#i think i need to add that tag 'it gets worst before it gets better'

[draco-after-dark]

Rock Saga - coming soon...

Soon ish. Depends on how i feel writing wise but oooo are we close to the first major event for my fic.

I'm actually so excited to write it. I think about Rock Feral too much and about the Rock Brothers and like a million other things that are going to happen. It's like when the season finally hits and everything just goes haywire.

[flowersforbucky]

delirium

bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

word count: 4.1k

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.

warnings/tags: sex pollen, dub con, unprotected sex, oral, masturbation, angst, descriptions of physical pain, language, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, reader is afab, 18+ only

flashbacks are in italics

Sometime in the near future, there would be a case study conducted on how long a human being could burn from the inside without dying.

They would refer to you as exhibit a.

Doctors and scientists would lay your cold corpse on a colder table and use a scalpel to cut you from your thorax to your belly button. They would scribble notes about how your lungs had turned to ash and your esophagus to molten lava.

They wouldn't say it, but they would think it's a shame, because your driver's license states that you were an organ donor.

A harsh gust of wind snaps you out of the twisted fantasy and back to your reality - standing barefoot on the rickety front porch steps of a small cabin in Sitka, Alaska. You've only been outside for a few minutes but the snow is pouring down at a brutal pace, already covering the tops of your exposed feet.

The razor sharp chill of the ground below you and the air that surrounds you are the only things tethering you to what little remains of your sanity.

You never thought that you would be so thankful for your feet to be going numb, but after feeling like every fiber of your being is getting melted with a hot branding iron for - what? Ten? Twelve hours now? You had to resist the temptation to submerge your entire body in the multiple feet of snow that had accumulated since nightfall.

You hear the front door of the cabin creak open from behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that he's standing in the doorway with the same look of pleading desperation that he's been giving you since the two of you had realized what was happening.

“You need to come back inside,” he says delicately. His voice is muffled by the roar of the snowstorm, but right now with heightened senses, you hear him just fine. “You're going to get hypothermia.”

You don't respond. The mere sound of his voice makes you grit your teeth together so hard that you're surprised the tiny bones don't shatter.

He keeps to the doorway, scared that if he takes one step closer, you'll flee into the miles of thick woods that surrounds you in only a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He murmurs your name in a tone that begs you to come in from the below freezing temperatures.

“What time is it now?” You barely recognize your own voice - low and strained, it sounds like you haven't had anything to drink in days.

You clear your throat, though you doubt it'll make any difference.

“Just after four o'clock.”

Eleven hours into this hell, then. Best case scenario, another half a day of this. Worst case scenario, close to two.

Either way, you knew that these symptoms had yet to hit their peak. This would undoubtedly get worse before it gets better.

You stare out into the endless thicket of snow covered hemlocks and spruces. The illumination from the full moon makes the white powder on the branches glisten in the darkness.

Daylight was still hours away, and with it, hope for some means of communication with the rest of your team back in New York. The snowstorm had brought a widespread power outage across the city. Cell phone signal was nonexistent right now.

“Go on back to your room,” you tell him. “I'll come back inside in just a moment.” You continue to watch the blizzard before you, knowing that he's still just a few feet away from you. “I promise,” you add, hoping that he’ll believe you and return to the bedroom you'd been forcing him to keep to.

The drug coursing through your veins had amplified every one of your five senses. Even with him behind the closed door of the bedroom, you could still smell faint traces of the earthy musk of his deodorant and something warm that is uniquely him.

You wouldn't chance coming back into the house until his scent has dissipated from the entrance - not unless you want to feel as though all air is being stripped from your lungs.

Even simply standing here, with him behind you and the wind blowing his scent in the opposite direction, is nearly intolerable.

You hear footsteps retreat into the house, growing quieter and quieter as he makes his way back down the hallway, until you finally hear the click of his bedroom door. You exhale a breath that you weren't aware you had been holding in.

You have no doubt that he'll try to drag you back inside by the ankles if he has to, so you make good on your promise and return to the sweltering interior of the six hundred square foot log cabin.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiates from the center of your body at that thought - the exact kind of thoughts you were actively trying to avoid having. Thoughts of his hands digging into your thighs, his wet mouth on your throat, his bare chest pressed against yours as he fucks you into the likely thirty-something year old couch - those thoughts. Dangerous territory thoughts - the kind you didn't trust yourself not to act on if dwelled upon for too long.

Apparently, the thought of him putting his hands around your ankles and dragging you kicking and screaming falls into that category.

You settle onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest in an effort to alleviate the ache in your lower belly. You notice that Bucky has crammed more wood into the fireplace, which currently serves as the main source of light for the cabin, save for a few candles that have been placed sporadically throughout the small space.

Sweat begins to bead across your skin within seconds of sitting down in front of the fire. You know that Bucky is just trying to keep the temperature of the house from dropping below zero while also providing enough light to see during the middle of the night while you are in too much discomfort to sleep, but you feel like you are locked in a sauna after running five miles.

You think back to all of the times that you've given Sam shit for taking ice baths after his workouts. Now nothing sounds better than an ice bath.

Almost nothing, anyway. The only thing that could possibly feel even better is laying down behind a closed door less than twenty feet away.

And he'd offered - begged, actually, to take this pain away from you.

“Please,” he whispers, kneeling on the ground next to the couch, where you sit hunched over in pain. He's so close to you and it's fucking suffocating. He places his hand on your knee and you have to dig your nails into the suede upholstery to keep from whimpering. He notices the reaction and retracts his touch.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says louder, the pet name finally getting you to meet his gaze for the first time since you dropped the glass jar of the firetruck red powder in the former HYDRA warehouse two hours ago.

Big mistake. Looking at him is a big fucking mistake. From the way his blue eyes bore into yours with sincere concern to the way that his plump, pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather -

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head into your hands. “I can't ask that of you. I can't make you do that. I would never forgive my–”

“You wouldn't be asking or making me do anything,” he tries to reason with you. There's sincerity in his voice but you're too delirius to hear the truth of his words. “I'm offering. Because I care about you. Because I don't want to see you in any kind of pain if there's anything I can do about it. Because I think you'd do the same for me if the situation were–”

“Bucky,” you cut him off in a strained gasp. “Your voice is making this so much worse right now.”

“Then let me help you. Let me make you feel good.”

His words alone are enough to have you clenching your thighs around nothing but the thick material of your sweatpants. You can feel your cotton panties becoming more drenched with each word he speaks.

“Not like this.” You're on the verge of tears - from pain, from anger at the entire situation, from how goddamn badly you need to feel him inside you. “It can't happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

His features soften, a look of understanding spreading across his face.

“When we fuck, I want it to be because we want to fuck,” you say as you jump up from your position on the couch, desperately needing to distance yourself from him before you do something you can't take back. “I don't want it to be because we feel like neither of us have a choice in the matter.”

“But we do have a choice,” he murmurs from where he's still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “And I'd choose to go back to that HYDRA facility and infect myself with this shit, too, if it means you'd feel a little less guilty about saying yes.”

Your answer to that was, of course, a big, giant absolutely fucking not. The snow started pouring down shortly after, making his irrational proclamation an impossibility, anyway.

Almost half a day later, here you are. Surrounded by miles and miles of snow and ice in a town with no power or semi-functioning cell phone towers, just trying to endure the fire coursing through your veins until the effects of the HYDRA made drug have worked through your system.

You're coming up on the twelve hour mark now, and there's no denying that you're desperate for relief in one way or another.

Worth a fucking shot, you think.

You prop your feet up on the glass coffee table in front where you sit on the couch, spreading your thighs apart by a few inches.

You hesitate for a moment, listening for any kind of indication that Bucky's no longer in the confines of the cabin’s singular bedroom.

Dead silent, except for the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

You snake your hand down the front of your pants, past the waistband of your underwear and to your center that's been aching for hours now.

You stroke your fingers up and down your folds, stopping at the apex of your core to massage your clit in circular motions.

Your head rolls back on the couch at the sensation, immediately feeling the slightest sense of relief. You dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from moaning - hard enough to draw blood, the taste of iron flooding your mouth.

You slip two fingers past your entrance, not requiring any foreplay to plunge them to the hilt. It feels good - the way you're working yourself with rapid scissoring motions. Really fucking good, actually. Better than fingering yourself has ever felt.

But only a mere minute into the ministrations, you fear that it won't be enough to satiate you in the way that the drug requires.

Still, you try. You yank your t-shirt above your tits, bringing your free hand to paw at your breast as you continue working your pussy with your fingers, the heel of your palm putting pressure against your clit.

“That's not going to work, you know.”

You yank your hand out of your pants, snapping your head to the side to see him leaning against the frame of the small hallway. You had been so immersed in attempting to find some amount of relief that you hadn't heard him exit the bedroom. He's looking at you with sympathy and concern, not judgment - you don't think you'd be able to find it within yourself to feel embarrassed even if he were. Not in your current state of discomfort.

“How do you know that?” Frustration is evident in your voice. You look away from him, back to the fire in front of you as you pull your shirt back down. The floor creaks as he steps out of the hallway and makes his way over to the opposite end of the small couch. He sits a foot away from you, close enough so that his scent and warmth invades your senses, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core.

“Because I've been through what you're going through right now.”

Your eyes break away from the ember that you've been staring at, your gaze snapping to him. You don't know why this comes as a surprise to you. It shouldn't, not with every other form of torment that HYDRA had inflicted upon him for over half a century.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was embarrassed,” he answers with a small half-shrug, breaking your stare. “I didn't.. handle it as well as you are,” he continues, shame in his voice and cheeks rosy. “You’re doing everything you can to fight something that you didn't ask for. That's more than I can say for myself.”

“You were brainwashed, Bucky,” you remind him delicately. It's a risky move that makes your skin burn and belly clench, but you scoot closer to him on the couch - your outermost thigh brushing against his knee. If the two of you weren't both wearing sweatpants, the minimal touch might even aid in bringing you some relief. Instead, you’re left feeling desperate for more of him.

But you push the feeling down, wanting to do what little you can to comfort him - wanting him to know that you don't think poorly of him for what was forced onto him, and what is now being forced onto you, too.

“I would never judge you for anything they made you do,” you assure him.

“I know you wouldn't,” he murmurs, turning to face you again. His blue eyes glow in the low lighting of the fire. The closeness between the two of you is dizzying, and electrifying, and -

“And I want you to know that I would never judge you for giving into this torture,” he adds.

You snort a laugh. “I'm starting to think you want me to give into this.” You mean for the statement to sound light-hearted, but a sharp pang in your gut makes you wince in pain and your voice goes shrill. You clutch your lower belly, hunching over at the pain.

He leans in closer, putting one hand on your lower back and one on your thigh. You whimper at the pressure of his fingers against your spine and inner thigh. Even through your clothes, the contact feels like heaven compared to hell you've been enduring for the last twelve hours.

You lean into his touch - you don't even think about it, you just do it. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your forehead nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

You take a deep inhale, attempting to steady your breathing, and you realize quickly that is a mistake - his scent is so euphoric, it feels like inhaling flames.

“Would it make it easier for you if I said that I do want you to give in?” His voice is low, his breath fanning across your face from his position above you.

“Fuck, Bucky, you can't say that to me right now,” you whine. You fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes squint shut.

“Look at me,” he commands. You force your eyes open, pulling your head back enough to look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I want it to be your choice.” He brings a hand up to cup your jawline. His thumb skims the outline of your bottom lip. “But I would be lying if I said that I'm not relieved that I'm the one here with you, or that I wouldn't enjoy every second of helping you feel better.”

He brings his hands to yours, pulling them away from where they still clutch his shirt. You release your grip, allowing him to hold you by your wrists. He pulls your right hand up to his face, stopping just under his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion, until it dawns on you what it is he's doing.

He inhales deeply, then lowers your hand to his parted mouth. He slips the tips of your index and middle fingers past his lips, and then swirls his tongue around the two digits.

The exact two that had been inside your pussy not even five minutes ago.

Right now, you think you could come from him sucking on your fingers and nothing else.

You don't even try to stop the groan that slips past your lips as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. He moans around them as he finishes cleaning them off, the sound sending vibrations up your arm and throughout your body.

You pull your fingers from between his lips and immediately crush your own lips to his in their place. You feel the drug surging through your veins, but this time it's less excruciating - it now feels like pure adrenaline bubbling under your skin, spurring you on.

He opens his mouth to you, your lips and tongue moving with his in synchronicity. It's hurried and messy, and maybe not as romantic as you had imagined it in your head before this night - but it's exactly what you need right now.

He maneuvers you so that you're laying down on the couch, and nestles himself between your thighs. You can feel the hard outline of his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. He ruts against you, dragging the bulge across your clothed center as he yanks your t-shirt up and over your head. He tosses it somewhere behind the couch before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and palming the other with the cool metal of his left hand.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling the full weight of his body down against you. You stick your hands up the back of his t-shirt, scratching your nails down the skin of his back.

“I need more,” you gasp out as he pinches your nipple between his teeth, rolling it in his lips. The clothing that separates the two of you feels like a prison. “I need to feel you.”

He pulls away, leaning back to perch on his knees between your legs. Your eyes roam down the chiseled planes of his chest until they land on the defined “V” shape that disappears into the waistband of his low-hanging pants.

He hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and underwear and tugging them both down past your ankles, then throwing them somewhere across the room with both of your long-forgotten shirts.

His eyes trail your body from your breasts to your thighs, his pupils dilating in the firelight. He splays his hands across the meat of your inner thighs, pinning your legs open wide for him. He lowers himself back down on the couch, belly down so his face hovers just above your pussy.

“Bucky, I swear if you don't put your mouth–”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle before his tongue slips between his lips. It darts to your hole, licking a soft strip up to your clit. You exhale a sharp hiss of pleasure, your hands shooting to lace your fingers through tendrils of his hair. You arch into his touch, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of your hips. He eats like you're the best thing he's ever tasted - like he's wanted this for way longer than this drug has been in your system.

You're coming on his face in an embarrassing amount of time, really. Thanks to the influence of the pollen, you currently have the stamina and endurance of a teenager losing their virginity. Your thighs are clenched around either side of his head, writhing above him as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

The relief that you feel as you come down from your high feels like years of pent up frustration leaving your body all at once.

You don't quite feel entirely like yourself - there's still a dull ache in your core, and your skin’s still feverish - though that could be due to the fire that the two of you are just feet away from. But you're now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Come here,” you whisper, your voice low and honeyed. He crawls over you, his chest brushing against yours as he centers himself above you. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat that mingles with your own. You reach a hand between your two bodies, palming his erection through the sweatpants that he has yet to shed. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as his eyes roll back into his head and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as you massage him through the fabric. Your other hand juts down to the waistband of his pants and you tug them downwards, far enough to help him shimmy them down to his knees.

His cock springs forward and he takes himself in his flesh hand, pumping his length several times before teasing your folds with his tip. He collects your slick along his length, lubricating himself before nudging his head just past your entrance.

You're more than ready for him - hours of desperation in addition to already having come on his face leaves you needing no further preparation before he's filling you up with his impressive length and girth. There's a slight burn at the sheer fullness of it, but there's also a wave of relief that your body has been craving for hours.

He pulls out halfway, then rocks back into you. He starts slow - trying to hold back for his own sake or for yours, you're unsure. Gradually, he increases his speed, hitting your cervix at that sweet angle that not everyone knows how to work. You lean forward, raising your head enough to capture his lips in yours once more.

You taste yourself on him - a dichotomy of sweet and salty mixed with something entirely unique. He brings his flesh hand in between your bodies, lowering his fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing pressured circles. You moan his name into his mouth and he responds by biting your lip between his teeth, his movements becoming messier.

“You gonna come on my cock?” he asks in a low growl when he feels your pussy clenching around him. “Gonna fill you up and make you feel all better.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge for the second time - that telltale warm coil in your belly bursting at the same time that he begins spilling his warmth into you.

He collapses, pinning you between his body and the couch beneath you. Starting at your shoulder, he peppers kisses along your collarbones and up your neck until he’s finally eye-level with you.

“We can do that again,” he says in a breathy voice, still inside you. “If you need to, that is. Or if you just want you.” There's a mischievous grin spread across his face and a twinkle in his eyes. It's the most carefree you've seen him since the two of you left New York to come here for this mission. You put your hands on his chest, jokingly attempting to shove him away from you.

“Oh, I don't think I need to,” you jab at him. “I'm feeling pretty great now, but thank you for your services.” He laughs, pulling out of you and sitting back against the couch. He pulls you up with him, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. “But I think I might want to again. You know, now that I'm no longer in excruciating pain.” He hums in agreement, stroking his flesh fingers across the side of your stomach.

“I'm glad you were the one here with me too, Bucky."

thank you for reading! i know sooo many people have done this trope, especially for bucky, but it's truly one of my all time favorites and i just needed to get this out of my system so i hope you all enjoyed

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

other works by me: oil & water • down bad • acquainted •

[fairlyang]

been having thoughts of this concept for weeks and i loveeee this series so i just had to spitball something for fun. happy halloween🎃

w/c: 777

tags: blood, murder, cruel violence, wade being wade, silly, death, more murder, revenge, helping, then a lil horny, just some headcanons really

purge night with wade would include:

taking down every singular person that has spoken bad about you, or done you wrong in any way, shape or form

sure wade could’ve done that anyway since he’s a merc but breaking in after that alarm comes on was the fun part

depending on how awful they were to you would depend on their punishment from wade

like your creepy and annoying ass boss just got a warning by wade barely grazing his chest with his katanas, marking a big x

the one who had it the worst was your god awful satan’s spawn asswipe of an ex

wade would have a blast with him

“oh you thought you’d slip by this day just because you bought an expensive security system to protect yourself? well it’s not your lucky day baby boy…”

he’d make sure that piece of shit could feel absolutely everything that he did to him

ending it off by putting a grenade in his mouth and wishing him luck while skipping away

—

he’d def be wearing wearing all kinds of masks just because he could

spider-man? the first one he got. winnie the pooh? fuck yes. darth vader? abso-fucking-lutely. he’d even add his own impression and make you dress up as padmé

—

he’d blast every wham! banger as loud as possible while driving around being a menace

maybe he’d pretend to be dead in a street or alleyway to bait people out and about because who the fuck is out on purge night besides pyschpaths?

“hey hey! oh you’re out purging huh? yeah i’m sure… stay safe out there! there’s loads of crazies out here.”

—

or drive out to hot spots of shoot outs to “help out” one team but really just making jokes and annoying both groups that they all turn to shoot him

which of course doesn’t do them any good when he just regenerates in front of their eyes

—

or he’d be an absolute sweetie and break in to those playing where rich white people auction to kill off poor minorities and just absolutely ambushes those sick fucks

luckily if they shoot him, he’s perfectly fine after a few seconds and shoots up like a zombie frightening them all

he’d def make sure that all those rich fucks never have the nerve to do that stupid shit again or else

“you think of doing this ever again baldie and i’ll make sure you live the rest of your life afraid to do be in a room alone because i will be there to fuck your shit up and not in the good way!”

—

or maybe someone killed you and he vows to kill the mother fucker who took his whole world away from him

he’d have a very clever and thought out plan, and best of all, no collosus to stop him this time

he’d have every fucking gun, sword, and grenade he owns in his car as soon as the siren goes off and get there as fast as possible

they wouldn’t be let off the hook at any point and he had a shit ton of back up plans in case he lost them

“didn’t you hear John Kramer is back in, you son of a bitch!! this house is your fucking trap dipshit.”

—

public sex

sure you’d be doing that anyway because wade truly didn’t give a fuck if you were caught but doing it on this day meant no tickets

and doing it anywhere

he first took you to the mall, just wanting to fuck you in the food court where your moans would echo loudly

it was way better than he thought

just taking you in multiple positions on a table before quickly scrambling to put his clothes back on to go to the next location

a rooftop

he’d have you only holding onto the edge of the roof while fucking you in doggy

“god what a fucking view.”

“oh yeah your ass looks good from back here too.”

his crazy ass would ask you to ride him while on the very edge which just had you explaining that you weren’t invincible and would just splat on the floor if you fell

“that just means you need to practice more as a cowgirl…”

after that failed he fucked you on the hood of his car, covering your body just in case anyone would pull a fast one

but no one did, only a group of guys passed by cheering you on saying “fuck the government!”

finishing it off by fucking in every room of your apartment but really truly ending it by fucking in front of the window like true exhibionists, the way god intended

[chleem]

Flashing Lights #3

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter2 | index | chapter4

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Early March 2024

Okay. Maybe Drew was a little attractive. 

Or was he always attractive? Or was it because you haven’t seen him in weeks, and you just forgot about how he looked like? Either way, the man sitting next to you in the car was not the same guy that you met with weeks ago. 

He cleaned himself up good, dressed in a nice white button up and jeans, styled his short hair a bit, and sunglasses that he was sponsored for. The watch adds a richer vibe to it, and several rings on his hand. 

Nah. It’s his outfit that makes him look so attractive right now. Definitely not how he looks. 

Worse of all, you were matching with him. Wearing a classy white dress with white heels, and accessories that you sponsored. You visibly cringe at your outfit choice, hating how well it went with his. 

But what bothered you more was your first public appearance with him, as a couple. A few weeks ago, the pictures of you two together on set was leaked out, and the company immediately confirmed that you two were currently dating. The comments online were mostly negative, with some wondering about the woman he ‘impregnated’ and wondering how you ended up with this guy. 

Now, you had to prove to the whole world that you like this guy, that you are in a committed relationship. This is harder than trying to act for dark films. But you had faith that you could wing it, just like how you always wing auditions and films. 

You reach for your purse, opening it and grabbing a pack of cigarettes. You get ready to smoke one, but he takes it out of your hands. “The fuck?” You curse, glaring at him. His sunglasses make it hard to read his expression, but he was chewing gum, with no smile apparent. “Give it back.”

“No; you’ll smell,” he says. 

You roll your eyes. Well, you needed something to calm your nerves down, so you just grab another one. But Drew grabs both the cigarette and the pack out of your hands, and out of your reach. “Hey!” You yell, reaching for it. “Give it back! Seriously.”

“And I’m being serious too,” he replies, before throwing it to the back trunk. 

You gasp at the audacity, anger running through your veins right now. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I needed that!”

He reaches into his pocket, before grabbing a pack of gum out. “Eat this instead. It’s better and doesn’t smell.”

“You think I’m a fucking idiot? I’m not eating that.”

“It’s all I got,” Drew shrugs. “You want or not?”

You glance behind him at the window, and see the thousands of fans outside, all here to watch the Bahrain Grand Prix. Multiple paparazzi are also pulling up. 

Fuck it. You take the pack from his hands, and eat three at a time. The gum is lemon flavored, and minty too. Somehow, it does relax you. You chew on it, focusing on the minty scent of it instead of how much people were outside. 

“Thanks would be nice,” he murmurs, but you heard him. 

“Hey, you threw my shit back there. You owe me,” you say, slapping the bag of gum against his chest. 

Then, the car comes to a stop, and the driver turns around. “We’ve arrived.” You look outside at the entrance of the F1 paddock, a few paparazzi already standing there.  

The bodyguard at the entrance hurries out, and opens the door at Drew’s side. 

He steps out, and stands in front of you. His hand reaches out for you, and you take it reluctantly, knowing that many people are staring. Flashes go off, and you adjust your dress with Drew’s body big enough to cover. 

“Good?” He asks, and you nod. He lets go of your hand after, walking ahead of you. 

Do tall people genuinely walk faster? Plus, why isn’t he holding your hand or walking beside you? The both of you have an image to sell, and thirty seconds in, he’s not selling anything. 

You slightly run to catch up, and when you do, you lock your hands with his. 

He stops and looks back at you, and you just give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hand is warm, big, and also, very stiff. Has he never held hands with anyone before? “Hey, you’re my boyfriend. Did you forget that?” You tug him down to whisper in his ear. 

His red ear doesn’t go unnoticed, and his grip on you tightens. “Right.”

You pat his shoulder away, and walk towards the gate. Paparazzi aren’t allowed in the paddock, so once the staff gives you your passes, you hurry in. But even in the paddock, you attract attention. Cameras turn over to the both of you, and fans glance over. 

You ignore them, just chewing on your gum. You feel very tempted when you pass by the smoking area, but get reminded by your pack of cigarettes disregarded in the back truck. 

Eventually, some photographer comes up to the both of you. You obviously want to keep walking, but Drew stops to listen to what he has to say. “Y/n, a photo for Vogue magazine?”

You open your mouth to say no, but Drew answers instead. “Sure.”

You mentally roll your eyes, smiling for the camera. But the photographer frowns at the man beside you. “Sorry, just Y/n.”

Drew nods, wanting to let go of your hand but you pull him closer. “No; my man stays in the picture,” you confidently say, to which the photographer just nods. You smile for the camera, and the flash goes off. The photographer thanks the both of you, and walks off. 

“What was that for?” Drew asks you as you two continue walking down the paddock. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face as the two of you walk hand in hand. 

But you turn to face him, wanting to see his blue eyes but his sunglasses cover them. “Don’t do that shit ever again. I hate it,” you say instead. 

“Do what?”

“Responding to randoms. I don’t like that, okay?”

“Why not?” 

Can’t he respond properly? What’s with the questions. “None of your fucking business. Just, just don’t answer anyone, or even acknowledge them.”

“Well that’s just rude.”

“And you’re the nicest person alive?” You snicker, once you reach the VIP building, that leads to the observatory and bar upstairs. “Trust me. Your rookie ass has no idea.”

“‘Rookie ass’?” Drew mocks, once you’re in the building. He presses the elevator button, and takes off his sunglasses, hanging them by his button up. “I debuted ten years ago.”

“Not the fucking point,” you say, and see that no reporters or paparazzi were around. You immediately drop his hand and cross your arms, looking away. “And I only did that to sell this stunt.”

The elevator door opens, and you step in quickly, Drew following in. He presses the third floor, the door closing. 

You don’t say a word in the elevator, part of you angry and annoyed. The door opens, and you hurry in. The staff asks for your names, and you give it to her. You ignore the spark in her eyes as she sees the two of you walking together, and leads you to your seats. 

There was a bar area with seats around them, dining tables, and an outdoor balcony area that gave a perfect view of the racetrack and garages. She leads you to the dining area, but Drew buts in. “Could we sit outside?”

You raise an eyebrow at Drew wondering what he's thinking of, and he just ignores your look. “of course,” the staff smiles, taking you to the balcony. 

The two of you sit across each other once you get to your table, and the staff leaves to give you some time to look through the menu. You don’t; instead, you pull your phone out and start scrolling on it. 

Drew, however, looks through the menu and keeps looking around down at the racetrack. Drivers getting ready, and staff rolling the gear out. You’ve been at these races for countless of times, so you’ve gotten used to what goes on here. But Drew? This is definitely his first time here. You chuckle at his widened eyes, as if widening his eyes could get him a better view of downstairs. 

“What?” He turns to you, his expression mean. 

“So obvious that you’ve never been here,” you chuckle.

“And it’s funny?”

“Yes. I’m sober as shit right now, so anything might as well trigger me,” you give him a fake smile, signaling the staff over. She hurries over, and asks for what you would like. “Um, give me five cups of your strongest alcohol drink.”

She nods, and looks over at Drew. “Uh, two lobster and bison ribeyes, and one red wine.”

“Will be right up,” the staff chirps, walking off.

“Two? What, you got a family of four living in there?”

“No; one’s for you,” Drew says. “It would be weird if you didn’t eat and just drank.”

“No one cares,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I do; can’t have people saying I’m dating an alcoholic.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you argue, feeling offended. Yeah you drink, but only because it calms your nerves down. And who is he to judge? He ordered a drink too.

“Really? So people normally wake up and drink what, four five bottles of whiskey? People show up to places smelling like they lived in a basement all their lives? You’re a fucking alcoholic, Y/n,” Drew confronts you. 

You scoff, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “Hey, you’ve only met me for three times. Those three times you just happen to bump into a drunk me. So, don’t accuse people of what they aren’t.”

“The first time we met and you called me a cunt.”

“Because that’s who you are,” you say. “you’re a cunt, and I’m not an alcoholic.”

Drew pokes his tongue against his cheek; your argument sucks. 

“Why are you denying your drinking problem, Y/n? And it’s not just you, but the whole industry. You sure they don’t know a single thing? The people you worked with?”

You look away. Why was he lecturing you right now? Its annoying and it’s getting on your nerves. The last thing you needed was a stranger telling you how to live your life. And while he goes to say something else, you snap at him. “Hey! I didn’t sign up for therapy here. Shut the fuck up. No one knows, okay? Plus, the whole industry knows I’ve been through worse.”

You don’t elaborate; but you’re ninety percent sure he knows. The hell, everyone in this whole world knows. 

The drinks arrive, five pink drinks that you’re sure is yours, and Drew’s red wine. 

You spit the gum into a tissue, then immediately gulping down the first one. You’ve gotten used to the burning feeling that alcohol has, so it was like drinking water. Drew just watches you with his blue eyes, slowly sipping his drink. 

You look over at the paddock. The race is starting, five red lights showing. “Its starting,” you comment to Drew, and he puts his drink down, walking over and leaning against the railing. You look at him with amusement, how he’s watching the race with anticipation. 

You gulp down your second drink, and relax, letting the alcohol slowly take over you. After a few minutes, you feel a bit tipsy, but you get up, standing next to him. “Who do you think will win?” You ask, the alcohol getting you friendly. 

“Max,” Drew replies, looking at the big screen across. “You?”

“Sainz,” you say, since he is your favorite driver and driving the car of the brand you ambassador for. 

“Do you even watch the sport?” He teases, his eyes on the racetrack.

You cross your arms, looking at his side profile, “Ferrari never disappoints.”

“So does Max.”

“Its a new season; anyone can win.”

“Not if you’re in Ferrari.”

“Then let’s bet on it.”

He stays silent, still staring at the racetrack.

“Didn’t take you as a gambler as well,” he says after a few seconds. 

“Well, are you scared to lose?” You tease, shrugging your shoulders. 

Drew turns and looks at you amused, his blue eyes staring deeply into yours. Gosh, why does he have to have the most gorgeous shade of blue to be his eye color? He shrugs too, smirking. “No; just scared that you’ll turn into a vicious bitch when you lose.”

You roll your eyes, before looking around for something to bet on. But your eyes land on his phone on the table. Then, you thought of an idea. “Loser, has to post a picture on their instagram of the winner. Caption and photo of the winner’s choice.”

Drew’s eyes widen, but he nods, holding his hand out. You take it, and you shake on it. You walk over and drown the third drink down your throat. The alcohol was definitely working, because you feel friendlier next to Drew. See? Alcohol does help one’s mental, and in your case, it makes you an entirely different person. One that’s nice and less moody. Of course, Drew notices it. But he doesn’t comment on it, knowing sober you would bash at him like crazy. 

You spot his phone, and you hand it over to him. “Since you’re going to lose, why don’t you take some pictures of me?”

Drew raises an eyebrow at you in amusement, taking the phone. You just smile at him, leaning against the railing, getting some poses ready. Drew reluctantly walks across from you, and does the craziest pose in order to get a photo of you. It actually causes you to laugh, and you cover it with your mouth. 

And that gets Drew smiling too. Feeling tipsy, you definitely thought you were seeing things. You calm yourself down, continuing to serve face for the photos he’s taking right now. 

Aw. The image of a perfect couple? Completely sold.

——

The internet goes crazy once again.

First was Drew’s visit to your set. Second was the confirmation of the relationship. Third? The hard launch that you posted. 

A picture of Drew, who’s hugging you from the back, his arms wrapped around your neck. His face is pressed besides yours, and he’s making the most lovestruck face to the camera. And so are you. Well, with the help of alcohol, you’re smiling as if Drew’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With the caption, “Mine.”

Drew smiles proudly while staring at the instagram post, your first post in five years. He glances over at you in the car, only to see that you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the window. He reaches over and carefully moves your head to lay on his shoulder, thinking it would be more comfortable. 

You’re deep in sleep that you don’t even care, and Drew just stiffens his posture, to make sure even his smallest movements won’t wake you up. 

While you sleep, Drew just continues to stare at the photos he took of you today, an unexpected smile on his face. Which was just weird, so fucking weird. 

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

word count: 2.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: does the ending look familiar? 😚 hoped you enjoyed the first date with Drew! i saw new photos of him at loewe he looked tooooo good. edited till late last night bc i was so excited for you guys to read this one! (also, i'm a big fan of f1, and wondering if there's any sainz fans here other than me.) anyways, like/share/comment to show support! thanks for reading babes <3

[tabootoji]

"LOVE IT WHEN HE HIT AND SMACK TOO"

TRAINING DAY - PART 3 OF SELFISH DESIRES ← pt. 2

✰ - SYNOPSIS: it's time for you to advance your skills as a curse user if you hope to remain by suguru's side, and who else better to train you than the worst one of all time? (or) you and suguru get down and dirty in the middle of a yoga session. ✰ - WC: 2.8k ✰ - TAGS: reader is female, short, black and curvy, semi public, obsession/possessive, size diff., nipple play, dry humping, groping, pussy slapping, cunnilingus, v. intercourse, dirty talk, praise, belly press, f. orgasm, creampie, no use of (y/n), all lower case ✰ - A/N: our reader is finally going through her training arc! (kinda :P) so ofc i used the opportunity to feed my imagination with the idea of geto in a compression shirt hehe (which was kinda inspired by this). also i put in a really small gojo mention, i was debating on whether i should in this story or not, but since i did say i'm sorta following canon events it just made sense to. anyways, we have one part left, so i hope y'all like how the story's been going so far!

since the 'incident' with manami, suguru has been carrying himself around the sacred temple with an extra pep in his step. and why wouldn't he? the amount of followers coming to the temple seems to have doubled, maybe even tripled in a short amount of time - which meant more curses to add to his arsenal. the wealthy contributions to their organization have also skyrocketed, granting everyone in the shrine a life of comfortability. above all, suguru was able to walk with his head held high knowing that now, all had graciously accepted your position as his one and only beloved, staying right by his side where you belonged.

however, there was an elephant in the room that he had yet to address: training you. suguru's group consisted of strong, sharp-witted shamans who stood ready to follow his every command. and although he had no intentions of ever putting you in a situation where your life would be in danger, he needed to know that if there was ever a time he or the other curse users couldn't protect you, you'd be able to defend yourself. he also hoped that coaching you would in turn boost your confidence in your own skill and abilities, putting you amongst the ranks of your peers.

suguru made up his mind that at least once a week, he would clear a part of his schedule to physically train you, as well as guide you to perfect your cursed technique. you were hesitant to the idea at first, but after much coaxing, you agreed as long as he promised he would start off teaching you slowly. so today, he stands in the center of the traditional garden behind the sanctuary with yoga mats sprawled on the freshly trimmed lawn, waiting for you to join him so he could start you off with the basics.

suguru decided to forgo his usual long, flowing garments for a more casual look. he donned a compression shirt that fit tightly around his athletic torso, loose sweatpants that hung off of his defined waist, and opted to stay barefooted with nothing on his feet. it was a sunny afternoon, and the clear blue skies accompanying the warm sun that casted a radiant glow over the magnificent oasis gave the fake buddhist priest much to think about as he awaited your arrival.

he thought of the irony of him currently adapting a teaching role in his current position, a role he so desperately tried to run away from when he abandoned jujutsu society. he was sure his former best friend from a period so long ago it felt like it happened in a different lifetime would laugh at him if he saw him right now. suguru closed his eyes as favorable memories of his youth flashed in inconsistent intervals in his mind that the dreadful ones had yet to cloud before he was interrupted by a familiar soft, melodic voice calling his name.

opening them, suguru instantly felt a pleasant tranquility wash over him at the sight of you. sporting a gym top with yoga pants, you stood with a beaming smile on your face, head slightly tilted as you asked if he was alright. he chuckled to himself, shaking his head and dispelling your worries by bending down to your height to peck your forehead. when the troubles of his past barred their ugly fangs, of course he knew he would be fine, as long as he could gaze at you, his future.

you feel your cheeks heat up, very sure that your face was covered in a red blush at not just suguru's affectionate gesture, but by how hunky he looked in his current attire. you don't usually get the chance to see him in anything else besides his robes, so you quickly take a mental image of how his massive arms seemed so close to ripping through the elasticity of his shirt, and how his structured v-line and sexy happy trail peeked out of the band of his sweats.

once you and suguru decide that you're ready to start, you both sit beside each other on one of the yoga mat's cross legged, and begin to meditate. pushing a curly strand of hair that fell out of your styled high bun behind your ear, you try to listen to his prompts to close your eyes, focus on your breathing and rid your mind and body of any anxiety you're feeling.

contradicting his own teachings, suguru takes the opportunity to eye you from top to bottom suggestively. your cropped sports tank top had a slight dip in the neckline that gave him a glimpse of your deep cleavage. and because of how the top was tied behind you, your ample breasts were pushed up, threatening to spill out if you made one wrong move (which suguru was indeed hoping for). and don't get him started on your damn yoga pants. the sheer, tight fitted garment not only hugged your delectable curves in just the right way, your rich skin was visible behind them. suguru's cock twitched at the idea of how easy it would be to rip them right off of you.

but alas, he had to stay focused. after he deemed that you were relaxed enough to move on to stretches, suguru instructed you into the first position. as you lay on your back with your arms flat on the mat, he kneeled in front of you, telling you to bend your knees and lift your pelvic region off of the ground. however, after a couple of seconds your legs begin to shake, already threatening to falter your current pose. when suguru holds your hips firmly in place with his hands on either side of you, your eyes shoot up at the thunderbolt of dopamine rushing through your veins you feel every time the two of you touch. teasingly, he smirks at you. "looks like ya gonna need some help, little one. mind if i assist ya?"

if you thought your face was red before, you were certain you resembled a tomato as you nodded your head slowly, nervously accepting suguru's offer. you've barely had to go through any physical endurance throughout the span of your life, so all of this was fairly new to you. you were already doubting how you were going to perform, now you've advanced to worried at the idea of the well built, good looking man before you grazing your body through it. get your mind out of the gutter and focus, you thought to yourself.

however, this would prove to be especially hard during the next position suguru aids you with. with your back still on the floor, he grasps the back of one of your thick thighs and holds it as far as it can comfortably go, which wasn't much without any force being applied. to your surprise, he situates his groin in between your legs, places your foot onto his broad shoulder, and slowly leans towards your face to deepen the stretch. your size difference is apparent now more than ever as his tall frame hovers over your short one. you're now unsure if your perspiration is due to the hot sun or the sexual implications of this yoga pose.

suguru thanks himself for his choice of outfit, knowing his growing hard on would be embarrassingly apparent right now if not for his baggy pants. though the more you both continued these sensual stretches, the less interest he had in modesty, wanting his sinful thoughts to be known by you. "ya doin' alright baby?" he asks jestfully. suguru watches you bite your lip bashfully at the pet name, humming your confirmation. cute. so, so, cute.

you move on to model your best child's pose, suguru behind you almost passing out looking at you. with the way your knotted shirt twists behind you, he was able to admire the curve of your lower back and the matter in which it dipped in the center. when he tells you to progress into a cat pose, suguru doesn't even give you time to go into the paralleled cow's position, becoming enthralled by your mesmerizing arch and proceeding to grab your waist to push your bottom against his lap.

you gasp in surprise, looking behind at suguru as he slots his covered, rock hard boner in between your clothed pussy lips. wordlessly, he begins to fondle your body, groping the fat of your gut and ass, before reaching beneath your tight top to palm your huge tits, pulling and twisting your taut nipples with his rough fingers mercilessly.

at the sudden, yet thrilling stimulation, you compulsively mewl out his name, grinding your butt against his bugle, and it awakens something inside of him. in the blink of an eye suguru's previous thoughts become reality as he uses his powerful strength to rip open the stemming of your leggings to expose your crotch to him. to his disappointment, the fabric of your cotton underwear stands in the way of his pot of gold. at the speed of lighting he gives your nether regions a sudden 'smack', causing you to squeal at the sensation of pain and pleasure becoming one. "panties? really girl? y'know better than that." he reprimands you.

before you get the chance to explain that you wore them for the sake of the training, never in your wildest dreams being able to predict that the two of you would end up doing this in the middle of it, he slides the flimsy fabric to the side to reveal your already leaking pussy. watching your tightly rimmed hole pulse with anticipation only doubles his insatiable craving to taste you, so without hesitation suguru bends down till he's eye level with your cunt, sticks the wet mass of his tongue out, and licks a long stripe up your quivering genitals.

his eyes roll to the back of his head as he savors your succulent nectar. suctioning his moist lips, suguru sucks up your wetness that dribbles into his awaiting mouth in quick successions. you suddenly become all too aware that you're right at the center of the facilities public garden where the gardeners, servants, any resident of the building could stroll through and witness both of your current indiscretions. but the way suguru flicks your sensitive clit with his flat pink tongue is just too good for you to care right now.

your knees buckle and your trembling voice begins to increase in pitch as suguru continues to messily eat your pussy from the back. you could have confused him for a famished man in the middle of the desert with the way he was slurping your sopping cunt. and if that wasn't enough, he began to prod the muscular organ deep into your delicate flower, as if he was trying to reach the barricades of your soul with just his mouth alone. and every time you tried to squirm away from his passionate lapping's, he would bury his face till his nose nuzzled into your vagina, lolling out his tongue to swipe your bundle of nerves from side to side.

just when you're on the brink of cumming all over his face, suguru retracts from your pussy, panting so loudly you could feel his cool, minty breath tickling you. you huff out in frustration from not receiving the spine tingling orgasm you were anticipating, pouting angrily at him. he plants a parting kiss to your cunt, then leans forward to mutter in your ear four words that make you immediately forget why you were frowning your face in the first place.

"i need you. now."

shame almost overtakes you as you drawl out an eager chant of yeses, but that quickly disappears when suguru rushes to pull his leisurely pants down to the top of his knees, swiftly springing out his now enraged cock before taking it in his hands and thrusting it against your womanhood. collecting all of your excitement onto his thick length, he slides it into your tense awaiting walls.

you both groan in satisfaction as suguru fills you up to the brim with almost no resistance. he almost can't believe he was able to, considering how tight of a fit it is whenever he pushes himself into you the first time. either he's finally fucked you enough for your gummy canals to become his personal fleshlight, or the stretching you did beforehand must have really did its job and relaxed you.

and although the two may be true, he's currently attributing your new flexibility to the later. now that you're warmed up from your previous light workout, you're able to angle your rear side till the front of your torso is pressed onto the yoga mat. looking at you grip the sharp blades of grass with your hands till you're almost pulling them out of the ground, further entices suguru to draw his hips back, before railing his desperate cock back into you.

you and suguru set a ferocious pace, him using brute force to barrel his veiny dick into your sex while you match his thrusts, throwing your curvaceous body back as he drives forward. both of your risqué behavior contradicts the peaceful atmosphere of the beautiful garden surrounding the two of you. the soothing pour of the fountains, the unique chirps of the foreign birds that home the piece of land, and the gorgeous flowers in bloom juxtapose the slapping sounds of your ass cheeks hastily colliding with suguru's thighs, your squelching pussy wrapping around his large membrane with a vicious gripe, and your conjoined wails as he continues to defile you.

you realize you may be just as lecherous as he is as your indecorous spectacle shockingly exhilarates you the more you both achieve your desirous commands of one another.

your jaw slacks open when suguru repeatedly lurches his round cockhead to bump against your tender womb. "su-sugu...right there, right there!" you encourage him. he digs his fingers into your luscious lumps to allow himself to delve even further inside your numbing cunt than you thought humanly possible. "ya like that princess? huh? my dainty toy wants it rough? right here?" he finishes his sentence by pressing his sizable hand against your chubby stomach to feel the point of intrusion.

his filthy words are the final nail in the coffin, consequently imploding your snug cunt as flows of your secretion burst around the girth of suguru's unrelenting cock. you're on cloud nine, your entire body falling slack as you allow him to use it for his own lustful volition. "look so good takin' me, fuck, gonna ruin ya baby girl...agh! cumming...m' cumming, here it comes...!" he grits his teeth in anguish, feeling your pussy cruelly squeeze the life out of him, leaving him dizzy. the steadfast movement of his hips finally stutters as he spurts his heavy load into your belly.

he lunches forward after experiencing his sweet rapture, both of you breathless from your endeavors. while your consciousness slowly comes back to earth, suguru takes the opportunity to pull his weighty shaft out of you. he quickly repositions your underwear back on, the semen pouring out of your abused cunt quickly dampening it. you scrunch your nose at the wetness pooling in your undergarments, kneeling up with suguru and bashfully looking at the aftermath of your robust sex.

suguru has to hold in his laugh by giving the top of your head another long kiss. how fast you switched from a crazed vixen back to his angelic, coy girl was so adorable. "i think that's enough training for the day, don't you think little one?" he asks jokingly, helping you both to your feet while you giggle at him. he will have to make sure that starting next week, you both begin taking your lessons more seriously. starting off by making sure you don't wear anymore revealing outfits, unless you wanted to get your bones jumped again.

"agreed, i think i'm definitely in need of a shower after our...exercise." you chuckled. but before you take a step towards the entrance of the monastery, you glance down at your pants, quickly realizing its tattered state. you look up at him in alarm. "suguru...i can't walk around the sanctuary like this." without another word he pulls his own top off, helping you put it over your head so it covers your bare regions.

suguru now stands before you shirtless, sweat glistening off of his beautiful skin. you ogle at him like it's the first time you've seen him naked, because how could you not? it was as if the man's abdominals were carved by the gods themselves. you have to take a strained gulp to keep yourself from literally drooling before you take his hand to hold in yours possessively. "will you...join me.?" you ask him.

momentarily stunned by your request, he quickly recovers and lets a mischievous grin form on the sides of his face. "thought you'd never ask darling." he whispers in your ear provocatively, walking with you hand in hand into the premises. suguru wouldn't worry too much about skipping your training for today, because he was going to have plenty of time to build your endurance and stamina.

[jelsah27]

imposter syndrome talked ab just some forewarning

In History Class

MC: *walks into class with a small smile on their face*

Deuce: Good morning, MC. You seem happy today.

Ace: Yeah what's got you all smiley?

MC: Well, Kalim and Jamil were at my dorm the other day. Kalim really wanted to know about foods from my world and Jamil tagged along for obvious reasons. At on point Kalim wanted to look at my room and he found my snap-out-of-it post-it notes on the wall.

Deuce: Snap-out-of-it post-it notes?

MC: Oh, yeah they help remind me that a lot of the problems I think I have aren't really as problematic as I think. Like "Every personality is a creation of experiences that make you you." or "My friends like me because I am me". You see a while ago I figured out that I have a bit of Imposter Syndrome.

Ace: A bit of what?

MC: Well, it's pretty much I feel like I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I'm not the gifted child everyone remembers or the smart person everyone seems to think I am. That if I can't hurry up and live up to everyone's expectations that they'll figure out I'm not as great a person they think I am and be disappointed and angry that all I am is an empty shell of who they believed I was and leave. Some times it will also come in the form of believing that my friends only want to be around me out of pity or that if I don't like what they like or want to do the same things as them then they will leave, even if they've reassured me they love me. I think the worst thoughts I ever got from it was when I started to believe that my personality was fake and that I didn't know why I was so different than the kid everyone liked. I started to believe that I had faked my personality from different shows, books, or even people to even have one.

MC: Honestly I didn't even realize it was imposter syndrome till someone else pointed it out to me after telling them this. I genuinely had no clue I was so disgusted with myself till I was talking with them about it and they pointed out that none of what I was saying was true, that everybody knew who I was and loved me as I am. I think I cried when they told me that.

Deuce: Prefect... I had no idea...

MC: It's alright, I've been learning to get better at combating it. Anyway, Kalim asked me about it and I basically told him and Jamil what I just told you. He then asked me what I'm doing to overcome it. So I told him about the main things that have helped. Reminding myself constantly that I am not fake or hiding who I am from people I love and who love me. Whenever I feel negative thoughts try to take over, think about one positive thing that I have done or something someone had said they love about me for every dark thought. If it gets to bad though, go to someone I trust and ask them flat out about those thoughts, it helps a lot. And twice a week I make a post-it or journal about one or two small things. Maybe a compliment someone gave me, or a task I completed. So every day or so since they've-

Jamil: *walks into the room* Prefect, here. I must get to class before Kalim catches something on fire I mean gets into trouble. Have a good day.*hands MC a small note and leaves the classroom*

MC: *smiling contently* It say 'Thank you for helping Kalim study yesterday great sevens know he needed it and your smile is unique'

Deuce: *getting out paper* If it helps you, I'll gladly join in.

Little bit of a rant u can skip I hope you enjoyed the post <3 Y'all I'm sorry I didn't mean to trauma dump but I really like the idea. But the story is true and I did cry (and it was in a restaurant) when my sis told me I was wrong and she knew who I really and she loves me. That our friends won't leave because all humans have opinions and we are allowed to clash. And that my personality isn't fake, that everyone's personality is what they've created themselves and that people add and take away from themselves all the time and work on parts of themselves they don't like to become better. That my brain was just being dark when there was many lights around me, waiting to be recognized. If any of y'all read this its just one side of imposter syndrome, there are a few versions and many levels of severity. I genuinely think you are awesome and perfectly imperfect the way you are!

Anywho thanks for reading!

[mammalsofaction]

I Fell For You (The Moment That You Pushed Me)

Rating: T

Relationships: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, this ambiguously takes place in About Time, meet uglies kinda?, romantic realization uglies or sthg, idek

---

It is not often a person may be struck with a romantic realization in the most appropriate time and, or place.

Sure, you could argue that romantic locations, times and scenery could stimulate vulnerability and emotions, and there are plenty out there who are lucky enough to have found love by sunsets, watching stars, over candle light or in the capitalistic throngs of Valentine's Day.

Plentier still fall head first for a kind word on a terrible day, a shared pen while waiting in line at the bank, or perhaps even while pondering about groceries in line at the self service counters at Tesco. Like love, in all it's splendour, was nothing more than an ordinary fact of life, a rock overturned, a choice being made. Yes, I suppose this is a thing that happens now. Skies were blue, berries were sweet and yes, you were in love.

Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher, also known as Agent Platypus of OWCA, was never a romantic. He didn't explicitly have anything against it. Maybe. But he was always just, for the lack of sounding like a harangued Hallmark christmas rom-com protagonist, too busy for love. It had always seemed like low priority. He just...had so much else going on.

Naturally, given the fact that the Universe had decided to put matters into its own hands, the realization comes at the absolute worst time a narrative could conceive of.

Heinz twists his arms, a surprising unrelenting strength from biceps that look so puny by a single glance, and it strains the muscles of Perry's wrists. It's the second of weakness he needs use his height--a significant draw, over Perry's. But then, that's not a difficult achievement when the bar is 5''4--to slam Perry against the wall, and he pins him there.

Perry goes headfirst, feeling the bright burst of pain and discomfort as uneven stone bangs against the top of his temple and he thinks, ah, shit, I fucking love him.

It's hours yet, before he realizes he'd thunk it, and it'd be years before he'd begin to dare dusting off it's cobwebs, neglected yet plump, and fed. To see. To hold it in his hands like it didn't matter if he dropped it, because he'd told himself Heinz had dropped it first. Something golden and heavy and blunt, like a weapon.

I love him, Perry had thought, grinning like a lunatic as he wrestled Heinz's weight off of himself, and the mad scientist had retaliated by sweeping his feet from underneath himself and Perry had broken his nose, his cheekbones, and scraped his palms gritty and bloody and he loved him, he loved him, he loves him.

Heinz always fought like it was their first, like it would be their last, and he is always angry, and wild, and potentially fatal. He kicks and he punches and he screams and grunts and claws and laughs, and he's perfect. Cards on the table and no punches pulled, and Perry could trust he would get back up again as he could trust the tides would turn, or that the sun would rise and the earth to spin. His indomitable, broken, brave Heinz. His wildcat, meteorite nemesis.

I love him, Perry thought, and through it all, every heartache and triumph, and for every ugly secret he finds as they understood each other, better and deeper and further, he'd only loved him more. Like it was simple, like Perry had waited for him all along.

All he'd needed was a little push.

[digenerate-trash]

So Yan!Harper is a little different because it has been heavily contributed to by several people including:

@asylumdweller | @these-bees-r18  | @pip-n-chips | @degrees-of-fuck

(and the asylum group chat)

And all others around the community!! I want to thank you all for feeding my freak obsession and im glad this has become like a group project!! 

(PS: tag your own yan head cannons pretty please. Dude a freak I love him) 

Just Harper head cannons!!!! 

SFW ones first:

Obsessed with you. Not possessive but still wants you to be focused on him.

Really into dolls especially customizing them with clothing and hair accessories. He's definitely got one of you that no one can ever touch or look at because it's very special to him. 

Speaking of Harper being crafty he's also into sewing! He's very good at tailoring things to your measurements, he has them memorized by now. It's not creepy he's just thorough. 

Has made you a custom straight jacket. 

Embroidered your name in his sleeve so he can look at it whenever he's bored. 

Absolutely was the worst child, other kids in the neighborhood feared him and that is why all the images of him as a kid are of him alone. he's also got pictures of you though. They're just hidden. 

Will gaslight you for no reason. He just likes seeing you confused and worried when you think you've missed your appointment. don't worry he'll make an exception. you're just going to have to owe him a little favor that's all (:

Will drop anything to make room for appointments with you. Will also ditch work for you as well. He would make house calls but Bailey is pretty strict about Harper being in his territory and Harper isn't prepared to fight Bailey. 

Will make you sick on purpose to keep you close by. This is either physically sick or mental (he only makes you mentally sick if he wants to keep you at the asylum) 

Harper is constantly sticking things in you so he can lick/chew on them after you leave. 

He is convinced that every action you make is playful and flirty even if you're trying to attack him. He just thinks of you as his feisty little lover and you just need a little extra attention that's all. 

When you're actually sick he's extra helpful, he prefers you like this. Weak and needy. He pets your head calls off any appointments or seeing any patients and he just sit's with you. Making sure you feel better. 

Harper takes care of all your needs. Check-ups mental health care surgery. No other doctor can touch you he's made sure of it. You also can't get a second opinion. 

Prefers using drugs/hypnotism to keep you in line. Man isn't strong and even though he could call security it's not ideal for him to get others involved in your little ‘couple fights’ 

For surgery, harper is always there for you. Before and after he's very attentive. Makes sure you know everything you need to and he's very good at making sure your recovery goes smoothly (even if it takes twice as long) 

he's always very clean even if you're a mess. He likes the dynamic of the two of you together. He likes it when people think he's out of your league because it adds to his abuse of power kink

Man has breathing issues around you. He tries to hide it. Biting his lip. Holding his breath. Just trying to control his breathing. None of it works. Man wants to huff you like a junky huffs paint.

Even if you are in a proper relationship with Harper he gets really petty and upset if you don't address him as ‘doctor’ 

don't play games with this man. He is the worst sore loser and even when he does win if you are close to beating him he's bitter about it. Might even hypnotize you to make you worse. He doesn't care if it affects other parts of your life. Competitive and petty 

Any time you punch/bite/mark this man he's enamered with the marks. They are a little present from you to him and it's not like you could ever really hurt him so he sees it more as a little lovers trophy than an attack 

NSFW

•···········································•✦•···········································•

will absolutely voyeur you but he is always particular about it, positions how people touch you how they act around you It is all very carefully choreographed even when he gets other people to fuck you it's all very staged and sterile in a weird way that doesn't even feel like sex lets be honest.

Prefers getting his sexual frustration out on you but likes it better when you're hypnotized. (He doesn't like to be associated with pain or discomfort unless it's for a purpose)

Has a file full of images of you naked, broken, on the verge of tears, fucked out of your mind, even ones where you're just asleep. He files them all carefully and studies them all he really wants to get ‘the perfect picture’ of you that captures everything you are. he's not even sure if it's possible but he's going to try. 

Get ready for everything you wear/eat/smell/sleep on to be covered in harper cum. Especially at the asylum where he's in charge of everything. he's got no shame and he really wants you to be accustomed to him and everything he does. 

Cockwarming at the drop of a hat. He needs to do paperwork. Guess who he's assigning as his little helper? you're too tired to get up from bed? Not a problem for Harper he can stay in bed with you. At the farm and he has a moment alone with you while he gets things ready? His pants are already off. You can't escape it. Harper loves having his dick in you at any time. 

Chugs a vial of aphrodisiacs before your appointments with him so he's the correct amount of horny for you. 

Will also feed you aphrodisiacs and then deny you any sort of stimulation until you're begging or crying. The dude really wants you to earn things from him when you're lucid so you think it's all your idea 

When you are hypnotised definitely makes you do some really nasty things for him. he's really into the idea of you being into everything he is and even encouraging him to do things to you when you're asleep/passed out. it's like getting consent but he's putting the words in your mouth and having you spit them back up for him. 

Has sex with you during surgery. And if he can't do that he at least jacks off during it. He can't help himself he really needs you. 

Man loves gaslighting you about your past sexual experiences. he's a big fan of convincing you that you're just an exhibitionist and it's normal. You just like things super rough and with a little more practice you won't be feeling so guilty about it anymore. And surprise harper is here to help!! 

Will jerk you off as therapy. If you enjoy it your making progress if you don't next time he's going to get a vibrator 

Very body-focused he's interested in pushing you to your absolute limits and making things difficult for you. Wants you unable to focus/form words/be able to move. 

Prefers it when you're squirmy during sex but not outright violent. 

Absolutely loves forcing you to cum. Not a fan of edging though. Not unless it's some kind of punishment. The dude will make you cum in your sleep during surgery when you are hypnotized, hands-free when you're fully dressed. Mans a freak for it. He also likes it when you sit on his lap or thigh while he forces you to cum. You'll get a lot of praise if you do it of your own volition. 

Harper drinks piss. At least once bro look at him.

[sugar-omi]

good lord I was trying to study but out of nowhere I know where🩸this came into my mind:

having a night in at ur grown up house w cove derek and baxter (only dating cove) and everyone gets wasted asf so they sleep over and late at night the other two can hear u and cove in ur bedroom 👀 ykwim?

the smut and angst potential of them getting off to listening to u two from their respective guest rooms and the irony of both ur guests doing it omggggggg 🫣

in the morning neither of them can properly look at u two out of shame and u and cove r just embarrassed cause u think it’s just cause they heard u (and ofc ur only half right)

these ideas fr come to me at the worst time lol

-🗑️

I AM SCREAMING. YOU'RE SO BRILLIANT I CAN'T.... derek would really try not to, but i feel like it'd end up seeping into his dreams and he just can't resist. and baxterrrr omg... he'd be so embarrassed n ashamed, i dont think he'd be able to sleep the rest of the night at all, even once you n cove are done... pls you sent this at the perfect time bc i was about to start writing n i cannot focus until i write this now, i must have this in a fic.. n ik it isn't what you're talking about, but this is also so good n i instantly thought abt this scenario. i will take ANY chance for derek n baxter to fall in love or into bed LOL

tags : NSFW, baxter x derek, one night stand (UNLESS), you and cove drink, auralism*, oral (derek receiving), top/dom baxter, bottom derek, derek has a crush on you/MC, baxter has a thing for both of you or maybe he's just a kinky bastard

*to be aroused by sound. (can be compared with voyeurism)

synopsis : baxter and derek are staying with you for an extended vacation (much needed for both of them.) and while you two have been considerate and lovely hosts, you're a bit loud... not that it's a problem. quite the opposite actually..

imagine baxter is pouring himself a glass of wine, unable to get your and cove's muffled moans out of his head.

he's generous with his pouring, since everyone already had a lot to drink during dinner, being reserved is unnecessary.

baxter tips back his cup, licking his lips, savoring the sweet taste of this wine, humming at the taste. not bad..

he's checking the label, wanting to remember the brand so he can add it to his shelves at home.

"oh."

baxter looks up, tired eyes wide at the sudden guest. he's met with derek's wide eyes, equally tired..

baxter gives a lopsided smile, trying to be friendly with his new friend. he gestures to the barstools across from him, "care to join me?"

derek rubs his neck shyly, "ah, i wouldn't want to impose. i just came for some water.."

baxter shakes his head, leaning back on the island, taking a sip of his wine. if he knew he'd have company, he wouldn't have poured so much at once.

he licks his lips, trying not to eye his glass to see if it looks like an reasonable amount of wine. trying to preserve his put together image is fruitless anyway, baxter is a hot mess walking and you could probably smell his issues all the way from france.

"nonsense, i wouldn't mind company. the best conversations are best shared under the stars, i'd say. although, i won't blame if you're going bak to bed." baxter laughs to himself humorlessly. "probably a better idea than getting drunk again."

derek laughs, "well, if you don't mind the company then.." and goes about grabbing some water before sitting across from baxter, trying to be quiet when he drags out the barstool.

there's a stretch of silence between them, the two of them sipping their drinks and baxter plays off his awkwardness by admiring the photo collage in the hallway, visible through the wide doorway.

baxter turns back to derek, who's holding his water with both hands, dozily looking into the glass. he looks up and is surprised to meet baxter's sharp gaze, but plays it off with a smile.

baxter speaks lazily, his movements languished and his bones heavy. he's feeling warm from the wine, and a bit chatty. "couldn't sleep either, huh?"

derek laughs, "that obvious?"

baxter shrugs, speaking around the lip of his wineglass. "i figured we're in the same boat."

derek stills, his cheeks slowly filling red, and he looks up, trying to figure out if he's trying to say he also heard you and cove doing... it. the other night.

baxter bounces his eyebrows, and that makes derek flush brightly, looking down. "y-yeah, i guess we are.."

he laughs, covering his mouth to muffle the noise.

derek seems to relax a bit at his amusement, and eventually they relax a bit more, and baxter goes on to tell derek more of his wedding horror stories when he asks.

they're laughing, trying to muffle the sound with their hands when they get too loud, and baxter is leaned over the counter, rambling to derek as softly as possible.

baxter signs and shakes his head, a smile still on his lips as he takes another sip. he's definitely getting buzzed again.

and at some point baxter even sits next to him and derek seems to greatly enjoy baxter's open laughter and his wide gestures as he narrates his stories, even throwing up his own chaotic stories about what it was like growing up with his brothers.

"hey.." derek calls, and baxter hums curiously in response. "does that taste good?"

baxter raises his brow but tips his glass towards derek. "it is. it has notes of peach and honey... wanna try?"

derek glances between baxter's eyes and the wine, nodding, taking the glass from his hands and taking a long sip...

baxter's eyes are stuck on derek's lips, his eyes following how his throat bobs when he swallows and his tongue dashes out to lick the wine running down the corner of his lips..

baxter snaps his eyes back towards derek's, who's already looking back at him.

the silence seems long, and the distance between derek and baxter's lips seems even longer, and he feels antsy even though they're both leaning in, their lips meeting in the middle in a soft kiss.

derek deepens the kiss, leaning into baxter, and humming into the kiss when baxter starts rubbing his thigh, his fingers sliding down th fabric of his sweatpants until he's touching his inner thigh, dangerously close to his bulge..

a moan echoes, and baxter and derek break apart, panting and their lips wet and swollen. then they hear it again, and some muffled talking.

they look into each others eyes, unable to move. they're both wide awake now, both because of that hot kiss and the sounds of cove's deep, and futile muffled moans.

their chests rise and fall, tension in the air, mingling with something else...

derek speaks first, taking baxter's hand before he can pull away. "do you... should we go to your room?"

baxter blinks owlishly, shocked and flustered. but really fucking turned on.

"yes, yeah, yeah okay.." he stumbles his words, totally knocked off his feet by the way derek looks at him, his green eyes deep with lust, and the whole turn of events.

derek leads him down the hall, and baxter is grateful he didn't somehow knock over the barstool or the flower vase in the hall.

they walk past your shared bedroom, baxter's designated room for his stay, at the end of the hall.

baxter tries to ignore the way his cock throb when he hears cove curse and growl, "fuck, you're so warm..." he tries not to think about it, but the idea of what you two are getting up to, how you both look and sound, what you're doing to each other...

he's trying not to let his mind run away with him but he's admittedly, a weak man. and so is derek, if the way he clutches his hand tighter and all but shoves baxter through the door and closes the door a bit louder than he should.

you and cove always drown out all other forms of life when you're together, and baxter doubts it's much different in the bedroom, if not "worse."

derek pushes baxter to sit on the bed, standing over him, his legs on either side of baxter's lap and he pulls off his shirt, throwing it on the floor.

baxter licks his lips, his hands sliding up derek's waist and stomach, his body thick and toned with muscles... "goddamn..." baxter exhales, all but drooling at the sight.

derek laughs shyly, lifting his arm to rub his neck (a nervous tick baxter has come to realize) and the muscles in his arm stretches and flex. baxter has a distant thought about derek being able to manhandle him...

"is this okay?" derek asks, suddenly shy now.

baxter nods, leaning in to kiss along derek's bronze stomach, his lips trailing down his happy trail to his bulge. "more than okay.."

baxter tugs on derek's sweatpants, looking up at him. "let me know if you want to stop..."

he tugs down derek's pants and underwear, letting his cock spring free. baxter strokes his cock to full mast, and derek holds onto baxter's hand for support, his other hand coming up to muffle his moan.

baxter wraps his lips around derek's flushed tip, sucking and circling his tongue over the head.

"b-baxter..." derek gasps, his thighs shaking.

baxter takes him deeper down his throat, keeping eye contact as he swallows around his cock, reaching down to palm his own bulge through his satin pajamas.

he groans, the vibrations sending shivers up derek's spine and derek mumbles, his fingers finding their way to baxter's hair, clinging onto the already messy locks.

baxter tears his hand away from his hard-on, to undo the buttons on his pajama shirt, the buttons slipping through his fingers until his shirt is wide open.

"mhm-!" baxter startles, gripping onto derek's thighs, his hips bucking up into his warm mouth.

derek moans shakily, "oh f- i'm sorry. sorry.." he babbles, pushing back baxter's fringe, his thighs twitching and his muscles clenching under baxter's hands.

baxter hums around derek's length, patting his thigh. his tongue drags along the underside of his cock, baxter's lips pulling off him with a pop, his lips wet and puffy.

baxter's sharp, lustful eyes meeting derek's equally horny gaze. derek's flushed cheeks are a feast for baxter's eyes, he can't wait to have him in bed..

"do you.. wanna go further?" baxter asks, his hand making obscene wet noises from all the pre-cum and spit, as he strokes derek's cock in his fist.

derek nods, his throat bobbing as he tries not to fall to his knees or cry out and alert you and cove to what they're doing in here.. "yes, please.."

baxter pulls away, standing up to tug off the rest of his clothes while derek tugs off his pants, almost tripping when the leg gets stuck on his ankle but baxter ignores it since he's not very elegant either, the wine still buzzing through him.

he throws his clothes on the floor, all but throwing himself into the bed with derek, straddling his lap as he captures his lips in a kiss, his tongue slipping past derek's lips, guiding his tongue to move with his own.

derek grips baxter's waist, his hands pulling him down to grind him into his lap, their cocks sliding together.

baxter breaks the kiss, his lips falling to derek's neck...

"cove- cove- cove!" your cry is heard through the wall, followed by muffled moans and whimpers.

"ah!" derek moans, his fingrs digging into the plush of baxter's hips when he bites down on his neck.

"oh- sorry. did i hurt you?" he worries, kissing the area soothingly. he didn't expect you to.. cry out so loudly. not that you aren't allowed to be loud in your own home, or anything like that. he just didn't think you'd sound so hot.

he's trying not to think about if he wishes it was his name on your lips, or what cove is doing to make you call his name so loudly and lewdly...

derek shakes his head, or tries too with baxter under his chin. "i mean, it hurt but.. it wasn't bad..." derek admits shyly.

baxter smiles, pulling off his neck to kiss his lips again, smiling too much to kiss properly but they have all night for that anyway...

he leans over the edge of the bed for his bag, fumbling through the open inner pocket for a condom and lube.

it's not that baxter planned to get laid on this trip, it's just bad to be unprepared.

"do you want to be on top?" baxter inquires, pointing the condom at derek.

he flushes, licking his lips and glancing off to the side. "um.. if you don't mind, you can be on top..."

baxter raises his brows, a blush high on his cheeks.

ohh derek really is interesting.

"not at all." baxter purrs, fixing their position so one of derek's legs is on his shoulder, and the other over his thigh.

he slowly sinks one, then two, then three digits into derek's hole, scissoring his fingers and rubbing derek's thigh soothingly. he's such a mess just from his fingers alone, derek's face half buried in the pillow and his hips bucking up and his thighs shaking.

"that's-" derek pants, swallowing thickly. "that's enough... put it in.. please..." he gasps, peeking at baxter through his lashes.

"fuck..." baxter curses, his stomach dipping with lust.

he fumbles, trying to open the condom but his fingers are covered in lube and he ends up ripping it with his teeth impatiently. baxter rolls it over his length, leaning over to pull derek into a kiss as he sinks into him.

"hmmn!" derek mewls into the kiss, his arms coming to lock around baxter's neck.

baxter slams his hips into derek, a loud slap sounding through the room from baxter's hips meeting his ass. baxter breaks the kiss, hissing.

that was definitely too loud, but it's also been so long since he's been with someone, and derek is so charming, that he's not sure he cares..

derek moans, trying to stifle it by biting his lips.

they pant, letting derek adjust to his length and for them to catch their breath, baxter feels like the air has been knocked out of him with how derek's hot walls are wrapped around him, his hole clenching and flutter around him, trying to take him deeper.

"mn, y/n-" cove voice is muffled, keeping them from hearing the rest of his sentence. although it was probably cut short, if the deep groan they hear through the wall is anything to go by.

baxter pants, "i'm.. i'mma start moving..." he gasps, moving so he's sitting up again, his hand pushing derek's knee up towards his chest.

derek covers his mouth with his hand, baxter's cock dragging so slowly against his walls, his eyes rolling and fluttering shut when his tip bumps against a sensitive spot in his walls, dangerously close to his prostate..

"harder!- ha- oh fuck!" you curse and moan unabashedly loud, followed by your bed frame thumping against the wall.

it quiets down to some creaking, with dull thumps every now and then.

baxter picks up the pace of his thrusts, spurred on by all your sounds from the other room and derek's lewd expressions.

derek whimpers, his moans and cries barely muffled by his hand and when baxter's hips slam into his repeatedly, he can't hold onto his barrage of moans and whines, babbling nonsense.

baxter leans over him, forcing his legs against his chest so he can whisper in derek's ear, stuffing his fingers down derek's throat, his middle and ring fingers pressing on his tongue.

"shh, darling. they'll hear us..." baxter purrs, although he laughs and nods his head to the side, "although, i think being quiet is a bit useless for all of us at this point."

derek whimpers around baxter's fingers, drool pooling in his mouth. he closes his lips around the digits and sucks, swallowing, dragging his tongue along baxter's fingers seductively..

"god." baxter grunts, his face scrunching up in pleasure.

his hips thrust up into derek's g-spot, his thrusts shallow as they both get closer and closer to finishing.

baxter pulls his fingers from derek's lips, a string of spit connecting derek's lips to the digits before it breaks, his hand slipping between their bodies to stroke derek's weeping cock, pre-cum pooling along the valley of his abs...

baxter captures derek in a sloppy kiss, neither of them really trying to hold back their sounds anymore. and from the sounds of it, you and cove aren't worried about being quiet either, your moans more frequent and totally unrestrained.

"i'm gonna-" derek pants, his nails dragging down baxter's shoulder.

"go ahead. cum. cum for me." baxter growls, his hand abusing derek's sensitive tip, making short strokes.

derek's legs shake on either side of him, his eyes rolling as he cums into baxter's hand. baxter groans, his hips stuttering as derek clenched around him, filling the condom.

they melt into each other, their chests rising and falling, and their heavy breathing match.

baxter turns his head to the side, seeing the sky turn from night to early morning..

"i'll.." he pants, pushing himself off derek's chest. "i'll run a bath... wanna join me?"

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | extras | Mick and Yn create a playlist together

― Summary: Yn and Mick are still threading through their feelings, none of them yet aware of how deep it is. Some say that actions speak louder than words, but guess songs do too sometimes. ― Word count: 1.3k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: mention of food; tooth aching fluff.

✷ see my main masterlist | patreon masterlist | KOMH Masterlist ✷ wanna be tagged on my works? check my taglist ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

“I created the playlist,” Yn shares once she finds Mick in the garage. It’s close to lunchtime, and some of the crew are already leaving to eat at the paddock cafeteria. George is pointing something to Mick on the computer to which he simply nods before turning to Yn. “I just sent you the Spotify link,” she adds.

His eyes take her in and he nods again. He wants to say a lot of things, how beautiful she looks, how he missed her the whole morning, how boring it felt without her laugh, how happy he is that she created the playlist, that way he’ll have yet another excuse to text her, but he just nods. A lot of the things that are going through Mick’s mind are making him choose to keep his lips sealed. He knows each little thing can and will be pointed to by his friends as catching feelings.

The worst thing is that he believes that maybe it is true.

Maybe he is falling for Yn.

His friend’s sister. 

His co-worker's sister. 

“What playlist?” George asks, poking his head in their direction and Yn rolls her eyes playfully.

“It’s nothing, you’re a driver, not a reporter, you don’t need to know everything,” her retort makes Mick throw his head back in laughter and even Russell himself can’t contain the snicker.

“You’ve been walking too much with Lando, you’re getting sassier,” the British points while taking off the headphones from around his neck.

“As it happens, I’ve actually been walking a lot with you, George.” 

Mick snickers watching the whole interaction the way you watch a tennis match, head going from one side to the other to catch the faces the duo is making. 

“Anyways, I gotta go have lunch, you two have fun,” Russell patted Yn’s and Mick’s back before leaving them alone in front of the computer.

“Are you having lunch in the cafeteria with everyone?” he asks but what he really wants to say is: would you like to have lunch with me? 

Yn shakes her head, “I ordered lunch.”

“Oh-”

She adds before Mick can say something else, “I ordered two…you said you wanted to try that salad last time, and I thought-”

“Awesome! So we go through the songs while we eat lunch,” Mick has a small smile on his pink lips, whereas he’s jumping up and down inside. 

Yn nodded, starting the track to one of the meeting rooms she used to work while in the garage. Mick is right behind her, and the silence until they reach the door is peaceful. Yn left the package by the table along with two bottles of water, but they settled on the couch sitting in front of each other. Shoes discarded on the ground, legs crossed.

“I already added one song, I’m sorry,” Yn starts and Mick nods, silently asking her to continue. “Die Hard, by Kendrick Lamar.”

“This song is amazing!”

“Do you like it?” Yn asks, smile wider this time, and Mick nods.

“Can I add Lost by Frank Ocean?” the blonde asks and Yn jumps up and down while still sitting. 

“Yes!! Absolutely!!” 

She digs her fork into the food before taking a bite. Mick sips his water, and then asks, “So, you add one I add one? And we only add the ones we agree on or? How’s this gonna work?” 

“I think we can make a mix, no need to agree, we will listen to everything afterwards and then we can talk about the ones we never heard before… that is if you agree.” 

“Well, I’ve never made a shared playlist like this before, so yeah, I agree.” 

Yn smiles, “I do them all the time with Lewis, he hasn’t surrendered to Taylor Swift quite yet, but I always try,” Mick chuckles. “Anyways, I think we should add some classics like It Wasn’t Me, we were listening to it that day in the car, you remember?” 

“Yeah, you sang that Mick song too.” 

“Oh, Mick, you’re so fine, so fine you blow my mind,” she sang teasing him and the German rolled his eyes playfully, a flush creeping from his neck to his ears.

“Does she actually sing Mick?” he’s truly curious.

Yn shakes her head, “But I do,” the way she winks at him makes his stomach roll and feel cold in a strange yet good way. “She sings Mickey, but I think Mick fits better, don’t you think?” 

Mick is at a loss for words, so he chooses to stuff his mouth with lettuce and shrug instead of answering. How could he answer? Were they flirting? What the hell was this feeling in his stomach? 

“I propose we add the songs and go through it in real-time. Open the app there,” she points to his cell phone and Mick does as she says. 

“You just added Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls,” he states and taps his fingers on the screen adding Tennessee Whiskey, watching Yn as she furrows her brows.

“I’ve never heard this one.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know much about Country music,” she confesses.

“I’ll add my favorite ones for you.” 

Yn smiles at him.

They go about eating and adding songs to the playlist. There’s a smile and a giggle here and there, sometimes laughter, and frowns with the unknown songs. 

Yn is sipping her water and looking at the phone, when she sees a new song pop on the list, “What does ‘schön’ mean?” 

“I’m adding some German songs for you,” Mick explains, but Yn is not satisfied with the simple answer.

“‘Mkey, how do you say this?” 

“Sch-ön,” he slowly mouths and she giggles.

“With kissy lips?” Mick nods. “Man, you Germans are kinda cute. You make kissy faces every time there’s a word with this thingy?” 

“Umlaut,” he explains, holding back a chuckle. “And yeah, kinda.” 

“So…what is this song about?” Yn asks, hitting play.

Mick watches as Yn bops her head to the rhythm, a grin on her plush lips and her eyes closed.

Du bist schön und es macht Spaß, dich anzuseh'n

(So schön)

Du bist schön und meine Augen sind verwöhnt

(Verwöhnt)

Du bist schön, uh, du bist schön

“What is he saying, Mouse?” 

“You are beautiful, and fun to look at. You are beautiful and my eyes are… spoiled,” he tries to focus on the lyrics, but the second her eyes open and they find each other the song becomes mere background noise. “You’re beautiful,” this time his voice is a bit softer.

“Did he sing that again?” 

Mick shakes his head, notices what he just did, and then nods. 

“Yeah, it’s… it’s a simple song, it’s a good choice if you want to start learning some words in German.” 

They go about adding songs in silence again, until Yn jumps from the couch hitting play on yet another song, “Oooh, this one’s good, you’ll like it!” 

“Taylor Swift?”

“You were able to identify, that’s a good start. Yes. This one’s called Karma, it totally has your energy, Mouse.” 

Mick furrows his brows in confusion and Yn starts walking around the room while explaining to him the story behind the music which took them over twenty minutes, but the Schumacher wasn’t bored, quite the opposite, he listened to everything, asking one question here and there, and chuckling at her enthusiasm. 

It’s only when Lewis texts Mick telling him lunchtime is over that they wrap up their conversation, agreeing on adding songs to the playlist whenever they find something the other might like or should see. 

“Thanks for lunch. Guess I owe you dinner now, huh?” 

Yn sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and Mick’s eyes drop slightly following the motion. 

“Yup,” she nods. “See you in a few, Mouse.” 

And when the door closes behind the blond Yn sighs. Her brother would have to forgive her. Not liking Mick was getting harder and harder. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! A huge shout out to my ☕️anon for proofreading this piece so quick ❤️ Don’t forget to reblog and comment, and follow me if you liked it!

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[ninapi]

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Better Half ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Nobara forced Yuuji to stop by a food stand every time they came back from a mission. The girl working there always entranced the youngster, causing his teammates to tease him more than usual. An odd encounter brings her a little too close to Sukuna who ends up just as smitten as his counterpart with the young beauty. Which half will get her heart? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 2381

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Old sweet Nobara…

She might be a good friend, sweet, loving teammate, yeah all that and more…but Yuuji had reasons to hate her, as much as he had reasons to love her.

Nobara loved the colorful streets of Tokyo more than anything in her life, she lived for the very little time she had to indulge in the magic of the alleys, though, every time they came out of a particularly tough mission, she would beg her loving teammates to stop by her favorite crepe stand.

“Oh c’mon! Like you don’t like going there as much as I do…More even…”

“I beg to differ…” Megumi plopped on a near by bench hoping that would stop her from walking any further.

“Ok, maybe you don’t. Cuz you’re a grandpa. But Itadori is a different story, isn’t it mate…?” her suggestive smirk made Yuuji uncomfortable to say the least.

“I mean…their crepes are really nice…so fluffy…and…flavorful…” his voice was low, so much more than his usual boisterous one, it was comical.

“Oh yeah, fluffy…definitely…” this made his cheeks turn crimson, his fidgeting getting in Megumi’s nerves.

“Gotta pee or something?”

“NO!”

“He’s just eager to see his lovely crush.”

“So he does like her, huh? I guessed as much to be honest...” heaving a defeated sigh, he got up from the bench being the one leading the team now on their way to the delicious smelling food stand.

“W-where are you going Fushigoro?!” Yuuji trailed after his friends that were currently sharing a mischievous grin like a lost little baby duck.

“Kinda hungry, man…”

“You should try the chicken one, it blew my mind…”

“GUYS! Can you stop for a second?”

“Of course not.”

The sigh that left the pink haired male made them burst into a flush of evil laughter, his sad puppy eyes and frown making him look adorable which just made it all worse for him.

“Aw, baby Itadori needs a hug. Shall we communicate his needs to the cute lady crepe chef?”

“Her name is (Y/N).”

“What? How do you know that Fushigoro? Do you like her too?”

“Too, huh? She has a name tag you moron…”

“Oh….really? I mean…”

“You mean to say you haven’t even glanced at her boobies? Wow, this is worst than I thought, I think he’s in love~” Nobara skipped her way over to the stand, dramatically moving her hands as she was a maiden in distress.

“I hate her…” his puppy eyes turned watery as he shared a look with Megumi.

“Nah…you don’t. Let’s catch up before she really tells her to hug you-“ he hadn’t even finished his sentence when Yuuji was already behind Nobara, a desperate look on his face.

“Ugh, HI!” a high pitch little scream left him, making him even more flustered, your cute giggles making him feel ridiculously happy for some reason.

“Hi~ You want the usual?” He had a usual? He realized he’s never really ordered anything, he just stares at your face from the moment he arrives until he leaves.

“Sure! It’s the best flavor ever!”

Nobara looked up with a raised eyebrow as she adds his order on the screen, “Strawberry cheesecake?”

Is that what he always ate? It was certainly good, girly as hell, but good. “Yeah, I mean is so fluffy, you should try it too, Kugisaki.”

“If you say so, I’ll get one of those then. How about you, Fushigoro? Chicken?” he just nodded, staying silent in the background assessing the situation from afar. He noticed how you’d smile at Itadori a tiny bit brighter than you did to Kugisaki, your pretty eyes sparkled so much that it made him blush, and that, was weird.

Your hands brushed Yuuji’s when you handed him his crepe, then placed the other two in a carrier and gave it over to Nobara. It was very unnecessary, yet you seemed to know how he’s always so hungry and eager, like you knew he wouldn’t wait until he arrived at a place to eat it peacefully, as if he was dying to bite onto it as soon as possible.

And right you were, his first bite was something else… his nose ended up full of wiped cream and that dorky smile of his full of crumbles.

You didn’t have to do anything about it, but you did. You leaned over the counter window and got it off his face with a wet tissue, the adoring smile you had on your face not easily missed by both of his friends.

“Sorry to break the lovey-dovey moment, but Gojo-sensei is waiting for us. We must eat them before he finds out we’ve been eating sweets without him.” she grabbed onto Yuuji’s elbow, dragging him with her like a dog on a leash.

“Ugh…(Y/N)! Thanks! It’s as good as always and I’m so clean now! Feels great! You're the best, your boss should give you a rise or something!”

“Oh for fuck sakes…shut up Itadori…you're embarrassing...”

He was now being dragged away from you by both of his embarrassed friends. His smile though, never leaving his face, just like yours didn’t for the rest of the day.

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“You went where??” Gojo was pacing back and forth in the classroom, lack of sugar being pretty evident in his current behavior making them feel even guiltier.

“We just made a little pit stop on the way, gotta eat too, you know?"

“You didn’t just make a ‘pit stop’…you went to my favorite crepe stand…and didn’t bring me anything….you’re such a soulless bunch of brats…it’s unbelievable…I’m so good with you all and you just…” his sulking increased even further, making Nobara giggle.

“You’re such a drama queen, sensei…”

“King, you mean. King of the world~”

“Ugh, I’m out of here…”

“So what’s wrong with Itadori?” stealing the last bit of his defenseless student’s crepe, Gojo sat on his chair, feet resting on his teacher desk.

“He’s in love…with an older woman…”

“She’s not an older woman!” the little snarl he gave Nobara was one that would rival a feisty tiny chihuahua, but it gave Gojo a pretty good idea of how serious this whole thing was.

“So, who’s this older woman?”

“The crepe stand girl.”

“Oh, ok Itadori’s right, she’s not an older woman…maybe a couple of years older than you at most. She’s a part-timer I believe.” the look in Yuuji’s eyes changed immediately, turning into a soft dreamy one.

“Though, you might want to keep yourself at bay, Itadori. Must I remind you the king of curses lives within you? Just thinking of sweet little (Y/N) being in danger makes me feel sick…” his words were harsh and made Yuuji recoil, he knows this, all too well, but there was no need to worry as much, is not like he was planning on confessing or something.

Without giving as much as a reply to his superior, Yuuji just left the classroom and hid himself in his own room for the rest of the day.

It was so frustrating to him how he couldn’t even have a crush, how much this curse has affected his life and how much he sometimes wished he would get to be a normal teenager once more.

To make things worse, Sukuna has been listening all this time…

Falling in love made Yuuji weak, his defenses were slowly disappearing and his mind was just somewhere else, the perfect timing to go for a little ride.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Another mission came along the next day, it was an easy reckoning one, over after an hour or so, there was no excuse to go for crepes and for that Yuuji was grateful.

However, Sukuna himself had other plans.

Yuuji’s depressed aura as they walked past the street you worked at was the final push necessary for him to take full control of his host’s body.

“Itadori, how about we get some ice crea- 

Itadori?

Fushigoro…Itadori’s gone-“ looking around desperately there was no sign at all of their teammate.

“What? What do you mean gone?” turning around just as desperate, all he could see was a dust cloud, proof he had been there not long ago, but not just of that, but also of the fact that he had left at an incredible speed.

The amount of cursed energy coming from down the road overwhelmed the young sorcerer, his face paling instantly. “Kugisaki….Sukuna…he’s…he’s here…”

“Tch, of course, he loves coming out when Gojo-sensei isn’t here…What do we do now?”

Megumi’s face was worrying her, he’s not someone to show fear easily, it also meant he had no clue of what to do next and she wasn’t great at this sort of impromptu life saving plans.

“What’s wrong, Fushigoro? Is he going too far this time?”

He just nodded, swallowing his anxiety down, “The crepe stand…”

Now that was playing dirty…he would for sure harm you if that meant getting full control of Itadori’s body, the perfect token for blackmail.

With a frown and unshared words, both ran towards the direction emanating the ridiculous amounts of cursed energy.

Though, what they found at the scene was beyond their expectations.

You were leaning on the window, like you usually do to get closer to Yuuji, like if nothing was out of the ordinary, like he didn’t have a completely different appearance and voice, making Megumi frown with distaste.

While he was fully concentrated on your safety, Nobara had her eyes on Sukuna. Saying his demeanor was odd, would be an understatement.

His smirk was wide, his eyes mischievous, his elbows were leaning on the same windowsill as you were, his face inches from yours. “My lovely angel, would you be willing to go to the depths of hell with me? I mean, hypothetically of course…” his words made you giggle and blush.

In all honesty, you did notice the change, though you didn’t question it much, is not like you had knowledge of curses, therefore the idea of your crush being possessed by an evil curse never crossed your mind.

“Is hell a nice place?”

“It isn’t. But I would make it comfortable for you if you do agree to come with me…”

Megumi’s blood ran cold and without thinking much he grabbed Sukuna by his elbow pulling him away from you, “Itadori…you’re scaring (Y/N)…”

Truth is, he wasn’t though. 

You had a delighted face while talking to him and the flirting has been mutual the entire time.

While Yuuji’s real and sweet persona made your heart skip a beat with his cute shyness, Sukuna’s assertive and even commanding self made your knees weak. 

You didn’t really understand his change in demeanor and you even considered him having double personality, but the truth was simple, you liked both sides equally, and didn’t mind one bit if he indeed had it, he at least seemed to remember you in both states.

But you went along with Megumi’s act, as he looked quite disturbed and worried, he did know him better than you after all.

Megumi’s words seemed to stir something inside Itadori, his eyes switching from a harsh scowl to a soft worrying misty look. He was struggling to gain control back since he really didn’t want to harm the woman he loved and he knew very well what Sukuna was capable of.

“What are you talking about, brat? You like this side of me much better, don’t you gorgeous?” his playful wink made you swoon, causing Itadori’s stomach to sink just a bit.

“I like every side of you. Though, why the face painting? Are you guys performing art students?”

“Something like that…now If you excuse us, we won’t be getting any crepes today, we need to take him home, he needs a bit of…ugh…rest.”

“Think about it babe, alright? If you so wish to, I’ll make you my queen.” 

After his last statement, Yuuji finally managed to wake up and gather his bearings, he felt like crap and had no energy left within his body. With an arm around each of his friends, he was able to get back to the academy in one piece, though, his heart had taken a harsh blow. 

You liked Sukuna…but you also liked him?

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Masterlist

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[aziraphales-library]

Hello :)

First, thank you so much for your work, I love your account.

I am looking for fics taking place after s2, where aziraphale, now supreme archangel has to work with Crowley, but Crowley became Prince of Hell.

I don't know if it exists, I have seen a lot of fanart about it, but could find any fic in your tags for season 2 and fix it.

Thank you in advance,

Have a good day

Hi! We have #supreme archangel aziraphale and #duke of hell crowley tags, so do check those out. Here are more to add...

Is this still part of the Ineffable Plan? by Yukiko___x (G)

Aziraphale feels that everything finally fallen into it's rightful place. He feels good in Heaven, making everything better by simply being there. Until some bothersome demons start to attack Heaven and Aziraphale needs to talk to the new Leader of Hell (if Hell even has one...)

They’re Not Talking by fallenwithoutgrace (T)

“Thank you, but I do not need anyone to speak on my behalf and I hardly think the seating arrangements are that important,” Aziraphale replied snippily, his glance coming up to challenge The Metatron’s. There seemed to be frosty tension between the two. Crowley smirked, simultaneously proud to see Aziraphale hold his own and unsurprised to see evidence of infighting.

Though this be madness by Kotias (M)

Crowley and Aziraphale split up; Aziraphale went to Heaven, and Crowley drove away after that godforsaken kiss. Muriel takes over the bookshop, and discovers a world that they had never been aware of before. Something is afoot, something is brewing; the world is coming to an end, and They Are Not Talking.

Ineffable Subterfuge by Anonymous (T)

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Grand Duke Crowley are heartily sick of their jobs and the general attitudes of the Realms they rule. Both would rather be living on Earth together than separately in charge of millions of supernatural beings whose only thought was winning Armageddon. Maybe it was time to actually change the toxic environments of Heaven and Hell, to teach the ordinary workers of both Realms there was more to existence than what was Written Down. What better way to do that than unionise them? But it was going to take a bit a deception to get things started.

Fallen from the sky-The Second Coming by Bucky1984 (M)

After the abandonment of Aziraphale, Crowley struggles to reinvent himself and finds comfort in the daily lives of the inhabitants of Soho... Meanwhile, the new Supreme Archangel has been entrusted with the new phase of the Great Divine Plan! Determined to use his new influence to save humanity from the worst, Aziraphale is torn between trust and conscience. When Good and Evil become diluted, there is no longer black or white. Only grey remains...

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you by midnightdragons (T)

His heartbeat was pounding so loudly in his chest, he was sure that they could all hear it; that even God Herself, all the way up in Heaven, was privy to the sound of his grief. But somehow, over the noise, he managed to croak out in a voice that edged on devastated: "Quite. It's . . . well, it is a — a pleasure to see you again, Crowley." "I would say the sssame, but m'afraid I can't," Crowley responded coolly, and Aziraphale felt as if all the breath had been knocked from his lungs in one fell swoop at hearing the devastating sound of the demon's voice. He sounded — he sounded — He sounded wrong. 

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale had expected that he would never see Crowley again, or at least, not anytime soon; especially not with the other side, who the demon had always seemed to hate. So then why is he standing at the head of Hell's demons, wearing the title of their Duke . . . with Lucifer's sigil hanging on a chain around his neck?

- Mod D

[ride-thedragon]

I do think I hold the opinion more that Nettles was a child of Coryls instead of Daemon if she was, in fact, a dragon seed. I know people like to place her on Daemon because of their relationship, but to me, that never makes sense or holds water, so let me show the reason why I think its Corlys.

So.....

1. She's born on Driftmark.

Any other seed born on Driftmark is born to a Velayron. Even though Nettles still doesn't have the markers of a Velayron, it would make sense that she's sired by a Velayron from Driftmark.

2. She grieves Driftmark.

It's one of the better parts of her story rats tied to her empathy, but her identity is tied to Driftmark, I made this post before, but I'll just tag it for greater explanation.

3. She's tied romantically to a Targaryen.

Depending on who you believe it to be, the Velaryons of this era that live past the dance are tied to Targaryens romantically, especially if we should know about them. Also, all Coryls' kids are.

4. He defends her.

In the same breath, he defends Addam with in the book he defends Nettles. It's an undercooked part, but he even gets accosted for it later when it's brought back up that he defended the traitor dragonseeds.

So why doesn't he claim her?

1. She's a girl.

Realistically, she doesn't really benefit him. He'd marry her off or use her to add a dragon, but truly, he doesn't need to and she seems to be fine on her own.

2. He probably doesn't know or understand the relationship.

Yea, he probably doesn't know or understand the relationship they have.Daughter, granddaughter, distantseed, the man is old and at best could remember, at worst could be going of a hunch.

3. She doesn't look like him

He doesn't have to claim her if he doesn't want to. A white-haired, white man and the brown skinned, black haired girl don't share many traits.

4. She's older than the of Hull boys

That's not to say she has greater claim, but I do think it adds a sense of duty to her as his eldest child alive. It makes it easier to just claim the boys he has no doubt in.

But why?

Thematically, I do think it allows for small changes in the story. Sheepstealer is a Driftmakr dragon, and the dragon he's tied to (Cannibal) is tied to Corlys in the end. They have a very small but notable relationship. It makes her his second daughter and lets her live. Also, my biggest gripe with the Nettles and Daemon relationship is the fact that Daemon has a power of three things going on with his kids, so for me in order for Nettles to he his kid, he'd have to have another int he narrative by another woman, which he doesn't to our knowledge. I won't say it's 100% the right answer but certainly not one to dismiss.

[onlyseokmins]

"teach 'em"

Titling, tagging, and adding to my masterlist bc I don't think it deserves to get lost in my thot tags only... But it's informal af hehe

was thinking about loser!chan (again) who's like a 2.5 on the virgin (1) to whore (10) scale.

your new boyfriend is a sweetheart. he has the prettiest eye smile and he's uber talented. you love to see the passion when he's dancing and the strong bond between his older friends that are like brothers to him. that very same energy carries over to how he takes care of you. he's always fussing over your well-being and checking in on you in a non-intrusive way. you adore him.

bonus points for the foreplay before sex being hot and heavy. he's a fabulous kisser and he even has a great dick that feels equally as great when he's inside of you.

so why is he still a loser?

because his stroke game is sloppy at best and unfulfilling at worst, the latter happening much too often than you even want to admit to yourself - let alone him. which is shocking considering the way you've seen him hip thrust on stage.

it's just that you feel so freaking good squeezing around him and - oh fuck, oh no! - he's cumming way too soon again. you know this by how often he tells you, letting out a heavenly sob of "thank you for having the best pussy pussy in the world," and "thank you for letting me stick my dumb dick inside."

honestly, you're awfully flattered he has trouble retaining any control over himself. there's something quite intimate about the ropes of his release warming up your womb, still full of his softening cock as he grunts and babbles grateful praises in your ear.

but that doesn't eliminate the fact that you've only memorably cum once after the multiple rounds of sex you two have shared. and the reason you even did in the first place was by wrapping your legs around his hyper-thrusting hips, trying to keep him aligned to continuously hit that one spot with the enlarged head of his cock that had your toes curling.

and just as you're about to hit that peak climax - chan cums first - of course. but it's alright, you're almost there. gummy inner walls spasming around his pulsating cock while he whines at the sensitivity. what finally tips you over that much-needed edge is the warm dampness pooling in your clavicle - your sweet channie so pussy-drunk he's drooling on and over you. only a fool wouldn't forgive him for any of his blunders. though it is your first achieved orgasm with him, you're elated that he possesses some capability of making you cum.

but that was a good month (or more) ago and it's high time that you have that deep conversation with your loving boyfriend. and he's as remorseful as expected. in fact, you think he's near tears at the fear of you breaking up with him over this.

you aren't - obviously. he's perfect in every way, he just needs to learn how to use his dick better to please someone. and it certainly piques your interest when he cusses a certain someone out under his breath while running a distressed hand through his hair.

"what did you just say?"

"um... that it's all cheol's fault."

oh. so your boyfriend's technique actually sucks only because he had a bad teacher. not because he's inherently bad at sex. it doesn't quite add up though, because seungcheol is allegedly the famed fuckboi of the century and self-rated an 11 on the virgin to whore scale...

"call him."

"what?"

"i need to conduct some research."

so chan does as he's told, dialing the bane of your existence because you've never truly gotten along with that competitive, cocky son of a bitch from your graduating class.

"hello?"

"what would you do to make me cum?"

your boyfriend looks so mortified you're pleasantly surprised he hasn't passed out or hung up already. and seungcheol is either too stunned to speak or silently gloating before he finally replies, "darling i think you called the wrong number... with the phone of the one you're supposed to be talking to about this. are you drunk? where's that little boyfriend of yours?"

"i'm not drunk," you roll your eyes hard enough so he can hear it in the tone you always use with him. "and he's not little."

"could've fooled me."

"i'm sure you would know how big he is since you supposedly were the one who taught him all he knows."

seungcheol snorts. "guessing he's not able to satisfy you with that so-called big dick of his."

"i dunno, i think it's 'cause he had a shit-ass teacher. tell me, have you ever made someone orgasm before? like for real?"

"not anyone with the kind of attitude you have." there's some shuffling in the background. "brats like you... well, they - you - don't deserve it."

"gosh, you're so irritating." you spit out before smiling kindly at chan, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "hey, cheol... i think you're avoiding my question so you should come and show us how good your methods really are. and maybe you can make me cum along the way with such stellar teachings."

and then you hang up.

"i-i - " chan stutters, "if he's gonna come down... i m-mean... i'll study harder for you, baby - "

"relax," you press a finger to his lips and then smirk when there are two sharp bangs resonating outside your shared apartment, "looks like our sulky upstairs resident decided to grow a pair."

your boyfriend sighs. "couldn't resist, could he?"

sure enough, when you open the door - there stands your nemesis - choi seungcheol.

he glares, daring to try and look at you with a hint of disdain as if he isn't the one who has a light sheen of sweat on his forehead after running down the steps rather than wait for the elevator. impatient as always, along with a growing bulge in his sweatpants.

"wow... you came so fast!" you fake-clap to mock him further. "i always knew you and channie wanted to share me... trying to ruin my precious boyfriend's dick game 'cause you were jealous he got inside my tight, wet cunt that you always wanted first."

chan's mouth nervously opens and closes behind you and he gulps when the eldest of his friends gives him that look. "i-it wasn't my fault!"

you cling to his arm with a pout, eating up the way you can play off this game with the other man who's nothing but a menace.

"don't be mean to the love of my life, cheollie."

if the look shared between them hadn't already dampened your panties, they soaken even further when seungcheol's dark gaze lands back on you.

feral. hungry. wanting.

got him.

you've always had him wrapped around your little finger anyways and he hated... loved... every moment of it.

"on the bed. naked. both of you. chan on top," he commands - no, demands - and you slide excited fingers down your boyfriend's forearm and take him by the hand, skipping to the bedroom.

while getting into said position, you both start giggling at the realization while whispering words of love to each other that has seungcheol rolling his eyes because it feels like he's already forgotten.

he flops dramatically on the ottoman by the bed and loudly says, "alright young 'un. go ahead and start su - "

"i want you to fuck me, channie. please put your huge dick in my needy pussy... i'm dripping..." and then you whisper in his ear, "all for you, promise."

"shit," your boyfriend - ever the good listener - rubs his tip along your entrance in awe before sliding in with a whine, "you're ruining the bedsheets already..."

"ah please, ruin me."

"fuck, baby you're gonna ruin me."

seungcheol's eyebrow twitches. so does his cock. "hold on a sec, you're going too fast - "

"faster! destroy my cunt with your large cock! i love your fat cock in me so much."

you cling to chan's shoulder blades as he gets lost once more in the rhythmic pulses of your walls perfectly massaging his leaking dick. the extra presence in the room no longer even a thought with his erratic, achingly desperate thrusts. though you're trying to coach and egg him on as usual, he doesn't even need to be hitting your g-spot at this moment because you stare over his shoulder at a different set of brown eyes that shoot heat undeniably right to the center of your core.

seungcheol's jaw is clenched, a hand over his own hard-on. either to hide the pre-cum starting to stain his sweats and/or reluctantly giving in that he's enjoying this more than anyone could even think.

unfortunately, you're moaning so loudly over and over again about the thick, wonderful, ginormous cock (so true) of your beloved boyfriend that he's getting irked again and hates how it's kind of killing his mood.

"that's just 'cause you haven't seen mine yet," he grumbles.

scratching at chan's back, you sneer at the bitter observer. "fine, by the bed. naked." you mimic his tone, if not some of his words, from before. "let me see that prized fuckboi cock you're so proud of."

and soon enough you have one impressively large cock in one hand and your boyfriend about ready to coat your pussy with his cum.

and even sooner, you have two men on their backs for you - one weeping (and his poor dick too) from the overstimulation and the other nearly tearing your ruined bedsheets because you are so insistent on (meanly) edging him with your cruel grip on his large cock.

"fuck you," seungcheol huffs.

"you wish," you bite back and seat yourself back on chan hearing his telltale whimper. making sure to catch the final weak spurts of his cum in your greedy cunt.

let's just say with seungcheol's lack of assistance but much needed presence, you work on effectively teaching not only your darling boyfriend how to please his partner but also the fake fuckboi that might just join your sexy sessions from now on.

if not to learn from the real pro, then definitely in the hopes that one day he might get to touch, taste, or fuck even the tip of his cock in your pussy he's been fantasizing about for years.

[marleysfinest]

you look so pretty...

nsfw eren x fem reader. minors dni. cw public foreplay/sex, mild dominance, eren being stroppy

word count 1.9k

obligatory tags to the eren babes @somelattes & @bloompompom

you stretch and rub the sleep from your eyes, pleased to see that the weather has improved since yesterday. eren stirs slowly beside you, eyes closed, but you know he's awake. before you have a chance to slip out of bed and head towards the shower, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you in close.

"mornin'," he croaks, eyes still firmly closed as he clings on to sleep as firmly as he's clinging to you. "time is it? come back to sleep."

you stroke his forearm affectionately as you contemplate the attractive idea, but you know that you should get moving. you want to beat the crowds at the mall before it becomes unbearably busy, knowing that saturday shoppers bring out the worst in you.

"nine," you reply quietly, "c'mon, if you're coming with me then we should get up."

his hold on you tightens, pinning you square against him beneath the feathery sheets.

"d'you have to go?" he asks, his voice carrying a slight whine that you're all too familiar with, "let's just stay here. we've got the whole weekend."

you groan, wishing you could stay, but knowing that there was no way that you could squeeze another week out of your work shirts. you'd left it long enough; if you pushed your luck any further, then you risked an embarrassing incident that you knew for certain you didn't need. no, it had to be today. he tries his best to encourage you to stay, his fingers tracing your breasts and pinching your nipple, knowing it's usually a sure-fire way to get you in the mood, but you're taken by a strange sense of determination this morning.

"c'mon," you urge, tapping his arm so that he releases you, and you sit up on the edge of the bed, "sooner I go, sooner I'm back. you coming?"

eren looks up at you with hooded, scowling eyes, dark hair tangled against the cotton pillowcase, and heaves a sigh.

"fine," he succumbs, "go shower and get ready, I'll hop in after you."

eren reluctantly agrees to join you, thinking that spending time with you while shopping for clothes is better than no time at all. his grumpiness alleviates slightly when you offer to buy him coffee en route, and so you slip into the starbucks outside the mall before beginning your mission. you call up your orders - hazlenut latte for him, chai latte for you - and before long you're swiping up your orders from the barista at the end of the counter. you take a sip, savouring the richness, and eren does the same.

"good?" he asks, you nod, swallowing your mouthful of coffee.

"mine too," he adds, "although, I can't help but think you'd have enjoyed the taste of me better this morning..."

his voice trails off, making it no secret what he was insinuating. you slow your pace to glare at him, eyebrows raised, surprised at how he was being so forward even by his standards.

"we've got the whole weekend," you reply, deciding to throw his own words back at him, which has the desired affect. you just about hear the sigh of frustration escape his flaring nostrils, and you could've sworn that a quiet groan slipped from the back of his throat. feeling strangely pleased with yourself, you pick up your pace, heading inside the mall with your boyfriend in tow.

despite it still being relatively early, the stores are already packed with shoppers hungry for a deal. you elbow and rub shoulders with the public as you frantically search for your new work clothes, becoming more and more desperate to be at home with every passing minute. when you finally reach a section of zara that not only has a half-decent offering of shirts, but is quiet, you take the opportunity to relax the tension in your muscles and flick through the rails at a much more leisurely pace. after pulling some pieces to try on, you feel eren's presence behind you, boxing you in beside the secluded racks. before you have a chance to ask him what he's doing, you feel a cold hand rub against your thigh before riding up your skirt and grabbing a handful of your ass. you smirk as you realise the game that eren's playing, and as he repositions himself, he wraps his remaining arm around your waist, pinning you to him as the other slides his hand from your ass to the elastic of your panties. his fingers barely graze your lips as you suddenly feeling him pressed up against you, and you realise that he's really the one being tormented here.

"something wrong, baby?" you ask, your head lolling back to rest against his shoulder. he looks down at you, emerald eyes burning, the hunger in his expression more obvious than the nose on his face.

"nothin'," he replies, "just... trying to persuade you."

"here?"

"what? we're alone."

there's conviction in his statement, and you realise that he genuinely believes what he's insinuating. you know that, if you gave him the word, he'd fuck you right there against the rails, but having sex at the risk of being seen by not only fellow shoppers but the numerous security cameras surrounding them was not on your to-do list.

"c'mon," you say gently, breaking him out of his daydream, "I need to go and try this stuff on. come with me? I want your opinion."

you take your head off of his shoulder and peel yourself away from his hold, albeit reluctantly. after quickly scanning for the changing rooms, you take one of eren's hands in yours and pull him after you, your fingers limply entwined. if you sense him slow his pace to observe the swaying of your hips (which perhaps you're doing deliberately), then you're sure it's pure coincidence.

he takes a seat on the little stool outside of your cubicle , and as you close the door with a smile, you can't help but notice the pained look on his face and the hunger in his eyes. after sliding the lock across, you slip off your t-shirt and pull on the silky, candy-floss blouse and carefully do up the buttons. you like it; it feels nice against your skin, and fits well, but you want a second opinion. you open the cubicle door to see eren scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, although not for much longer. he looks up to see you striking a deliberately over the top pose, and there's a swell of butterflies in your stomach. you giggle and await his response, noting the almost predatory way he's looking at you as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.

"let me take a closer look," he mumbles, sighing as he gets to his feet and joins you in the cubicle.

once the door is locked once again, eren keenly inspects the shirt. his eyes wander from where it hugs your waist and up to where it gently enhances your breasts, looking progressively unconvinced.

"I don't like it," he says frankly, finally meeting your gaze. "take it off."

you huff a sigh, and slowly begin to undo the buttons from top to bottom, pretending to fumble to see just how much you can rile him. after just two buttons, eren quietly growls and reaches for you in an almost angry frenzy. you're taken aback, but don't mind as long as he doesn't rip off any buttons. he pushes the blouse off of your shoulders, exposing your chest and lacy bra, bringing himself closer to getting exactly what he wants. he takes two handfuls of your breasts and begins to massage them, leaning in to smother himself in them, kissing and licking, knowing how it always gets you going. as your head falls back, you can't help but smile.

"someone's desperate," you tease. he looks at you intensely, and you pretend to ignore the sound of him undoing his belt buckle.

"someone is being a little brat," he retorts, "take it off."

you oblige, realising that, despite achieving some privacy in the changing room, you are still technically in public, and drawing attention to yourselves wouldn't be the wisest choice. you also knew that eren wasn't above causing a ruckus to get what he wanted. you slip the blouse off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, and succumb to your boyfriend's somewhat feral urges. he hooks his hands around your thighs and forces you to wrap your legs around him, and pins you to the changing room wall. his lips are all over your neck and collarbone, licking and sucking and leaving trails of faint love bites that you'd need to cover with concealer on monday morning. you feel him pressed between your legs, and you realise that you hadn't even noticed him slip his boxers down to his ankles, and so when he slips your panties to one side and slides in with ease, it takes you by surprise. you suck in the air through your teeth as you're forced to adjust, the sound of your breath making him twitch.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he asks, purring into your ear, "isn't this what you've been teasing me about all day long?"

you smile as you cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and gripping on to his t-shirt. he begins to thrust in and out painfully slowly, drawing out quiet but heavy sighs from you each time his pelvis meets yours. your head lolls back against the wall, and despite your eyelids falling heavily through pleasure, you know that eren is looking at you in this state of risky euphoria. you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, pulling you closer together, and burying himself as deep as he can go. you bite back a groan, knowing that he's trying to get a rise out of you, and force out a giggle instead.

"c'mon, you can do better than that," he mutters, suddenly serious as he starts to move his hips again, faster this time. "you're the one that wanted me to come with you. show me what we could've been doing at home all this time. properly."

for a split second you consider it, going all out and letting your inhibitions go so that the entire store would know what you were up to. you even considered whether you liked the place enough to care about inevitably being banned from it, but you still had some of your wits about you. deciding not to fuel his fire any further, you remain silent as you tighten your legs around him, forcing him to bury himself deeper. he throws his head back and groans at the feeling, hitting your deepest part again and again and relishing in the slick building up around him. you let a few choice whimpers escape - louder than you'd wanted - and you both failed to consider anyone who might have been around when you came. eren breaths heavily into the crook of your neck, barely masking his moans as he throbbed inside you, and the two of you stand for a moment while you regain some clarity.

with an always surprisingly gentle hand, eren helps clean you up and get dressed. he carries the clothes you need to return to the rack, saving you the job, and you both walk out of the little changing room with warm cheeks and smiles on your faces.

that was, until you see the security guard standing at the entrance, glaring at you both with the store's suited manager at his side.