up too, assuming it was the waiter, but stared at how close his hand was to mine.

“Okayyyyy one ice water and one vanilla milkshake.” I moved my line of vision towards the drink set in front of me. It had the standard glass cup and whipped cream topping, but on top were red and pink heart-shaped sprinkles. I stared at it, and Ted must of noticed it as he took my hand firmly in his, lacing our fingers together on top of the table. The waiter stared at it.

“Hey I think we’re ready to order if you don’t mind.” Ted’s voice was louder than I expected as it took command of our whole corner of the restaurant.

“Uh yeah. What can I get you two?”

“You said you wanted the loaded hash browns, right babe?” He turned to me smiling, but I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Y-Yeah. Those are the ones.”

He gave me a giant goofy smile, and turned back to the waiter. “We’ll have two orders of that please. And an extra straw for this milkshake if you don’t mind?”

“Uh yeah. Coming right up.”

The waiter walked away and Ted sighed, relaxing his grip on my hand but not quite releasing it. “Fucking creep.”

“What?”

He looked back at me, confused. “You didn’t notice he was flirting with you? He put heart shaped sprinkles on your milkshakes.”

“I guess he’s not that good at it then.”

We sat in silence as I drank the thick vanilla shake. Ted cleared his throat and looked towards me. Our hands were still together.

“Well what can we talk about together?”

“I don’t know, theater kid shit?”

“Alright.” He though for a second. “Fine. Movie musicals.”

“Oh. Oh my god I hate the greatest showman.”

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do! PT Barnum had no excuse to be an asshole and the whole thing is just him being an asshole to his family who somehow accepts him again.”

“I think if you have a shitty life you could have the right to be an asshole, and he wasn’t that bad! He loved his wife, and the music is good!”

“Okay some, some of the songs are good, and the whole kiss with the red head was totally not his fault. But just cause you have a shit home life doesn’t mean you can be an ass. I would think it would make you want to be nicer so other people don’t experience the same treatment, you know?”

Ted pauses, seeming to consider, then nods and moves to take a drink from his water.

We spent the next while talking about random topics: stories, tv shows, movies, books, anything. At some point the waiter came back and set the food down without a word. Ted released his hand from mine to grab his fork, and I stared at the place his fingers had been. My hand felt cold and unfamiliar as I set it closer to my plate. I ate slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, but Ted ate quicker than I thought he could.

“You were right these are delicious.”

“I told you, only good thing they have.”

I was probably close to finishing when the waiter came and slapped the receipt on the table. “We close in ten.”

As he walked away Ted chuckled. “It’s Sherri’s. They’re open 24 hours?”

I shook my head, smiling, as I dug around for some cash. I grimaced at the amount I had, realizing I would have barely two dollars left. I looked up, prepared to go broke, but Ted had already gotten up with cash in hand.

I reached out and grabbed on to his t-shirt as he walked towards the register. “Theodore, wait-“

“If I get to be your fake boyfriend I can pay for our fake date.” He smiled and continued walking. I rustled through all the small bills and coins I had. I was still holding them in my hands when he came back and sat down across from me.

“Y/N, i told you-“

“But, tip-“

“I got it. Finish your food.”

We sat in silence for a little longer, and as soon as I was done he stood up, shouldering the backpack I’d brought in with me. He stood next to me, holding out his arm towards me. I giggled as we linked arms and walked to the door. I made eye contact with the creepy waiter and watched as Ted flipped the guy off.

The air was cold as we exited the building. I probably would have shivered again if not for Ted’s jacket still around me. I used my free hand to pull it closed in front of me. We were silent getting into his car, but as he turned his key over to start the engine he looked to me and smiled.

“Thank you for an amazing fake first date.”

I laughed and felt a small heat rise to my cheeks. “You make an excellent fake boyfriend.”

He turned up the music as we pulled out of the parking lot. I could hear him scrape his bumper again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. “So, how do I take you home?”

“Oh. You don’t have to! I can just take the bus-“

“y/n. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold. Please let me take you home.” We were stopped at a red light, and we paused, staring just at each other. Ted’s face was bright red, and I’m sure mine was too. But even when the light turned green, his face was still red, and I’m sure mine still was.

A car behind us held a sustained honk, and Ted jolted out of his stupor and peeled out across the intersection. Of course Ted wasn’t a bad driver. He was a highschool driver, so he drove to look cool half the time. Meaning right now he was driving with one hand at the top of the wheel and the other arm rested against on top of the center console. I made the judgement call to reach over and take his free hand in mine. I did so loosely, allowing him to let go if he wanted to, but if anything he laced his fingers with mine tighter. I looked down at our hands, smiling, then back towards Ted’s face. He was smiling widely, but when he saw me looking he made a stupid attempt of trying to play it off and act like he wasn’t smiling, but I started laughing so he eventually fell into laughter with me. We didn’t talk much on the way to my house other than me giving directions every now and then. He didn’t let go of my hand the whole time, except when he had to put the car in park.

I stared out his window towards the front of my dark building. I knew no one was home, and it was probably pretty cold inside since I usually forget to turn on the heater before leaving for school.

“I guess this is me.” He watched me throw my bag over my shoulder as I stepped out of the car. “Thank you Theodore. For everything.”

“Ted.”

“What?”

“You can call me Ted.”

I smiled at him. “Right. Thank you. Ted.”

I shut his car door and walked up my sidewalk, but I turned when I heard another car door shutting behind me.

“y/n, wait.” Ted was walking towards me, hands shoved in his pockets as the giant man toward over me. “I, uh, I really enjoyed being your fake boyfriend tonight.”

“I enjoyed it too-“

“And I enjoyed sweeping the stage with you. And holding your hand. And dancing with you. And driving you home. And arguing over food. And laughing. And sharing music. And pretty much everything. And I don’t want it to be because I’m your fake boyfriend you happened to be on a fake date with because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.” He sucked in a breath as he took my hand gently. He stared at our fingers and palms pressed together. “I want to do all that stuff because I’m your real boyfriend. I want to dance with you and take you on dates to shitty diners and act all jealous because it’s real.”

I could feel my face burning. “You were jealous?”

He laughed a little bit. “Oh my God, yes, I was jealous, he was flirting!!” I laughed, gripping his hand a little harder, then pulling it downwards. “Ouch! What the-“

I placed a kiss on his cheek, and I watched him short circuit as his whole face turned red. “Theodore, I would like to let you know, I am free tomorrow night for a date if that’s what your asking.”

“OH. Okay! Yeah is 7 okay?”

“7 is perfect.”

“Yes! Yes yes!” He pulled me in for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Oh my god! Okay. Tomorrow, 7!”

I laughed, still trapped in his arms. “I expect dancing.”

“Oh absolutely.” He pushed me back a bit, smiling as he stared at me. “I have to go home. I have to get ready!”

“For a date in 24 hours?”

“Yes! I have plans to make!” He kissed me on the forehead again and ran back to the car. Hand on the handle, he looked back at me, smiling. “I can’t wait.”

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

[9tzuyu]

children of tragedy (rewrite)

note: heyo, rewriting an old fic of mine. i hope to be able to rewrite all 5 chapters quickly. if you guys don’t like it, i won’t continue because its kinda dark and idk i feel like no ones gonna like it anyways. please leave feedback though, im on my knees begging for validation. also sorry if its ooc, please forgive me.

++ sorry the beginning reveals how rusty my writing is </3

(*** i wrote this as as a fem reader fic because it worked easier with how i wrote things.)

+ please remember that this is purely a way to get out my own feelings/struggles in a healthy way. also i’m sure this works better as a ship fic, but someone asked for this version so yeah :).

** mistakes are mine im too tired and lazy to proofread right now.

warnings: talk of alcohol abuse, slight mention of domestic abuse.

🏷 @peggycarter-steverogers

ch.2 | ch.3

[love, fragility, and the memories that eat us alive.]

meeting wanda changed everything for you. she wasn't like anyone you’d ever known. she was always kind, never quick to lose her temper or scream and yell at you for things you couldn't possibly control. she was warm, tender with everything she did.

your relationship with her was very new to you. it was much different in comparison to your past experiences — and you weren't quite sure what to think of it. there was no doubt that you appreciated her and everything she did for you, but you were still waiting for her to snap. it was almost like a need burning throughout your body. being able to grasp the idea that someone could ever really, truly be gentle with you was out of the question. in turn, you’d push all of her buttons, hoping that she would get mad enough and get it over with.

no one could really fault you for it. the steady stream of abuse was the nearly the entirety of your life, both physical and mental.

lately wanda was having to pick you up from wherever she could find you, most of the time in the alleyways of of bars you’d been kicked from.

once you were drunk enough (anyone really) you weren’t afraid to say the first thing that came to your mind, offensive or not – which meant it was no surprise when you’d been involved in fights. the alcohol numbed a majority of the pain anyway, so didn’t really make much of a difference to you.

with this happening so many times, you figured wanda would be angry with you – perhaps so angry she would find it within her to hit you. but each and every time wanda brought you home, she made sure you were comfortable before tending to your inuries.

what you didn't know was that being so worried for you all the time, every second of everyday, was beginning to take a toll on her. wanda only wanted to fix you, but you were making it more than difficult for her to do that.

she knew very little about your past, simply because you didn't like talking about it and she didn't want to push. but there was no denying the fact that wanda was curious.

sometimes she would ask questions, only between the soft moments the both of you shared. much to her dismay, most of her curiosities were turned down. on the rare occasions you shared brighter memories of your childhood, wanda would bookmark them in the back of her head.

no harm would ever come from her, but you didn’t know that. at least not right now.

too many times had your exes used the trust you’d so politely given against you. to be fair with wanda though, you shared only the brightest parts of your childhood. they were very seldom, but the ones you could remember were the ones you enjoyed talking about the most. 

despite her limited knowledge, it wasn’t hard for her to tell that you’d already been hurt plenty of times before. apart from the fact that wanda was overall truly a good person, it made her even more gentle with you than she’d ever been with anyone before. 

on top of that, wanda wasn’t stupid. she picked up on every little flinch you tried to hide, or the times you had to ask her if it was okay if you could do something on your own free will, and she definitely didn’t forget about the countless times you berated yourself over small, humanly mistakes. a frown never failed to decorate her face when these things happened. 

wanda tried her hardest to make it known how much she loved you, and how she would never intentionally hurt you. she never once lifted a hand on you or raised her voice in the slightest, even when she felt like she’d met a breaking point.

the last few weeks seemed to be putting more stress on her than usual. the gashes on your body seemed to be cutting deeper and the bruises on your jaw and rib cage were beginning to turn a darker shade of indigo as each fight became more aggressive. your knuckles had been swollen, irritated to the point your hands trembled when your palms were held open.  

you completely missed how drastically wanda’s mood had changed. she became quiet, seemingly lost in thought most of the time until she needed to take care of you. she grew tired, a purple tint claiming a spot below the lip of her eyes. fifteen pounds of weight had shredded from her body and her head grew dizzy every time she stood up. none of that mattered to wanda though, you were her number one priority.

alcohol was the biggest issue in the way. if wanda could get you to stop drinking for just one night she might be able to reason with you. 

the brunette knew that was out of the question though, because she knew no matter how many times she told or expressed her love for you, you wouldn’t stop until you wanted to, not when she wanted you to. 

you never allowed yourself to be vulnerable around her, so she never knew how you truly felt about the things going wrong in your life. there was an unbearable amount of pain when it came to confronting what you tried so hard to push away. the idea of allowing yourself to heal, to mourn the things taken away from you caused a lump in the back of your throat. living in denial was the easiest way to cope - that was as long as you could bear the damage it created.

 (and whether wanda knew it or not, knowing that you were causing her so much misery was the worst feeling you’d ever faced. all she had ever given you was love and in return she was met with destruction.)

so once again you found yourself walking alone, a slight stagger between steps. it was cold, each breath exhaled from your lips could be seen vaporizing into the air. every movement ripped what balance you thought you’d gained right out from underneath you. the feeling of numbness in your fingertips brought your attention away from the fact that you didn’t know where you were. 

the buildings all looked familiar, but everything was hazy. being drunk wasn’t always the fun everyone bragged about. too tired to carry on, you found yourself slumped in the back of an alleyway next to a dirty garbage bin. it reeked of sour, expired food, but you’d given up on caring about anything else other than trying to drink yourself numb. 

your mind began to wander. flashes of early mornings with wanda’s hands wrapped around your waist, breath tickling the back of your neck while the sun began to rise started filling your thoughts. the warm feeling wanda gave you outweighed every bad emotion you could possibly think of.

but as you stared at the ground beneath your feet things began to spiral. your throat contracted, the guilt you tried so hard to swallow began clawing its way out of your body.

(and holy fuck you could not deal with this right now.)

you curled your head between your legs in an attempt to shield yourself away from something that was born from the inside.

it was too much.

without a chance to stop what was happening, your stomach began heaving. a mix of bile and alcohol drooled from your mouth as you continued to vomit.

you missed the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. the feeling of a hand on your shoulder caused you to jerk back, slamming your back into the brick wall.

“hey, hey, it’s me. you’re okay. it’s just me, wanda.” she cooed.

through teary eyes, you looked up at the woman in front of you.

she’s your girlfriend.

(but you weren’t sure that you deserved to call her that after everything you’ve put her through.)

“what are you doing here?” your voice wavered as you wiped your mouth free of excess vomit. you sniffled backing away from her.

she tilted her head, desperate to read what your eyes would give away. “i’m here to bring you back home. can you stand up for me?” you shook your head. you were too exhausted and dizzy from the alcohol to even think about standing.

“that’s okay,” she whispered. “here, i’m going to pick you up, okay? wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my hips.”

“mkay.” your speech was still slurred, but at that point all wanda cared about was getting you home safe.

you didn’t remember the ride home or wanda carrying you out of the car to lay you on the couch. by the time she got the supplies she needed to wrap and tend to your wounds, you were completely passed out.

when you woke up you were greeted with a glass of water and an over the counter pain medication. you swallowed the pills and moved to set the glass on the coffee table, but wanda beat you to it and took it out of your hands. she smiled down at you, taking a seat next to you. she tucked your hair behind your ears, giving your face one last gentle stroke.

thats when you noticed her eyes were red.

you immediately sat up, crossing your legs and moved closer to her. you’d hoped to comfort her somehow, but the shake of her head broke sonething inside you.

you bit your lip, anxiety shooting throughout your body. she sensed your nervousness and took your hands in hers, rubbing circles on the outside of your wrist with her thumbs.

“i love you, you know that. at least i hope you do,” she let out a soft laugh. “but i can’t keep doing this.”

your heart dropped, and you could feel the all too familiar feeling of guilt building its way back up. you tried to speak, but wanda cut you off.

“i need you to hear this.”

when you didn’t respond she took the opportunity to continue saying what she needed to get out.

“i have exhausted myself to a breaking point. i can’t keep worrying about you every single night you’re gone. i can’t be there every time you need saving. i’m losing myself.”

she paused to check and see how you were handling her words. for once you weren’t shutting down. you were genuinely trying to process what she was trying to say.

(and she was so proud of you for that. she almost considered giving you another chance. but she knew for the better, she couldn’t do that. not to you, not to her.)

“i’ve packed your things. you can leave tomorrow morning if you wish, i don’t mind having you for another meal or two.”

she squeezed your hands and got up from the couch, allowing you to take in what she said. it was in that moment when you realized that even when she’d finally drawn the line, had enough, she didn’t yell at you. she wasn’t angry, she was just sad.

you were chasing after something that wasn’t there, and it never would be there.

and now you were able to register just how much you’d fucked up the one good thing in your life.

[jikooksgirl19]

My Soulmates 1

Genre:Soulmate AU, fluff,angst, eventual smut

Pairing: Idol Jimin x Lawyer Reader x Idol Jungkook

Warnings: some swearing (Y/N has a trash mouth sometimes)

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you my story. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.

Please read the teaser and prologue first if you haven’t already.

*********************************************************************

October 7, 2018 4:36pm

The boys had been practicing since 8am that morning with limited breaks, and were tired and hungry. They were all going to dinner and begin making their way to the elevator, laughing and joking with each other. Namjoon was deep in thought when the doors of the elevator opened and a woman came out barreling right into the midst of the group. Her head was down, and she seemed absorbed in something on the iPad she held in her hands when she must have realized what she had done. Namjoon heard her gasp and reach out towards Jimin and Jungkook and thought she might be trying to steady herself as they were reaching out to her as well. He couldn’t believe it when they all began collapsing on the floor, the other boys trying to catch them. He noticed that the three were still grasping onto each other, and a red ring began to encircle their ring fingers and travel up their arms. The other boys were staring at this as well and they looked at each other shaking their heads. All of them mumbled the same thing

...”Oh Shit!”

You felt warm and cocooned for some reason. It was so cozy and you didn’t want to wake up. Wait, when did I go home? Your thoughts were hazy and you were trying to figure out where you were. You tried to stretch and found yourself bumping into something hard. As you started groping around you realized that this was not your pillow at all but felt like a chest. A mans chest. You have never moved so fast as you just did sitting yourself up. “What the hell...!” You look and see you are on a bed with not one but two boys cuddled up around you. Fear immediately sets in as you look around the room and see sleeping figures on another bed and couch.

“What the fuck...!” You said out loud quickly slapping both your hand over your mouth so as not to awaken the men in the room. You are in bed with, and surrounded by BTS. They are the worlds most famous boy band. They are the Nations Treasures. THEY ARE YOUR CLIENTS!!! Your mind explodes right then and there. You think to yourself ’What Tumblr, A03, Wattpad fanfic did I just wake up in.’

‘OH MY GOD IM IN A COMA!!!! That has to be it. There cannot be any other explanation. I’m in a coma and I transported into some sucky ass wannabe Hallmark Movie’.

All you can think of is that you have some sort of brain tumor and have fallen into a life altering, dream fugue-like state and all your teenage and young adult fantasies are blending together therefore you have conjured up some poly bias delusional weirdness in yor muddled brain. This isn’t real...this isn’t real... this isn’t real....... You pinch yourself and...oh shit that hurt. You struggle to get off the bed which isn’t easy by any means when two pairs of arms AND legs keep trying to pull you back down. You debate screaming bloody murder when you hear someone speak.

“You’re awake”. You turned your head and saw someone sitting up rubbing his eyes looking at you. You recognized the leader of said boy band Namjoon from the many many posters around BigHit.

“I am” your voice sounding more calm than you felt. “Can you tell me where I am and why I’m here with all of you like some weird slumber party?” You we’re holding on the the last shreds of professionalism that you could before screaming to the high heavens.

“You don’t remember finding your soulmates” he asked?

“Excuse me, my what now?” You cocked your head like you didn’t hear him right. “What on earth are you going on about? Soulmate, I don’t have a soulmate.”

“Soulmates” he corrected. By now some of the other members were starting to wake up.

“I AM in a COMA”. You were starting to babble incoherently in a mix of Korean and English with some well placed Spanish swear words your mother used to use when you were little and she was mad. You we’re starting to panic and began trying to climb off the bed all the while the two boys on your bed were snoozing away like nothing was happening. You managed to fall off of the bed and skittered backwards like a crab til your back hit the wall. You slapped your cheeks willing yourself to wake up.

Namjoon looked next to him and asked “Jin can you call Yuna? I think she may be able to help out with...” he looked at you realizing he didn’t know your name. Jin got up and walked towards the window to call someone.

“Y/N. Sona Y/N.” I...I..I’m a temporary lawyer working at BigHit on some of your international contracts. I’d like to say nice to meet you but maybe when there’s a less murdery vibe and location.” You were quickly getting your bearings together and began to gather your composure. “Now can you please tell me why I’m here being cuddled to death by those thing one and thing two over there” you point towards the bed. Several giggles and laughs were heard at this. You on the other hand were not sure what was so funny.

A deep voice in the corner answered this time. “Well thing one and two as you called them, or as we like to call them Jimin and Jungkook are your soulmates “ he said matter-of-factly like it was everyday normal. “I’m Taehyung, you can call me Tae or Tae-Tae to piss them off if you want.” His big boxy grin made him look like a mischievous child You couldn’t help but give him a wary smile. Someone else, you think it was J-Hope came towards you and thrust forward a hand. You cautiously took it and he helped you up from the floor. You began dusting off your skirt and straightening your blouse internally thanking the almighty upstairs that you were still clothed while eying all of them suspiciously. “I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi if you want.”

Jin turned around after hanging up and offered you the only chair in the room. You quickly shuffled over sitting down and tried to ask again why you were here. In a bedroom, on a bed with your soulmates and their band mates all in the same room. “ Can someone please just tell me what happened?” Your voice staring to crack as you were close to tears. “This just feels too extrodinary to believe. You keep saying I have soulmates, as in plural. I didn’t even know that was possible.” It was then that you looked at your left hand and saw the red string tatoo. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME....Did I have a stroke? How...what...why...” your words became so jumbled you weren’t making any sense and you were pretty sure a panic attack was just a moment away from tackling your neurotic ass into submission. Jin kneeled in front of you telling you to breathe. “ In through the nose....out through the mouth Y/N. You can do it just breathe in and out, in and out...that’s it, you got it, in...out.” You sat there holding his hands while Tae began rubbing your back in circles as they were trying their best to calm you down. Jin explained to you that he also has a soulmate named Yuna and she is ready to come talk to you about what being attached to an idol can be like.

Across the room you heard a groggy voice “Uugghhhh....get off me Jungkookah. Why are we in bed? What happened” could be heard from the bed you just left. Jimin was sitting up while shoving Jungkook off of him and staring around the room. Jungkook fell off the bed. He jumped up and was getting ready to tackle his hyung who knocked him down when his eyes landed on you. He was confused as to why a woman, a very pretty woman, but a woman nonetheless was sitting in their studio bedroom at BigHit, surrounded by four of his hyungs. “Um, hello” he said quietly making Jimin look in the same direction. Eyes got wide when he also said a quiet hello and then proceeded to ask Namjoon “ What’s going on. Who is she and why are we all in here. I thought we were going to dinner?”

“See, I’m not the only one confused” you exclaimed louder and much squeakier than you meant. “Apparently we are soulmates” you say while gesturing to the both of them and yourself. “Surprise “ you say throwing up jazz hands and beginning to laugh at the outrageous looks on both of their faces.

“Who, who is your soulmate?” They both say at the same time.

Namjoon looks at you knowing you are barely holding on at the moment and answers for you. “All three of you are soulmates”.

They stare at each other then at you then at the group and both start laughing. “Ok ok, good joke hyung, stop playing around. Did you knock us out and this is a mystery mission? “ “Are we on a run BTS episode we didn’t know was being filmed?” They took turns asking like this was a prank or something.

When they see no one other than you are deadly serious they stop and start to freak out as well. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” They look at each other only to both shout out that they couldn’t be soulmates. Why is it just happening now after knowing each other all these years. Brothers yes, soulmates no. NOPE. NO WAY, WHAT THE FUCK.

You get up and walk over to them. You grab both of their left hands and show them the tattoos. You peek inside your shirt and confirm you have the soulmates date above your heart, and tell them to check their chests as well. You strangely feel calm being around the two of them and less like a victim of some K-Pop Serial Killer drama that you stepped into, and you realize they also both settle down while you’re holding onto them.

Namjoon gets up and begins to explain that though it’s rare, there are known cases of multiple soulmates. They are harder to find because all of the mates must be together for their souls to connect. Once they do connect though the bond is stronger than a normal soulmates bond and can come with difficulties due to the relationship aspect of it. Prejudice often follows a poly soulmate connection due to the narrow mindedness of society and can often be looked down on. He tells the three of you that you should tell management right away so they can have a plan in place. Fans aren’t always supportive of their bias’s soulmates, and Y/N having two of the most popular idols in Korea as hers are going to come with challenges. Especially with you being a foreigner.

You three look at each other and back at Namjoon, silently agreeing to these terms. He also suggests you three need time together alone to get to know about each other because you all three had different lives leading up to today, and it would be best to figure out where you all should go from here. Other people’s feelings and relationships are going to be affected by what has happened and you all needed to be prepared for any backlash.

“Ok, now that this is all settled can we please get some dinner?” You hear from the other bed where apparently Yoongi has been napping throughout all the mental breakdowns.

To be continued...

Taglist: @mrcleanheichou @itsminniekat @dreamescapeswriting @seaoffangirling @4evahevah @sonderkook @bisexualmess007 @chxustuff @aviwasabi21 @skyys-universe @ally22042000 @ramblingsofawolfgirl

[writingbakery]

“so hard to ignore ya’ [‘specially when im smoking, swim]”

title & slight inspiration from swim, by chase atlantic. a very nasty lil threeway i’ve reworked to fit new characters, enjoy ✨ taglist; @lady-bakuhoe @katsukisprincess @burnedbyshoto @redbeanteax @theleaningtowerofpizazz @mothwithteeth @bakugou-katsukisgf @lordexplosionsextra @deadassqueeraf 

[pairing; katsuki bakugou x fem!reader x eijiro kirishima]

[warnings; mentions of drugs & alcohol, rough sex, threesome, degrading language, shotgunning, semi-public sex, car sex, everyone is sober enough to consent]

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

you’ve always been a handful.

insatiable, unstoppable, over energetic with a refractory period so short it almost hurt & a smile that made everyone weak in the knees.

a handful.

you’re a shameless flirt, all sultry glances & hooded eyes to whoever managed to pique your interest. you’re a bar fairy to the tips of your toes, flitting from spot to spot with a mouthful of cheap liquor & a goal in mind; someone to take home.

most of your little conquests end up being one night stands, something you’re not ashamed of; you like sex, & sex likes you. you’re young, pretty, & having fun, nothing wrong with that. but most of your chosen partners don’t last more than a night, don’t have the drive nor the stamina to keep up with you, & it’s starting to wear a little on your resolve.

you’re not expecting to marry any of your little trysts, obviously not, but having them stick around for more than a great night & a sloppy morning handjob would be nice. still, you think, it could be worse.

you could be stuck in a dry spell.

you make your way over to one of your favorites, the infinity lounge & bar, to try your luck for the night; you know you’re gonna score, but you like to make a game of it.

tonight’s objective is clear, even with the two quick vodka shots & half drunk beer in your system - you’ve always been good about holding your liquor. you’re gonna find the hottest guy in here, & you’re gonna fuck his brains out.

simple.

there’s rules to the game, still. you can’t make it too easy, or too hard. the game’s no fun if you win too fast, & it’s no fun with blue balls.

you scan the surrounding crowd, eyes jumping from face to face. rule number one; not too much bigger than you. you prefer lean, corded strength, the hidden challenge of drawing that roughness out of them. it’s also just safer, makes it easier to escape an… unpleasant situation.

rule number two; not too shitfaced. you were a firm believer in consent, no matter what, & you definitely don’t want to clean puke out of your more tender areas - one awful night had confirmed that it wasn’t a good feeling.

rule number three; no experiments. stick to the comfort zone, the things you like. waking up regretful is never the goal.

your eyes rest on a tattooed, tanned shoulder; trailing up to a cut jaw, a sunshine smile, & a face that could melt stone, even with the piercings poking through his nose, lip & eyebrow. a perfect combination of sexy & sweetheart. you smirk.

objective spotted.

you slip through the crowd like water, fluidly weaving between sweaty, moving bodies until you’re right in front of mr. sunshine-and-tattoos, smile soft & demure.

“hi!” you call, stand on tiptoe to be heard over the music & bless him, sunshine just wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you in gently to be able to hear you. you bite your lip, eyes softened just so as you ask the taller man to dance, & you can see it in the appreciative look you get in kind, the simple, smiling nod.

you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger already, & you haven’t even started.

turning so that you’re flush against the other’s solid chest, you wiggle a little, half to adjust & half to tease, before letting the music overtake you. sunshine brings large, warm hands to rest on the bare skin at your waist, & he smirks at nothing in particular.

and then you start dancing.

you know these particular ripped jeans are serving you well, ass cupped tight & snug by the fabric & the fishnets underneath give you a little edge. the cropped shirt you’d tied just above your belly button exposes soft skin that sunshine seems to love having his hands on, & you thank whatever god might be listening for body shimmer lotion, the tops of your breasts glimmering in the low bar light.

you look delicious. sunshine definitely wants to eat you.

you start off slow, don’t wanna overdo it: grinding is an art form, & you are a master. you push back in time with the bass, hips swaying just so, & sunshine’s grip tightens.

perfect.

using that as a green light, you bend, ass up perfectly against the others crotch as you sway & grind to the music. sunshine is appreciative, keeps you close & tugs you up by the hips after a few heady minutes. he's got his lips just under your ear, pressing little hot, open mouthed kisses to the skin there & you simply lean back, expose more & more skin to be kissed.

it’s like the entirety of the dance floor has slimmed down to just the two of you, hot & heavy & just fucking right & all you can feel are hands on your waist & lips on your skin, the music pouring through every inch of you. it’s addictive, hooking.

perfect.

the song melts into another, then another, until your skin glistens with sweat & you can feel sunshine’s hardness pressed up against the curve of your ass. you take a breath, steady yourself before pulling away, lacing your fingers in the taller man’s & leading him away from the noisy crowd.

“i’m [[y/n],” you finally say, a satisfied little smirk on your lips. sunshine’s passed all the tests so far, & you’re eager to take him home.

“i’m kirishima, kirishima eijiro, & i really, really wanna smoke you out,” the other replies, a lazy smile mirroring yours & it makes you a little weak in the knees.

just a little. not that you’d tell him that.

instead, you cock his head, the portrait of innocence at eijiro’s remark. “oh really? you got a good dealer?” you ask coyly, & usually you don’t smoke with strangers, but you’re feeling a little adventurous tonight.

“the best,” eijiro promises, his smile growing ever wider. “he’s a friend of mine.”

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

eijiro’s dealer friend ends up being in the lot just behind the club, finishing up a quick exchange & you let the taller man lead the way. in the glint of the moonlight you admire him properly, eye the lean muscles of his arms through his sleeveless tank & the dark swirls of ink decorating them. you’re too busy watching the way his lip piercing reflects the sheen of the streetlights to realize you’ve stopped walking, picture it catching along your clit—

you pull yourself out of those thoughts. not yet.

the game’s still going.

you’ve got the upper hand right now, have the whole night & you trail a slim hand up eijiro’s spine, feel him shiver at the touch. you like winning.

and then eijiro’s dealer steps out of the car, & you stop breathing for a second.

if eijiro is sunshine & sex, this man is downright sin.

broody looking & angry, he’s dressed a little more polished than eijiro, a leather jacket accompanied by ripped black jeans & a matching t-shirt. even with all the clothes, you can see the beginnings of colorful tattoos at his neck, dipping past the collar of his shirt & sprawling over his large hands.

beside him, eijiro smirks. you pull yourself together.

“katsuki!” eijiro cheers, slinging an arm around the other’s neck. the slightly shorter, yet broader man just scowls playfully, shoving off his arm & rolling his eyes.

“you saw me this morning, eiji, fuck off,” he says good naturedly, before his eyes drift over to you. “new friend?”

“of sorts,” eijiro smirks, slips a hand in your back pocket & you’ve got the presence of mind to blush a little, play it coy. katsuki just smirks, expression mirroring eijiro’s before he opens the back door to his truck - nice & roomy, you think - & waves a hand.

“in that case, mind if i join? i’ve got the good shit, & it’s on me,” he offers, & the innuendo just brings more heat to your face. you’re a little out of your element, a little off-balance; you can handle two men just fine, but two men this ungodly handsome is a little overwhelming.

still, the thought of fucking the both of them high, in the back of a truck, is the culmination of several of your wet dreams, & you easily follow eijiro inside.

the seats are plush leather, wide & spacious & you find yourself right between them, eijiro’s hand on your thigh & katsuki’s leg against your own. you watch as katsuki deftly rolls two neat, fat blunts, the smell of the weed strong in the air.

eijiro gets the first hit, the easy flick of a lighter filling the backseat with hazy smoke & you’re in awe at the way his cheeks hollow out, accentuating his already sharp jawline. he slips it to you next, holds it to your mouth & finally, you think, a little smirk hovering at the corners of your mouth. you can get a leg up.

pouting your lips out just so, you take the blunt between them easily, hollow out your cheeks as you suck in the smoke & you know you look a sight, cheeks a little flushed, hair swept over your forehead & your mouth pouted over the blunt so pretty. you lean back when you exhale, send a few even smoke rings up & you’ve got their full attention now, katsuki’s hand slipping up your leg to rest on your other thigh.

katsuki takes the blunt next, eyes never leaving eijiro’s as he inhales & it’s like some silent sort of agreement, some unspoken deal. you repress the shiver you get when eijiro smiles down at you, a little predatory, a little hungry.

they finish the first blunt with nothing more than a few lingering stares, eijiro & katsuki never moving their hands from your thighs & you’re already feeling floaty, a little loose, but still coherent.

katsuki sparks up the second blunt but pauses before he passes it to you, cups your jaw in one hand gently to tilt your head up. “inhale & hold it, baby,” he murmurs, but his voice is firm & low; it isn’t a question.

you do as you’re told, suck in the smoke & keep your mouth closed as katsuki turns your head towards eijiro with the same hand, gentle but firm. “hold it in baby, that’s right. give it to eijiro, like a good girl,” he says, right in your ear & you nearly whine at the proximity. you press your mouth to eiji’s without questioning, let the taller lick into your mouth easily & suck all the smoke from you with another small whine. your cheeks are flushed when eijiro pulls away to blow it out, lips pouted in the foggy interior.

katsuki smirks.

“what, baby? not enough for you? come here,” & he’s taking a slow drag off the blunt before tugging you closer, slotting your mouths together & breathing in the smoke. you can barely focus on exhaling, mouth turning up into another pout as katsuki pulls away & you whine again, high & needy in the back of your throat. eijiro slips his arms around your waist then, pulls you back into his lap & leans against the door of the truck to mouth at your neck softly.

“tell us what you want, baby,” he mumbles into your heated skin, katsuki watching you both. he’s got his hands on your thighs while eijiro slips cool fingers under your shirt, flicking over your nipples through your mesh bra to make you whine again.

“want you, both of you,” you whine out, back arching at eijiro teasing touch, & katsuki snaps.

pushing forward to crowd you against eijiro’s chest, katsuki kisses you hard, lips pressed together like he can’t get enough of you. one hand rests at the back of your neck, forcing your head up to lick into your mouth easily, eijiro nipping & sucking down the length of your throat to make you whine into katsuki’s mouth. you’re trapped between them, rutting your hips up against katsuki’s & back into eijiro’s lap as you kiss, sloppy & heady & wet.

eijiro lets you rut between them for a little, lets you work yourself up until you’re whining & whimpering against katsuki’s lips, silently asking for more. he presses down on your waist with one hand, the other deftly undoing the button of your jeans. katsuki pulls off of your mouth just long enough to help eijiro wiggle your jeans down, a low growl building in his throat at the sight of you on eijiro’s lap in just fishnets, no panties.

“naughty, aren’t we? someone wanted to get fucked tonight,” katsuki hums, pressing lightly against your already soaked cunt with the palm of his hand, chasing down your moans with his mouth once more. “prep her,” he tells eijiro over the top of your head, tossing him a little bottle of lube from the glove compartment before kissing him, a little wet & messy before kissing you again.

eijiro slicks his fingers up, traces around your swollen clit once, twice before pressing inside you with his middle finger, groaning low at the feeling of your tight heat around him. “next time i’m eating you out,” he swears under his breath, & katsuki mumbles his agreement as he swallows your moans & whimpers, tongue licking into your mouth relentlessly.

you like the sound of a “next time”, moan a little louder into katsuki’s mouth as you fumble with his jeans & he takes pity on you, helps you kick them down so you can palm at his cock, hard & heavy in his boxers. “i wanna fuck her first,” he tells eijiro, voice rough as you squeeze his cock in one hand & you whine at that, like that they're talking about you like you’re not there.

“gonna fuck her loose & sloppy for me?” eijiro teases, pressing in a second finger just to hear you moan, & katsuki grins.

“of course, eiji,” he smirks, leans over you to kiss him again, making you whine between them.

“what, baby? you not getting enough attention? you've got your hands on my cock & eijiro’s fingers inside you, don’t be greedy,” katsuki chastises & you just whine, hot & needy.

eijiro’s got three fingers pressed inside you by the time katsuki’s rolled on a condom, kicking off his jeans & slicking himself up. he’s got the hem of his shirt caught between his teeth, eyes dark with want & you arch in pleasure, eijiro’s fingers just barely brushing against your sweet spot as he scissors you open. you’re so gone you can barely register yourself begging, a steady stream of “please please please” slipping past your lips as eijiro pulls out his fingers, shifting you lower on his lap to help katsuki line up with your slick hole.

katsuki’s big, cock long & thick & wet with lube as he pushes in, slowly sinking into you with a low groan. eijiro kisses him over your shoulder, rubs gentle circles into your hips to ease you both into it, little whines filling the smoky air.

katsuki’s patient though, alternates between kissing eijiro & whispering praises into your ear - “doing so well for me, sweetheart, taking me so well, such a good girl” - until you’re ready for katsuki to move, pushing back against his cock with another needy whimper. katsuki’s hips don’t slow after that, slamming into you so forcefully the car shakes, windows fogged & steamy.

he’s cursing & moaning under his breath, hips slapping against the fat of your ass with every thrust & eijiro’s got his hands all over your body, caressing your nipples, toying with your clit, pinching your hips. he’s muttering a steady stream of praise in your ear, mouthing kisses along your flushed skin - “you’re taking katsuki’s cock so well, princess, gonna come? come on katsuki’s cock, sweetheart, so i can fuck you” - & you’re barely holding on, nails digging into katsuki’s clothed back & messy whimpers escaping you with every thrust.

katsuki stops, pushes your legs up close to your chest & thrusts hard, cock hitting your sweet spot head on & you keen, eyes rolling back in your head as you come all over his cock, legs twitching as katsuki fucks into you harder. your walls clench up as you cum & you milks katsuki’s cock, whine into his mouth as he kisses you & his hips still, stuttering into you as he comes in the condom. eijiro kisses katsuki through it, peppers little bites onto your shoulder until katsuki’s pulling out, tying off the condom & pulling you against his chest to let eijiro sit up.

they switch positions easily, you on katsuki’s chest as he leans against the door & eijiro kneeling between your spread legs, hands massaging your ass cheeks gently. “think you can take me, baby? not too sore?” eijiro checks, & it makes something inside you go warm, a little soft. you nod quickly, turning so that you can kiss eijiro over your shoulder. “want you too,” you whine, wiggling your ass for extra emphasis, & eijiro just laughs as he tugs open his jeans.

katsuki kisses you softly when eijiro pushes in, keeps your legs spread for him to make the press in easier. it stings a little, your body over-sensitive but you like it, kissing katsuki until eijiro’s fully inside. you push back against him almost immediately, whimpering a little against katsuki’s lips until eijiro starts fucking you in earnest, hands tight on your hips.

if katsuki was quiet when you fucked, low moans & growls, then eijiro is mouthy. he doesn’t stop praising you, keeps pressing kisses to your sweaty skin & whispering “good girl, such a good girl, so pretty like this baby, fucked open on my cock” & it only makes your orgasm build faster. the familiar tightness pools in your stomach, makes your whines even more desperate & katsuki’s pressing kisses wherever he can reach, eyes stuck on where eijiro’s cock keeps disappearing inside you.

it’s all too much & not enough at once, & you’re whimpering once, twice, three times before you come all over eijiro’s cock & katsuki, slumped over the other man’s body as eijiro keeps fucking you. it doesn’t take the taller much longer to come, the tight heat of your walls & the breathy, whiny little moans sending him right over the edge as he spills into the condom.

you’re boneless, fucked into a soft sort of haziness & there’s tears in your eyes - good ones, definitely good ones - as the pair of them sit you up, wiping you down & cooing in your ear about how good you were, how pretty & perfect. they pull your jeans back on, tuck your shirt down before pulling their own pants back on. katsuki is the first to speak, voice low & soft.

“you guys wanna get milkshakes? there’s a 24 hour diner around the block,” he asks, & you can see the hint of a blush on his cheeks, a little shyness to his smile like he wasn’t fucking you senseless twenty minutes prior.

eijiro stretches behind you, the bright smile back full force on his face. “i’m down, i’ll pay. since you so generously smoked us out for free,” he smirks, & you can’t help your giggle.

“let’s do it,” you find himself agreeing, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips, & they both smile back at you, a mess of limbs & sweaty bodies on cool leather.

this definitely wasn’t how you saw your night going, you think as you all squeeze into a booth at the diner ten minutes later, katsuki by the window with an arm around your waist, eijiro at the end doing the same. they squish you in between them, kiss at your flushed cheeks & coo over you as they flick through a menu & yeah, you really didn’t see this coming.

i definitely won, you think smugly when eijiro feeds you the cherry off his shake, katsuki darting forward to lick the whipped cream off your lips.

definitely.

[alitaimagines]

“you should let me love you. let me be the one too, give you everything you want and need. baby, good love and protection, make me your selection. show you the way love supposed to be. baby, you should let me love you.” 

character: keigo takami - MY HERO ACADEMIA 

note: sorry for all the Hawks! im just in a fluff mood for him. sooo, I might take requests after all. if any of you want to send something in particular, I’ll see if I can write it out! 

you had been together with Hawks for a few months now. 

was it hard? fuck yeah. did you regret ever telling him yes? absolutely not. being with Keigo was one of the best experiences of your life so far and you never wanted it to end. 

-

the two of you met after he saved your university from a villain. you were stuck as a hostage in a room with the villain itself. the class was filled with a bunch of students screaming, crying, or both but you were so paralyzed with fear that you weren’t able to say or do anything. 

once Hawks swooped in to save the class, he quickly defeated the villain before sending in the rest of the pro hero response team to grab everyone. 

you, being so struck by fear, didn’t move an inch. Hawks had seen this happen before and knew that the tears would be coming soon. your face was tucked in between your knees as he tapped you on the shoulder. 

“sweetheart, it’s fine, you can come with me.”

finally looking up, you seen the winged hero before slowly getting up. your hand trembled as you walked out of the university. a few of your friends instantly ran up to you as they wiped their tears to make sure you were okay. 

“lets get you to a medic,” one of your friends exclaimed as she slowly walked you to the paramedics. you still hadn’t uttered a word nor were you in the mood too. 

after your friends left you and the paramedic finally started checking you, they chalked up your frightened emotions as shock. they placed a weighted blanket on you before they noticed Hawks walking to them. 

he snapped his fingers as he told them to give you a few minutes alone, “I don’t think she’s in the right state of mind to be asked questions,” one of the paramedics said. he sighed, “I’m not asking her questions now leave,” he lectured as the paramedics finally listened and went to check on someone else. 

you were leaning up against the wall, your eyes still as hazy as they first were when he saved you. 

“you okay?” he asked as you didn’t respond. he sat next to you before sighing, “listen, I know what happened to you was traumatizing-,” Hawks didn’t even get through the first half of the sentence before hearing you bawl your eyes out. 

he watched as you hid your face between your blanket, “I could’ve died. my family could’ve had gotten a call that I was murdered. oh my god, how am I going to tell them?” you sobbed as you felt Hawks move you against him. 

“they’ve been notified,” he murmured as your eyes widened, “where’s my phone,” you yelled as you dug into your bag to see the 100+ messages from your family and friends. 

“call them in the morning, they know you’re okay but if you call them in the state you’re, it’s not going to help anyone here.” 

you knew he was right but you didn’t care. you immediately dialed your mom and heard her sobs racking through the phone as she asked you a million and one questions. 

“m-mom, it’s fine! i’m okay,” you managed to say as she tried to calm herself down, “c-can I c-call you tomorrow? I need to talk to the paramedics,” you lied as she agreed and hung up. 

Hawks saw you grip your phone as the tears kept flowing down, “thank you for saving me, I know you’re a very in demand hero and you probably need to get going but you saved me,” you admitted as he nodded. 

he had never seen anyone this shaken up before and truthfully, a part of him was disturbed. he saved hundreds of people before but for some reason, your reaction and you alone enraged him. 

Hawks never dealt with the aftermath of villains but he was going to make sure that the villain who did this actually served as many possible years as they could. 

“nah, I’ll stay behind and make sure you’re okay. don’t need you ruinnin’ off somewhere and getting hurt,” he replied as you shook your head, “it’s fine. I’m okay. I’ve received a few emails that I’m excused for classes for the rest of the week so I’m going to take the few days to recover,” you finally said without stuttering.

Hawks remained sitting as he watched you wrap the blanket around you, “do you have a car here?” you nodded as he finally thought of a way to keep an eye on you but make sure you weren’t going to noticed him, “I’ll walk you there,” he added on as you hesitantly agreed. 

you walked to your car in silence as Hawks held your backpack. your car was a bit on the beat up side but you were a college student, a brand new car probably wasn’t even in your financial means. 

you put your bag into the trunk before going to the drivers side and giving Hawks one final look, “thank you,” you whispered before getting into the car. 

he let you drive off for a few more minutes before deciding to fly and follow you to your house. he didn’t mean to be the creepiest person ever but he was just concerned about you getting home. 

your apartment didn’t look to be too far from your university but as soon as he watched you get into the complex, a sense of relief washed over him and finally decided to fly back to his agency.

-

it took Hawks a while for you to come around to the idea of you dating him. your fears were warranted though. you didn’t want to be so publicized in the media nor did you want any of his enemies coming after you.

you didn’t want to be in the hero field. far from it. so dating the number two hero was in the complete opposite side of the spectrum for you. 

there would be days where Hawks would just come by your house for a ‘glass of water’ in the middle of his patrol. you would be so adorably cute and make him not want to leave but he had people to save and villains to defeat. 

when you finally cracked down and accepted the idea of dating him, Hawks hadn’t felt so happy in so long. the idea of Hawks coming home to you and you greeting him with a hug and kiss basically projected him to cloud nine. 

that’s where you were now. it was a rare day off for him and you were cuddled up in his arms when he woke up in the morning. you were probably still dead asleep as you had a tendency to sleep without waking up to any commotion. 

you had your hair sprawled all over your face as he softly moved it away to get a good look at you. in a sense, you were like his own version of heaven. he didn’t even know if he believed in a God but if there was one, he felt like they placed you in his life on purpose.

Keigo didn’t really fall for the fake corny romantic bullshit but ever since becoming official with you, it was hard not too. you would greet him at your apartment when he stopped at your place after his shift and on the days where he asked you to go to his house an hour before his shift ended, you were there to greet him with a kiss. 

he truly never believed he would ever get the taste of such that life but here you were, in his arms peacefully asleep.

Keigo still hadn’t told you he loved you yet but he knew that would be coming sooner than later. he had no intention of letting you go now. you were stuck with the number two hero whether you liked it or not. 

it was already reaching ten when you started shuffling in place. he looked down at you as you opened your eyes and gave him the sleepiest smile you could have. 

“morning,” you muttered, “how long have you been up?”

he shrugged, “eight, maybe nine?” he estimated. your eyes widened, “that long? you haven’t gotten up to eat? would you want me to make you something?” you asked. 

“in a minute, I just want to hold you for a few moments,” he admitted. you gave him a kiss which he quickly deepened, “what has you so soft this morning? you’re usually teasing me by now,” you joked as he shrugged. 

“waking up to you this morning felt different,” he mentioned, “I’ve never waken up next to someone I love before.” 

your eyes widened as you grabbed his hand, “aw, Keigo, I’m honored. I know your life has been considerably harder in comparison to mine but you don’t have to feel like I’m going to leave you or something,” you responded as he nodded, “I love you too,” you said back making him smile. 

he immediately plopped you on top of him and kissed you again, “holding you this way is going to get addicting, you know that?” you giggled as you snuggled up to his chest, “really now?” you mocked as you got up, “well that sucks because I’m making you breakfast and you’re helping,” you told him as he chuckled lowly. 

you got off of him and grabbed his shirt before slipping it on and making your way to his bedroom bathroom. you and him brushed your teeth before he got into the shower. 

once he finished and put on a pair of grey sweatpants with a white shirt, he met you in his kitchen that went hardly touched. he maybe cooked once or twice in it? Keigo tended to order takeout and never did learn how to cook. 

you had headphones popped in as you took out a few things you bought yesterday and mixed them together before pouring milk. watching you do the most domestic thing ever made his heart flutter. it was like the two of you were married and in a way, he longed that this relationship would lead to that. 

“are you gonna help?” you exclaimed as he laughed, “coming love! you know you’re able to connect your phone to the stereo that’s in the wall, right?” 

he made his way over to you before giving you a kiss and helping you connect the music you had playing in your headphones to the speaker built into the wall. 

ALITA

[botheredbuck]

Callum doesn’t think he could ever get tired of the feeling of Ben’s head on his chest. Strangely, it’s one of those little things he’s missed the most, in all those weeks they’ve been apart- mornings waking up with Ben by his side, wrapped around him, the scent of the other man clinging to him. He used to hate it, way back when, back in the days when he was still lying to himself and the world.  He’d be out of bed as soon as he’d woken up, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of shame welling within himself when it was Whitney’s face next to him, instead of the one he’d been dreaming about. Now, though, he gets to wake up to that dream, every morning, and he can’t help the thought that he wants it to always be like this, wants it not just to be every morning for the next month or year, but every morning for forever, and isn’t that a thought?

This morning’s no different to every other one, exactly how it’s been since they’d been able to spend their nights together again. The sun catches his eyes where it comes through a crack in Ben’s- their - bedroom curtains, and it shines across the bed, lighting up the two of them in a golden glow. He looks across to Ben, and he’s illuminated with it, in the most beautiful way, and Callum can’t help but think that he’s never looked more handsome than right in that moment. 

The whole room’s quiet, blissfully so, and Callum likes it like that. Life’s busy again, all of a sudden, and it’s a bit of a shock. Suddenly he’s not just living with Ben but with Phil Mitchell, having to deal with him as well as long shifts at the station. He thinks that’s probably another reason why he loves mornings so much- they’re always this little pocket, this little bubble where nothing else exists. Time’s not the same, and there’s nothing else to worry about apart from whether Ben’s had a good night’s sleep or not. It’s peace, before the chaos of the day, and Callum would give up any part of his day before this. 

Ben shifts slightly where he’s lying, and it’s the first sign that he’s starting to shift from sleep to the hazy half-sleep that comes after it, the first sign that he’s waking up. He’s got his head just over where Callum’s heart is beating in his chest, and he knows that that’s Ben’s favourite place to lie, and he’ll never deny him such a simple request. He knows that the other man finds the vibration comforting after everything the two of them have been through, and who is he to say no? Having his head there, that’s Ben’s little bit of bliss- Callum’s is holding him close, closer than he ever thought humanly possible, joining them together, because nothing makes him feel more human than the pressure of the love of his life next to him. 

-

inspired by @callumsmitchells <3

(published with very little editing because i need to get better at not antagonising over works for weeks before posting them. i read what lucy wrote this afternoon and went fuck it im writing some ballum fluff bc i was sad from writing angst and so it happened, voila)

(also if you see this check out the first chapter of my newest multichap that i just posted on my ao3!)

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

[op-peccatori]

pillowtalk (nsfw) | MLQC Victor | Kinktober: October 26th

Prompt:Sleepy Sex || Religion Kink || Mirror Sex 

Here’s my final entry for Kinktober! Just something sweet to wrap it up 🥺

A big, big thank you to our captain on this adventure: @alloveroliver​ 💫

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Victor

Rating: 18+ 

Word count: 2200

Warnings: explicit sex, oral sex, fluff, cervix brushing/cervical orgasm, 24/7 room service

a/n: im so in love with this man of course I wrote honeymoon sex featuring him. title’s from zayn’s song

in case you want some music with it:

borderz- zayn

dance me to the end of love- the civil wars

“You’re my past, present and future. The love I never expected or even hoped for, and the one that I can't live without. The one that’s become my whole world.”

At first, you think it’s the sound of the waves crashing on the shore that wakes you up. That’s all you hear, the sound so soothing you just want to sink into the bed and never leave.

Then you think it could be the pleasant ache between your legs, a remnant from the night before, that gently drags you out of your deep sleep.

You’re tucked against a firm body, with warm puffs of air in your hair and soft snores accompanying them. You stifle a lazy giggle, a flush making its way up your neck when you take notice of something stiff poking your rear.

Your eyes flutter close and you’re not sure how much time passes, if any at all, before you feel fingers in your hair, gently sweeping strands off your face, nails scraping against your scalp. It almost feels like a sweet dream, feeling the featherlight strokes on your arms, on your thighs, across the soft plane of your abdomen – curious and gentle, and you lean back into the touches keenly. There’s a warmth in your bed; it moves closer to you, it’s lips like clouds on the back of your neck.

“Good morning,” it murmurs into your hair, the hands on your outer thighs slipping up your skin to caress your ass. The little nightdress you’d worn to bed had shifted up to expose your lower body sometime during the night, leaving you vulnerable to teasing touches and ravenous gazes. “Mrs Li.”

You can’t help the way your mouth curves up at the words, the excited skip in your heartbeat; you’re still slightly hazy with sleep as you shift on your pillow, eager to see where this leads. The hand moves back between your legs, this time stroking the soft inner flesh of your thighs before pressing against your sex lightly, stoking the embers deep in your belly with an intimate and familiar touch. Your lips part when you feel butterfly kisses on your jaw, and a hand sneaks under you to cup the breast spilling out of the satin. A thumb swipes over the pebbled nipple, and you feel his warm breath on your shoulder.

Your blood begins to pump with anticipation when you feel his lips on the shell of your ear next, teasing and tracing. You shiver when he leaves open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your spine, starting at the nape of your neck, clever fingers rolling a nipple like it’s a beloved instrument, ready to draw out the intricate melody he never tires of hearing.

“Oh,” you moan softly into your pillow. You feel the hot slickness pooling in your sex, encouraged by the fingers stroking there delicately.

Victor nips at the flesh of your waist, rubbing his cheek against your warm skin. “You’re so warm.” You pout when he pulls away, thinking he’s given up on teasing you for the moment, but then he shifts you around until you’re in the middle of the bed, until your leg is curled over his shoulder and his mouth is between your legs. You’re still lying sideways, his head rests on your lower thigh, and his lips trace your slit before his tongue follows. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

Your breath hitches at the action, and you blink rapidly as his tongue parts your rapidly puffing lips and dips in for a taste. “I-I can see that.”

“Mmm. I think I’ve found a new breakfast favourite.” The measured cadence in his voice has you biting your lip, barely holding in your whimper. “Let me hear you, love.” He continues to knead the round globes of your ass as he recreates a dance you danced the night before, eager to see a repeat performance centred around your pleasure, a feast meant for him and him only.

You murmur things incoherently; it sounds like his name, half a plea and half a whine, a thick fog of pleasure settling in. Your hips rock languidly into his questing mouth, as your hand curls into tousled hair restlessly and tugs.

“Ah, close-close-“

His pleased groan vibrates through you, immediately followed by his lips gently closing around your swollen clit, and with a high-pitched gasp, you come in slow, leisurely waves remarkably similar to the ones you woke up to. It leaves your limbs slack, easing you into a state where you’re not sure you can speak without slurring.

Victor curls around you again, burying his face in your shoulder and tangling your feet together, seemingly sated. You’re ready to fall back into the shadowy embrace of sleep with him when you realise there’s still a hard bulge resting against the swell of your ass. His breathing has almost evened out when you wiggle your rear against him in a tempting invitation. He hums into your neck, pushing your nightdress up further, fingers caressing every inch of skin they could reach.

“Temptress,” he mutters, not able to help the jerk of his hips into yours. You let a soft moan escape you, mouth quirking up at the way his hand flexes on your waist. But, with every intimate moment spent with him, you’re starting to realise that he can no more resist you than the sun can refuse to rise. “I can...I can wait.”

All he needs is a nudge.

“I can’t.”

There’s a noticeable pause before he lifts up onto his elbow, leaning over you until you turn your head and catch his lips in a deep, toe-curling kiss. Your eyes are still heavy with sleep but he’s wide awake, eyes bright and tender on you, something like possessive desire curling through his gaze; it’s as if he’s got his hands on a star that fell from the sky, right into his palms.

Your fingers reach back to brush his erection, and his hand curls around your wrist with dark eyes.

“Ah, ___. Tell me...tell me if you’re in pain,” he says, swallowing heavily, no doubt having flashbacks to the way you rode him last night.

“Victor.” You grind back into his crotch with deliberation. “You should finish your breakfast.” The sound that tears from his throat reverberates throughout your body, and you bring his hand up to your face to press your lips to his palm, letting him see the certainty in your eyes.

“...Very well then. If my breakfast insists,” he says huskily. He presses his forehead to yours for a moment, trying to regain his bearings. “How would it like to be taken?”

It’s ridiculous but your belly clenches all the same, and with a quickly hidden grin you shift to lie on your stomach, bunching your nightdress up under you. You hear the shuddering breath he lets out before he peels his boxers off and pushes your legs apart, wide enough for him to take his place between them. Long fingered hands glide up and down the back of your thighs; it takes a little adjusting, a slight lifting of your hips, a few pumps of his cock before the head can brush your entrance, dipping in and out shallowly, coaxing more wetness out from it while pulling the shroud of sleep off of you.

“I want to feel you inside me, Victor,” you say after turning your head, your cheek pressed into the pillow. “Please don’t tease me.”

But he does.

His response is to push into you with a slowness that robs the breath from your lungs, one hand curled around your waist and the other holding his weight. Inch by inch, achingly slow, like he wants to you feel everything – and you do, including his straining grip on you that belies his seemingly unhurried pace, stopping you from pushing back while he works on sucking bruises into the unmarked slope of your neck, his weight pressing you down into the mattress. He rocks his hips into you, gentle and easy until he bottoms out with a stuttered breath of your name, followed by a deep groan as his length is enveloped by greedy, velvet heat. “Fuck, ___.”

“God, Victor!” You bury your face in the pillow, your knuckles clenched around it, helpless against the way he grinds into you, wanting more of you, taking his time to stretch you out. "More. Please."

“I know, baby.” But he continues to glide in and out smoothly, his patience driving you to madness.

You nearly cry with relief when he finally leans back and pulls your hips up; your chest is pushed firmly against the mattress as his fingers dig into your flesh, and then he starts pounding into you in earnest, quick and hard, turning your brain to mush. All you can do is sob, pushing your ass back into his hips, trying to meet his thrusts. “Oh, please, please, please.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh has never sounded more titillating. Victor pants into your hair, squeezes your swaying breasts and the edge of obsessiveness in his touch sparks more flames in your belly. He touches you with greed, with need and with so much care it’s a dizzying mess. He fucks you so deep you think you can feel his thick cock in your throat, and if your thoughts were more coherent you’d wonder how he’s this heated up when the sun has barely even come up.

Your eyes are wet with tears, or sweat – probably both.

You have a second of reprieve, to get it together, when he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming back into you; you scream and scream when you feel him deeper than you ever have before, brushing a part of you that builds a different, overwhelming pressure – and everything flashes white, every nerve in your body comes alive as you come around his cock with a force that makes you tremble all over like you’ve been broken into pieces.  

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and you hold onto those words as your knees still shake. “Just one more.”

Your blinking view changes when he pulls you up all of a sudden, holding you upright against his body as he thrusts up into your core, slowing down as he fucks you through your lingering orgasm. Your head falls back into his shoulder as you hold onto his forearm, nails digging in while the other hand slides up and back into his hair. His kisses are grounding, and you can’t help but respond to them dazedly. 

You can see the sea beyond the balcony doors, barely lit by the predawn light but for once your mind pays no further thought to it, your entire being captured by the cock sliding in and out of you, the thickset arms holding you up and the hand slipping down to your clit. 

“Vi-Victor, please, I can’t-“ 

“Last one, baby. You can.”

For the third time this morning you’re the wave crashing on the shore with unstoppable force, leaving ruined things in its wake as it slips away. Victor’s groan is sweet in your ears, his cum spilling into you a comfort, a satisfying conclusion. He likes that, you’ve realised. Something about the sight of his seed leaking out of your slit brings out that primal satisfaction in his eyes. It suits him.

For a minute, or maybe ten, you stay on his lap, quaking through the aftershocks. He whispers sweet praises into your skin, sweeter nicknames and promises of eternal love and something that registers at once – more sleep. Your ear is pressed against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart, calming down along with it. He lays you down gently and you reach out for him again, drawing him into your arms as you both try to steady your breaths. You swipe his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, sweeping him into a deep, languid kiss. 

“Good morning, Mr Li,” you purr against his cheek, finally feeling more...human. You feel his little smile, catch a glimpse of his flushing cheeks before he buries them in the pillow. You press closer to him with a content hum. “I love you, my gorgeous husband.” Your needy husband, you think with a smile he doesn’t miss when he turns his head to observe you, in all your sweat glory.

“And I love you, my gorgeous wife,” he returns, surprising you. He continues to just look at you, and you’re struck by how content he looks, with one side of his hair still sticking up, his shoulder mottled with blushing bruises and his eyes lighter than you’ve ever seen them; your cheeks flush at how utterly besotted he looks, certain that your expression mirrors his. You give in to the urge to kiss him again, soft and swift. “I don’t think I’m going to let you out of bed today.”  

“But what will we do in bed all day?” you ask in feigned confusion, pulling back to stretch leisurely, completely aware of the way his eyes linger on your chest, on the slope of your neck, on the arch of your back.  “Won’t you get bored?” A breathless giggle bursts from your throat when his arms slither around you and he plants another kiss on your waiting mouth. 

“You could get some more sleep while I order our second breakfast,” he suggests. “I was thinking pancakes.” You nearly doze off while he calls up room service, soothed and sated as you watch the sun settle in its place, the water that looked so dark before now an inviting blue. You hear Victor hang up and scoot closer, pulling the soft sheets up to cover you both.

“I ordered extra syrup.” A quick glance at his pleased smile is more than enough to give you an idea of why he wants that extra syrup. You wish you were fast enough to click a picture.

“Mhm, that sounds lovely,” you say around a startling yawn. “I’ve always thought your skin would pair perfectly with syrup.” 

He doesn’t even blink.

“Well, as you once put it – I am quite a snack,” he says with a perfectly straight face, contrasting greatly with your gaping one, which you’re quick to get under control.

“Well,” you drawl in a perfect imitation, trying to suppress the fond smile threatening to break out at the sight of his smug one. You’d said that to Goldman, when Victor was definitely not around to hear. Goldman’s not a snitch, and your husband can be sneaky. “I was wrong.” 

As predicted, his eyebrow twitches just the slightest, though he pretends to be unfazed. “Were you?” 

“Mhm.” You rise up to crawl over his body, straddling his taut waist as you lean over him; he reaches up to tuck back the hair that spills over your shoulder in soft waves. You lace your fingers with his, pecking his temple, his cheeks, the corners of his mouth until he softens and melts into the press of your mouth to his. Your tone lowers conspiratorially. “You, my love, are the whole feast.” 

“Am I?” The adorable dust of pink across his cheeks gives him away, and he has nowhere to run with your arms bracketing his head, and the lovesick yet hungry look in your eyes. But the tiny smile tugging at his mouth tells you he doesn't mind at all, that he's ready for you to shower him with all your affection. 

“Yes, darling – and I’m still hungry.”  

[jzixuans]

oh fuck yeah gn post- hey all, i’m lia, and i totally wasn’t so distracted i almost forgot im on for tonight

Good happy things!

-woke up in a nice fuzzy-hazy sorta way, so i wasn’t too tired in the morning -gave bell some extra nice pets today -making a lot of progress on a new fic of mine! sure, i got distracted writing a completely different fic after lunch, but still! -i promise i’m coming back to the first fic tomorrow skjdc -finally found a way to kinda do something about the Thing that had been bothering me, so that’s nice -been talking a lot to remy today, which is always time i treasure <3 -how to be a heartbreaker (mariana and the diamonds) is so catchy, i love it -setting up plans to either be someone’s matchmaker or their prankster -blink snipe: i just wanna hold her hand,,,,, bet it’s warm and soft,,,,, hold her hand so she can’t hurt it,,,,,, just want to hold her hand,,,,,,,

[trickstercheebs]

fuck we have to CHOOSe one? Uuuuh "✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention" AGP sick Gordon and the team? and/or "+: being led back to bed with patient whispers" but they dont have bodies yet, just worry

YOU GOT IT! here we go

He had walked back in and half the team knew something was wrong. He looked flushed as hell despite it being 70 degrees outside..Half the time they tried talking to him he had to be called to attention multiple times, clearly something was wrong.

“Gordon..? Gordon are you okay? What’s wrong you never act like this....hello?”

Tommy was the first to try and get Gordon to explain what was going on, he brushed them off weakly saying he just felt a little light headed...But the way he talked sounded like he barely heard Tommy talking.

Coomer tried next, knowing his usual greeting always got a response, his normal smile fell when Gordon didn’t fully respond for several minutes, even Bubby had finally dropped the snark in favor of seeing what the hell was going on with their Gordon.

“Hey, hey what the fuck is actually going on Gordon...You’ve never acted like this before, are you dying on us or something? You fucking better not or else I’m going to fucking come out there...okay? Just...just dont fucking die on us for real Gordon.”

Gordon by now had slumped back into his chair watching the AI’s frantically figure out what’s wrong, the strongest of them now cracking with worry when their usual antics and nonsense got....nothing back.

“Guys....guys I’m not gonna die okay..? I’m...just a lil sick is all, just a lil fever nothing to worry about. “

“Bullshit bro, that...that doesnt look like a normal fever...Gordon you need to get into bed. Shit’s not good to just stay in the chair for...”

Benry had finally shown his own worry after watching Gordon just....sit there unmoving and staring off into space for a half hour, it wasn’t fun to watch him do that knowing he’s delirious and shit.

“Ben...ry? Shit since when did you become a mother hen..? heheh..I must be out of it then if I have you freaking out at me..”

The others were trying to figure out what to do, how to get Gordon to get better or at least fucking sleep..The fact they lacked bodies made this all entirely and unnecessarily harder to do. Tommy and Coomer combed over wikipedia and any health web pages on how to best combat a cold. Bubby kept on trying to berate and convince Gordon to go to sleep and rest with little to no success.

Benry though was wanting to try some other methods. If Gordon was this fucking out of it...maybe he could try the only method he had available left. 

Giving a quick word to the others on what the fuck was about to go down and getting the “Go ahead we have no fucking other ways.” he slipped into Gordons phone and tested the waters of Gordons mind.

Like Tommy and Coomer, Benry sometimes delved into the deep oceans of knowledge that Wikipedia offered, mostly on some stupid meme shit.. But as of late he had delved into the science of the mind and sleep. Mostly to figure out how he could slip into Gordons mind at night..and maybe how the whole subconscious worked.

He found nothing but stupid ass jargon but some of the things he learned were interesting...Like that at certain stages of delirium and sleep deprivation, the mind enters a sleep like state...or as close to it as possible. 

Benry smiled to himself as he felt himself slide into Gordons mind with practiced ease. The others wouldn’t know what was going on on this side of things...But if it worked like he hoped Gordon would be fine and in bed soon.

“Gordon...hey dumbass look at me for a second.. C’mon sleepy head, lil baby needs to be put down for a nap.”

“B....Benry? Issat you?”

“Yeah? C’mon I need you to get up, take the headphones off bro.”

Gordon blinked owlishly up at the guard now standing above him smiling softly...When did he get here? Was he always here...?

“When’d you get out here dude? ...what the shit’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it bro, c’mon get up outta the chair, bed’s alot better for baby time naps. I’ll join you even if you want Gordon....”

“...that sounds....actually kinda nice..? alright.”

Benry sighed softly in relief as Gordon pushed himself out of the chair at last, hearing the muted cheers from the rest of the science team as he stumbled towards the bed nearby.

Gordon all but collapsed onto the edge of said bed, and with some more prompting by Benry shuffled under the covers to sleep like a decent human being. Benry himself couldnt do much aside from mime sitting on the edge of the bed and talk to him until sleep finally claimed Gordon at long last a hour later.

The rest of the science team went about their day, checking up on Gordon via phone to see if he was still asleep or feeling at all better.. They didn’t entirely understand where Benry went, Coomer had one idea but that was something to discuss in private with Benry himself.

As for Benry, he stayed hidden in Gordon’s hazy fever dreams to keep him company. With the fever affecting him it made things ten times stranger....Not that he minded, he could gently shift things away from nightmarish topics and have a bit of fun with Gordon, who did not seem to know or mind whatever the hell was going on.

Of course he also indulged in some nonsense of his own at Gordon’s expense, he accompanied him on his feverish adventures and played along with whatever logic Gordon’s brain supplied... and of course using the cover of dreams to kiss and cuddle whenever possible with the poor man.

Several hours later, Benry slipped back into the computer to say Gordon had gone into a dreamless deeper sleep..But now all they had to do was wait and hope in the morning things would be better.

Morning came and went, and later into the afternoon Gordon finally managed to pull himself from sleeps loving embrace with a coughing yawn.

“Gordon?? Gordon you’re alive! Good morning!”

“Hello...Tommy? Tommy what time is it...? Where’s my phone at...”

Fumbling about with a slow groan he dug his phone out of the blanket nest he made in his sleep...When the hell did he get here? Christ he barely remembered yesterday even...it was four in the afternoon...Wow he was out cold for almost a full day.

“Holy fuck I must of been deadass...Sorry guys, I felt like utter shit yesterday, didn’t mean to scare you all if I did, I barely remember being conscious at all.”

“That’s all well and fine Gordon, but you must learn to take better care of yourself! You had us worried it was something much more dire.”

“Sorry Dr. Coomer...and you’re right I should take better care of myself from now on..I had some fucking weird dreams though..”

“Like what Gordon?”

“Well....”

He shifted in bed to get more comfortable, he still felt bad but...least he could talk to the others semi normally now. The dreams he had were strange as hell come to think of it, most of them he couldnt remember for shit aside from a handful.

“I could of sworn at some point Benry was yelling at me to get into bed and stop doing stupid shit...”

“Bro that wasn’t a dream I was yelling at you to take a lil baby nap for like...two hours. You’re a stubborn lil man.”

“No I mean...I mean like actually yelling at me, like face to face physically..”

“Wow bro, you dreamin me up out there with you? Shit sounds gay, if I was really there I’d just throw you into bed instead of just yelling.”

“Dude shut up..I guess I was probably hallucinating while you were all telling me to sleep..”

“That sounds about right, you were very very delirious all day Gordon. I’m glad to see you’re doing a bit better now.”

“Me too Dr. Coomer..I guess I should get some cold medicine now huh?”

“If you fucking dont im blowing your entire savings right here and now.”

“Alright alright jesus Bubby...I’m glad I have all of you to worry over me hahah”

Gordon laughed softly as he finally got out of bed to find his cold meds and get started on getting rid of this cold.

[gvf-imagine]

Part 2

A/N: as always feedback is welcome! I hope you all enjoy it ❣️also if you would like to be added to the tag list just message me

Tag list: @karrotkate @satingrass-maidensfair @justacollegestudentyay @love-philautia @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair

Word count: 3206

———————————————————————

It had been a week since the festival show with Greta Van Fleet, you found yourself listening to their songs on a daily basis and every once in a while you smile absentmindedly as thoughts of them ran through your head. That night with the boys ended with passion and insight. After having that moment with them in that field of lush grass they went back to their bus and you went back to yours feeling like a whole new chapter of your life had begun and you knew for a fact that would not be the last time you'd see them. You truly liked all of them, Josh made you laugh, Danny made you feel safe, Jake made you feel reckless and free, and Sammy brought you a certain aspect of self-involved peace. They all had great qualities about them that made them special to you in the short time that you were with them. They left an impression and you couldn't help but wonder if you'd left one on them.

Unfortunately the alcohol that swirled in your veins caused you to stumble into a sleepy stupor and by the time you woke up , hazzy, with a migraine, your tour bus was already long gone from Los Angeles and headed back home. You cursed yourself for not getting at least one of their numbers before going your separate ways. In the week since, you had been spending your time with yourself mostly. Lounging around your apartment, catching up on sleep and some of your favorite netflix series. Now it was friday morning and you had just woken up, not by choice but rather from the sound of some ungodly loud construction worker who was jack hammering the pavement like it owed him money. The sun was up, the birds were chirping, it was another typical day in your small town. Immediately upon waking your body craved caffeine, you hadn't drank at all last night so the headache slamming in your brain was surely due to the lack of said caffeine in your bloodstream. Nothing a quick cup of coffee couldn’t fix. In your ever flattering attire of jogging pants and a tank top, you moved down the hall to your kitchen, the sun shining through your windows and warming your skin like a gentle hello. 

As the coffee brews you look at your phone, no messages or calls, which is not unusual as you don't have many friends or family still in the area. You open your instagram page with a flick of your thumb and you can't stop the smile that paints its way across your face when you see you had four new followers, Josh , Sam, Jake, and Danny had all found their way to your account, you followed them all back instantly and spent the next half an hour sipping your coffee and going through their photos. Four such gorgeous men literally at your fingertips, you were smiling so much your cheeks began to hurt. When you took a sip of your coffee and were met with a cold liquid you decided that was enough phone time for now, now it was time for a nice hot shower. 

Throughout your shower you absolutely could NOT take your mind off the boys. Josh’s smile filled your mind as water cascaded down your body, relaxing your muscles and awakening your mind. What a beautiful man he is, so gentle and enticing, you licked your lips thinking about him.

The skin on your fingertips began to prune, it was time to get out. You wrapped a warm towel around your body and walked back into your room to get dressed for the day. You settled on a simple outfit, a high waisted jean skirt, with a yellow collared shirt and black knee high stockings. You were doing your makeup when you heard your phone chime in the bathroom, you smack your lips in the mirror, evenly spreading the matte,nude color across your moist lips. You shoot yourself a smile and go to get your phone. 

Josh_gvf: “hey girl, miss me?” 

You laugh , elated that one of them got in contact with you. That must have meant that he was thinking about you, it was good to know you weren't the only one that recognized the connection you felt.

Y: “hey Josh, how'd you know?” You write back perhaps a bit too quickly. You were not ashamed to seem eager, you were eager.

Josh_gvf: “I got a feeling ;) so guess what?” His response comes even quicker than yours. 

Y:”what??” originally you had put three question marks but erased one as it seemed too overzealous. 

Josh_gvf: “were playing in detroit tonight, nothing huge, just a bar show but we'd love it if you would come…..to the show  mean”  You could almost hear his flirtatious tone in your head, he would have shot you a wink as well. God a show sounded wonderful, honestly fuck the show, seeing the boys sounded wonderful. 

Josh_gvf: “of course we would come pick you up, your town is on the way anyways” he sends another message. 

Y: “of course! I’d love to come, what time?” you reply, your heartbeat was quickening in your chest and butterfly wings tickled the sides of your stomach. You were so excited! 

Josh_gvf: “we’ll pick you up around 6 ok? Wear something cute, I need eye candy while im up on stage” more flirtation, god you loved it, you craved it you craved him. His words settled over you, like the warm welcome of an old friend, or that feeling you get when you hear a song you haven't heard in years.

Y: “sounds good and I’ll try my hardest not to disappoint ;)” you write back, you also send him your address. 

Six o’clock was not very far away, only a few hours now. You wondered if you should change your outfit and you decide to find something a bit more tantalizing. 

You dig through your dressers and rummage around in your closet until you've got the perfect outfit put together:  



You looked over yourself in the mirror, happy with your creation, your outfit on, your hair was done and so was your makeup, just a few squirts of perfume and you’d be ready to go.

You were so excited to see them it almost confused you. Why do you like them so much , honestly, you didn’t know them that well even. You couldn’t help it , being around them felt right in every way.

———————————————————

You heard two horn beeps come from outside your apartment. You scramble to the window and see a stretch limo below you, a smiling Danny Wagner hanging out of the sun roof. You practically squeal , grab your phone and run down stairs. When you open the door the boys pile out of the limo to greet you.

“Oh baby” josh winces upon seeing your outfit. His face looked as if though you looked so good it hurt him.

“Enough eye candy?” You question gesturing to yourself.

“You look gorgeous” Sam says grabbing your hand and leading you into a limo.

“Wow you guys get limo rides to your shows? Man My manager just gives me 5 bucks for gas” you joke. Jake laughs loudly as he climbs in the seat next to you.

“It’s good to see you again (y/n)” Jake chimes with a glistening smile, as he rakes his fingers over his head and through his hair. As he moved you caught a whiff of his cologne , it was sweet and very subtle not at all the scent you thought he’d go with.

As the limo begins to move your eyes move to josh who was already looking at you with a hind of mischief on his face. You wondered what he was thinking about.

“You want a drink love?” He asked. Hearing him call you love made your knees weak. His voice was so enticing , like melted chocolate. You wondered if he tasted like melted chocolate too. That satire thought escapes your mind through your mouth as you say “yeah I’d love a drink” you answer, clearing dirty thoughts from your head.

“Southern and seven right?” He asks holding up a bottle of southern comfort.

“Yeah!” You chime , happy he remembered your drink.

“Good because I bought this just for you, girl” josh informs. Your cheeks are blushing and you know it, you can feel the tingling burn on your face.

“Aw you made her blush” Sam comments running his index finger gently down your cheek. Josh looks over to you as he pours your drink. His eyes scan your face , lingering a bit on your lips. He looked at you with hunger as if you were sitting there naked and waiting for his touch. That image sent chills down your spine, he winks at you as he hands you your drink. Suddenly your throat feels dry so you chug the drink with an exasperated sigh when you finish.

“Jesus” Danny says with a chuckle.

“Get her another one” Sam speaks taking your empty glass from you and handing it back to josh. You heard a lighter spark to your right , Jake was lighting a blunt.

Oh that’s why he was being so quiet.

His lips rest around the end and he inhales watching the cherry burn as the smoke slips into his mouth, brushing over her succulent rose lips. He looks at you and smiles as he holds the smoke in then passes you the blunt as he releases.

You take two hits making “O’s” with the smoke as you exhale with a giggle.

“I can do that too” Danny says excitedly, you pass him the blunt and he gives it a try.

“Hmmm no. You can’t” josh states , all of you laugh at Danny’s sad attempt.

“You’ll get it one day” Sam chimes with a smile.

The limo was full of smoke now, you looked around at the boys through the hazy fog. Everyone is quiet now , you sipping your drink and watching the world pass by put the window. The alcohol and the weed were begging to take affect. The alcohol warmed your body while the weed pulled your mind into alleviation... a lusty combination. You were so calm in this moment , you knew this was exactly where you belonged, it just felt right and you hadn’t had the privilege to get that sense of fleeing very many times in your life.

———————————————————

Jakes hand reaches for you, offering his help as you step out of the limo, you accept and thank him. The sun still hung in the sky, blinding the earth unapologetically. The sunshine felt good casted over your skin, with your head still swimming in an elegant haze.

Josh grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him , his hand stays at your hips as you all walk through the door.

“I’m glad you’re hear, love” he coos in your ear before gently kissing your ear lobe. Your knees buckle causing you to wobble slightly, Josh tightens his grip on you and smiles

“Oh she likes it she likes it” he purrs with a wink.

Yeah. you loved it. You wanted more of him, you couldn’t stand the sexual tension anymore, you wanted to feel him and taste him , to know him in that way.

The bar was packed with people , you were sort of surprised. Josh said this wasn’t going to be a big show but it looked pretty big to you, there were people everywhere. Danny hops on the stage and begins tending to his drum set ,making small changes in its position.

“We gotta go on wish us luck” Sam chimes giving you a side hug.

“You don’t need luck Sammy, you guys are the best” you reply before he and Jake join Danny on stage. Josh plays with a piece of your hair , twirling it around his finger looking at you.

“I’m singing for you tonight girly” he whispers , his voice slick with liquor.

His hand trails down your cheek gently as he just looks at you. Seconds later he winks and joins his brothers on stage taking the microphone in his hand. Already the audience was forming and cheering for the boys. You found yourself right in front of the stage, a mass of people on either side of you and the smell of alcohol and smoke hung in the air.

Josh introduced the guys before Jake started to play the opening for ‘when the curtain falls’. A chorus of cheers and motion erupting from the crowd. Josh’s voice was all you could hear, the freeing sound of his bluesy rasp send vibrations through the building. His voice flooded from his mouth and filled the air like bright red fireworks exploding in the sky. He was so talented. The sound of Jakes guitar slices through you like a lightening bolt of sound and energy. Danny’s drums pounded into the crowd, his strong, muscular arms in control of it all. The sound of sam’s bass flooded over you like huge purple waves of calming spirit. He played that bass like it was all he knew how to do, like it was part of him. Song after song the boys held this vitality and vigor and the crowd was eating it up. Josh walked off to the side of the stage for a second before returning with something behind his back. Arms were reaching for him as he walked to the edge of the stage , his eyes meet yours and he brings a rose out from behind him and reaches to hand it to you



You can hear the jealous gasps of girls around you. You smile up at him before he brings the microphone to his lips once more and continues singing. You smell the rose and feel those familiar butterflies in your stomach again. You were in awe, these boys had such raw talent and capability. You know a band is good when they make a bar show feel like a sold out arena. enjoying the music you moved with the crowd , the songs taking control of your body and mind , you forget there’s people around you, you are thrown into a world of your own. You don’t open your eyes again until josh announces that the show was over and offers his thanks and goodbyes to the crowd.

Josh jumps off the stage in immediately walks to you.

“Come here” he utters his hands grab your face before he presses his lips to yours. You are caught off guard but you let him do it, you wanted this just as much as he did. You didn’t know what had gotten into him , perhaps the adrenaline from a wonderful show.

His tongue licks your bottom lip asking for permission before you open your mouth and let his tongue slip in, deepening the kiss and the passion. His hand was now behind your head and wrapped around your waist pulling you further into him. A small moan escapes your lips unintentionally but you couldn’t help it. He balls your hair in his fist as he continues to kiss you.

When he lets you go your face is flushed and his chest is rising and falling with desire. The rest of the night was spent drowning in liquor.

Eventually bar time came around and it was time to get back in the limo. You all stumbled in, you got in first then josh sat on your left and Danny on your right Jake and Sam sat in the seats across from you.

When the limo pulled up to your apartment you sighed sad to leave.

Danny put his arm around you and gave you a hug wishing you a good nights sleep. Sam and Jake did the same , Josh got out and walked to your door to help you out.

He smiles as he walks you to your porch.

“Let me see your phone” he says reaching for it in your pocket. You pull it out and hand it to him happily. He presses a few buttons before handing it back to you.

“There now you have my number “ he says flashing you a smirk.

“Awesome, I’ll text you in a little while to make sure you guys got home ok, give my number to the other guys too ok?” You chime as his hand grabs yours.

“I will” he promises before kissing you on the cheek.

“Thank you for coming tonight” he adds, his voice was softer now.

“Of course it was super fun and you guys did great” you reply. Josh looks back at the limo.

“We should hangout sometime just me and you yeah? We can go to dinner this Saturday if you want, would you like that?” He offers.

“Yeah that sounds great Josh!” You beam. Josh lifts your hand to his lips kissing it gently, looking you in the eye.

“Goodnight (y/n)” he coos

“Goodnight josh” you smile. He winks as he gets back in the limo , you wave until the car is out of sight.

———————————————————

In the week that passed you had gotten in touch with all of the boys , josh did as you asked and gave them all your number, you talked to at least one of them every day.

Tonight was your big date with josh and you were so excited. You found the perfect outfit and couldn’t wait for him to see you in it.

Just then your phone vibrates, you pick it up and look at the message.

Josh: hey girlie , I hate this but I have to cancel our date tonight ... something came up I’m so sorry , I really wanted to see you but I can’t get out of this, I’ll make it up to you though I promise

Your heart sinks as you read the message, you felt upset for josh and hoped everything was ok but at the same time you were really sad that you couldn’t go out with him now.

Y: oh no I hope everything is ok Josh, no worries we will hangout some other time ❣️

You set your phone down and walk to your room to change out of your new outfit. You grab jogging pants and an old ‘quiet riot’ t shirt and head to your living room to spend an uneventful night on the couch.

Hours later you’re scrolling through Instagram. When a post josh is tagged catches your eye. You look at the date and see it was posted one hour ago. It was a picture of him and some girl at a mini golf course. You deflate when you read the caption.

“Fun night with Joshy❣️”

“Something came up huh josh...” you say to yourself with disappointment.

You look at the girls name ‘Andrea hartnet ’.

You flip to your messaging and click on Danny’s name.

Y: hey Danny, does josh know anyone named Andrea?

A few seconds pass before he responded

D: yeah that’s his ex, why?

—————————————————-

To be continued

[docholligay]

Sleep, Sleep

I’m working on a real thing that is for a patron but it’s going slowly because *gestures vaguely* so please enjoy this shitty hurt/comfort I wrote to soothe myself. 1770 words, all of this universe is here for timeline or whatever

Fareeha Amari was not in the business of shirking responsibility. When she felt she had failed, she was the first to mark ways she could improve, and she was the first to notice the same in others. It was not so much that Pharah sought fault so much as she sought improvement, and the beginning to fixing a leaky roof was finding where the leak came from. But, on a handful of occasions in her life, she could simply admit that it had been a bad day. 

Sitting in a Talon cell, half out of her mind with the pain of torture and the exhaustion of resisting it, she could admit that it had simply been, one of those days. 

They had only been here two days entirely, Pharah thought. She had tried very hard to keep mark of the time. It was so easy to lose it, in these moments. Moira was helping her, she supposed. She kept a tight schedule, and if much of that schedule relied on when and how she chose to experiment on she and Tracer, well, at least she knew when tea time was. 

A more straightforward sort of torture, Pharah might have been able to bear better. But it wasn’t torture, not for information. Other people might care about that--the monster that had once been Gabe certainly got in their face enough--but Moira did not. It was experimentation, and even if they told her every secret they knew, it would not stop. Moira herself pretended little different. 

It would go on until they were rescued or died, and at least that gave them little reason to give any information at all. 

She sat the edge of the small cot provided to them. Tracer lay at the top of it, trembling, her body jerking every so often against her will. Pharah looked away from her. She told herself it was out of respect for Tracer’s general dignity, but even half-mad she knew it was a lie. She simply could barely stand to look. She hadn’t looked down at the stump where her metal arm should rest, either. It hurt. She knew it must look terrible. No reason to make it worse with visual acknowledgement. 

“F’reeha?” Tracer’s voice was soft and wobbling, ““‘M a bit poorly. I think.”

“You need to stop goading her,” Pharah shook her head, “Just lie still, and quiet. They will find us.” 

“What, and let ‘er come after you? Fuck off, then.” 

Tracer had the unique gift of being able to irritate a human being better than a mosquito at the ear, and she had employed this to great effect in Moira’s lab. She tortured them in tandem, which was a unique technique, if she meant to get anything from them, but perhaps it was that she knew the effect of seeing the other dissembled bit by bit was its own brand of horror. 

Pharah had not gotten the worst of it, because Pharah was not medically interesting. Certainly, she had Winston’s unique set of sensors in her shoulder, where a fully functional arm had been installed, but she’d seen enough of that with McCree. Pharah was fine, but Tracer was the real toy, and it didn’t hurt that Tracer was very good at making someone want to hurt her. And Moira had. She had taken great pleasure in it. 

Even Pharah herself, constantly surprised by her own emotions, had not understood what an effective method of torture it would be for her. 

Pharah lay her hand on Tracer’s leg. She could feel the twitch running though it. 

“Rest.” 

Pharah was not the most verbose human on her best day, and this was certainly not her best day. She wanted to tell Tracer it would be all right, that they would come and Mercy would mend what Moira had damaged. But who could know if it was true? Pharah had many faults, she thought, but she was not a liar. She wanted to tease Tracer, to set her at ease, but the words would not come. Pharah was more steel than anything else, in difficult times, and so her words were firm, and decisive, and formal, whatever she tried. It was a comfort, like a child’s blanket. 

A shock ran through Tracer, and she gasped, her back arcing against the cot. Pharah moved to her, and closed her eyes with the sharp, bright pain that moved through her body as she did so. She took a few deep breaths, did her best to ignore it, and rubbed Tracer’s shoulder until her body let her relax again, what could have been ten seconds but felt like hours. 

Tracer opened her eyes just a little, and looked up at Pharah. 

“We may want to consider the outside possibility I won’t be making it to the debriefing.”

“You cannot. That would leave me sole leader of Overwatch. Do you want that on your conscience?” 

Tracer cracked a weak smile. “Not me first choice, no, but” she swallowed, “But this isn’t what I expected to ‘appen, love. Didn’t know it would do this, it’s nothing like when I...anyhow, if I do...If I do..”

“Stop,” Pharah looked away from her and sighed, “I am not your errand boy. We are in pain, and we are tired.” She gave a chuckle, “And longing for the days when torture meant being beaten.” 

“God yes, “ Tracer closed her eyes, “love to be cracked across the jaw just now.” 

Pharah nodded, her hand still on Tracer’s shoulder. “When we escape, when they come for us, because, you see, I am an optimist. Not like you, who thinks Winston would leave you to die here.” 

“Don’t bloody bring ‘im int--” Tracer shuddered and tamped down a squeal of pain into a small squeak. “Oh Fareeha, I’m…” 

“A pessimist, yes.” she moved up her hand, gently rubbing the hair at the back of Tracer’s head, “I can see that. But when we escape, when we are saved, and you heal, because, remember, you have so many times before.” 

“Right,” Tracer gave a little nod and swallowed, “born under a lucky star.” 

“When you heal, I will take you to your horrible little pub, and play darts, and attempt to understand anyone in that godforsaken place.” 

Tracer gave a laugh, weak and small, but genuine, and Pharah grinned. 

“And I will fail. You know that, of course, and you will have to order for me. Again.” 

Tracer’s eyelids fluttered open, her vision hazy but more for Pharah’s benefit than anything. “It’s not as Isla can’t understand you, you know, it’s just the other way round.” 

Pharah shook her head. “I know you have some sort of magic word, for when all I want on this earth is a light beer.” 

“Right, and it’s ‘go somewhere else.’” 

Pharah ruffled her hair. “It’s sometimes easy for me to understand what Moira sees in you.” 

Tracer giggled. “Me own personal brand of charm, innit? Going to be a right shame when I can’t share mese--” 

She gasped, and let out a cry as her body twisted into one terrible contraction. 

“Lena!” Pharah went to move the arm that wasn’t there, and a wave of nausea and pain went through her, but she pushed it to the side, using her good arm to scoop Tracer onto her lap. Tears ran down Tracer’s face as she struggled to breathe against the spasm, Pharah unable to do anything but watch, and hope that her touch offered some comfort. 

Watching her lit a fire in Fareeha Amari, a deep coal seam of hot anger than would not dissipate until her child was nearly grown. She would nurse it and feed it, and never apologize for it, and it would take her years to remember that it had been lit in this exact moment. She never had a friend quite like Tracer, and she never would, because who could be said to be like her at all? And Moira had tortured her like a cat playing with a mouse, and Pharah would remember this, always. 

It released Tracer, and she lay panting on Pharah’s lap. A few moments passed, just the two of them nestled together, in a cold and dark cell, the dire nature of their situation hanging over them like a shadow. 

Tracer could not go on like this for too much longer, Pharah knew. Whatever Moira had done to her had hurt her badly, and she needed help. Pharah knew, in the same way, that Tracer would fight and snipe at Moira to her last breath, even if it accelerated its coming. Tracer could stop fighting like the sun could stop rising in the morning. She was a terrier to the bone. 

But she believed herself, that the team would be looking for them. D.Va was a natural leader when called upon, Winston would hardly stop looking for Tracer, McCree was constantly looking to be made useful, and even the newer team members had nothing but fondness for Tracer, and maybe even Pharah herself. 

Mercy, of course, would never leave Pharah behind. She knew that like she knew the moon still sat outside that cell, watching. 

“Fareeha…” 

“Rest now.” She arranged herself carefully, and pulled Tracer up to her shoulder, leaning against the wall, and wrapped her arm around her. “You want to be fresh to spit in Moira’s face.” 

“Love you, Fareeha” 

“Shut up.” 

She held Tracer close and began to hum and then sing, some Arabic lullaby drawn far from her childhood, though she couldn’t even remember where or when. Who would have sung to her? Maybe she was something better than the sum of her childhood experiences, or maybe there was a tenderness inside her she did not know, or maybe she had grown into something that could give a softer and sweeter fruit,  but in any case, she chose to think of it little in the moment. There would be time later, to wonder where it came from. 

Tracer could not have possibly understood the song, but it sank deep into her, and Pharah felt her sink against her shoulder as she slept, the words carrying her along and comforting her. 

Later, Pharah would not know how long she sang, or when she fell asleep herself, or even exactly when help came. This part of her life, these next few days, would be a blur, scattered with only moments of clarity. This would be true for all of her very long life. But she would remember the song, and she would remember the flickering lights and long shadows, and she would remember that she had been, a good friend.