#i was just so shell shocked when I got this ask that I fucking exploded that i couldnt articulate this tbh

[the-true-tulpar-captain]

[No, pop off king, fucking thank you!!!] [Me too :/]

Can you trigger tag for J*mmy please?

[,,,,,,,,, have you. have you considered that this may not be the blog for you?]

[hannahssimblr]

In the early evening once the dishes have been cleared away, I wait in Michelle’s room. Downstairs, she speaks to Jen and Hazel for a while, their voices soft and solemn, until eventually Hazel goes home, alone. 

“They couldn’t find him?” I ask her when she sweeps into the room, though I already know the answer.

“No,” she rolls her tights down her legs to start changing into the sweatpants she prefers to spend the evenings in while I fidget my hands in my lap. She’s trying very hard not to look at me, her shoulders have that tense line about them that I know so well. With anxiety slowly unfurling inside me I decide I would much rather get this over with than prolong the inevitable horrors.

“I didn’t let him escape on purpose. You realise that, right?”

She can’t hold back the tremble in her voice, “I just can’t believe you left the door open.” 

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean for it to happen.” 

“Accidents don’t just happen, Jude,” She says, her tone rising with each word, “You were supposed to be watching him, Hazel said that he could escape if we weren’t careful.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

My guilt and remorse only irritates her more, “You were just standing there like some kind of fecking eejit with the door wide open, how could you not notice?”

“Because you were picking on me over the wine, I was distracted.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Oh God, please.” 

“What?”

I hold my head in my hands and exhale a frustrated laugh, “Nothing.”

“Do you have something to say?”

“Let’s focus on Goose, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to find him. I’ll search all over Clontarf, I’ll knock on doors, I’ll put up posters...”

She scoffs, “Goose is probably under the wheels of a train by now.”

The violent imagery of that is enough to make me rear back in shock, “How could you say that?” 

“Because that’s probably what happened. Nobody wants to say it to Hazel, but we’re all thinking it. The tracks are right there, and it’s probably the first place he went.”

“I wasn’t thinking it, God, Shell, what a horrible thought to have.”

“Well,” she shrugs, “that’s reality. This is what you’ve done, so, I hope you know.” 

I watch her, speechless as she casually steps into her grey jersey sweatpants, casually picking bits of lint off her thighs. “Why are you being like this?” I manage. 

She pulls off her sweatshirt to switch it for a vest, “like what?”

“It’s like you’re trying to punish me, I already know it was bad, but it was a mistake-”

“Yeah you don’t have to keep saying that. We all know it was a mistake, but it was the kind of mistake that only you would make.” 

“What does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” 

“Why don’t you just say-”

She whirls around and flings her jumper at me, “Because you’re an idiot!” She explodes, “You’re a fucking idiot and this is the kind of shit you do!”

This is the kind of shit she does. She starts screaming out of nowhere, and then inevitably gets louder and louder and shouts over me until the room shakes and I have to shout back to be heard. I usually skip the foreplay these days and escalate it immediately. “Oh,” my voice scrapes my throat, “you think that’s helpful? Just throwing shit?” 

“Please, shut up!” she’s digging through her chest of drawers for something else to wear, and her movements are tense, jerky with anger, “and stop looking at me!” 

“Why? I’m talking to you.”

“Because you don’t get to look at me in my underwear when I’m mad at you.”

“My God, what? You think I haven’t seen it all before? Do you really think I’ve got that on my mind right now?”

“Yeah, because that’s about all you think about isn’t it? That’s all you want me for.” She wiggles into a vest and crosses her arms, “Sex, sex, sex, when am I getting it? Where are we doing it? You’re an animal.” 

“Oh please, you think about it all the time too.”

It’s almost inconceivable to think of now, that first time we ever did it right here in this room, on this bed, and the shadowy shape of her beneath me as she revealed to me how often she’d secretly imagined this, how long she’d wanted me. Sometimes I don’t recognise those people at all. It’s like I’ve stolen from someone else’s memories.

“Yeah, and then sometimes I can’t think of anything worse.”

“And you think I’m gagging for you at this moment? That I lose my fucking mind when I see you standing around in a bra? When you act this way?”

“This way? What is this way?” 

“Fucking annoying. Annoying and irrational.”

She puffs her chest out like a boxer, like she’s rounding on me, and if I wasn’t so furious with her I might laugh, the sheer confidence of my girlfriend, squaring up to a man a full foot taller than her. Sometimes, on smoother days, her moxy is what I love most about her.

“Oh really? That’s what I am?” She says. 

“Uh huh. Yeah. You’re actually the most annoying, irrational person I’ve-” A notebook comes spinning right at me, whipped right from her desk and I duck quickly, head to knees as it wallops against the wall behind me, sending a burst of loose papers flying over the carpet.

“Jesus!” I cry, “What are you doing?” 

“That’s how much you piss me off sometimes!” 

I hold my hands up in surrender before she can reach for something else, crashing back into myself as my anger dissipates, overtaken once again by the rational part of my brain, “Look, let’s stop this, okay? I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“We are in a relationship,” she explains, as if spelling it out to an infant, “that’s what happens. We hurt each other. It’s impossible not to.”

“Can’t we avoid doing it on purpose?”

“I’ll stop it when you stop being such an arsehole.”

“God, Michelle,” I grit out, “why do you make everything so hard?”

“Hard?” She repeats witheringly, “Being with me? Well imagine what it’s like being with you. The most self-involved, shallow, selfish person I have ever met.”

“Selfish?” I echo as my spine stiffens, “Selfish?”

“Uh huh! Yeah!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I feel like I have had a glass of ice water tossed at me, and though I have stopped shouting, Michelle keeps it up.

“I know well enough! It’s all about you all the time, you go on and on about how hard your life is, how sad you are. Meanwhile your dad bought you a fucking car for your birthday and you weren’t even grateful for it. Look at you! Strutting around with your little Ralph Lauren T-shirts and your ten thousand euro teeth! Who do you think you are?”

For some reason, her dragging my composite bonding into this feels like the biggest betrayal of all. A low blow. My teeth were weirdly short for my mouth until dad fixed them. It felt like the easiest, most obvious solution for a cosmetic issue without doing drastic work, yet revealing it to Michelle late one night as we murmured our secrets to one another in the dark felt so incredibly intimate that I’m momentarily lost for words at her treachery. 

“My teeth have literally nothing to do with any of this.”

“They prove that you’re spoiled.”

“It’s so obvious that you’re jealous of me.” I say. I’m not usually the kind of person to choose their words solely for the damage they can inflict, but something horrible within me feels a twinge of satisfaction when I see the stricken look on her face. 

“Jealous?” She splutters, faltering, “What the hell is there to be jealous of?”

I just look at her, because it’s all I need to do. I know, and she knows, and I feel disgustingly satisfied and contemptuous in my knowledge of it. I already know how she can’t bear to hear about my achievements, to see me hanging out with other friends. It is agony for her to hear about my grades or to look at my artwork, knowing I’ve worked harder than she has. She won’t come to parties with me anymore, because people laugh at all my jokes, and them crowding around to talk to me is hard on her self-esteem. Even cats like me better. I sense it in her every molecule, the atoms around her vibrate with envy. 

Fresh rage shimmers in her eyes as she stares at me, fists clenched as though she’s wrestling the urge to wrap her hands around my windpipe and squeeze. “You can get out if you’re going to be like this,” she seethes. 

“Oh, I’d love to leave.”

“Then do!” she stalks towards the door and yanks it open with such ferocity that I fear it will escape its hinges. “Get out!” Her voice echoes through the whole house, bouncing off the ceiling, reaching a frequency I am surprised doesn't rattle the glass free from the windows, and I have brief concerns about what everyone else in the house must think before remembering they’ve heard it all before. In fact they’ve lived this for years. 

So I do, I get up and walk out, turning toward her at the last moment, facing her stinging hot face to say, “you know what? I think it’s a good idea if we talk about taking a-”

“No! Fuck you!” she spits, and slams the door in my face. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[queenofbaws]

Hi Queenie - can I ask for a number 13?

Hope you have a lovely weekend. :)

He had to wonder what they would've looked like to any passing Tom, Dick, or Harry who'd gotten it in their head to do a little spying. Probably they would've looked normal at first, maybe even downright wholesome, what with Dad in the rocker up on the porch, the rest of them spread around the backyard as they went about their business.

It was only when you looked a little closer that you saw the cracks. Cracks like Bobby chucking not darts but knives at the old bullseye carved into the dead oak stump while Caleb and Kaylee watched in awe; cracks like Travis feeding the fire shredded clothes and 'abandoned' drivers licenses instead of kindling; cracks, God help them, like Dad filling bullet casings with silver shot as he rocked, adding them to the growing pile at his feet after stoppering them.

Wholesome until you looked a little closer. Yeah. Maybe that should've been the family motto - "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," was all fine and good as far as threats went, but times were changing, the family was changing, so maybe the time for threats was over. Maybe now they needed to truck in warnings.

As though the universe itself had caught wise to that mental rabbit hole, Chris's world exploded in a sudden burst of white-hot agony. The backyard tilted around him, then slid. It was only then, as he lay on the ground, that he heard Bobby and the kids yelling. It was only then that he saw the knife protruding from his calf.

"Dad?!"

"Sorry! Sorry! Aw shit, C! I'm sorry!"

Math had never been his strong suit, but it would've been a real idiot who couldn't put two and two together on this one: Bobby'd been having fun with his stupid fucking target practice, Chris had been sitting a little too close, neither of them had been paying attention, blah blah flipping blah.

He forced himself to look at the knife, as little as he wanted to. His eyes kept skittering over it, slip-sliding away as though it'd been coated in oil to keep his gaze from sticking. It'd lodged deep into the meat of his leg - real deep - and that wasn't a shock, considering who'd been doing the throwing, but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it not being a shock didn't mean it was any easier to stomach.

"I'm fine!" he called, both to the ones that had seemed concerned and the ones that hadn't been assed to glance his way. "Totally, totally fine! Just don't...touch me."

"Why's everyone shouting like..." He managed to push himself up into a shaky sitting position in time to see Trav turn from the fire, the flames throwing harsh, angular shadows across his already grim face. "What in God's name are you idiots doing over there?"

"I apologized!" Bobby called, repeating himself the way he always did when people started raising their voices at him.

"I'm fine!" Chris added, doing very much the same.

Even from that distance, he could see Travis's eyes narrow. "You're fine, huh? I would believe that, only, here's the thing...you got a goddamn knife stickin' outta your leg!"

Something about his tone triggered a deep, dormant part of him; a voice rose up inside his chest, swelling up and up and up to throb in time with the pain in his leg. 'Do I?!' it shrieked, the shitty, snot-nosed younger brother that still lived inside of him, somewhere, 'Do I have a goddamn knife in my leg?! Wow! Geez! I didn't even notice! Look at that!'

Chris bit that voice off at its roots, severing its strength with his teeth. A good thing too, because a second later Dad was talking, and when Jedediah Hackett deigned to raise his voice, you listened.

"Full moon tomorrow," he said, his eyes downcast, his hands filling shell after shell. "It'll heal good as new. Quit bitching and just take care of it."

There was a beat of silence as they waited. Young or old, infected or not, none of them wanted to be the one to accidentally speak over him. When that moment passed, Caleb made as if to crouch down beside him.

"When you get hurt like that, you're not supposed to pull it o - "

"I don't know what part of 'full moon tomorrow' you failed to understand," Dad called from the porch, the rocker ceasing to rock beneath him. He stood, setting down the last of his shells, then walked the two steps necessary to wrap his gnarled hands around the railing as he looked out at them sprawled in the grass.

What did he see when he looked at them, Chris wondered?

But he felt Caleb's eyes on him, Kaylee's too, and knew they were fretting, even if they didn't let themselves show it. So he grit his teeth in the best approximation of a smile he could manage, and he willed himself to do the awful thing.

"Yeah, listen to your grandpa. Tomorrow's gonna be here before you know it, and this? Well...this will..." He swallowed hard, moving his hand to the knife's hilt. His fingers barely brushed it and his head began to swim. "This'll all heal up good...as...new."

He pulled. It gave. There was a horrendously wet but blessedly short sound that accompanied it, and then it was done. He screwed his eyes shut tight as his ears rang and the inside of his eyelids threatened to go grey. That moment too was blessedly short.

"See?" he said, his saliva thick in his mouth. "Everything's fine. Watch where you're throwing these things, wouldya, B?" With that, even knowing it was the wrong thing to do, even feeling close to passing out as he was, Chris pushed himself up off the ground and found some measure of steadiness on his uninjured leg.

Tomorrow, he reminded himself, he'd pop his skin. Tomorrow, everything in him, on him, about him would be shiny and fresh and new. Tomorrow, he wouldn't even have a scar. Dad was right about all that.

But it wasn't tomorrow yet. It was just today. And as he limped his way across the yard, hobbled up the porch steps, and dragged his bleeding leg towards the back door, he hurt.

"Rub some dirt in it," Dad said as he passed by.

Chris turned to look at them - his family - and all he saw were cracks.

[ouranbutworse]

Anime-Manga Comparisons, episode 23.

You know Tamaki’s imagine spot that happens a few minutes into the anime after Kasanoda is threatened? In the manga it happens first, with the dinosaurs and volcano exploding and the waves crashing and him falling into space. And then we see Kasanoda’s syndicate worrying over him and deducing that he’s in love. With a boy! Gasp, shock and horror, etcetera. Kasanoda’s plucking a flower and finally accepts that Haruhi is, indeed, a girl, and then he cringes about how he’s a pervert and we get a flashback to earlier in the day when the club caught him.

The scene plays out the same in both, except because we already saw Tamaki’s mental anguish at the beginning; he's just a hollow shell of a man. Hikaru tells Kasanoda that they refuse to deal with him when he’s like that. Kyoya’s threat only extends to his own family and the families of the rest of the group, and the rose motif is a Tamaki exclusive in the manga, so he’s just accompanied by sparkles. The anime twins question if he’s in love, and anime Tamaki falls into space.

The anime has a more linear plotline, so instead of a back and forth between flashback to present, now we get to see the Kasanoda syndicate worrying over their master. I find it adorable that Tetsuya is accepting of him being gay. Ritsu’s imagine spot of Haruhi being cute and flirty is another anime exclusive. Renge does appear in the host club scene in the manga, but it’s another cameo for her, unlike in the anime where she’s kind of like the leader for the fans. It’s cute how the others come up to her with questions.

Haruhi serves tea, and the manga twins run in to literally tip over the cups, because they’re rude like that. They take a backseat in the anime to whine at Mother instead, who does nothing to assist. Manga Hikaru calls Kyoya stupid and a mongrel (in the anime both twins call him a money grubbing enabler), but gets away with this. Presumably. The anime adds an extra scene of the girls fawning over how in love Kasanoda is, and one girl calls Kurakano to come by and witness it, it’s a cute detail hinting that she stopped visiting the club because she got together with class president Kazukiyo.

Before the club can get to interfering, there’s a cute little scene in the manga of Ritsu and Haruhi, he expresses concern about Tamaki, who’s still shellshocked and has the club and guests circling him, and then he questions if Haruhi is really alright with the hosts, because they’re so different to her. Haruhi tells him they’ve been really nice to her, gifting her things like a bracelet with miniature photos of them all on it (which she says is too nice for her to wear),sending a fancy ham to her, with a chef to cut it! (which she couldn’t enjoy because she was so shocked) and Tamak giving her free tickets for ‘pats on the head’ and ‘carry the bride rides’ (the second of which I’m sure he’ll do in the future)

Kasanoda asks if she’s confused, and she admits she is, but she feels better now. And then the twins toss Tamaki her way. It’s basically the same scene, but he walks and talks like a robot in the anime, and in the manga he’s just in a daze. Also he doesn’t inflate like a balloon, deflate like a balloon, and then get caught by Honey like a wet sock in the manga, he just faints backwards and the group (minus Kyoya) catch him and drag him off to recuperate.

His realisation scene (should I put that in quotations if he goes back on everything by the end?) also goes the same, except we have to see that fucking carriage again. These last three episodes may kill me at this rate. Anime Kaoru has the incredible power to manifest small jack-o-lanterns into his waiting hands when faced with words of extreme stupidity.

Haruhi accidentally rejects Kasanoda in the same way in both, and crushes poor Ritsu’s heart by just being her sweet, simple self. At least it gets him a lot of other, snivelling friends.

While Kyoya reassures Tamaki, in the anime the scene’s left off with him staring out at Haruhi, but in the manga he’s easily reassured and laughs it off, and Kyoya thinks he’s an idiot. We also see some male classmates befriending Kasanoda, and his syndicate supporting his romantic aspirations. We never see them all playing kick the can, but we sure do in the anime, as we see Tamaki kick that can again (I assume it hits Akira Komatsuzawa again, too), and Kasanoda goes off to count while Tamaki takes Haruhi by the hand and they hide in the stone pavilion thing (no, I didn’t bother figuring out what it actually was since all the way back in episode fourteen) and they’re intruded upon by the twins and Kyoya, I assume since they’re all bratty siblings that’s why they’re fine squeezing into the pavilion together just to stop Tamaki from being alone with Haruhi. The twins also do a cute giggle in response to Kyoya disagreeing with Tamaki.

Mori and Honey’s conversation happens in a tree in the anime, but as a simple observation in the clubroom in the manga, as they watch the others talk with Kasanoda, who’s visiting again. They’re kind of like omnipotent observers. Honey makes the same points in each, about Hikaru and Tamaki, and then Kaoru and Kyoya. I get what he actually means, but I always think he’s implying feelings between Kaoru and Kyoya, especially since we don’t see any Kaoru feelings towards Haruhi in the anime. Anime Honey also wonders if anything big is going to happen before they graduate, while in the manga he just wonders if there’ll be any progress on the relationships before that happens.

Finally, we see the others squabbling and shoving, and Haruhi tells them that she doesn’t belong to anybody. We’ll see, hun.

Episode 23… what comes nex- OH GOD NOT THAT EPISODE!

[widowbitessting]

The One With the Phoebe Buffay Run - Coming Soon - A Small Excerpt

A sneak peak from an upcoming prompt! Thought I’d share because you’ve all had nothing all week! 

Also doing this to try out the new tag list to see if it works...

💋 💋 💋 💋

They could hear the screaming from the elevator. Or to be more specific, they could hear you and Wanda shouting from about two floors down and Carol swears she isn’t exaggerating.

As one, Carol and Natasha look at each other.

“They’re either arguing or being brutally murdered.” Natasha says as the doors to their apartment open; just as you let out a very loud: “FOR FUCK SAKE!”

Your sudden outburst has both women smirking, momentarily forgetting their no swearing rule.

“This is why we can’t both leave for the same business trip,” Carol sighs as they both ascend the stairs. “We leave these two alone to their own devices and look what happens.”

“They become naughty, that’s what.” Natasha says, nudging Carol with her shoulder. “Ready to discipline our girls, my love?”

They walk into the lounge area and Carol silently puts their bags down on the floor before rolling up the sleeves of her jacket to her elbows.

“I never been more ready in my life, love.”

They mutually decide to wait; to hold off a little bit longer just to see how far you’re both willing to go with breaking the rules. It seems quite far already. You’re both, to no real surprise, completely oblivious to the looming doom behind you. Not only are there empty bottles of wine and take out containers litter the floor, but it seems that you are playing an adult version of Mario Kart as well. You’re standing there in just a bra and a pair of Natasha’s shorts and fluffy socks; Wanda fairing slightly better in just one of Carol’s over sized t-shirts that goes down to her upper thigh.

You’re both completely absorbed by the game.

“Get out of the fucking way!” Wanda shouts, turning with her Switch controller in an effort to make her car turn further left. “Mario move!”

“Who shot the red shell at me!” You yell. “Wands was that you?”

“How? I’m 5th!”

You let out a snicker. “Oh yeah. Loser.”

“Suck it.”

You risk a quick glance at her.

“Tempting.” You say. “When you lose this race, you’re losing those undies too.”

“Who says I’m gonna lose, detka? I can make a come back...especially with the blue shell.”

“Fuck off. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

It all happens together: just as Wanda clicks the blue shell to be sent off, she’s hit by a red shell and then everyone except Bowser - because fuck Bowser as you would often say - are shocked by lightning, losing whatever is in your pockets, before shrinking down into miniatures.

“Fuck off!”

“I fucking hate that stupid thing! God dammit!” You stomp your foot. “And now I’ve got the blue shell you absolute twat, Wanda; NO!”

Your character is exploded, mere inches from the finish line and you can only watch in horror as your First Place is taken from you. As well as second, and third until you can put yourself out of your misery and cross the line, taking fourth.

Wanda, to your complete horror, finished before you.

“How did you do that?!”

Wanda can only look at you smugly, polishing her nails on her t-shirt.

“Skills, detka. Skills.”

You all but launch your controller on the sofa with a frustrated exhale, Wanda laughing at you. She moves over to you and engulfs your mouth with hers.

“Do I have you take your shorts off or your bra...?”

You tap your chin, pretending to think.

“How about you take one for the team and take your knickers off for me instead?” You ask, reaching down for your wine glass. You’re about to take a swig, finish the glass in one large gulp, when Natasha clears her throat.

💋 💋 💋 💋

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Read the full thing here!

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[rommahh]

{Harry in sparkly black….Harry lemme **** *** *** for free}

You hadn’t talked to Harry all day. Not that you were mad at him or anything but your therapy this morning left you feeling a little spacey. There was something about talking about your emotions that left you feeling emotionally drained.

You missed Harry terribly and though it’s only been a short week, you felt very lonely. But on another note, your anxiety wasn’t as bad as it was. You were starting to feel like your normal self again but missing something.

You loved the tight knit life you have with Harry. You like being around him most hours of the day. You two were inseparable. If you were in the shower, he was in the bathroom reading a book from the lounger chair in the corner. If he was writing music on the beach, you were somewhere on the shore collecting shells. If you were going to the grocery store the least he could do was go for the drive with you. You two were close and it was something the both of you were ok with.

Some couples don’t like being so close but it worked for you and Harry. Being away from Harry was a weird experience. It’s only been a week but you feel like it’s been a lifetime. You haven’t minded being on your own but you wanted to be with the person you felt most connected to.

So being you, you purchased a ticket to Chicago. You didn’t know how Harry was going to react but you could only assume it would be a positive reaction. You told Jeff that you were coming so he could get you a hotel key and backstage pass.

As you sat in the airport you felt your back pocket buzz- your music pausing for the call. Your hand slipped into the pocket roughly pulling out the small phone. Harry’s icon, him in a fluffy robe looking as grumpy as ever, met your eyes. You cursed because you were quite obviously in the airport and if he saw you, the surprise would be ruined.

You answered anyways but only for audio. You made sure that your airpods were snug in you ear and there was no chance of them falling out.

“My lover!” Harry greets you a in sing song voice. You could hear his humph as he recognizes that you didn’t answer with the FaceTime video on. “Turn your camera on.”

“Can’t, I’m not feeling good.” You fib nervously. Harry frowned, nervous that he may have done something to upset you.

“Oh, alright. What’s wrong then?” He asks. You chew your lip trying to think of an answer.

“Uh, period.” You stammer.

“Your period doesn’t start for another few day…saw it on the tracker.” Harry may have your period tracker on his phone but it was because he wanted to make sure he was able to comfort you the best way he could when he needed to.

“Must be the meds-“ The sound of your boarding attendant sounded over your head cutting you off. “Hey bubs, I’ve actually got to go but we can’t chat later.”

“Sure, that’s fine I guess. Love you.” He mumbles, confused by the phone call. You hang up leaving Harry a little lost in his thoughts.

Later, Harry sang through his rehearsal carelessly, his head clouded with thoughts. He even sang through TBSL and though he was in the worst of moods, fans waiting at the venue thought he never sounded better.

You on the other hand had just sat through the worst flight of your life. There was a woman in the flight who didn’t want to wear her mask causing commotion before the flight could even take off. You had the worst headache halfway through the flight and because of the lack on supplies, the flight couldn’t give you any ginger ale or accommodations.

You didn’t let any of it get to you though as you directed for the chauffeur Jeff sent for you to go to the venue for show.

Harry sat in the common room backstage with the band and Jeff eating dinner grumpily. His fork was stabbing every little piece of lettuce of his salad, everyone watched worried that he may break his bowl.

“HS3 is trending on Twitter today, pretty exciting.” Jeff says to Harry breaking the silence. Jeff just received a text from you saying that you arrived to the venue and were walking towards Harry’s dressing room.

“Mmm great.” Harry grumbles. Jeff rolled his eyes at the diva.

“Someone’s a little pissy this evening. How about you go fix that mood before you greet your fans with a bad attitude.” Jeff scolds him like a child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Jeff really didn’t care about Harry’s attitude, used to the moods at this point, but he needed a way for Harry to leave the room and see you in the dressing room.

“Fine, didn’t want to be around anyways.” Harry shrugs.

Back in Harry’s dressing room, you rolled your suitcase into a corner where Harry’s outfit for the night resided on a hanger. You smiled at the sparkly black top that you helped pick out. You walked around his dressing room from the hair and makeup table, past the bathroom/ dressing area, and back around to the couch’s and coffee table where you took a seat. You snagged one of his green juices needing the boost of energy from being on the flight.

You heard the door knob jiggle but stayed planted in you seat sipping on the juice. You never made a peep as Harry barged through the room, scowl covering his face. He stormed past the couch not batting an eye at you. He went to the mini fridge where his juices were before letting an exasperated sigh.

“Who fucking took my juice?” He whines. You quietly giggle in your hand at his tone.

“Im sorry, thought I could have it.” You chuckle. Harry leaps from where he stands letting out a yell. He turns to look at you with wide eyes, hand over his chest as if his heart was going to explode from his chest. You stood from the couch waiting for him to react more but he just stood there in shock. When the realization of you actually being there kicked in he let out another yell before bounding over to you.

Before you knew it, you had two strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Your wrapped around his neck, hands and fingers spread through his hair. His face tucked into your lower neck peppering desperate kisses all over just to feel something.

“What are you doing here?” You hear him cry. You pulled away from him to wipe his eyes of the tears that streamed down his face.

“I needed to see you.” Was all you could muster. He pulled you down on the couch, your body cushioning his larger frame. He laid in between your legs, your back flat in the body of the couch.

“Im so happy your here.” Harry couldn’t even put his excitement into words. He knew you were coming in a week but to have you here earlier than that made him feel things. He sat up from suffocating you into the couch, allowing for you to sit up beside him. “What about your therapy? I hope you’re not jeopardizing your mental health to be here with me cause I would much prefer if you put me on the back burner and took care of yourself.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m ok. I still will see my therapist virtually, I’ve got all new meds that are working fine, and if all goes to shit I will go back home. It’s ok bubs.” You reassure him.

He grabs your face with both hands pulling your face to his. Your lips meet with need. His lips slotting with yours, moving slowly but with rigor as if he was scared you would slip from his fingers. Your bottom lips fit between his lips leaving for him to suck on it slightly. You moaned at the feeling making Harry pull you in tighter. You sat slightly upon his lap, chest against each other tightly. Your tongues pushed at one another, lips loving in tangent.

You pulled away when you felt his lower presence awaken. He whined at the loss of contact making you giggle.

“If we go any further you’re gonna be late for your show. I’ll give you more back at the hotel, yeah?” You say lowly trying to catch your breathe. He groaned resting his forehead on yours chasing your lips with chaste kisses making you smile.

“Fine, you owe my though. This is level three apology situation that can only be resolved with these things; sloppy blowies, butt stuff, or face masks if you catch my drift.” He chastised. You let out a deep belly laugh pushing yourself away from him. You two still sit facing each other, your legs slightly on top of his.

“You’re so nasty, but I may be able to arrange one of those.” You wink making Harry let out a triumphant laugh.

“Are you staying for the show? I understand if your not.” He questions fiddling with your fingers.

“Think it would be best if I didn’t. I’m really tired and I obviously need a nap if I’m going to be up for your post show antics.” You joke giving his nose a poke. He jokingly pretends to bite your finger in retaliation.

Harry went on stage that night happier than ever. He started plotting proposals from the second he walked you to the car with your suitcase and waved goodbye to you. You went to the hotel room and “accidentally” fell asleep wearing one of your most recent purchases curled up in your tour bus blanket.

Let’s just say that Harry not so accidentally woke you up after that concert ready to love all of his adrenaline off in you.

Part 2👀

[phoenixyfriend]

Sugar, Spice, and a Heart to Entice

AKA: Jango Fett speedruns a romance with someone who should be his enemy. (It's okay. We know he makes bad choices.)

Note: Ahsoka uses the pseudonym "Ashla" in this fic. Warnings: slavery, references to drug use, crude sex jokes, undressing of an unconscious person (for medical reasons)

----

The girl that they shove into the chains next to him is... worrying.

(Well, probably a girl--he'll adjust later if it turns out he's wrong.)

She's not that much younger than him, he thinks. It's hard to tell, with the way her skin is taut over muscle and bone, too little water and too little sleep, and probably not enough food for whatever labor she's been doing. He's also, admittedly, not great at gauging ages in the first place, and certainly not for Togruta. Still, he thinks it's safe to say that they're close in age, and that she's probably younger than him.

She's lucky, by some measure. The spice ship is terrible, but it's probably better than the fate tog girls are usually subject to in this industry. They're hazardous conditions, and violent ones, but Jango's yet to see a slave here stripped of their clothing for anything other than a whipping.

He thinks it's probably a matter of money. That kind of violation lowers the profit margins, he imagines. Spice is more lucrative than anything, and pain is a better motivator than... well.

So she's lucky, by that measure, and that measure alone.

They clap her in bindings before he even sees her, even though she's unconscious, and bring her sometime in the night cycle. Jango doesn't have a lot of pity left in him, but some goes out to her. He won't say she's too young for this, because nobody is ever old enough for slavery, nor do slavers have any compunctions about selling babes in arms, but Jango would wager she's already led a hard life.

She's fairly covered, but what little is visible shows enough old battle wounds that he can't imagine she's stayed off of battlefields. He knows how to read a Togruta's markings for stress history, too, and hers tell a story. Her facial marks are thin and delicate, and he'd say they're certainly more complex than the average; the striation on her lekku and montrals is thin and jagged, like marble. It's pretty enough, but it's also a sign of the fact that her life has likely been anything but easy. Some of it might be genetics, and he hopes it is, but with the scars he can see... he doubts it's much.

"Keep that one alive," the overseer orders, eyes on Jango and hand gesturing at the tog girl.

He leaves.

Jango isn't sure what they're hoping to get out of putting her with him. The room is built for four, yes, but they usually don't try to have anyone share with Jango. Maybe they ran out of room, or just assumed Jango was the most likely to know field medicine, or just figured there wouldn't be any trouble until she woke.

As he gets closer, his confusion grows. The tog's got burns all over, ugly ones that aren't going to heal cleanly without bacta. They're going to get infected, as likely as not. He hasn't got much besides water in here, but the overseer's left behind a box of what looks like bandages. If he's lucky, there's burn cream in there.

(He's not lucky.)

He works slowly, careful of every movement. He builds up a story in his head as he does, based on the wounds he finds and what he starts to notice of the clothing. He can't see all the details, not in what little light he has, but there's plenty to notice.

He hadn't realized, with how dim it is, but most of what she's got on as an outer layer is hardened leather, real leather, not synth. There are attachment points for armor at the shoulders and hips, and he thinks he sees signs of wear for vambraces and greaves. She's no Mando'verde, not with how he can see that the fabric at her torso and upper legs is intended to stay light and flexible and uncovered, but the crafting of the leather layers is familiar. He thinks she might have contacts among Mando armorers.

She might even wear beskar, if she's impressed the right person.

The wounds are recent, and unfamiliar, and he thinks she was probably fought into chains, rather than bought in them. She's a captive, not a purchase, or maybe... maybe they just found an unconscious woman, and decided that she was worth keeping.

He thinks she lost a fight, or won but with great injuries, and just... stumbled off and collapsed. He gets the feeling no one on board the ship could have fought this woman, except for himself. It's not based on much, not until he can see her move, but he's got good instincts for that sort of thing.

Jango keeps his assessment of her torso quick and clinical, not even bothering to mentally apologize for stripping her bare. This is medical, and he's not a doctor, not even a field medic, but he's professional nonetheless. Even though there's nothing in the box but bandages, not even the burn cream he'd hoped for, he'd still rather know if there's a broken rib to worry about. He doesn't want to wait for her to wake up and then find out she's got a punctured lung, even if he can't do anything about it. He finds bruising, but... he thinks that if anything is broken, it's hairline at most.

Lucky, he thinks again, in the unluckiest situations.

She doesn't wake that cycle. It's all he can do to get some water in her, dripped into her mouth in a trickle, but it's something.

----

When the Togruta girl wakes up, it's sudden. Jango is wiping down her lekku with a wet cloth in hopes of staving off a fever, kneeling next to the bunk. She opens her eyes, stiffens with a sharp breath, and then twists off the bed. Before he's fully processed this, her legs are up and around his neck, and then he's being wrenched to the side and onto the filthy ground, cheek grinding down into the grit. He feels a bony knee press into his spine, and the growl of a predator.

"Where am I?" the tog girl demands.

"Spice ship," he says, and oh but this place has ruined him for fights; he's having trouble breathing from whatever she's done to him, and she doesn't even have the use of her hands. "Deep space. You're in the slave cells. Don't mess with the collar, it'll explode if you try to remove it."

"Spice refinery?" she repeats, sounding completely baffled. He gives her a second to process, but she blindsides him. "Someone got me in their hands and they went for spice slavery?"

"As opposed to..." he really hopes she gets off soon.

She doesn't answer him immediately, and he can't get a look at her face. He gets his arms out to the sides, plants them to the floor, and shoves back. She doesn't fall off, but she does slide to the side to sit on the floor.

The expression she's got is best described as 'shell-shocked,' he thinks.

"You don't know me," she says, faint and confused. He shakes his head; he's pretty sure he'd have recognized her if he'd known her at all, given the time he's spent cleaning her wounds and trying to keep her alive. She laughs, breathless and a tad hysterical. "You don't--fuck. You don't know me. That's... great. Okay. Okay, I can work with that. Don't know how they missed it, but okay."

"Bounty on your head?" he guesses.

She smiles, thin and unpleasant. "Something like that."

"Thought as much. You're built like a fighter." He intends it as a compliment, but he doesn't think she takes it as one.

"I've never had a choice otherwise," she says, and when she next looks around, it's to find a place to sit. She pushes herself up to the thin mattress of the cot behind her, and Jango mirrors her on the cot across the room. It's not his bed, technically, but it's not like there's anyone to complain. She frowns at him; it's not a rude look, he thinks, but an attempt to put something unfamiliar in place. "What legion were you with?"

He blinks at her. He's been part of an army, but never one that big. "Legion?"

"Were you with special forces?" she tries again. "Or--wait, did you even get off Kamino before--"

"I'm not whoever you think I am," he tells her. "None of that means anything to me. I know what a legion is, but I've never had reason to be part of one."

"But you're..." she trails off, brow furrowed. "I guess just a similar face, then."

"To who?"

"The clones?" she hazards, as if that clears anything at all up. "I have no idea where we are; maybe the war holos never made it out far enough for you to know what they looked like..."

"Which war?" he asks, because he feels like he'd probably have heard of a war that used clones, especially one that had enough holos spread around for this woman to expect him to know what the clones in question look like.

"The... the clone war," she says hesitantly. "With the Separatists?"

None of that means anything to him.

It must show in his face, because her brow furrows, and her eyes go wide in a way he doesn't like. He can't tell if her skin's losing color or anything, but he's pretty sure the curl at the tip of one lek is a sign of anxiety. He's not sure how to help, but part of him already decided he liked this woman, just on the suspicion that she was friendly to Mandalorians.

(It's been a solid year and a half since Jango has had anything approaching a friend. He may be, subconsciously, a little desperate.)

"What's your name?" she asks, voice pitching in discomfort, and tight as a garotte.

"Jango Fett."

She closes her eyes, clenches her jaw, and... he can't see, can't know if she's trembling, but he thinks she is. She lets her head fall back against the wall, and breathes in sharply. It's a shaky breath, and he doesn't like that much, either.

"Fuck," she repeats. "No wonder--fuck."

He gives her a few seconds, but she doesn't elaborate. He asks another question instead. "Do I get to know your name?"

Her eyes crack open, and then she sits up straight and looks him over. Her lips purse, and she comes to some decision, though he's at a loss for what. "Call me Ashla. She/her, if you'd rather stick to Basic."

Fake name. Alright. She mentioned a bounty, so it's probably about that.

"Well met, Ashla."

She laughs, empty and painful. She swears in a mix of Huttese and Mando'a, and a few languages he doesn't even recognize. The Core accent on her Mando'a is strong, but he thinks whoever taught her might have been from Concord Dawn.

"How old are you, if you don't--"

"I'm twenty-one," she says. He was right; she's only two years younger than him. "At least... fuck, okay. What's the date?"

He tells her, and she screws up her brow and mouths something to herself. He's not entirely sure what.

"How long ago was..." she trails off.

"Was what?"

She presses a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what year it is."

Ah. Well, he can help with that much. He tells her that, too.

Ashla drops her hand. She visibly mulls it over, eyes on the underside of the bunk above her. He has no idea what she's thinking.

"Why aren't there other people in this room?"

"Weak ones couldn't sleep because I'm 'too intimidating,' and the rest kept trying to throw their weight around." He shrugs at the look she points his way. "I'm not dumb enough to start a fight with a bomb around my neck, but I'm not letting someone knock me around so they can earn a reputation."

She purses her lips, but lets it lie. "You let me take you down, then?"

"You had the advantage of surprise," he says, and doesn't bother to list every other advantage. She's better fed than he is, has spent less time in spice-suffused air, was unconscious and resting while he was awake to keep an eye on her fever. He's got the feeling she already knows.

When she speaks again, it's low and in fluent Mando'a, heavily accented though it may be.

"You'd get out of here eventually," she tells him, eyes half shut. "But you'll get out faster with my help, Mand'alor."

His stomach twists.

----

"They are either very stupid, or very cheap," Ashla mutters a day later, when he's supposedly helping her change some bandages. It gives him the excuse of leaning in close.

"Probably the former," he says.

She grins, and then stiffens and hisses out a low breath as he pours some of the stolen whiskey over one of the burns. It's not a real disinfectant, but it's the best they've got at the moment. Jango still isn't sure how she managed to get it from the overseers without them noticing, but he's quickly gotten the gist that she's a fair shot sneakier than he is.

"What did they do?" he asks, and she huffs out a laugh.

"I need you to promise you won't try to kill me," she says, and he stills.

She seems to be waiting on his response. Great. "That's not an auspicious start, Ashla."

"Eh, I've survived more than my fair share of people trying to kill me. No offense, bro, but I could take you," she says.

She's probably right in their current circumstances. "Let's hear it."

"I left the Jedi Order when I was seventeen."

The whiskey bottle slips from his fingers.

An invisible hand catches it, and it settles quietly on the floor of their cell. No guards will come running. It's a damning sight, for him.

A Jedi.

A Jedi who--who left.

Jedi committed Galidraan, but she left three years before that, but she was--was--

She has her back to him, trusting.

Or just arrogant.

She phrased it that way on purpose, phrased it so he'd know she left before he--before--

"I was framed by my friend for a terrorist attack," she says, and he can't find his voice to tell her to stop talking. "And sentenced to death by a non-Jedi military tribunal for it. By the time they figured out I wasn't guilty, I'd already been kicked out."

He forces his hands to his knees, grips at the bones that are too close to the skin, and orders himself to breathe.

Ashla turns on the spot, blinks at him. "I'm telling you this because it's how we're going to get out."

"Your people killed mine."

"I wasn't a Jedi when Galidraan happened," she says. There's more she wants to say, he's sure, but she keeps the words locked behind her teeth. That might be a good thing.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

"Only for long enough to get out of here," she tells him. She shrugs, easy as anything. She's done this before, maybe. "Trust me, I have plenty of reasons to hate you, too, but I'm a little more concerned about getting this ship taken into custody, and having all the slaves freed."

"And you can just... make that happen."

"I told you, they're either stupid or skint," she says, with that same disarming grin. "I had lightsabers on me, and they kept them on the ship. They haven't drugged me since I woke up. They put me in normal cuffs, Jango."

He hates the way his name sounds on her tongue.

He hates the fact that he sees her plan already.

"You don't even need me," he points out, resisting the urge to try to kill her here and now. He doesn't have his armor. He doesn't have weapons. He's good, but she's got the Force and thighs that can crush a bantha skull.

"I'm not exactly... legit," she admits with a grimace. "Once you're back in Mandalorian space, you at least have an identity. People that will give you a place to stay. A chain code."

"And you don't."

She smiles, brittle. "Give me a week to scope out what I need and get us out of here, and maybe I'll explain."

A week. Fine.

And once they're out of here, and he has a blaster and a meal and a good night's sleep, he'll handle her.

----

He hates the fact that he likes her, still. People had already noticed, even just one day in. The first time someone notices he's giving Ashla the cold shoulder in the workroom, they joke at him about her not putting out. He's known her one day, and they think--

He stops the thought in its tracks.

Jango doesn't start fights here, but he is tempted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare," Ashla simpers, sweet as spun sugar. "I bite."

She smiles, every pearly white tooth on display. The fangs near glint in the light. She eyes the speaker, squeezes the tool in her hand. Her tendons strain, but the metal bends with a creak.

The overseer shouts for them to get back to work.

Jango steps closer to her, lets his elbows brush against hers, and glares off anyone that tries to get too close.

"I don't need protection," she mutters to him from the corner of her mouth.

"I keep my word," he replies, hating himself for it.

He said he'd have her back. He may hate what she is, but... she left the Order. She's not a Jedi anymore. If he thinks it enough, he can believe it.

----

There's always a camaraderie in shared suffering. Jango is aware of this, and he feels his fondness for Ashla grow against his better judgment. They're both slaves on a spice ship, and he can't change that. It makes him tolerate her more than he sensibly should.

She acts like a Mando soldier, sometimes. She's not at all like Haat Mando'ade, but she knows some of the jokes that Mandalorians grow up with. She walks like a woman used to beskar'gam. She knows a drinking song or two.

(They don't waste the whiskey. It's for injuries, not intoxication.)

"I had brothers, once," she tells him, late at night. "A lot of them. They had a Mandalorian parent, sort of, but he'd never seen fit to really... let them have the culture. I lost them all, mostly to slave chips, and a few to just normal deaths, but... I learned what I could about Mandalore, after, for their sake. In their memory."

It's not a terrible reason, he thinks.

"Irony for you to end up in chains, then," he mumbles, and she barks out a sharp laugh.

"Tradition, more like," she says, and explains before he can ask for her to keep talking. "My... teacher was born a slave, and I... have a suspicion he ended up back in chains after we lost contact. His teacher was enslaved at least twice that I know of."

"Shitty tradition," he says, because there's nothing else he can think of.

"Could be worse," she tells him. This time, she doesn't elaborate.

----

He likes her more than he should.

----

He likes her so, so, so much more than he should.

----

She steals datachips when nobody's looking, using the Force instead of her fingers. She wraps dismissal around her like a cloak to access computer terminals without anyone but Jango noticing. She slips spice into the drinks held by guards and overseers.

She moves through the ship like smoke, in the dim lights of the false night.

Someone notices. Someone always notices, in Jango's experience, but they have no idea who's doing it. They lock down the cells for the sleep cycle, turn down the temperature, leave all the slaves shivering in their beds.

He pulls Ashla into his cot without hesitation, fits their bodies together to conserve heat, and ignores the rest. They're both soldiers; there's no shame in survival for those like them. The lekku at her back drapes over his neck like a scarf, and he almost wants to laugh.

He's pathetic. His men would be so damn disappointed in him, sharing bunk with a Jedi.

"You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, shifting somehow closer. The chill clings, creeping in through the thin clothes and thinner blanket, but he feels like it's bearable with Ashla here.

----

When they enact the plan, it's so much quieter than Jango would have run it. Ashla holds his hands in the early morning, before anyone is awake, and smiles. When she closes her eyes, sinking into a light meditation, the collar around her neck just... comes apart. Nuts and bolts and curves of metal float about her like a wretched parody of the mobile hanging above an infant's crib, and then land quietly on the nearest cot. When she opens her eyes, hazy and distant, she looks at his throat, and frees him with a thought.

It's a heady thing, freedom.

"Come along, Fett," she goads, almost crooning the words, backing out of the cell with his hands in hers. Nobody is awake yet, or at least they shouldn't be. Her words curl in the air like something cloyingly too-sweet, and he's sure it's her way of trying to piss him off. It's only working a little. "We've work to do."

Said work involves slipping past guards with a Jedi's timing, commanding them to sleep with a whisper and a poke to the forehead, and drugging the ones that she claims are resistant to Jedi tricks. The work is, as such, mostly hers to do. They hide the bodies, but the alarm goes off by the time they get to the weapons locker.

That's fine, because the weapons locker is where they were headed.

"Oh, hell yes," she hisses through a grit-tooth grin, and a matched pair of lightsabers float to her. Jango turns off the energy field by the time they reach her, and she hooks them onto her belt. Beskar plating follows, exactly the pieces that Jango had guessed from wear and tear. It's real beskar, too, not even an alloy, and Jango doesn't ask the questions on the tip of his tongue. She straps it on in practiced movements, without hesitation and almost without thought.

"See anything better than what you got off the guards?" she asks him. "Or did they all take the best blasters for themselves?"

"The latter," he says.

(His eyes trace over the armor she wears, and while she does wear it well... he's jealous.)

(He misses his armor.)

(Envy is unbecoming of anyone, but he thinks he can be afforded a little leeway.)

There are people in the hall by the time they exit, a dozen blasters at the ready.

The people in the hall are... not a problem.

Ashla had called it the Sword and Shield maneuver, when walking him through her experiences working in a Mando/Jetii team. He'd laughed, because the saber was the shield. She'd smiled at him, and he'd cursed himself for it.

If he'd had his armor, they'd have been able to move forward as a pair of unstoppable monsters. As it stands, they're... still doing that, really, just a tad slower.

"You're a Jedi!" one of them shouts. "You're supposed to be diplomats! You're not supposed to kill!"

Jango could laugh at that horrible, horrible lie.

"I am no Jedi," Ashla says, and the words cut through the air like something she's said a million times, and will say a million more.

Jango could do a lot with that line, tucked away in his memories for later.

There's a moment, though, where they're stuck at one end of a hallway, and the door to the bridge is just on the other side, and Ashla grins at him, a challenge in every inch of her body, and asks, "You wanna see something cool?"

He can't help it.

"You planning to show off, Jedi?" He can say the word without flinching, and it's... absurd. It's absurd. What in all the hells is she doing to him?

(He's been told that war makes for strange bedfellows, but he's long known that trauma does the same.)

He takes cover when she moves, and oh, does she move.

Ashla's a whirlwind, dangerous as anything and beautiful in her careful, precise violence. She knocks people out, more often than not, but there's more then one dead body left in her wake. It appeals to something in him. She flips and twists and throws people with the Force. She slices and kicks, and smacks people across the face with the blasters she lifts of their comrades. She headbutts at least two people, and then jumps to bounce off the ceiling and back down so she can land feet first on an enemy.

He hopes he'll get his common sense back when he's had time to put himself together, because the sight of those sabers doesn't make him flinch. After all he's been through, after all his nightmares, it really should. The sound alone should have him shivery and shooting.

Maybe there's just too much spice in the air.

A head drops to the floor in a different direction from the body it had previously been attached to. Jango's throat goes dry in response.

When Ashla stands at the end of the hall, a saber in each hand and the floor behind her littered in both bodies breathing and bodies bereft of life, she looks back at him over her shoulder. She deactivates her swords, and smirks. She's smug, and she makes smug look very, very good.

"So," she says. "Verdict?"

Fuck.

----

The bridge is easy enough to handle. They land the ship on a Republic planet, one with relevant authorities and at least some reputation for actually handling things with a degree of kindness and transparency. Ashla does the talking, letting Jango lurk behind her. She lies.

"Half-truths," she later tells him, in a low voice. The smile she wears is amused and self-assured, just a twist at the corner, and the slightest of pouts. He can't see it, when she leans in to murmur in his ear. "I certainly used to be a Jedi. They don't need to know this wasn't an officially-sanctioned infiltration."

Her breath hits lightly against his ear, and he wants--he wants--

"Have a comm code for any old friends?" Ashla asks, stepping away. Her face twists unpleasantly. Frustration, he's sure. "I've got credits, but no contacts."

He eyes the little pack she's got around her waist. "Stole that from the slavers?"

"We'll consider it payment for services rendered," she tells him, with an impish grin Jango wants to kiss off of her face, because apparently he's kriffing suicidal and wants to bed a Jedi. "I'll give you most of it, if you want. Call it the two years of backpay they owed you."

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Just one year, sorry."

"Oh, it's hazard pay," she insists, blinking innocently. "Dangerous conditions having been what they were, of course."

She presses a comm--probably also stolen--and a few credits into his hand, then loops her arm through his. She sets off at a lazy walk, ignoring the people who stare at them with distaste and disgust. "We'll find a hotel. We'll shower, with real water, and fancy soaps, and a little sonic just for the clothes. I'll run out and get you a basic outfit, and then we can go shopping, and once that's done, and you've had a chance to comm a companion, we can reunite you with your buddies, and you can go hunting for your armor, and I'll split and--"

"Stay."

She tilts her head at him, though she doesn't stop walking, and he feels his face burn. He hopes it's not visible. She hums lowly. He can't learn anything from it. "You hate Jedi, though, and I might not really be one anymore, but I'm still more Jedi than not."

"You wear beskar and speak Mando'a," he says. "You helped the Mand'alor. You're halfway to being one of mine already."

"One of yours, huh?" she mutters, eyes somewhere distant. He doesn't know what it is that she's seeing, but he's gotten used to it. "Alright, let's have this conversation again after you've had some sleep and clothes and a good meal, yeah?"

He can take that compromise.

----

"What do you mean, you're from the future?!"

[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.5)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 4344

Episode: five

Warning: violence, nudity, needles, descriptions of injury

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Four

Time: unknown

Date: unknown

You knew they had full control over you. There was nothing you could do even though you were conscious all the time, your body did what they wanted but your brain screamed against it. There were times where they’d ask you to do the impossible, they’d make you climb the tallest tree in the forest that surrounded the building and then make you jump down without anything to catch you, you’d land and your ankle would break; the worst was when they told you to break it back in place. 

It was like you were sat in a large chair as you watched your life unfold in the cell, your wrists were strapped to this imaginary chair so you couldn’t reach out to block the punch, ankles were clasped so you couldn’t run away. You never became lucid, it was always you watching through the shell of your body. Crying yourself to sleep wasn’t an option, you weren’t allowed to cry, or laugh, or scream, or smile; you were dead on the outside. The feeling of control was so close but yet so far away. 

There was a moment, just a moment. More I.C.E. had just been injected as you hung from the cuff restraints, you swung lightly as you dangled there. The cell door closed and the silence you were left with was getting louder by the second, your brain starting to pound like it always did and right at the back of your head near the bottom began to pulse, like you were being stabbed. The pain, hunger, exhaustion built up until that one moment, your eyes were slowly closing but as they closed you could see something right in front of you, something was moving. You couldn’t reach out to touch it because you were chained but as you crossed your eyes all you saw was a little black thing slightly swinging with you. 

It was the tip of your nose. 

Your fingers had also begun to blacken, it was about to hit your first knuckle. 

That was when you let the control fully go to the I.C.E. flowing in your veins, the power to keep yourself above water was only getting more and more tiring. No one had tried to save you so they probably were never going to come. Part of you thought Bucky would be there in less than a day, he’d break walls and towers for you, but it might have just been words to make you think he loved you, just sounds put together as a fake. 

Time: 6:10am

Date: October 3rd 2024

“Darling, It’s me, It’s Bucky, you’re safe now.” Bucky spoke softly, he flickered between your eyes and nose. You didn’t say anything, just looked right through him. “I will not fight you, but we need to get out of here, we have to go.” He urged, right when he finished talking you stepped forward, he was shocked to see you move, it was rigid and robotic. “Baby, explain what’s going on, please baby?” Bucky stepped forward and reached out, his hand lightly touched your shoulder but he studied your face as he did so. Your nose would have scrunched up but with the lack of that it was just your eyebrows that pulled together. Bucky looked around the room to try and find any sign of how to get you out of your trance; the papers he flicked through were now getting thoroughly read through. All you did was stare at him, waiting for a command. 

“Bucky, it’s all clear down here, some got away though,” Steve breathed heavily as he spoke through the coms. “There's this guy who looked to be the head and he got away, didn’t get a good look at him.” 

Bucky turned to you, “who’s the leader here?”

“No one gave their name.” You answer quickly. 

“What did he look like?” Bucky left the papers and walked to you, he grabbed a lab coat on the way to cover your scared and naked body. 

“Slick black hair. Black eyes. Heart shaped face. No facial hair. Slit through his left eyebrow. Hydra ring on his finger.” Your eyes closed as you computed the man who poured the ice water on you multiple times. “Height: six foot. Weight: around one eighty. Scars, markings, tattoos: none.” Bucky watched you in shock, “any other specifics, James?” 

“N-no, well done.” He nodded and threw the coat around you, “we’re going to leave now, okay?” Bucky took your hand and led you toward the door. 

Your feet tread silently while Bucky’s combat boots echoed three times down the grey hallway, it scared you every time he’d step. With every loud sound came a hard punch, it was a way for you to brace yourself when they’d catch you talking about your past life. As you walked closer to the doors your fingers found their way to the walls, still grey like the floor but clean, the floor was covered in dead bodies and blood from the invasion. 

The doctors and agents you knew were slumped over against the wall or splayed out in the middle of the hallways, some people’s blood had congealed while others still created a larger pool around the Hydra operatives. The smell of death didn’t read on your face but it did on Bucky’s, the smell of the inside of your cell just carried out here it seemed like. You were unaware of your smell, part of you thought it was the lack of nose but the other knew it was the lack of fresh air and being surrounded by copious amounts of blood. 

“Where to, Sergeant Barnes?” the feeling of someone holding your hand was foreign, his thumb kept swiping back and forth.

“Call me Bucky,” he looked back with sorrow in his eyes. You stopped walking and lowered your head, “what are you doing?” he asked. 

“Waiting for punishment,” you spoke softly, knowing they went easier on you if you knew you messed up. There’d be times where you’d push your luck and stare them down but once you grew tired of being tough you head would bow and you waited for the strike, it was now a reaction to any type of dissatisfactory.

“No, no punishment anymore,” his eyes filled with tears and he brought you under his arms, his lips kissed the crown of your head as he opened the doors. He kept you under his arm as he opened them, metal arm gripping right on your forearm. 

The sun was barely meeting the surface and yet you had to squint to adjust, everything had a hue of red. The grass felt foreign under your bare feet as you stepped off the tiles and into nature, your toes gripped the leaves and grass as they walked. Your lungs felt like they were about to explode with the intake of fresh air, your nose could still work but it was slightly harder to breathe, the cool wind blew into your mouth and gripped the back of your throat which made you double over to the cough. Your knee popped out of the front slit on the closed lab coat, you were used to feeling naked and vulnerable; Bucky was the one to close it again. 

Steve, Wanda, and Nat all stood by the jet.

Wanda screamed your name and ran up to you, her arms pulled you into a tight hug but you curled in and waited for the strike. She pulled away and the feeling of rigidness, “y/n?” She questioned, her hand coming to cup your cheek but you stepped back and held your hand up for protection. Wanda brought her hands into her chest, she looked between Bucky and you but Bucky just shook his head with a few tear tracks present on his face; Wanda was beginning to develop her own after she looked back at you before turning away. 

You didn’t really know why everyone was crying, “Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximof.” your head slightly bowed, you looked over her to see the others behind her shoulder, “Captain Steve Rogers and Natasha Rominoff, a pleasure.” Their faces seemed worried and Nat looked disgusted, she brought her hand to cover her mouth as she walked up the steps to the jet. 

Wanda got your attention again, “hello, we’re going to take you home, alright?” Wanda took your hand, “do you remember me?” 

“From?” was all you said as you made it into the jet. Wanda covered sob with her hand as she turned away from you to sit beside Nat, she was also crying.

Steve didn’t even look at you, he walked straight to Bucky. Steve caught him right as Bucky’s knees were buckling, Bucky caught onto Steve and they both slowly made it to the ground. It seemed like they guided each other, both holding onto one another for dear life. It was a common understanding, grief was written on both of them. 

“She’s fucking gone, Steve!” Bucky cried into Steve’s uniform, the blue turning navy with the tears. “She called me James! She doesn’t know who I am, I can't- I don know- what did they-”

“Bucky, it’s alright,” Steve calmed him as Bucky began to hyperventilate, “we’re going to get her back, I promise.” Steve gripped onto Bucky’s shoulders and they both stood, a little wobbly but both were extremely tired and light headed. “I’ll handle everything,” they walked to the jet, “just be there for her and I figure everything else out, alright?” Steve made Bucky look at him. 

“Sure…” was all Bucky could muster. 

They all made it to the jet, you were placed in a room off to the right. Bucky went right in there to see you curled on the ground when there was an examination table in the middle of the room, he kneeled beside you and ghosted a hand down your shin to try and get your attention. 

“It’s Bucky, let’s sit up on the table, okay?” Bucky eased but you didn’t move, his eyes closed as he fought with himself. He didn’t want to abuse your injected substance, but he really needed you on the exam table to check your wounds. “On the exam table.” he didn’t speak harshly or yell, it was just Bucky’s normal tone. 

You shot up instantly and sat on the edge of the table, your legs hung off it and the lab coat was forgotten, it was still around you but it seemed you were told to be naked so often it became second nature. Bucky turned toward you and stood between your legs so he could get a good look at you, he could tell you were staring deep into his eyes, he didn’t want to look in yours yet, he wanted to look you deep in the eyes and have you pull him in for a kiss, maybe it was selfish but he needed it. 

“I’m going to do something called a head-to-toe check,” he informed but he knew you knew what this was. He slipped on the disposable gloves, “I know you have cuts and scars but I need to find active bleeding first, alright?” Bucky held up his hands to show nothing was on the gloves. “Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Nothing is-”

“That’s an order.” Bucky added, “I’m commanding you to tell me if you don’t want me touching somewhere,” he knew he had checked you, there might be a way you could find a loophole in his command and get him further from a checkmate but he was making progress. 

His hands gently tapped all around you, he was asking questions as he did so but you didn’t answer any of them. You were now looking straight forward, when Bucky looked to your face for any sign of his girl you’d give no hints or answer. His hands worked down to your chest, he hesitated over your breasts but you gave no indication that you were uncomfortable, when he looked for bumps, bruises, or blood he didn’t find much, just scratch marks that looked old. He did the same when he hit your waist, not a lot of touching but looking, it wasn’t thorough but he knew you wouldn’t say anything and he might trigger you again. 

His gloves weren’t picking up much, most cuts were partly healed and the bruises were very noticeable. Part of a head-to-toe check is seeing how the victim reacts to the pressure, if you tap their stomach and they flinch it could be internal bleeding or a broken rib, but you weren’t giving any sign of hurt. He knew you could feel the broken bones and the bruises but you would never tell him in the mindset you’re in. he watched for little twitches in the eye or some type of pull away from him wherever he touched, Bucky wanted to reach in and find your brain so that you could tell him what hurts; he wanted to help you so bad. 

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” Bucky asked as he picked up your left leg, turning and examining it. He found a deep red mark on the edge of a purple bruise on your ankle, there was the exact same one on the other and on your wrists. He pushed away your hair and moved the lab coat back to find a massive bruise with cuts all around your neck, it was impeccable your vocal chords weren’t fried after being put in that cuff contraption. 

“Gone from where?” you asked robotically, you didn’t even look at him. 

Bucky was taken back by your answer, he stumbled with his hands as he switched legs. “F-from home, y/n. Shield, home?” 

“Hydra is my home, it was where I was created.” your head turned to allow your eyes to lock with Bucky’s. 

Part of him wanted to scream and shake your head so hard it might knock a memory back in place, he wanted to tell you of your story and how you both grew. Bucky wanted to tell you about the drawings you do with Steve or the boxing in the early mornings, he wanted to overflow you with emotions but he knew they’d hit a brick wall. 

Bucky finished his exam but he needed to keep you for himself for a little longer, he pretended to check your pupils and pulse three more times but all he wanted was to feel the warmth of your skin. His eyes would catch the tip of your nose swinging as he moved you slightly, he had an entire set of questions just for that. But he just kept looking at you for no reason. He’d ask if you’re cold and you’d say no, he’d ask if you were hungry and you’d say no. he’d ask if you were thirsty, you’d say no. 

So he stopped asking, “drink this water.” He pulled the little water bottle from the back of his belt loop, the little tear drop shaped bottle fit perfectly in her hands. 

You grasped the frosted bottle, it seemed familiar to you. You never got water in your cell, you’d have to suck on the floor after the doctor left; they’d always wake you up by dumping ice water on your head. Calloused fingers gripped and felt the bottle, something was happening in your brain that you couldn't quite understand, you were feeling something deep within you. 

“Drink.” Bucky said again. 

“Wait,” you whispered, all you saw was black form shutting your eyes so tight. You didn’t see Bucky’s face as he waited to see if this water bottle would trigger something from right before you were taken, this was the water bottle you had introduced to the group. 

A picture was unfolding in your head, it was a big room with people all around. There was a couch that some were sitting on while one stood in front of them, the one standing was smiling. The people on the couch were leaned in to listen, some held their chin in their hand as they too, were also smiling. The little bottle of water you were holding was also in this picture, the one standing seemed to be presenting it like a game show host, showing it off as if it was new. The picture began to move and the people standing took a seat next to another person, they cuddled close and began whispering to each other with iggles in between. A pen made its way across the couch and ended up at the two who looked like a couple, one wrote a heart next to their name while the other did it normally. 

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the pop, you were squeezing the bottle so hard it exploded. Your eyes frantically searched around and when they landed on the other set of eyes in the room you lunged for a hug. 

“Bucky!” you screamed, “thank you!” You wrapped your arms around him so tight. Bucky hesitated before clinging to you like a life source, “I thought it would’ve taken you longer,” you sighed into his touch. 

“We left you there for too long,” Bucky whispered, his face his deep in your neck.

You pulled away with tears in your eyes, you looked to him but he kept looking down, “is there something on my nose?” you asked, Bucky was looking between your eyes and nose. Your finger went to touch but pulled away at the feeling of something dangling, “what is that?” you screamed and felt it again. 

“It’s the injection side effect, I think.” Bucky added he felt around your face to try and see if you were actually real or if this was some sick joke Wanda was playing on him. 

“What injection? They just took my blood once so far,” you shrugged and felt the back on your head, “there was a scab there before, it hurts like crazy, like a pulsing thing.'' You brought your other hand back to try and find that scab you felt what seemed like hours ago. Your hair felt dirtier than the last time you remembered, it was one big clump when you moved it.

“Sit down.” Bucky said, you moved back on the seat without a second thought.

With wide eyes you looked up to Bucky, “I didn’t want to sit...Bucky what did you do?” you asked, it looked like you were glued there as you tried to get off. 

“What day is it?” Bucky asked cautiously, his hands coming back to cup your face. 

“September twenty third, I didn’t hit my head it’s not a con-”

“It's October third.” Bucky breathed out, “oh my god…” he whispered and pulled you into another hug, he gently rubbed your back as you stayed rigid in his hold. 

The plane began to drop and Bucky knew it was just landing but with everything rushing against you like a title wave it felt like the plane was crashing. Bucky held you tight as you slashed around in his grip, pleads to any higher power you could think of to keep you alive didn’t seem to work. The plane froze and you stayed gripped to Bucky, he brought you out of the medical room. The three others just looked at you, not wanting to get their hopes up. But when you ran over to them and asked what day it was they seemed to be more disappointed, they just pulled you in for a hug and tried to calm you down like Bucky did. 

All at once medical staff open the jet doors, people rushing to you and you. Bucky was trying to cut through the crowd to get to you but medical staff were getting in the way and holding him back, he could see your frantic search for him. 

“You’re gonna trigger her, s-stop, this isn’t-”

A medical staff member flew back and knocked a few others over, everyone began to calm down and slow their moments. You were right over the person you pushed trying to help them up, apologizing profusely, they kept moving back and away from you. 

“Y-you were holding a needle, I’m sorry.” you eased. 

“Sedate her!” another yelled. 

You ran down and out of the jet to try and get away from the many needles that, what seemed like, every medical member was holding. There was just noise surrounding you, vision began to tunnel right when the pounding in your ears began, at the back of your head there seemed to be a knife stabbing you. 

“Get a gurney!” the voice cut through the shouts and chasing. 

Everything stopped and you froze from your worried state to complete your mission, someone ordered you to find a gurney, you must complete it. There was one waiting outside, you walked over with your back straight and your chin up. There was no need to look behind you shoulder but you did so anyway to make sure no threats were also in need of the gurney, everyone behind you was just still and watched you. This must be a test, after that realization you did everything quickly and efficiently to avoid punishment. 

When you brought the gurney to the voice who shouted it they told you to get on as well, Bucky was by your side and offering an arm to help get on but you didn’t take it. People were shouting orders to one another and you kept trying to get up to fulfill the command but Bucky kept holding you down. Some medical staff were trying to shove him away but he stood his ground and kept a hand holding you.

“Why do I keep wanting to do all these things?” you frantically aske as you tried to stand again.

“I’ll explain later, don’t worry,” he squeezed your hand as you made it into your exam room. Hands felt all around you, the lab coat was long forgotten so you sat on the table naked. Bucky was right against the wall and kept an eye on you, though your brain was next to scrambled eggs he could still read you like a book.

“We need to take some blood, might also need to give something to sedate her.” it was, what looked like, the head of this team that spoke.

Another picture flashed before your eyes. The needles and this blue liquid that went into you. Bucky had told you something called ‘ice’ but you didn’t know what that meant. Blood would be taken from you then without you looking, they would stick whatever serum Bucky was talking about in your arm. Voices and sounds rushed into your head as these pictures moved and changed to show that you weren’t there for as long as you thought you were, in your mind a different doctor repeated the same motions over and over and over again. You were covered in water and somebody was talking over you from inside of the cell, their voice seemed as though they too were underwater so you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but one part stood out. They were saying how they did this all without you noticing, how you were too confident, how you were strong and yet you’d look away from the needles when they were stuck into your arm. 

All of these people who you failed to remember that were surrounding you now, all had needles and some had already taken your blood, but you were going to be cautious now, you were going to be aware because you didn’t want to forget everything again. Before anyone could stick anything else in you, your arms flew out to the side and gripped as many syringes as you could, they were smashed to the ground and the clear liquid spilled and dripped on the floor. People were beginning to hold you down but you broke free from their dead grass pushing away the velcro straps that were about to go around your ankles and wrists.

Someone managed to get a strap on your left ankle without you noticing, that sensation of being cuffed made another picture float in your mind. It was a large metal contraption with silver Cuban links and five cuffs, two around your wrists, two around your ankles, and the final one went around your neck. Once they were all attached to you, you were suspended in the air as your entire body weight was being held up by your limbs and neck, even though only one bound was attached to you now, you could still feel the weight of all of it crashing back onto you. 

With one large tug the Velcro cuff snapped, you tried to get up and off the table to run to Bucky, he was the only one left in the room that you knew and trusted. He was also trying to make his way to you simultaneously, reading the fear etched deep into your eyes. No medical staff was trying to hold him back so he ripped through all of them and got to you quickly, you couldn’t really hear what he was saying because the pounding in your head that was pinpointed right at the back of your neck was starting to pound into your ears. But you could make out his lips that were moving, you can remember faintly kissing them, the feeling was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite make out what it really felt like. He was telling you it was going to be okay, at one point he said that you could sleep now and that he’d be there when you wake up, you really didn’t want to trust him but you were so tired and your head hurt so bad.

You didn’t even see or feel the syringe plunge deep into the crook of your neck as he held your face and made your eyes look right into his.

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor 

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[cloudytamaki]

bnha » making out drabbles

warnings. implied sexual themes, cussing genre. fluff, lime juice (mostly in bakugo & denki’s) companion piece. making out hcs (read the hcs first!!) author’s notes. i was in a good mood while writing this at 10:30 pm.. i was watching funny scenes from Mrs. Doubtfire 😭 characters are all 18+. enjoy <3

KATSUKI BAKUGO.

“F – Katsuki...” Your fingers pressed into the taut and sticky skin of Katsuki’s shoulders as your head dropped back, eyes shut tightly. Your teeth clenched when he nipped your neck, a brief but delicious burning sensation accompanied with the bite.

Your back hit the closet wall as your hips ground against his, your crushing kiss muffling his pleasured groan. His hands slipped up your shirt, his calloused fingers caressing your hips. The air was thick and warm, the air circulation not good at all.

You barely registered the indistinct chatter coming from outside the closet, all your energy focused on just your boyfriend. He bit your bottom lip and you moaned helplessly into his mouth, his lips already making you come undone.

Another provoking buck of your hips and your lips were catching another one of his groans, the vibrations sending electricity down your spine. Suddenly a gust of cool air hit your sweaty body, the sound of laughter invading your eardrums.

Your eyes widened and your already cerise cheeks became darker in embarrassment. Katsuki backed away and completely moved off of you, his own skin burning with rage. You noticed a panicked and flushed Kirishima, who had his hand over his mouth as he backed away.

“You damn extras!” Katsuki was ready to throw hands, tiny sparks jumping off his fingers. He leapt forward, his yells echoed by the hallway. “I’ll kill you all!”

SHOTO TODOROKI.

“I love you, Sho,” you sighed into Shoto’s lips, your arms lazily hung around his neck, his chest so close to yours you could hear his heartbeat.

“Y/N... I love you too.” Even though it was dark, you could make out a small smile on his lips, obviously content with the current situation. You and your boyfriend Shoto were in a dorm bathroom, gently kissing as you hugged, talking about miscellaneous things such as schoolwork and food.

He gently nibbled on your lower lip, eliciting a soft chuckle from you. “Hey, where’d you—”

The door was thrown open, a shriek accompanying the intrusion. Before you knew it you were torn away from Shoto’s lips and now behind him as he glared at the person who ruined the soft moment. 

Denki Kaminari.

Wicked laughter resonated throughout the bathroom as the light turned on, pretty much blinding you and your boyfriend.

“Kaminari—!” You were about to strangle him when he saluted you and took off, no doubt to tell the rest of the class. Shoto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Y/N – we need to lock the door next time.”

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA.

“Mmff – hnmm...” You kept your moans in as Eijirou’s soft lips pressed to your own, his body curved over you. He released a tiny groan when you pushed yourself close to him, your midsection barely brushing against his own. You separated the kiss, his warm lips immediately leaving your own as you pulled away.

“So, you were just coming out here to get snacks?” You asked breathlessly, your voice teasing as your cheeks practically glowed pink. Eijirou chuckled nervously, his hand at the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his.

“Yes?”

“At one am?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, a pink blush forming on Eijirou’s cheeks. “So how did this happen?” You gestured in between yourself and Eijirou, your bodies merely inches apart.

“I dunno,” he shrugged with an awkward smile, “It just did?”

“You dummy.” You shook your head in amusement, eyes twinkling as you made eye contact with his gentle crimson orbs. “I love y—”

“Holy shit. Kirishima? L/N?!”

Your eyes widened as you whirled around, your gaze locking on the last person you wanted to see. Son of a bitch, what luck. Eijirou’s eyes were wide as he stumbled back to focus on the grape boy.

“Woah, did you smash yet?” The words that left the boy’s lips were extremely embarrassing, making you recoil in disgust.

“No! I – I, um...” Eijirou tried to answer but couldn’t, his voice fading as Mineta kept his stare locked on him.

“Did you touch her boobs?” You crossed your arms over your chest, biting your lip as you looked down. You were a bit self conscious about your chest, and did not like when others used slang for your body. They were breasts, not boobs.

Eijirou noticed your discomfort, stepping forward menacingly. “Leave us alone.”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to his room, sitting you down on his bed.

“I’m sorry that happened, Y/N.”

“I-it’s okay,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips at his kindness. “It wasn’t your fault.”

TAMAKI AMAJIKI.

“Y/N...” Tamaki whispered, a whimper leaving his lips as you kissed the shell of his ear, your teeth gently grazing over the warm skin. His lips trembled and his eyes squeezed shut as you began to gently pinch the epidermis of pointed ears.

You pulled away from his ears, peppering his face with kisses as you hugged him tightly. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A soft sound left his lips as he embraced you, burying his face into the crook of you neck, his lips rolling against your skin.

“Bunny... I love you too – I love you so much.”

You swayed with him in your arms, slowly moving your hips to an imaginary song, as if you were rocking a baby. He lifted his head, raising himself up to you to give you a kiss. His lips connected with yours for a brief second, a lovely feeling rushing through you at the feeling.

The door was opened and a familiar blue haired girl walked in, but before Nejire could speak, Tamaki yelped and bounded right off of you, launching himself backwards. He fell right off the bed, hitting the floor with an ‘oof’. 

“Tamaki!” You leaned over the edge of the bed, extending your hand to the blushing ravenette, his cheeks a light red as he grabbed your hand and got himself back onto the bed.

“Hi, Hado!” You greeted her, acting as if nothing had happened.

“What’re you guys doing?” Her voice was curious, questioning your actions.

“We were—” You racked your brain for answers, finally coming up with one, “Just studying. We were just studying.”

Her blue eyes sparkled even when she raised an eyebrow, obviously detecting your lie. Tamaki suddenly spoke, knowing she understood what was going on minutes ago.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he begged, not wanting to endure questions or teasing.

“I won’t, Amajiki! It’s fine!” she reassured him, grinning as he released a soft sigh or relief. She waved to you, and exited the room, closing the door behind her.

DENKI KAMINARI.

“Shh! Denki, it’s eleven o’clock! We can’t make any noise—” The golden blonde cut you off, gently pressing his fingers into your hips, sending a shock of electricity into your bones.

You were straddling his waist, his back was on the couch and you were above him. Denki kept shocking you with his quirk, snickering at your reactions. You didn’t react to his electricity that time, continuing to scold him. 

“Everyone’s asleep, it’s almost mid—”

He reached up, cupping your face as he lowered it a few inches, then brought his own lips to yours. Denki didn’t even bother to lick your lips, and opted to pry your mouth open so he could get his tongue inside, and with another shock to your hips, it did work.

Your lips parted for just a second, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue in. The muscles tangled with each other, all concern forgotten. He carried the faint taste of mint toothpaste on his tongue from earlier, his lips soft and warm.

Sparks exploded in your stomach, and they weren’t from Denki’s fingers. Feeling the urge to make this makeout session more, you roughly ground your hips against his without any warning.

You felt him push back against you, his lower region making you aware of his arousal. Another grind and he was moaning into your mouth; you took the initiative to nip at his lips, your bites sudden and sharp.

He pulled away for just a second to catch a breath of air before he slammed his lips onto yours again, leaning up as his arms wrapped around you. Now he bucked his hips hard into yours, your breath hitching in your throat as his bulge pressed against your core.

 “F – fuck, Denki...” The sound of your vulnerable voice was driving him, your moans music to his ears. His hands slid down your back, slowly finding their way under your shirt, leaving butterfly touches on different parts of skin.

He began to slide your nightshorts down, slowly and tantalizingly, knowing it would make you crazy. Sweat dripped down his forehead, an unbearable heat pooling between your thighs. Unable to take his teasing, you slammed your hips onto his, a loud groan leaving his lips as his clothed crotch began to poke at your center.

You heard a door slam in the distance, disregarding it as you fully focused on your boyfriend, his mouth open as he released numerous moans, most of them louder than they should be.

“What the fuck!” A loud voice startled you, your head almost knocking with Denki’s as you yanked your half down nightshorts up. “Are you two seriously getting down on the couch?!”

Bakugo was screaming at you, his voice rising as he fired questions at you... er, mostly Denki. You heard rushed footsteps down the hall and suddenly Iida was out there, lecturing you about the dangers of fucking on the couch.

“—As class rep, I simply cannot allow such frisky activities in these dorms! Especially on the couch, L/N, Kaminari! We use the couch, and it should not be disrespected in such a fashion!”

Iida’s exaggerated arm chops and loud voice drew the attention of other students, such as Kirishima, Mina, Todoroki, Midoriya, Mineta, and Tsu. They all watched with curious and smirking (some blank) faces, making you turn your head to Denki.

Who you were currently sitting on.

You gave him an oh fuck look as you moved off of him, excusing yourself to go and wallow in your embarrassment.

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi Hi!!!! So I've been following your account for a little while now and I love every single comedy bomb you drop on what you write so I was wondering....

How would the boys react to their S/O who is usually reserved when at the lair, doing a full 180 when at April's? Like they could be April's roommate or something?....

Like crackhead energy, dishing out memes and vines and literally having a duel with Casey about leftovers in the fridge?... Yeah I know it's very specific 💀

I don't know.....the idea just popped into my head but I lack the creativity and comedy skills for that...so I was wondering if you could do something with this?.....

It's totally fine, if not 😁😁

This is... 100% me. I love this and I'm gonna pour my soul into it. Also I have started mentally referring to these as comedy bombs and I refuse to stop.

Also, I hope you don't mind that I wrote these in oneshot form instead of bullet points. It just made more sense for my brain.

TMNT Oneshots

The boys with a partner whose reserved at the lair but an absolute crack gremlin at home 🤣

Donatello

Donnie may have been a man of science, all logic and facts and numbers and things. But he absolutely believed that everyone had three separate faces, you were direct proof of that theory. While the purple terrapin had known you for nearly a year you’d only started dating a month ago and it shocked him that he was still uncovering new things about you. He loved it, sure, but it had a tendency to give him figurative whiplash.

He’d always known you to be calm and collected, maybe even a bit shy. He swore you’d explode if more than one person tried to talk to you at the same time. So it wasn’t an over exaggeration for him to say that your behavior at home nearly made him break his neck.

He was only there to help April fix a bug in her laptop and to confirm your next date, he was excited to see you since you’d had no contact in person for a week because of your schedules. Just lots of phone calls and exchanged text messages. You both missed each other like crazy and your roommate had neglected to inform you that your boyfriend was coming over.

Hers was already there and he was driving you up the wall, you’d never actually thought about committing a murder but Casey was pushing you very close to the edge of snapping. And he might as well have crane-kicked you off your cliff of patience and into the rushing river of “you little fucking shit I’m gonna piss on your grave” below. You hadn’t even heard Donnie come in through the window much less his conversation with April over her computer.

All you knew was that Casey had come parading into your room like a tyrant eating the leftovers in the fridge that you had specifically put your name on. That did it. Your eyes had skimmed over the top of your textbook to meet the asshole in front of you.

“Casey?”

He couldn’t speak through the mouthful he was trying to chew and grunted in pathetic response.

“Is that my cheeseburger?”

You’d never seen a living person imitate a pug’s facial structure so well, the man’s eyes bugged out of his head and he tossed the takeout box on your desk before turning and bolting out of your room. You followed about two steps behind with a bottle of shampoo in your hand. No, you weren’t entirely sure where you’d grabbed it from, all you knew was that it was your weapon. And it quickly became a very messy problem when it missed your target (Casey’s head) and slammed into the wall, exploding on impact.

You didn’t think you’d thrown it that hard.

“April April help help help helpppppppppppppp-'' The two on the couch had looked up during the chase throughout the apartment, Donnie was mostly curious at what Casey was screaming about. Not a lot usually made the guy make that noise. He was then distracted by April grabbing the laptop and passing it to him, she then clambered over his legs to sit behind him.

“YOU UGLY ASS CROISSANT! FUCKING PANINI HEAD- IT HAD MY NAME ON IT YOU DAFT AVACADO!”

Your boyfriend almost went vertical upon watching you tackle Casey to the floor and knee him in the groin. You shook the terrified man under you and slammed him a little harder into the rug.

“Touch my shit again and I’m gonna make the beaches of Normandy look like a goddamn family vacation.”

Then you climbed off of him and stood, brushing your disheveled t-shirt off with a huff. Donnie caught your attention and you raised your head to grin excitedly at him.

“Hi Dove! April didn’t tell me you were coming over,” you practically skipped over to the couch to peck him on the cheek, “I missed ya, are we still on for Saturday?”

He nodded in complete shock, his gaze flitting from you to Casey, who was still wheezing on the floor and clutching his dick.

“Uhhh yeah! Yeah, yep, Still good for Saturday. Uhm, completely unrelated question, where the hell did you learn to grapple like that?”

You shrugged absentmindedly, already walking to the hall closet to grab cleaning supplies for the puddle of shampoo in the walkway.

“Just kinda picked it up I guess? I’ve watched you guys train enough.”

Leonardo

See, Leo had always known that you were hiding something from him. Be it your true personality or some deep dark secret. He wasn’t really in a rush to find out, you’d tell him when you were ready. The leader enjoyed your quiet disposition anyways, you gave good advice and liked to meditate with him, what more could he ask for? What more could he want?

Well, maybe if you got along better with his family, although he supposed that wasn’t your fault, you always had been a bit shy. Even six months into your relationship with him, Leo only hoped that you’d warm up to his brothers eventually. You seemed to do alright with Splinter, that was a plus for the situation. It wasn’t that you were mean or impolite to the others, you were just… avoidant. Distant, quiet, whatever word you wanted to use. You just didn’t seem comfortable at the lair.

He was excited that April had asked to host a game night though, maybe you’d come out of your shell (haha, see what I did there?) and socialize, even for a little bit. They’d all shown up a few minutes early to make sure April didn’t need help with anything, she’d assured them that everything was handled and made sure to inform Leo that you would be back shortly with Casey from your snack run. Mikey had joked that you’d ditched the get together to avoid them but they all knew it ran the possibility of not being a joke.

You unlocked the door and held it open so Casey could get inside without tripping himself before entering yourself and kicking your shoes off. Leo looked up to meet your eyes and you sent him a wild grin, your entire face lit up with amusement.

“Hi babes! Are you ready to get your ass kicked at Monopoly?”

All the poor turtle could do was nod.

“Good. I did grab drinks by the way, April there should be a mixer in the cooler bag, Donnie there’s some of that lemon lime stuff that you said you wanted to try, Mikey, orange crush as usual, Raph I tried to go for Dr. Pepper but they were out so I figured that root beer was a safe second. And Leo they had a new boba flavor that you haven’t had yet so I grabbed one. If you don’t like it then you can have mine, I just have the peach royal.”

Beverages were tossed and they were lucky that their surprise didn’t throw off their catching skills. You and April shared a quick word in the kitchen as you took your coat off and ran a hand through your hair.

After some arguments team captains were decided and Donnie nearly had a heart attack when you picked him instead of Leo or either of your friends. He even went so far as to point at himself to make sure you weren’t joking. You declared that while you loved your boyfriend his morals were too strong to be competitive, Donnie’s were not, he said so himself.

They were all surprised that you’d remembered that conversation.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game that things started getting heated, you and Mikey were nearly jumping across the table at each other. And it visibly took all of your strength to not burst out laughing when he started yelling.

"YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS IS CHEATING! YOU'RE CHEATING! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!"

April and Casey were snorting into their arms as you got to your feet and walked towards the kitchen, making a poor attempt at climbing the appliance.

"THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!"

Raphael

Raph had always been under the impression that you were never really 100% yourself around him, he knew for a fact that you weren’t when you stayed over. He’d never seen someone so aggressively avoid someone, except himself of course. You were his partner of almost a year and it seemed like you were never going to let your true self shine. However you did seem to lighten up when you were alone with him, he supposed that was normal, but you may as well have been a pair of old earbuds that only work when you held them a certain way at the lair.

He honestly hadn’t expected that to change tonight, not given the text that Casey had sent him informing him of April’s recent breakup with whatever guy she’d been dating. So when he climbed in through the window and saw both you and Casey sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom he really didn’t think that the words out of your mouth would be-

“April you’ve got another twenty minutes of this then I’m ripping the door off the hinges!”

Casey shot you a look and you shrugged nonchalantly before getting to your feet and walking over to your confused boyfriend.

“Hey, sorry about this. Casey only texted you as a last resort if he needed someone to stop me from tearing the door off.”

Raph found that peculiar, “Uh, couldn’t he do it himself?”

The man in question looked up from his spot on the floor.

“Nah dude, they’re crazy. Last time I tried stopping them from doing something they nearly knocked my damn tooth out while screaming, and I quote, “If you put your hands on me I’m gonna fucking rip your face off” and quite frankly I don’t have the balls to test that.”

“No no dude, that’s valid. I wouldn’t either. Babe, why are you so-”

You raised an eyebrow at him over a glass of water, “Violent? I’m not Raph. These two just have little bitch feelings.”

He found it hard not to laugh at that and fifteen minutes later when you left his side to approach the door again it sent him reeling.

“This shit’s temporary April. You’ve got nice teeth and a fat ass, stuff your feelings down!”

Michelangelo

There would never be a time where Mikey wasn’t a prankster with you, it was just simply non-negotiable. You were cool with that and he was aware, he was also aware that no pranks were to be pulled at the lair. So he’d reign it in while you visited, just for a short while. But you’d never said anything about the apartment and Mikey was a creature of opportunity.

Unfortunately Leo talked him out of it and forced him not to pull anything while they visited. The leader was already on edge so when he walked in with the others following closely behind you were the first person to see him. Your eyes caught Mikey’s instantly and you might as well have been telepathic at that moment. But you took one look at Leo’s solid, angry face and seized your moment.

They weren’t at all ready for the scream.

“GET YOUR FUCKIN’ DOG BITCH!”

And they also weren’t ready for Mikey’s response of, “It don’t bite.”

And Leo was not ready for the pillow that got whipped at his face at incredibly high speed.

“YES IT DO-”

So when Leo finally realized that they were yelling at him his mood did not improve at all and in fact declined sharply into a pit of “oh fuck”. And that was how you ended up on Mikey’s shoulder getting dragged away from any sort of repercussion for your actions.

These got a little short near the end but I hope you like 'em and I hope I was able to capture what you had in mind! 😁

-Mars 🌠

[xneens]

love me, hate me - part two

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Christmas comes around and Ransom wants you more than ever.

part one

"You're telling me you actually want to date this guy? The one who can't even make you cum?" you asked, licking the remaining frosting from your finger. You placed the messy bowl in the sink, watching your best friend trying—and failing—to get the egg shells out of the mixture.

Meg gave up, dumping the brownie batter down the sink with the water running, fed up with the shells. "Yeah, but sex isn't everything, you know. I don't know—it's just this guy isn't like my exes. He genuinely cares about my feelings, and doesn't control me. Besides, he made me cum a few times. He's nice."

With Mariah Carey's Christmas music playing in the background, the miniature Christmas tree on the table, and the snow falling, the Thrombey household felt festive. Although, the people bundled up and arguing in the next room—not so much. Yet, neither of you cared while you continued to work, helping Martha out, on the desserts. It wasn't going as well as planned, but you took it as a positive considering you hadn't started a fire. Yet.

"Ah, yes, nice. Can't relate. I'm currently attracted to assholes who have anger issues." you commented, passing Meg the flour once again. Your creation was in the oven, and all you hoped was that no one got food poisoning because of it. Even you couldn't live with the guilt of Ransom, or his touchy father, throwing up Christmas morning.

"Currently?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow, getting eggs out of the fridge for the hundredth time. She glanced at the direction of the door, the sound of it opening drawing both of your attention. "I'm pretty sure your daddy issues didn't just happen recently. Speaking of which, you may be the main reason Ransom decided to come back for Christmas instead chasing a model around."

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair while contemplating whether or not it's too late to ditch. While Ransom was hot, his spoiled attitude wasn't worth tolerating for a quick fuck. With sarcasm dripping, you sighed. "Oh, how wonderful. 'Cause, that's exactly what I need right now."

Meg chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, trying not get shells in the mixture again. She had held off on mixing the dry stuff, much to your dismay, but to her it made sense to get the hard part out of the way so it wouldn't fuck everything up. Your best friend had just finished cracking her last egg when Harlan walked into the kitchen, Ransom trailing a few feet behind him. The playboy's eyes immediately landed on you, yet you didn't meet his, too preoccupied with the phone in your hands.

Harlan's slight frown lifted into a smile, surveying how messy the kitchen had gotten. "My, my, I wasn't aware a cake had exploded in my kitchen."

Looking up, you grinned at the old man, the smile reaching your eyes until you saw who was behind him. Ignoring Ransom, you giggled at Harlan's remark. "You call it a mess, we call it baking."

"As long as you ladies are having fun." Harlan replied, patting your shoulder before heading off towards his office, too tired to deal with his dysfunctional family at the moment.

Ransom lingered, walking up to you, a smirk impended on his face. Yet, you refocused you're attention back on your phone while Meg left the room, her apron still attached to her. You didn't question her sudden disappearance, knowing she was just as annoyed at Ransom's presence. The man in question peeked over you shoulder to see your screen showing off another man's dick, the words right below it explicit.

His jaw clenched in jealousy. Much to his chagrin, the man's dick was just as big as his own. But, he kept the icy exterior up. "Would it be offensive to ask whether or not your baking will make me sick this evening?"

You scoffed without looking up, tapping out of the dick pic your previous hook up had sent. "Since when do you care if you're offensive or not? Who are you, and what have you done to Ransom Drysdale?"

Ransom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island while facing your annoyed expression. His smug behavior got under your skin, and the bastard was well aware. "Maybe all this Christmas spirit got into me. Or maybe I'm trying to be nice."

You raised an eyebrow, getting off your chair, rushing to the window, pretending to be looking for something. After a few seconds, Ransom's curiosity got the best of him and he joined you, looking for anything unusual outside. The snow-covered land showed nothing out of the ordinary, furthering Ransom's confusion.

"What are you looking at? I can't see anything." he said, squinting at the general direction you had look at.

Shrugging, you moved back to your seat, propping your elbows on the back of the chair, allowing a smug smirk lift your lips. "I thought pigs were flying. Ransom Drysdale isn't capable of being nice, yet alone say the word. I'm shocked hell hadn't freeze over. Yet."

The playboy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took your body in, wrapped in his favorite color, the dress hugging your curves. "What's a guy have to do to be taken seriously with you? You and I both know I can give you everything you want, and more."

"Are you trying to buy me right now?" you asked, half teasing, half annoyed. Ransom could not take a hint, and you hated the fact that he didn't back off despite the sarcasm and insults you threw his way.

"I'm trying to be nice but you're making it really hard." Ransom answered, his cockiness wearing off. He was growing frustrated the more you looked at him like he was a piece of trash. All you wanted him to be was nice, now that he was trying to be, you wouldn't believe his intentions, despite wanting to prove it to you.

Pursing your lips, you tapped your finger against the table, the acrylic nail making a clicking noise. "You wanna prove it? Fine. You've got til midnight tonight. If you're unable to change my mind, you have to buy me my spring break vacation, all the fees and expenses."

"And if I do change your mind..." Ransom smirked, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, earning a half-hearted glare. "... you have to go on a date with me."

Ransom nearly burst out laughing from your shocked expression, the genuine look of surprised slapped on your face with the words. You shut your hanging jaw, still not processing what he was saying. "Excuse me?"

"You have to go on a date with me if I convince you that I'm willing to change my, and I quote, 'bratty and douchebag ways.' An actual date where we sit down, eat dinner, talk about our feelings, and get drunk. Whatever happens, happens." Ransom purred, placing a finger on your bottom lip. You slapped his hand away, and his smirked grew. "Are you going to back out of this already, princess?"

It was your stubborn side that made agree, pressing your lips into a thin line, you grabbed Ransom's hand, shaking it. He raised an eyebrow while you sighed. "You're on. Hope you have enough money to pay for a lengthy trip. I plan on drinking every bottle of wine in Italy."

Despite your baking debacle, you left the kitchen, leaving Meg's monstrous creation on the counter along with Ransom. You went into the living room, trying to find the girl in question when you happened to stumble upon Richard. He barely got to say a word before you turned around, and left the pervert behind. It was always a puzzle how Ransom turned out so hot with Richard and Linda as parents.

Climbing the stairs, you heard the family arguing growing quieter with each step. The second floor was almost a safe haven considering Harlan didn't let anyone raise their voice in the upper level, making it the only quiet place in the house, safe from any Thrombey fights. It was a wonder how the family hadn't murdered each other yet; it was only a matter of time.

Unable to find Meg in your shared room, you sighed, patting your body to find your phone only to realize you left it in the kitchen. With Ransom.

"Looking for this?" Ransom held out your phone, coming up behind you. His usual smirk was gone, a small, genuine smile in its place. It made him look less arrogant.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You took your phone back, half expecting him to take it back just as you wrapped your fingers around it. But he didn't. You realized he was pulling out all the stops, all the little things that you found annoying was gone. He was acting. Eyes narrowing, you unlocked your phone, studying him. "Thanks. I think."

"Meg is helping the Brazilian maid." Ransom answered your silent question. Your thumb hovered her contact, going back to the home screen. Your eyebrows had risen by his mis-categorization of Martha's race and employment. "Pretty sure they went to the grocery store or something."

"Oh, okay." you replied lamely, putting your phone in your back pocket, the tight jeans making it nearly impossible. Opening the door to your room, you stepped in, not giving Ransom another look. But he followed inside, making you turn around. "Do you need something?"

Ransom stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cream-colored sweater shifting with the gesture. "You didn't exactly give me much time to prove myself. And looking around, we're all alone. I can't think of a better time."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The bet was a bit unfair considering how stubborn you were, and the amount of time he had to convince you. But it was a bit unsettling seeing Ransom try so hard, let alone being nice. You nodded, agreeing. "Fine, but can I change first? I'd rather not be covered in flour while you try to seduce me."

"You and I both know I wouldn't seduce you before dinner. There's no way in hell I'd treat you like the others." he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I'll be outside. Waiting. Take your time."

As soon as the door closed, you looked around the room to check if you were being pranked, expecting Ashton Kutcher to burst out of the closet along with a bunch of cameramen. After a few seconds, you came to the conclusion that Supernatural was in this universe, deciding "Ransom" was a shapeshifter or a demon possessed him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it off in one swift move, dropping it on the bed. Your jeans piling on top, allowing your legs to breathe. Despite Joni's hippie side, she had let Meg sneak in a few joints, the smell becoming stronger as you neared both your suitcases. You didn't think Harlan would be too please to have weed in his house, no matter how lenient he is.

You took your time, a little baffled by what to wear. Ransom hadn't exactly given you an agenda on his plans, leaving you to grab a clean pair of black jeans, and a classy, yet simple, red top. You looked decent enough to fit in a nice restaurant, but casual in case Ransom decided he wanted McDonald's, and most importantly: warm. If he wanted to take you to the North Pole, then he'd have to give you his cozy-looking sweater.

You opened the door, the sight of Ransom rocking on his heels greeting you. His back was to you, his hands inside his pockets as he looked out the window, frost crawling along the edges. It genuinely concerned you how much this man was acting; if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

Clearing your throat, you watched him jump in surprise, quickly turning to you. Raising an eyebrow, you tucked your phone in your pocket, meeting his warm, blue eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay." said Ransom, motioning for you to follow him. You walked down the stairs without a word, the air becoming thick as you walked behind him. The sweater did little to no good disguising his broad shoulders, the muscles somehow still visible under the clothing.

As soon as you reached the bottom, you glanced around, the Thrombey fighting becoming louder with each second. It wouldn't be long before one of them stormed out of the room, muttering a curse under their breath. You'd seen all of them do it at least once. You crossed your arms, wary of whatever Ransom was planning. "Be honest, you're not just going to drive me off to the middle of the woods and murder me, are you?"

Ransom chuckled, giving you a wink as he held his hand out. Without hesitation, you took it. "If I was planning to murder you, I wouldn't do it in the woods. If you're going to die, it's going to be epic."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel better." you sneered sarcastically, instantly rolling your eyes. In the back of your mind, you pondered how long it would take for your eyes to get stuck in your brain with the amount of times you rolled them at Ransom.

He led you towards the door, smirking. "You ready?"

"No. Let's go."

—

"Fuck, baby."

He spent a few moments just staring at your spread pussy, amazed and aching for you more than he ever ached for anything.

"Don't you know why I want you to see it, Ransom?"

Ransom just shook his head without taking his eyes off the your pneumatic body.

"Because it's yours," you sighed. "All yours, baby. You're the one I've been keeping it nice and fresh for."

"Fuck," he muttered.

He kept staring at you, waiting for you to rub you pussy again, but you didn't. You just kept holding it spread.

"Don't you wanna taste me, Ransom?" you purred, barely above a whisper. "C'mon, baby, please. I want you to lick it so bad. I love you so much and I want to give you everything that belongs to you."

The playboy was all but paralyzed by your words. He finally dragged his eyes off your open pussy and looked at your face. You were staring back at him with a glazed look in your eyes. His solid cock was pulsing hard in the tight grip of his fist. No girl had ever looked at him the way you were at that very moment, yet at the same time, he knew you were playing with the hottest kind of fire there was.

"Sweetheart, you know this wasn't the deal." he whispered, distracted.

You smirked. "But you still won."

He finished the thought by leaning down and sliding his tongue up and over your generously offered pussy. You pulled in a sharp gasp when Ransom's tongue lit up your heavily tingling pussy. Your hips rolled instantly in response, your gasps turning to moans while Ransom eagerly slathered his tongue all around your creamily delicious slit. He soon focused his attention on your clit and slipped a finger up inside your hole at the same time.

The man's finger curled and twisted inside you, searching for you g spot while he suckled and lapped at your fully swollen clit. You could barely form words as you gasped and moaned, your luscious body now writhing with desire.

Your pussy oozed heavily the more he licked and fingered you. Your cream was sweet, tangy and intensely intoxicating. Ransom probed at your hole with his finger and the tip of his tongue at the same time, but he soon drew his soaking wet finger out of your hole and wedged it between your ass cheeks, searching for your puckered rimhole.

You gasped deeply and lifted your legs up higher, giving Ransom better access to your asshole. He massaged your tight bud with his honey-coated finger and made deep, hungry love to your pussy with his mouth.

"God god god god, Ransom!" you cried, your hips rolling harder and harder against the man's mouth and finger.

Your body went tense for a few moments and then relaxed. Ransom backed off and watched you languish after your orgasm, pausing briefly to catch your breath. Then you shifted your body and took the hem of your outfit into your hands and peeled it off over your head. Ransom pulled off his T shirt and slid over on top of your luscious body, grinding his rock-hard cock against your pussy as he lowered himself to kiss you.

You whimpered while Ransom's chest mashed down against your heavy, naked tits. They felt amazing against his body, and he was beyond reason when the your mouth opened and set your tongue into motion against his.

Ransom had never kissed any girl so hard or hungrily in his life. Nor had any kissed him back the way you had. At the same time, you were grinding your slick, wet pussy against his cock as hard as he was grinding against you. Then he squeezed his hands in between them and grasped at your tits, kneading them eagerly with his strong hands.

He released your mouth and said," Baby girl, reach down there and put my cock inside you for me. I need that pussy bad, but I can't bring myself to let go of these fantastic tits now that I finally have my hands on them."

You giggled happily and kissed him again while you worked your hands down between your naked bodies. Finally, you got one hand on your pussy and spreading yourself open while you wrapped the other around Ransom's thick cock.

"Oh geezus, fuck, Ransom, you're so fucking hard," you cooed. "Oh god fuck me deep."

You tucked Ransom's cock head into your wet maw and he began grinding his shaft deeper into your sheath. Your pussy felt so tight and creamy, and you both groaned as his rock-hard flesh gradually filled your body. You looked at each other in disbelief, even though nothing had ever felt more right or natural.

Ransom growled as he began to pump his cock in and out of your spectacular body with long strokes. His grip on your tits went tighter and he lowered his head to suck and lick on your swollen nipples.

You whimpered with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your pussy hard against his thrusting cock. It wasn't long before he was straining to hold on and keep fucking you deep and hard. You didn't make it any easier because of the way you were moaning and your cunt squeezed his pounding cock every time you came.

Finally, Ransom raised himself up on his hands while he pumped your succulent pussy hole as hard and fast as he could, watching your pretty face twist with pleasure while your tits heaved with the force of his lunging body.

"Gimme your cum, baby. I want it in me...fuck!"

With a final, frenzied volley of full body thrusts, Ransom's pulsing cock exploded in your pussy, filling you with a hot flow of jetting spunk.

After, they spent a long time kissing while Ransom caressed the your beautiful tits. He kept his cock buried inside you until his flesh finally started to relax.

You fell asleep in each other's arms, and Ransom knew he had the girl he always needed right there with him. He had been right, all the sarcastic comments and stupid fights had been worth it.

In the morning, Ransom awoke from a haze of dreams to look down and find you lying between his legs with your lips sliding up and down his swollen cock. When you realized he was awake and watching you, you released his big cock from your mouth, giving his shaft a long lick before greeting him.

"Merry Christmas, Ransom."

[johnshelbystoothpick]

'NO MORE HIDING'

[PETER MAXIMOFF X FEM!OC]

WARNINGS — explicit sexual references, strong language

WORD COUNT — 1,608

PROMPT(S) — “just a little more” & “i want everyone to know that you’re mine”

TRANSLATIONS — koroleva; queen

WRITTEN FOR — @lazylangdon’s one shots contest, round four (smut); she is also the one who was kind enough to make the above graphic for me! <3

———

“If we get caught, Maximoff, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Peter quirks his signature grin, all cockiness and bravado with no trace of humility to be seen. If Peter Maximoff is capable of embarrassment, it is not something that has ever been witnessed by another human being. Certainly not by Arcadia, at least, and she is quite literally capable of feeling his emotions - something she ordinarily finds useful, but in such circumstances as these the arousal radiating off of him in waves threatens to submerge her in a sea of eroticism.

“I love it when you’re feisty,” he growls lowly, dipping his head so that silver hair brushes against her sharp cheekbones. It tickles, but the sensation is sensual as opposed to playful which one may consider strange for somebody with as natural an affinity for immaturity as Peter. If Arcadia has learned over the past few months that the Peter Maximoff the world sees is not the whole man but rather a fragment projected.

Her fingers twitch with the need to move and suddenly Arcadia finds herself sympathetic to Peter’s everyday plight because this must be how he feels in any given situation: like things are moving too slowly. Torturously, agonisingly slow.

“I’ve never really understood the whole academic spiel,” Peter says after a lengthy pause, “but damn if thinking so hard doesn’t look hot on you, Brodeur.”

She rolls her eyes, more exasperated than annoyed, and her hands find the collar of his shirt. Yanking him forward with more force than strictly necessary, Arcadia effectively swallows his sharp intake of breath when her lips crash against his own.

It’s messy and without preamble, as is always the case when the two of them can find a spare moment alone away from the prying eyes of telepathic professors and fathers who aren’t yet aware that their adult son is living under the same roof as he is, currently making out with his girlfriend in an abandoned classroom two floors above his bedroom. There is still the raw passion that consumes Arcadia whenever Peter is in her presence, but the tenderness is quashed in favour of the rapid removal of clothing and skin-on-skin contact which drives her dizzy with desire every time.

“Are you done with the whole hate sex act?” Peter questions, one eyebrow raised. He’s obviously amused, almost definitely aroused if his body’s natural reaction is any indication, and looking at Arcadia through pupils blown wide with lust.

She brings a hand up to his cheek, cradles it for a moment, then lightly drags her nails across his cherry red, kiss-swollen lips. “Just a little more,” she whispers, breaths tapering into uneven huffs when she feels Peter’s hands weaving through dark tresses and lightly tugging the strands with just the right amount of pressure that the pain is gratifying. “How am I supposed to be annoyed with you when you make me feel like this?”

“It’s all part of my natural charms,” he claims brazenly, breath hot against the shell of her ear. The phantom sensation of his words across her skin sends a stimulating jolt of pleasure through her entire body. “Now, do you wanna talk or do you wanna make out?”

“God, you are such a boy,” she scoffs, slapping his arm lightly. It may have been effective in conveying her point, but it only makes Peter’s salacious smirk widen as he grabs her wrist and pins it above her head with a victorious expression.

“You love me for it,” he states.

It is not a question, though Arcadia finds herself nodding along nonetheless. “And what if I do? I could show you just how much, if you like…” She bats her eyelids with a faux innocent expression.

Peter groans, the sound deep and guttural. With her unrestrained hand pressed flat against his chest, she can feel the vibration of the sound. “Don’t say shit like that right now,” he warns, “I’ve gotta meet Jubilee for training in fifteen and she’ll never let me live this down.”

Finally, it’s Arcadia’s turn to smirk as she glances down at his hardening erection. “Not my problem, Pietro.”

Something she has come to learn in recent weeks is just how much her boyfriend enjoys being referred to by his given name in any circumstance, but especially when they are alone and domesticated, so to speak. The pressure on her wrist increases for a second before Peter relaxes, exhaling slowly.

“You’re a fucking tease, Arcadia Brodeur.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

He leans forward to capture her lips in a kiss which is so uncharacteristically soft that it takes her by surprise. His tongue moves languidly, glides effortless with hers as though they were destined to come together in some synchronised dance, and a plethora of metaphorical fireworks explode in the small room they are encased in.

“I love you,” he says against her lips, repeating the words a dozen times when his mouth leaves hers to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of the exposed flesh of her neck. His teeth lightly graze her collarbone, then again in the same place with a sharper bite, and Arcadia lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a shriek at the paroxysms of pleasurable pain it leaves in its wake.

“I love you,” he rasps once more, tongue flicking out to soothe the stinging pain he had caused. Arcadia finds herself missing it, though the expert way that Peter works his tongue against her flesh more than makes up for the loss. “And I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

He brushes his lips against her palm before finally releasing his hold on her wrist which hangs limply at her side for a moment before both of her arms wrap around his neck, clasped at his nape. The ensuing staring contest is charged with electric energy, the sexual tension so palpable one could almost certainly reach out and touch it.

“I love you too,” she says at long last when the silence has run its course. “I just wish we didn’t continue to hide away like this is something to be ashamed of.”

He cups her cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the grooves of her cheekbones. “I’m not ashamed of us, koroleva,” he insists firmly, “I just didn’t want to put any strain on our relationship with the whole Daddy Issues thing I’ve got going on here right now.”

“You’re an idiot,” she deadpans, “if you think I wouldn’t want to be here with you every step of the way, Peter. Even if your dad is terrifying…”

“Nah, he’s a softie really,” Peter claims, “otherwise he’d have smothered me in my sleep by now with how annoying I act around him.”

“Just around him?”

Peter mock gasps. “I am hurt, Arcadia. Shocked and hurt.”

“You should get over it pretty fast, Quicksilver,” she teases before unlooping her arms and giving his abs a firm pat. “You’d better go now before Jubilee sends out a search party.”

They both know that she would, so Peter doesn’t object beyond a frustrated sigh.

“Maybe deal with that first, though,” she adds. Her hand reaches out to lightly palm him through his jeans, revelling in the ensuing groan he emits as the heat travels from her cheeks to her clit in a way that causes her knees to quiver. She hooks her thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans to steady herself.

For a moment, neither of them speak. They aren’t confident that they could string together a coherent sentence with their hips grinding together with unadulterated lust; their ragged breaths indiscernible from one another’s so that it seems impossible to know where Peter Maximoff ends and Arcadia Brodeur begins.

“To be continued,” he pants after a minute or so has passed. He takes a step back but doesn’t tear his hooded gaze away from the dishevelled Arcadia. “We’ve got unfinished business here.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Arcadia responds, excitement rushing through her at the thought of continuing their little rendezvous. It’s excruciating to have to wait, but she figures having sex in a classroom with windows overlooking the lake where hoards of people seem to be more often than not probably isn’t the wisest decision, no matter how much she and Peter may enjoy the thrill of sneaking around so carelessly. The soft, red lace of her panties becomes wetter with the thought.

Alas, public makeout sessions are hot in places like the mall or the cinema, not so much at a school.

Pausing just before Peter leaves, she has to ask, “Seriously though; why this room?”

Peter’s smirk returns with a vengeance. It’s unclear whether this is due to whatever answer he may give, or if he’d picked up on the tremor in her voice as she’d asked. “Because Scott and Jean walk past here every day at precisely three pm,” he informs, watching with impish glee as her eyes widen comically, “and would you look at the time. No more hiding, koroleva.”

The clock strikes three hardly a second later and Peter gives a mocking salute before speeding out of the room in the blink of an eye.

“Peter Maximoff, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Peering through the open doorway, Scott and Jean make no effort to conceal their snickering. “Might want to deal with that hickey first, Cady,” the redhead advises, flouncing away with her boyfriend before Arcadia can formulate a witty retort. She can feel the amusement emanating from the couple as they disappear.

God, she needs to get her own place. And possibly a new boyfriend. First things first: makeup.

[harlowsbae]

Always

This is my first ever Draco Malfoy Reader so please don’t hate me. I haven’t written a single imagine in years.

Trigger Warnings: self-harm, depression

Draco watched as the shell of the woman next to him tried furiously to keep up with Professor Slughorn’s directions. When Y/N first came to Hogwarts she was lively and bubbly. She was kind to everyone she met, even Saint Potter much to Draco’s displeasure. But during fourth year when the news broke that she was a half-blood Y/N slowly began to disappear inside herself. The rest of the Slytherins began to look at her with disgust. A half-blood Slytherin was just preposterous. Draco knew he was also to blame. He had joined in on the taunting and laughed at the jokes.  All his life, Draco was immersed in the pure-blood philosophy of things. Anything less was just unacceptable, his father had reminded him of that every day up to his departure for Hogwarts five years ago. 

“Excuse me” came a soft voice from next to him. 

Draco looked over at YN, noticing her long curly brown hair and chocolate colored eyes that peeked up at him nervously through long lashes.

“What?” Draco sneered at the girl.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..Professor Slughorn has partnered us up for the Draught of Living Death” Y/N said.

Draco felt his face soften at her nervousness, but he quickly shook it away and scowled again.

“Go get the ingredients while I set up the cauldron.” he ordered.

Y/N got up quickly knocking her stool over in the process. Pansy looked over and laughed, muttering about how half-bloods were just as pathetic as mudbloods. Draco felt his heart tighten as Y/N’s cheeks turned red and she quickly shuffled to the shelves to get the ingredients. She returned a few minutes later with her arms full.

“Start cutting up the Valerian sprigs while I juice these beans” he told her. Y/N nodded and began doing what he said. Her curls falling over face to hide her once again red cheeks. Draco smirked, the effect he had on the girl not going unnoticed. He could feel Pansy’s glare on Y/N. Her obsession with Draco was unwavering no matter how many times he rejected her. She was a short fling that meant nothing to him, simply something to cure his boredom last year.

Y/N began measuring the ingredients and putting them into the cauldron slowly stirring as she went. Draco looked over just as Y/N began to add the Valerian sprigs noticing that she was adding too many.

“Y/L/N stop you’re-” but it was too late, Draco quickly backed away as the potion bubbled and exploded splashing Y/N with the hot liquid. Her robes instantly had holes in them and her hands were covered in burns from shielding her face.

“For fucks sake Y/L/N! Didn’t your muggle father teach you anything about following directions before he offed himself?” Pansy sneered at her, other Slytherins quickly joined in laughing and smiling.

Y/N tried hard to hold her head up and fight back the tears, but Draco saw one fall down her cheek as she rushed from the classroom, wishing he could wipe it away for her.

“Well class I think we had better finish there for today” Professor Slughorn interrupted, “Put a small bit of your potion in a vial to be graded.”

Y/N POV:

You skipped classes the rest of the day. Too embarrassed to face anyone after Potions. You knew your professors would lecture you tomorrow and give you extra work but you didn’t care. You stared down at the picture of your father, silent sobs wracking your body as you hid behind a statue in one of the corridors. No one hardly ever walked down it as the classrooms sat empty so it was the perfect place to hide. 

He had committed suicide during your fourth year. You had found out when  you had gone home for the holidays. He had left a note but your mother had never let you read it. Instead she made you pack all of your things to return to Hogwarts with you. You hadn’t seen her since as she had decided you were too much of a burden without your father. You spent your summer holidays with your grandmother from your father’s side, but you weren’t necessarily close to her either as she was a muggle and tended to be afraid of you.

You had been extremely close to your father growing up, you were a spitting image of him and your mother often joked that she did all the work and had nothing to show for it. Your parents didn’t have any more kids deciding that you were all they needed. When you got your letter to Hogwarts they were so proud. Although your father was a muggle he loved you all the same.

Another bout of sobs wracked through your body and the pain became too much to bear. You had no friends at school and no one to confide in. You bottled up your pain and took it out on yourself as a way to cope. You knew it was foolish , but you couldn’t stop. You blamed yourself for your father’s death and had decided this was your punishment even though you hadn’t even been there. You took your wand to your wrist, reciting the same spell that had become your only comfort.

Draco POV

Draco didn’t see her the rest of the day. He couldn’t help but be worried. He checked the hospital wing but Madame Pomfrey informed him that she never showed up. He kept an eye out between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of her curls but to his disappointment they never appeared. When Draco still didn’t see Y/N at dinner he decided he had to find her. 

Draco spent the next hour combing the castle starting at the Astronomy tower and making his way though each corridor. Draco was just about to give up when he turned down a corridor that he didn’t recognize. Draco could tell it hadn’t been used in years as the classrooms had more than an inch of dust in them. Still, he opened each one desperate to find her now. Draco was nearing the last classroom when he heard a small noise. He paused, holding his breath to hear it again. He heard a sniffle and moved towards it. He stopped in front of a statue, peering around it he breathed a sigh of relief as he finally saw her curls. 

He knelt down cautiously so as not to scare her, reaching a hand forward he lightly touched her shoulder. Y/N whipped around, her eyes bloodshot and red and her cheeks still had tear streaks down them. She wiped at them furiously, her face hardening at the sight of the platinum haired boy in front of her. 

“What do you want” she sneered, “come to make fun of me some more?”

Draco’s eyes widened at her sudden hostility.

“No actually, I wanted to check on you to see if you were alright,” he whispered.

“Please” she scoffed, “Don’t act like you care Malfoy, you’re no better than the rest of your little friends.”

Draco hung his head, he knew she was right. He had done nothing over the years to make her think otherwise. He looked at her again, his grey eyes glancing over her hands. They were still red and blistered and he suddenly remembered she didn’t go to the hospital wing after Potions.

He grabbed her wrists hearing her wince as his grip tightened when she struggled to get away.

“Why the hell did you not go to the hospital wing are you daft?!” He said loudly. 

His grip tightened even more and she struggled furiously to get away. He looked at her hands examining them. His eyes fell upon her sleeve noticing the cuff was red with blood. He looked at her, her eyes begging him not to do what he was going to do next. Draco slowly lifted her sleeve up, as his eyes took in the fresh cuts mixed with the old ones his heart sank. He felt guilty for each one of those lines knowing they were a result of the torment he and his friends had put her through.

He grabbed his wand from his pocket, still holding her wrist he quietly uttered healing spells watching the cuts become scars and the blisters disappear as her hands returned to their normal color.

“Thank you” Y/N muttered.

Draco sank beside her putting his arm around her shoulder. This time she didn’t flinch and leaned into him.

Y/N POV

You felt as though you were dreaming and were tempted to pinch yourself. It didn’t seem possible that Draco Malfoy, one of your bullies, had taken the time to find you and heal your injuries let alone to now holding you. You leaned into him even more breathing in the scent of his green apple shampoo and pine cologne. 

“I’m sorry” you heard him whisper. You looked up at him in shock, his eyes made contact with yours and you could see the sincerity in them. “I don’t know why I said the things I’ve said or treated you the way I’ve treated you. My father has always instilled in me the importance of blood purity. I’ve never known any different, but for some reason when I look at you, none of that matters” he explained.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Did Draco Malfoy actually...like you?

“Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked, thumbing over the scars on your wrist.

You sighed, you didn’t want to sound like a freak. Draco tilted your head up, urging you to explain.

“When my father took his life, my mother never let me read the letter he wrote. She made me pack all of my things and I’ve been living with my muggle grandmother ever since. I haven’t seen my mother in almost two years.” You said, feeling your eyes tear up again. You felt Draco’s hand on your cheek as he gently brushed a tear that had fallen away. “The cuts..the pain, it’s my punishment. I couldn’t fathom why my father had wanted to leave me, so in the end I decided I must have did something, that him taking his life was my fault.” 

At this you couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, you began to sob even harder than you had earlier. You felt yourself becoming completely vulnerable in front of Draco and you hated it. For years you had put on a brave face taking every insult that came your way and still holding your head high.

Draco shifted and pulled you between his legs wrapping his arms around you completely. You buried your head into his chest as you continued to cry. He stroked your and planted soft kisses on your forehead. You both stayed like this for what felt like hours but was really only minutes.

When you were done crying you looked back up at Draco, he was already looking at you, his own grey eyes reflecting sadness as he stared at the broken girl in his arms. 

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore, Y/N”, he said. “I know I can’t take back how much I’ve hurt you, but from this day forward I promise to protect you.”

You smiled and leaned forward connecting your lips to his. You felt him tense up and then relax as he kissed you back harder tangling his fingers into your curls. 

You pulled away breathing heavy and so was he. Draco smiled at you planting another soft kiss onto your lips.

“Always?” you whispered.

“Always.” he said.

[hsbeloved]

hi hi! this is my first ever post where i showcase my writing, so pls be nice!! i’ve never been very comfortable with sharing anything i write but wanted to give it a try with something simple and short. let me know what you think! ♥️

harry felt his pocket vibrate, which was only unusual because everyone he normally was in contact with was already surrounding him, out to dinner to celebrate his older sisters graduation from university.

with a slightly perplexed expression and a mouth full of chicken parm, he slowly took his phone out of his tight jeans and opened up the new notification.

*god i'm so wet rn. need u so bad baby. meet me in the bathroom in 5 minutes? pls*

harry's eyes, once filled with confusion, suddenly went wide with so much shock that he honest to god started choking on his food. the whole table turned to look at him with concern, minus the girl in front of him who just so happened to be his very gorgeous girlfriend who loved teasing him any chance she got. she of course was just silently twirling her spaghetti around her fork while staring at the plate in front of her with a slight smirk. it was barely noticeable to anyone unless they really looked.

harry though, was most definitely looking. he loved her mouth so much. it always felt so perfect wrapped around the tip of his hard dic-

"harry love, you alright? you need to chew your food a bit more before swallowing", his aunt spluttered out from his left, breaking his attention and thoughts away from the impossibly tempting girl who was now slowly sneaking away to what he assumed was the restroom.

he couldn't very well tell everyone what caused his sudden outburst. instead, he cleared his throat and decided to blurt a rushed out string of words he hoped made sense.

"yeah no - i - sorry. food went down a little too fast. erm- i'm gonna head to the bathroom really quick. wash my hands. be right back"

he pushed himself up out of his chair and away from the table a little too hastily, but he couldn't help it. that message really got him flustered. she was always texting him things like that in the most public places, and yet he still wasn't used to it. he didn't think he ever would be.

harry scurried away down the narrow corridor and around the corner from his family and friends, stopping right in front of the lone bathroom door. he was so glad the restaurant only had one gender-neutral toilet. how was he meant to sneak into the ladies restroom without being creepy?

pushing that thought away, he raised his knuckles to the wood, rapping out a few soft taps before the door quickly opened and he was being pulled inside and slammed against it as it closed and locked behind him.

before he could even catch his breath, his lips were being attacked by the same ones he was shamelessly staring at less than 5 minutes ago. he felt her tongue slide along the inside of his bottom lip, and immediately opened his own mouth to deepen the kiss.

he heard her let out a groan from deep in her throat right before he felt her small fingers fumble with the zipper on his jeans, breaking the kiss and lowering herself to her knees.

"wait wait hold on." he pulled her back up by her slender arms, causing a huff to escape out of her swollen pink lips.

"need to take care of you first. you know you're not allowed to touch me until you've come at least once, angel" he pushed out with hunger in his voice, moving a piece of her golden hair behind her ear. he was desperately hard and wanted nothing more than to push his dick into her hot wet mouth, but he had certain rules within his head that he always followed. her needs first, always. then his own.

he loved hearing her come undone. the noises she made were unearthly and it secretly made his chest swell with pride at being able to be the one to make her feel good. seeing her face twist in pleasure while her legs shook so hard she could barely move them after always made his own orgasm that much better.

her honey brown eyes stared longingly at his lips, before she brought her own to the side of his head where she licked a stripe up his tensed neck, muttering out a low moan and biting down gently on the shell of his ear. he shuddered slightly as he felt her hot breath fan across his now wet nape.

"just this once, let me make you feel good first. please baby, i know you want me on my knees. i can feel how hard you are." she whispered. her last sentence was emphasized by her taking her nimble fingers and lightly feathering them around the growing bulge in his now slightly open jeans, forcing a harsh breath to leave harry's lips before he could control it.

he was so close to letting her have her way. she knew just how to tease him until he was a spluttering mess in her hands. he wasn't going to make this easy for her, though. his mind thought back to the text she sent him that made him nearly topple over himself to get away from his family, couldn't help but suddenly feel a sense of embarrassment at how flushed he surely looked to all of them.

"you think i'd let you get your way after what you pulled out there? uh-uh baby. don't think so." he gently takes her hands away from his groin and leads her slowly to the other side of the small washroom. he eyes the tiled counter where the sink lays and helps her up onto it. placing himself between her legs, he pulls on them until her ass is on the ledge.

running his slender fingers up her silky smooth thigh until they rest just below the hem of her short skirt, he stares into her eyes as he lowers his voice and leans into her ear to mutter out "m'gonna make you come so hard you won't be able to walk back out there without my help, baby".

he hears a small gasp escape her lips before he latches his own back onto them, immediately finding her tongue and sucking on it lightly. she kisses back hungrily, whimpering as he takes one of his large hands to grab a handful of her shirt and pull it up to expose her naked chest.

he pulls back and gives her a once over with dark eyes, before placing the bunched up fabric in front of her open mouth and grunting out a demanding "bite."

she nods slowly while lowering her teeth onto the shirt and closing her mouth around it. he squeezed her thigh in comfort before using his fingers to pull both her skirt and panties down her toned legs, throwing them somewhere behind him.

his breathing started to pick up when he lowered himself a bit to the ground, spreading her knees as he went. this was his favorite part. seeing and feeling how wet she got for him. for only him. he loved being able to bury his head between her thighs and lick at her until she was a panting mess, begging for him to go faster. for him to make her come all over his face.

he let's one of his fingers shift up to brush against where she's wet and open, and she jolts and bucks her hips upward. he uses one hand to hold her down and the other to swipe at her entrance again, barely giving her any pressure.

she hisses around the fabric in her mouth when he reaches up to slightly circle his thumb against her clit. "you're so fucking wet for me baby. god, you're perfect" he bites out before he's suddenly got his head between her thighs, burying his tongue into her as far as it will go.

he fucks her with his tongue, circling her tight hole in an agonizingly slow manner which makes her let out beautifully needy sounds. he loves getting her worked up before he really gives it his all.

feeling her walls clench around him, he stretches and curls his tongue a little more before looking up with his mouth still on her to see her glazed expression. he witnesses her throw her head back against the glass of the mirror before panting out a mumbled "h g'd fck" around the obstruction in her mouth.

he loudly hums against her, making her sob out a breathy moan from the vibration it caused. one of her hands moves into his curls, pushing them out of his face as she grips them and pulls harshly when he moves his tongue to suck on her clit.

relishing in the noises she's making above him, he pushes a finger into her while circling his tongue around her nerves. she screams out and pinches her eyes shut, biting down hard on the material between her teeth.

she's so fucking wet. he's licking at her in long slow laps. fucking into her with his finger. but it's not enough. he wants to hear her release. wants to see her explode with pleasure.

when harry removes his mouth and replaces it with two of his fingers to curl up into her, she lets out a broken cry. he doesn't give her time to do anything else before he's got his tongue on her clit again, closing his mouth around it and sucking hard.

the sudden pressure startles her into opening her mouth, the shirt falling down and onto her clenching stomach. she twists her fingers harder into his hair, letting out an intense whimper.

"harry i - ohmygod harry please"

he wasn't sure what she was asking for but his fingers start to work faster to reach that sweet spot inside of her. his tongue moving in steady stokes against her throbbing clit. he lets the hand still holding her thigh above him move down to palm at his aching dick through his jeans. seeing her so close to her climax was making him harder than before, if that were even possible.

she uses this new freedom to arch her back, letting out keening noises as the skin on her neck and face start to turn a beautiful pink, a faint sheen of sweat forming around her hairline.

he curls his fingers into her relentlessly. not letting up. he quickly lifts his head for a moment to mutter out against her skin.

"let go baby. come for me" he moves his head back down, flicking his tongue harder against her nerves. he swipes against her one, two, three times before she yells.

"m'coming - harry i'm-"

her pussy tightens around his fingers curled up into her, until her whole body stills and she's crying out his name.

he eases her down through her high, slowing down his fingers still inside her until he eventually pulls them out and places a gentle kiss to the inside of her thigh.

he stands back up and places his wet fingers into her open mouth, demanding her to suck. her tongue easily glides over them while her lust filled eyes find his own. she looks absolutely wrecked. and so so beautiful. seeing his fingers move around her panting mouth makes him twitch in his pants, needing to replace them with his aching dick immediately.

he moves his fingers from her mouth to grab her by the waist and gently helps her down off of the counter, kissing her as soon as her feet touch the ground. she trembles a bit, gripping onto his shirt to steady herself as she moves her mouth with his own.

"good?" he asks between kisses, slightly out of breath.

she attacks his mouth in reply, nipping at his lower lip. "so good".

she gives him a few more needy kisses before lowering her hands to the band of his jeans and pulling them down his legs along with his boxers. he doesn't stop her this time, he knows he isn't going to last long and needs to be inside her warm mouth.

as soon as his hard dick is free from the confines of his clothes, he lets out a relieved groan. she doesn't give him any time to adjust to the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed skin before she takes a hand that's suddenly wet with her own spit and curls it around him, twisting, while her other gently rolls his balls between her fingers.

"jesus chris-" he hisses before he feels her take the hand on his balls and use her thumb to swipe over his leaking tip, making him groan and buck his hips into her palm.

she pumps him a few more times before getting to her knees and immediately taking half of his length into her wet mouth while she stares up at him with her big brown eyes, causing his own to shut while he lets a moan echo out into the open air. she's going to be the death of him. he's sure of it.

she flattens out her tongue and runs it up the side of his shaft, stopping at his tip to suck it into her mouth. she wraps her lips around it before slowly lowering herself down his length, making deliciously obscene noises like it's her favorite taste in the world.

she slurps messily as she let's him slide all the way to the back of her throat, carefully swallowing around him and making his hips shift until she's gagging slightly and pulling back a little.

"feels so good baby. gonna come so fast from that perfect mouth" she groans around him, acknowledging his praise. he tangles his hands into the hair at the back of her head as she takes him as far as she can, feeling her swallow around him again.

he curses, trying so hard not to move his hips too harshly and cause her to gag again. she feels so good wrapped around him like this. it's incredible.

she bobs her head up and down a few times before pulling off with a pop. she takes one of her hands and starts to curl it around him, twirling her skillful fingers in a way that makes him throw his head back and let out a needy moan.

"m'not gonna last. fuck". edging closer and closer to his peak, he starts to push up into her hand.

she takes the hint and places his length into her mouth, opening it as wide as she can while she pumps him onto her flattened tongue.

he grips her hair hard before twitching and emptying himself into her warm mouth with a few deep grunts, shifting his hips as euphoria takes over his senses.

she swallows thickly before licking the head of his dick until he's completely clean, then stands up to face him.

she gives him a few quick pecks on the lips before stepping away to look around for her discarded clothes. harry takes a second to breathe in a deep lungful of thick air before reaching down to pull up his own pants. zipping them and turning to see if she had found her things yet.

when his eyes found her, she had just stepped into her skirt and was shimmying it up her thighs. he walked over to her as she was finishing up, gripping her hips and pulling her to his side.

"such a good girl for me. always. love you so much, angel" he breathed into the top of her head before giving her forehead a small kiss. "next time though, maybe wait until i'm not around my entire family to let me know how much you really need me, yeah?"

"what’s the fun in that?" she winks before removing herself from his side and stepping to the door, unlocking it and walking out without even a glance back at him.

yeah. she's definitely gonna be the death of him.

[willowbird]

Your writing is so amazing!! I feel like we don't deserve to ask for more because you already gave us so many great drabbles but if its no trouble, could you do 5 and 9?

This has been so much fun and it's no trouble at all!! Writing these lil kisses has been fun and fluffy and feel-good and honestly exactly what I need right now 🧡💙🧡

Throwing their arms around their other person's neck followed by a kiss so passionate and so long that they share each other's breath. 🥰

Oh and @alittlelately this is what I was writing when you asked.

-----

Seven months, two weeks, three days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes.

That's how long it had been since Neil had seen Andrew. Seven long months and some change, where he not only hadn't been able to see the man he loved, but had been barred from calling or communicating with him at all. It had been excruciating, but he had done it and each and every day he had told himself that it was worth it. That it would be worth it for this, this moment and every one that followed.

That had been the deal after all:

One last job for his uncle. One last push to secure the Hatfords' hold on the isle and its alliances with their sister syndicates in France and Germany. Andrew had gone to Germany and Neil to France and had promised not to contact each other until both Dame Lucille and Der Gärtner had agreed to a very binding truce with the Hatfords. Once it was done, then both Neil and Andrew would be free -- Neil of his familial obligations and Andrew of his debt to the syndicate. They could leave, walk away with no shadow, no leeches on their shoulders, just a long open road ahead of them where they could go wherever they wanted, be whoever they wanted, together.

Seven months, two weeks, three days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes.

Neil hadn't even know it was going to end today, not until he got the call from his uncle about an hour ago.

'Are your bags packed?' he'd asked when Neil answered the phone.

'What?'

'Well, I'm just assuming you two plan to hit the road the second he lands, so I thought I'd check to make sure your bags are--'

'When? Where?' Neil had interrupted as soon as his brain had caught up with the information he was being given.

His uncle's voice had softened, not quite to warmth but to something like understanding. Neil knew his uncle loved him -- but his loyalty was always going to be, first and foremost, to the Hatford Syndicate. Since Neil wanted to leave it, he couldn't afford to give him much of that care. At least, not outwardly.

'His plane should land in about an hour. The apartment is yours for as long as you want it. You'll always be family, kid. But... I understand if you want to disappear. It's up to you, and I will respect your wishes.'

And now, here he was. Standing on the remote private airstrip belonging to the family, watching as the small jet rolled to a stop. It took every fiber of his limited self-control to keep himself from breaking into a dead sprint and scaling the outer shell to be there when the fucking door opened.

Somehow, he managed.

Well, at least until the the stairs were rolled up and the door did open. A shadow fell across the opening from the inside, and then a man emerged - dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket, long blond hair in a simple queue over one shoulder, reading glasses still perched high on the bridge of his nose from whatever book he'd been attempting to read on the flight. Attempting, because Andrew had always hated flying, and any distraction was only ever partially effective.

The second Neil saw him, he was moving -- though it wasn't a decision he could recall consciously making. One moment he'd been standing back beyond the safety lines, lingering near the hangar, and the next he was moving forward. Then he was jogging, then he was running. Sprinting. Racing.

But he wasn't the only one.

No one had probably told Andrew that Neil would be there, because he froze at first, the second he saw Neil, and even from the distance Neil could see the shock on his usually too-poised face. A beautiful, cold face that warded off every nuance. A stunning mask of indifference, shattered as he saw who was waiting for him.

For first came surprise, then another thing entirely -- something that might have been pain or wonder or hope but was really just... love.

He took one tentative step down the stairs, then another. Then he took the rest in two leaps and was moving toward Neil with long, powerful strides.

They came together like the birth of a star. Fire and life exploding in a vacuum, creating gravity and the potential for and entire world to exist just within the realm of their touch. One moment they were twenty feet apart, then ten, then five, then a breath, and then not even that much. Two halves of a whole universe, expanding and contracting in the aura of their singular connection.

Neil's arms instantly went around Andrew's neck and Andrew's hands wound about his back, clutching him like he'd bring him so close as to protect him behind the armor of his ribcage, sheltered right beside his beating heart. Then their mouths found each other and oh it was like coming home. It didn't matter where they were. England, France, Germany, fucking Tasmania -- mouth to mouth and soul to soul with their hearts matching a rhythm they could dance to in their sleep, as long as they were together they would be home.

They kissed not only as if to say 'hello' and 'I missed you' and 'this was far too long'. They kissed to remind each other, but not because they needed to remember -- because how could you ever forget yourself? No, they reminded each other of their touches and their taste and the feel of their heat. They kissed to remember that this... This was forever and finally, finally, forever began today.

When the kiss finally broke neither could bear to pull far. Neil felt Andrew tremble in his arms and he was sure the other man was feeling the same of him. Their lips remained lightly grazing as they gasped for air, sharing breaths, shaky and light-headed and a little bit overwhelmed.

Neil's voice was rough when he spoke, and all he could manage to say was, "Andrew." Then, because he could finally say it, he said it again, and again.

"Andrew. Andrew. God. Andrew. I.. A-Andrew."

"I know," Andrew rasped quietly, putting only enough distance between them for their eyes to meet. Neil could still feel Andrew's breath against his cheek and was not let willing to let go of that sensation, would not surrender that nearness. Not yet.

So he didn't. So he held on. He looked into the most beautiful honey-sunrise eyes he had ever seen and he did not let go. He held on and he said, "Andrew." He held on and he put eternity into his grasp as he held on tight and promised, promised, with each breath he took and every ounce of strength in his body, that he would never, ever, let go again.

Andrew looked back and held on just as tight, and with the shake of his soft gasps and the fierceness of his gaze, he promised too.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sweet Relief

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean suffers a serious case of blue balls.

Warnings: Friends to lovers trope? Smut, hand job, masturbation, dirty talk, a hint of daddy kink, a little crack too

WC: 2255

A/N: This was written for @spnkinkbingo​​, filling out my ‘dirty talk’ square.

Dean’s hormones are all over the fucking place and he’s annoyed, to say the least. 

It has been what? Months. MONTHS! Since he got laid. And maybe, give or take, a week since he last had time to himself at all to rub himself off. For someone who gets it and does it regularly, it’s pure torture. He’s sure that if he doesn’t get a chance to get it out of his system any time soon, he’ll die of blue balls. They might burst into flames and fall off, maybe even explode in a thousand pieces and right about now, they feel like they weigh a goddamn ton. 

Okay, he might be exaggerating, but also he is kinda not. It’s hard to keep a straight head, to be honest.

Dean chuckles at the thought of dying of blue balls. Thinks that it’s most likely not the ending Chuck wrote for him. He also thinks that it would actually be fun to see Chuck throwing a tantrum because things don’t go his way, but Dean’s eyes widened in shock all of a sudden. What if it is the ending Chuck wrote out for him? Because yeah, Chuck’s a fucking pervert and Dean can’t really put it past him. 

“Dean?”

“Dean!”

Dean jerks from his daydream (daymare? What do you call when you have nightmares during the day anyway?), as an elbow nudges against his arm. 

“What!” It comes out of him, more annoyed than he intends to.

“Woah, grumpy much?” Y/N snorts beside him.

They are in a diner, having a feast after their latest monster of the week. Across from him were Sam and Eileen who act all lovey dovey and it makes Dean wanna throw up sometimes. Not that he’s not happy for Sammy but ugh, he could go with a little less PDA. At least they should consider his aching balls. It really wouldn’t be too much to ask for, would it?

“I need to pee,” Y/N says shamelessly, nudging him some more but he’s still too lost in thought, and his cock is on fucking half-mast. What’s with that thing anyway? He’s almost forty-fucking-one. It should not be doing all these kinda things, really.

Dean feels her lift herself up on her hands that are braced on the table and the seat, leveling up just high enough to place her leg on the other side of him and heaving herself over him. Her bottoms brush against his thighs and crotch in the process. 

“Woah, watch out, will ya?” Dean shouts grumpily. 

Being upset doesn’t help though. Doesn’t help that his dick stirs again, and there’s a breeze of her perfume that still lingers in the air, mixed with her sweat and musk. Dean’s head starts to spin. 

She rolls her eyes, while Sam sends him a glare. “Dude, she’s been asking you three times already, you wouldn’t even budge. What’s the matter with you?”

Dean doesn’t answer and keeps on eating the fries with a stern face. 

 ***

 Two more agonizing days had passed and every time Dean sat down and tried to ‘relax’ there was always something that required his attention. And all he wanted was to give attention to his fucking cock. 

Dean brings in the groceries, dropping the bags onto the counter. “You need any help?”

“Nah. Dinner’s in about two hours. Y/N is coming over later with her findings,” Sam answers as he walks around Eileen and the woman laughs while she deliberately blocks Sam’s way. 

Dean rolls his eyes, wants to get away from the cheesy couple, “K, I’ll be in my room.” 

Fucking finally.

 *

 “Dean?” 

“Dean,”

“Dean!” 

The door opens and Y/N bursts into his room. 

Dean’s instinct is to close the laptop but it was way out of reach from the position he’s in. 

The position being, Dean spread on his bed, his back leaning against the wall, and he’s bottomless, holding his hard cock in his hand. 

He’d rather his position being, somewhere in a hole on the floor with him burying himself as deep as he can go.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath, scrambles up quickly, and covers himself with a pillow. 

It’s silent between them. He can hear crickets chirping in his mind.

Well, silent, except from the moans of a girl screaming Please, harder. Fuck me harder!

“‘M sorry,” She says, and Dean can see that her cheeks are flush, “I knocked and I called and you didn’t answer, so I thought something terrible must have happened.”

“It’s okay,” He mumbles, “Can you leave me alone now?”

“Were you,” She points with her index finger up and down. 

“Duh, what did it look like?” He snarls.

She grins and closes the door before she walks towards the bed, “Want me to help?” 

“Well…” Dean huffs, “Yeah, but,” He feels nervous, “But why?” 

He’s not gonna lie, a little help would be great. 

“Because something came up and we need to leave soon. Maybe if I help it’ll be faster?” She was sitting down on the bed next to him now and Dean’s can’t explain why his dick’s still so hard even after the interruption. 

“Come on big guy, move a little, let me get behind you.” 

Dean’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.

“Just do what I say, can ya?” Y/N chuckles.

“Alright, alright!” He moves down the bed a little. The laptop is now closer and he reaches over in order to close it. 

“No, leave it. It helps me too.”

Y/N stands up and takes off her shirt, losing the bra next and Dean can't believe his eyes. He’s not going to lie, he always thought that she was cute. Always wondered what’s underneath the layer of clothing, wondered how sweet she must taste, how he could make her call his name in ecstasy. Dean just never could act up on that, because he doesn't want to jeopardize the friendship they have.

“You too, Dean.” She grins, climbing on the bed and kneels behind him. 

Of course Dean doesn’t have to be asked twice. His hands fumble at the hem of his henley and pull it over his head, throwing it on the heap of clothes on the floor. 

“Good,” She smiles, “Now, eyes on the laptop, alright?” 

“O..okay,” Dean swallows hard as he feels her body moving against his back, the peak of her nipples hardening against his skin. 

Her nose brushes his temple, “Relax, and leave your hands on your sides,” 

Dean can only nod. 

“Lube?” She asks but before Dean can answer, she’s found it, “Nevermind, I got it.” 

She opens the bottle, squirts a generous amount into her hand before she tosses the bottle on the bed somewhere. 

Her hands then come around his body from the back, and Dean jerks at the first touch of her fingers on his cock. He moans shamelessly, and it makes her chuckle against his cheek. 

“Good?” She asks as she kisses his shoulder, his neck, and she lets her tongue trail along his jaw. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean’s cock throbs and leaks as she works him with both her hands, applying the right amount of pressure, squeezing harder at the head, eliciting a wrecked sound from his throat that Dean knows he should be ashamed of, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Look at them, Dean. Look how deep he fucks her,” She sucks at his earlobe, licking up his shell, “Imagine it’s you,” She works her hand to the same rhythm of the couple fucking on the screen. Slow and deep. “If you want, you can imagine that it’s me.” 

Dean turns his head to look at her and she just fucking winks. 

“Eyes on the screen, cowboy,” She giggles and Dean complies. 

Y/N sucks in a patch on his neck, a suction strong enough to draw blood to the surface. He wonders, if it’ll leave a mark, kind of hopes that it will. 

“You have a beautiful cock, Dean. Always knew that you’re packed, never thought it’ll look so delicious, though.” One of her hands leaves his cock, works its way further down, cupping his sac, “Mmh.. I’d love to have a taste,”

“Y-you can,” He stutters, her hand squeezing his balls on the right side of painful. 

Y/N chuckles lightly, “We don’t have time. Maybe next time,” 

Dean dick twitches just by her mentioning that there’s a possibility of a next fucking time. Because fuck yeah, he’d love to show her what his cock is really good for. 

Their eyes are back on the screen and she’s breathing next to his ear. 

Oh my god, your cock feels so good, daddy! The girl on the screen screams and pants. 

“Mmh,” She says, trailing her nose along his cheek and kisses him lightly as her hand abandons his balls. Her fingernails leave a wet trail along his body on their way up, until she brushes the pad of her finger against his erect nipple. 

Dean moans.

“You’re so sensitive there, aren’t you?”

“Fuck,” Dean breathes out, his cheeks are burning. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Daddy I’m gonna come! The girl on the screen shrieks.

Dean’s cock twitches at the sound and Y/N works him faster as the guy plunges his dick into the girl, “You like that, Dean? Huh? Like it when I call you Daddy?” It twitches again, getting harder too, and Dean doesn’t even know that it’s possible. 

“Yeah, you do,” She laughs softly before sucking at his shoulder and looking up at him. He’s too ashamed to look at her, instead, he keeps his eyes glued to the screen, “I would love to feel your cock in my pussy, Dean. Bet I’d have trouble working it in, it’s so big. I’d be so tight around you. But you’d feel so fucking perfect inside of me, I just know it.” 

Fuck, he’s gonna blow just imagining it.

“You’d know how to use it, too, don’t you? You’d fuck me deep,” She pinches his nipple and Dean groans again. “Maybe I can get on top. Would you like for me to ride you, Daddy?” 

Aaaand, there’s a twitch again. 

Jesus fucking Christ!

“Your dick feels so hot and hard, you’re going to come, don’t you?” 

“Uh-huh…” Dean can only manage to squeeze out some incoherent sounds past his throat.

“I’d ride you so good, Dean, my hands on your chest, pinching and tweaking your nipples while I grind down on your hard cock,” Her mouth is right behind his ear and Dean can feel her warm breath, “I’m soaking wet just thinking about it,” She kisses the back of his neck, “My cunt’s slick and tight, imagine me coming on your cock, Dean. My walls contracting around you, milking you for what you’re worth. Holding you captive. Both of us sliding, grinding wetly against each other,”

Fuck, he’d love to feel that. 

“You have a petty face, Dean,” She works her mouth over to his throat, sucks at his pulse point, “I’d love to ride that, too. Would you let me, huh? I’d love for you to bury your face in my dripping pussy, working your tongue inside of me, I could come on your face, how does that sound?” 

There’s a weird noise coming out of his throat and Dean knows that he should be ashamed, but he’s past caring.

“I’m on the pill and I know you’re clean, too. I’d let you finish inside of me, Daddy, shoot your load inside, making your cum leak out of me for days, that would be nice, huh,” 

“Fuck yeah,” 

“And just stay in there until your cock’s hard again and take me apart all over,” 

“Shit, I’m -” 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. Both her hands are back on his cock. Y/N picks up the rhythm and he can’t help but buckle up, fucking himself into her hands.

“Come, Dean,” She leans over and to the side a little, and Dean opens his eyes to look at her. She had a stupid grin on her face and fuck, he just wants to kiss her. 

He doesn’t even have to ask though.

“Come for me,” She whispers before she kisses him, and he fucking groans into her mouth before his tongue takes over. It’s messy and Dean let out more air into her mouth than he intends to but his climax makes him see fucking stars, it has been that long. 

Y/N parts from the kiss and sits down, waits for Dean to come down from a fucking high and when he’s looking at her again, she fucking licks her fingers clean from his mess. She grins when she sees him staring, “Tastes good, Dean,” 

He can’t help but chuckle, and turns himself around to attack her and she shrieks in delight when she finds herself pinned to the mattress. Dean looks down to himself briefly, sees that he’s still fucking hard, makes a mental note to brag to Sam about his stamina at almost forty-fucking-one. 

Dean kisses her again, long, deep, fucking messy, tastes himself on her, doesn’t even fucking mind it. 

“Let me help you.” He mumbles against her lips. 

She laughs, “Maybe some other time, Sam and Eileen are waiting for us.” 

“Don’t care,” Dean says, mouths along her neck downwards, seals his lips around her nipple, sucking them in and letting them out with a lewd pop, one by one. She has her hand in his hair, blunt nails digging into his scalp.